#he mans is gonna struggle so hard with a poker face

[the-devil-less-known]

'Endure', so he said... So it seemed like Lucifer was right on that mark, but it wouldn't be impossible, just different. Another time, maybe, should the opportunity provide itself. "Savory isn't much of a surprise, given prior conversation, but admittedly the imagery of you smiling after sucking on a lemon is quite funny to me, especially if it was served with pampano."

It's a light tease, mostly to test boundaries of what he could joke with or not. He's not precisely walking on eggshells, he's certain that Alastor wasn't of the pearl clutching variety, but he's paying attention now, he wants to know what tickles the other's funny bone, and then it's all over. Shared laughter was strongly suggested in the book to help with building rapport. And compliments, but this soon it would come off as disingenuous ass kissing, noooo thank you.

Lucifer hesitates at the offer to reconvene in Alastor's room, pulse stuttering. If his face hadn't already been an unearthly pale yellow, it might've given something away from blanching. Though, there were enough other cues to give away his unease... but his desire to right things outweighed the guilt, and wouldn't it be better? He could openly mention and ask about the contents afterwards without worry of explaining how he came about that knowledge.

"Less put off, and more surprised? You can come across as rather private, and with myself personally, no one's visited my room in nearly half a millennia. There's a lot one can tell about another based on what's inside, but if you don't mind my presence, I'll come with all the same."

"Coffee is alright, and I'll drink either when there's an opportunity to. Though, if you want your tea bitter, don't follow the instructions and allow it to steep for a few hours... You, uh. Might have to reheat the water again afterwards though." Speaking from experience? Possibly. He might have been guilty of entirely forgetting the existence of his tea in the final process until he nearly knocks the mug over himself later.

He doesn't mention his favorite drink in this case, that could... be something for later. Or not at all. How did one make a bitter Angel Milk? By nature it was sweet... "You prefer bitter and spicy flavor profiles then? What about sour, savory, salty, and sweet?"

His hands clasp behind his back to hide the nerves since he hadn't brought his cane to grip instead, rocking back on his heels. Lucifer still felt out of his depth, but a definite measure calmer than past interactions. The only thing that had him on edge was not having had a chance of discussion since he found out just how badly he misconstrued things. And he isn't sure how to interpret everything now, other than it going well since Alastor was humoring him.

He's. Really hoping that it's that and not because he was a King imposing himself on a subject. He'd try and trust the process.

[submattenthusiast]

KINKTOBER christopher sturn cock ring

"no please i'm sorry don't make me" chris tried to make you change your mind. he knew he couldn't control himself in public, especially not with his friends around. "sorry isn't gonna cut it christopher, pants down" you demanded.

you grabbed your new toy and connected it to your phone while he stripped his lower-half. chris stood with his head down. regretting acting out already, he didn't wanna go to the party anymore. not like this.

he squirmed around the whole car ride, trying to adjust to the object tightly wrapped around his dick.

chris tried to relax, you hadn't turned the toy on so maybe you were going easy on him. he began chatting with mutual friends and grabbing a drink. nate, madi, and sam walked over to chris and started talking to him.

you watched chris from across the room, waiting for the perfect time to mess with him. you smirked when his friends joined him at the table. you opened the app phone on your and turned the toy on. you watched chris choke on his drink the small vibration. he brushed it off as it just going down the wrong pipe.

chris continued to converse with his friends as you studied him to find the the right moment to tease him again. he was listening to madi tell a story when you set the toy to the second level. chris jolted forward at the powerful vibrations against his dick. nate gave him a weird look but tried to not to bring it up.

chris gripped the table for stability as the ring sent vibrations throughout his lower half. he made eye contact with you, begging for you to go easy on him. you smiled and motioned towards his friends mouthing a "focus" to him. he nodded and tried to focus on the conversation that was being had around him.

"dude you alright, you actin' funny and nothin' special is in that cup" nate asked, looking him up and down. "just dizzy man" he lied, trying to get the attention off of him.

chris tried his best not to give a physical reaction but it was getting difficult. the pleasure was getting to him and he didn't know how much longer he could last. it was so hard to keep a poker face as the cock ring did it's job. he was holding back and you could see it all over his face, and you didn't like that, you wanted to break him.

you switched it to the highest setting and watched him struggle to keep it together. his nails dug into the plastic cup and he let a moan slip. chris attempted to cover it up by quickly clearing his throat. nate and madi exchanged a look at chris' weird behavior. you looked down at his pants to see the material shaking a little, from the toy and his cock twitching his pants

you laughed to yourself and you watched him attempt to have a conversation with madi. you set the toy back to the lowest setting to let him relax a bit before starting your shenanigans again. he sighed in relief and started speaking "and so i was telling matt–" chris started but couldn't finish as you turned the intensity back up.

"oh fuck–" he moaned as he came in his pants from the sudden stimulation. his body jerked as he came harshly. chris forgot where he was for a second and let himself go fully. his cheeks burned red as he made eye contact with you across the room, you smiled and pointed to his friends, that were looking at him bewilderedly. so much for secrecy.

[artyandink]

i like me better | cj braxton

Summary: Just two childhood best friends, going to ESU together after transferring from Boston Bay College. They’re prepped to have fun, lose sleep and complete essays. But there was a massive tiny problem. CJ’s struggling with a breakup, she’s struggling to help him and they’re both grappling with the realisation that they might be something more.

A/N - Lemme know if you want me to write more CJ! Based off ‘I Like Me Better’ by Lauv :), and this is my first reader story!

TW: Mentions of alcoholism, hurt/angst, breakup, mentions of depression, borderline panic attack(?), idiots in love, tooth-rotting fluff and cuddles, making out (lemme know if there’s anything else)

i like me better (when i'm with you)

Saturday 4th September, 2004 - 09:45 

I was gonna slap this man and ruin his perfect face.

“Hey.” CJ’s hand gripped my shoulder, gently rubbing it and staying so close to me that I could catch the warm, inviting scent of caramel and… mm, coffee. But no, I must stay strong. “C’mon, wake up.” I heard a small noise, as if he was setting something down, and his now free hand made its way into my hair, gently massaging my scalp. “Please?”

“No.” I grumbled, keeping my eyes firmly shut as I laid on my stomach, my head turned away from him as I determinedly tried to keep sleeping. But then again, you can’t force sleep. And as a college student, I know very well that sleep is something coveted. Extremely coveted. But then he started peeling the blanket off, his other hand rubbing my back, arms and over my shirt so I wouldn’t get cold. The touch soothed my tense muscles, and I resigned to the fact that CJ has powers. He could melt me with just one brush of his fingers.

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” His voice sounded playfully upset, as his hand continued to massage my hair, gently brushing some out of the way. “Uncle Bill told me that you didn’t beat him in a game of poker last night.” My only response was a huff, which told him everything. “Look, m’sorry, sweetheart. Don’t be mad.” I was gonna be mad. I came back from a walk because he said he was attending a college party to find him face down on the sofa, blabbering in slurred words about Jen, the stink of vodka, tequila and beer stinging my senses. It wasn’t pretty, neither were the hurling sounds I’d heard the next morning.

“You broke your sobriety.” I complained into the pillow, my voice muffled by it, but I wanted to turn back around. Hug him, kiss his hair and tell him it would all be ok. Stroke his cheek, kiss his nose and call him my ‘sweet boy’, because that’s what he is. Even if Jen broke him and in turn was the catalyst for him breaking his sobriety. But he… had to learn the hard way. Right? 

“And I’m sorry, but please… look at me.”

“Uh-uh. Learn your lesson.”

“Lesson learnt. C’mon, I brought you a caramel frappuccino. As a peace offering.” At the mention of coffee, I shot up, looking to see the takeaway cup on the bedside table. I grabbed it, holding it to my chest like a baby as I took a sip, humming in approval at the taste. I saw his sparkling green eyes, those pouty lips stretched in a small smile as I accepted his peace offering. “So, you took the bribe.”

“I’m not a cop. I’ll take as many bribes as I damn well please.” I smirked a little, taking another sip and pausing when I realised that even though patience was a virtue that I needed to learn, so was gratitude, that I needed to express.

Because, if he was appeasing me, he wasn’t as mad as I thought because of my silent treatment.

“Thank you.” My voice was a murmur when I said it, because I did feel guilty for giving him the silent treatment. I always felt guilty for being mad at those puppy eyes.

“No problem, sweetheart.” He brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear with a tilt of his head that made my bones warm up and shiver at the same time. His shaggy brown hair was combed neatly, and he wore his favourite sweater- the brown one with the buttons undone. It also looked amazing on him. Really good. “Can you forgive me?”

“You’re partially forgiven.” I muttered, taking another sip of the coffee, which felt rather like a shield. I was guilty because CJ didn’t deserve my criticism.

He was just… heartbroken.

And I wasn’t making things better, not by ridiculing him for having human emotion.  It felt like sharp rocks in my stomach- like I was feeling a pain that wasn’t even mine in the first place. Like they’d cut so deep I’d bleed through my repentance.

“I’ll take partially.” He reached over tentatively to squeeze my hand, my own feeling so small in his. “Because I don’t want you being that mad for too long. I hate your silent treatment.”

“I hate my silent treatment too, but…” I sighed, “I can’t, you know, see you like that. I know it’s selfish.” The moment I finished my sentence, I felt another bout of gentle pressure on my hand, coupled by the corner of his lips turning down.

“It’s not selfish.” CJ assured, his thumb rubbing soothingly over my knuckles. “You’re looking out for me, and that’s not selfish.”

I started to hyperventilate, short gasps coming from my mouth as I thought about how heartbreaking the scene of CJ, on the couch, crying out his heart was. His rosy cheeks shining with tears, green eyes going down the red colour spectrum and his shirt stained with the salty liquid. “What if Jen had gone about this differently? Had she not insulted you publicly? What if I’d spoken up, or helped you more, o-or-”

I was instantly drawn into his chest, his hand setting the frappe aside as his arms wrapped firmly around me. My cheek was resting against the soft fuzz and fluff of his sweater that felt like a blanket. Like he was protecting me for something I didn’t deserve protection for. I was hurting him, unnecessarily. 

“Shh.” His hand cupped my cheek, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb while the other went securely around my waist, pulling me into his lap and holding me there. “You’ve done all you can. Don’t beat yourself up over this, ok?”

“I could’ve done more-”

“Shh…” He rocked me in his arms ever so slightly, his nose buried in my hair as he inhaled the scent of my shampoo.

CJ felt like he had sharp rocks in his stomach. That weighed him down and pierced at him until he felt like he’d bleed. Jen was never a bad person. She had her flaws, as did everyone else, and she truly was good at heart. But when she dropped him with seldom an explanation, avoiding his every advance and not touching him with a ten foot pole, he wished he could hate her for it. But he couldn’t help but think it was something to do with him. Now here his best friend was, curled up on his lap and blaming herself for his problems.

He was being a major ass.

His arm tightened again, almost as if to envelop me in his comfort and protection. “It was never your responsibility to pull my drunk ass off the floor.” He gave me a kiss on my temple, his voice a low, deep murmur. “Never was, never is and never will be. Please cheer up.” He gave me a kiss on my cheek, humming a little. A smile started to tug at my lips, so he matched the warm expression and bent his head down again.

His pillowy lips pried the rain clouds in my head apart, sweet pecks on my cheeks paired with honeyed nothings in my ear. His kisses felt like stamps on my cheek, marking me as his without leaving anything but a rosy hue on my skin. To tell the truth, I was always his. Ever since I found out what the weird butterflies in my stomach meant. What the weird tingly feeling I had whenever he flashed that winning smile at me meant. Ever since I started seeing his adorable little pout when he was playfully mad and finding myself wanting to kiss him until I couldn’t breathe and neither could he.

Sunlight streamed through the dark clouds as he rubbed soothing circles onto my waist over my sweatshirt, the other holding my knee over my grey sweatpants as his hair tickled my temple from the angle where he’d bent his head to press his lips against my cheek, outlining any freckle he found until I was a sunny, happy, giggling, blushing thing in his arms. “You’re forgiven.”

“Eh, that’s it.” He chuckled deeply, giving me one last squeeze by his strong arms before cupping my cheeks and placing one last kiss on my hairline. “There she is; attagirl. Now, I was on the phone with Uncle Bill before you woke up. He wants you to stop letting him win otherwise he’ll stop betting money and replace it with dental floss.”

“Can’t have that.” I giggled, shaking my head. Uncle Bill was also like my own family at this point, and since I was a good hand at poker, we always played rounds on Friday nights that I always won and gained some cash from. But I wasn’t really in the mood to win yesterday. Not when the previous week, I’d found CJ drunk off his rocker on our couch. “I’ll go hard on him next time.”

“You better. Don’t want him getting a big head, do we?” His fingers played with mine, tracing each delicate one before lifting my hand to his lips and brushing them over every knuckle before he turned my hand over and let them tease the inside of my wrist. “Now, c’mon. We need to be productive.”

“Define productive.”

“Beating Toad on Mario Kart.”

“Yep, that’s productive.”

Monday 6th September, 2004 - 07:30

CJ groaned when he felt the light from the window burn his eyes, his hand reaching up to block it until his poor eyelids and pupils could adjust to the intense rays that blinded him. That’s when he saw a figure outlined by the light like an angel, silhouette blurry as he blinked rapidly and his head picked up. But the person standing there was no angel. To him, she was a goddess. His best friend.

“You ass.” He chuckled as he rolled out of bed, grabbing his sweatshirt as he stood up. “You take pride in seeing me looking like a hedgehog in the morning.” His voice got more low as he pulled his grey sweatshirt on, but then he walked over to me, cupping my cheeks and pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Morning, sweet boy.” I giggled, playfully rubbing where he’d kissed. That made him let out a fake incredulous gasp, swatting my arm.

“Hey! You just rubbed off the magic.” He took my chin gently, tilting it to kiss my forehead again. “There, all sorted. Now, don’t go rubbing it, ok?”

“Fine, fine, I won’t rub ‘the magic’ off.” I air-quoted the phrase with a sarcastic drawl, which earned an eyebrow raise and a teasing smirk from CJ as he then seized me by the waist, starting to tickle my sides. The sensation almost made my knees give way as I shrieked a little, a gasp escaping my mouth as I attempted to wriggled out of his grip. “Hey- CJ!” I was breathless in between laughs, his own chuckles deep in my ear as I squirmed. “C’mon, don’t-don’t do this to me, it isn’t fair-”

“It’s fair.” He smirked before using his grip to lift me up and started walking, planting my feet in the kitchen. I pouted at him, but it slowly turned into a smirk as I began tickling the back of his neck. He shied away instantly, his neck seizing up as he backed off with raised hands in surrender. “Hey! No fair!”

“It’s fair.” I smirked as I passed by, giving him a peck on the cheek before moving to make our coffee. Behind my back, CJ raised a tentative hand to his cheek, touching the spot which I kissed as he licked his lips, biting them as they stretched into a goofy grin. His cheeks flushed red as what three words threatened to spill from his lips, but even as the expression and thought remained like it was burned there, he couldn’t understand why he had the urge to smile whenever he saw his best friend. Why he wanted to pull her closer, brush his lips over hers and maybe even make out against the kitchen counter, her hand in his hair while his bunched up the soft material of her sweatshirt and felt her soft thighs through those baggy sweatpants. Leaving a trail of fire down her neck, no match, lighter and gasoline- just his lips. Hearing sounds that he knew would be sweet as honey. Holding her in the morning, being the last thing she saw before she fell asleep and the first thing her eyes met when she woke up.

He was still hung up on Jen. But here his best friend was, with her tendency to always wear sweatpants that flattered her paired with a rope braid that always had a few strands of hair loose that he was itching to tuck behind her ear. Not to mention that she always had a twinkle in her eye when she looked at him, paired with a pouty smile on her pretty pink lips that he just wanted to kiss until they were swollen. He wanted her to kiss his lips until they were swollen.

He wanted to be hers. At least, he always was, but he wanted to add a label to it.

Wait, he wanted to add a label to it?

“Here. Caffeine fix.” I passed him a mug of steaming hot coffee that snapped him out of his reverie while I sipped my own cup, both of ours exactly how we both liked it. Creamer and two teaspoons of sugar. “Should be enough for our first day at Empire State University.”

“Orientation and everything.” He chuckled, looking up at the ceiling as he sipped his coffee with a low moan of approval. “Tastes great, sweetheart. Anyway, I doubt we’d be separated. Not after we put in special requests to dorm together.”

The statement made me giggle, his pouty lips wavering my focus for a second as he gulped down a second sip of the sweet coffee. “Exactly. Who could possibly match our energy? It’s impossible.”

Monday 6th September, 2004 - 09:24

“M’already five minutes into this lecture and I’m getting bored.” CJ groaned, leaning his head on my shoulder and inhaling the scent of my body wash as the Psychology lecturer droned and on about the basics of psychology in a monotone voice that evidently suggests that he does not want to be here. And now I’m writing an English literature analysis essay in my brain, which is not helping. Everyone had already bothered to study up on psychology basics, so the class was full of chucking crumpled notes about to make friends, and there was even a couple called Gavin and Stacey with their lips locked in the back of the hall.

It was a mess.

“Tell me about it.” I sighed, taking a long sip from my water bottle as I leaned my head on CJ’s, his cologne dizzying me for a moment. My fingers began playing with his hair, winding the soft, floppy strands around my fingers loosely. He yawned into the crook of my neck, his eyelashes fluttering as he took deep breaths and tried to focus himself but failing miserably.

“Help.” He murmured, letting out a small puff of breath as I doodled in my notebook. “M’bored.”

In order to combat his boredom, I ripped a sheet of paper quietly out of a refill book I had in my bag and placed it on the table, drawing a 3x3 table. “Tic Tac Toe?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” We played a couple rounds of it, all of which ended up with CJ winning because he insisted he started first and always pulled out the puppy dog eyes if I so much as refused. Obviously, I couldn’t protest any longer otherwise I’d lean in to kiss that pout away. My hand on his cheek or running through his silky hair, leaning in with soft giggles to get addicted to those lips and soft smiles all over again. Seeing him on top of me, looking at me with that warmth in his eyes that I always saw him look at Jen with. Hearing his groans in my ear, alone in his bed as he whispered sweet nothings to me while his lips trailed a path of sin over my skin. Clothes hitting the floor in a dimly lit room. Being the first thing he saw when he woke up and the last thing he saw before he slept.

But that’s all an unreachable, lucid dream, right?

Friday 22nd October, 2004 - 17:12

CJ and I crept up the driveway of Uncle Bill’s house, hunched over even though there was nothing to hide from as we giggled like crazy. Our pinkies were intertwined, as we both registered how stupid-ass we looked, snickering like little gremlins as we reached the door, CJ’s hand lifting to rap on the door how he usually did, followed by him putting his spare key into the lock as we opened the door. Uncle Bill’s house looked homely, cozy even, but only because CJ and I made it so because the elderly man didn’t really have a penchant for decorating. We wiped out feet on the welcome mat, grins on our faces as we hung up our coats on the rack beside the door. “Uncle Bill?” CJ called out with a chuckle, and I set down my grocery bag to take off my shoes, CJ following suit.

“Don’t ignore us, c’mon.” I giggled, and then the old man grunted from the living room, responding to us.

“Don’t just lurk in there, you two. C’mere.” We shared a look as CJ and I walked into the living room, where CJ’s Uncle Bill was sat on the sofa, elbows deep in a soap opera. When he saw us, he stood up, shuffling over with a smile. “Hey, kiddo.” He grinned at CJ, who hugged him. “Nice to know you haven’t forgotten this old geezer.”

“Oh, never.” CJ responded casually as Bill clapped the former’s shoulder before he turned his attention to me.

“Ah.” He took a good look at me. “You haven’t gotten any taller. CJ still looks like a tree.”

“A handsome tree, I hope.” CJ smirked, then nudged me. “You do look like a forest fairy sometimes.”

“Shut up, I tried my hardest. Plus, 5’ 7” isn’t bad, you 6’ 1” yeti.” I chuckled as I hugged Bill, swaying a bit. I’d known Uncle Bill since I could talk, same as CJ, so we were practically family at this point. And even though he was a grouchy ‘old geezer’, I still loved the ‘old geezer’ as if he was my own uncle. “Good to see you, Uncle Bill.”

“You too, sweetheart.” He patted my back, then took a look at us both with a proud smile. “I remember when you two were small little munchkins. Bawling every other minute. Now look at you both, all grown up. In college, together. I swear, you’re joined at the goddarn hip.” He reached up to pat our cheeks, then frowned in confusion. “You sure you two ain’t datin’ yet?”

“No, Uncle Bill, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” CJ raised a warning hand paired with a smug smirk. “I’m way out of her league.”

I picked up a newspaper from the side table, rolling it up and slapping him in the head with it. “Shut it, I’m way out of your league.” Then I turned to Bill, holding up the bag of groceries that we’d picked up for him. “Shall we?” I walked off with the elderly man, setting the newspaper to the side.

CJ chuckled to himself as he watched me walk off, in his hoodie and my sweatpants that made me look like an angel but a walking temptation at the same time. “Yes, you are.” He muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck while biting his lip. To him, his best friend was unattainable. With those dimples, eyes and those sweet smiles.

The evening was spent with rounds of poker that I won every time, Uncle Bill complaining about something or the other in his house over glasses of juice, punch and water. CJ hadn’t had much practice at poker, so he was finding it hard to keep up with the skill of the likes of regular players such as Bill and I. That resulted in quite a bit of teasing and playful ruffles of hair, and me having to kiss CJ’s cheek to appease him and take that grumpy little pout off his face.

“C’mon, boy, buck up.” Bill gruffly ordered, dealing another round. “You just need practice.”

“Let me guess…” CJ deadpanned, “practice makes perfect, don’t be sad, because it’s not about winning and it’s about having fun.”

“Wrong. It is about winning, cause you win money. It’s all about the money.”

“Yeah, Cee.” I smirked, giggling as I counted the amount of twenty dollar bills that I’d earned so far. I was sure I’d empty Uncle Bill’s pocket soon. “It’s about the money.”

“You two are addicts.” CJ huffed, shaking his head with a laugh. “You’re as bad as each other.”

“Sore loser.” Uncle Bill snorted.

“Yeah, sore loser.” I snickered before taking my dealt hand.

Hours later, we were in the middle of a round of poker when we looked to Uncle Bill and found that he was fast asleep, starting to snore. I giggled, setting down my cards and gesturing to CJ. “Pack this up, I’ll get him to bed.” As I turned my back, moving to put a blanket over Uncle Bill, CJ’s phone lit up with a text.

A clearly drunken series of texts.

Jen: I miss you

Jen: Come back

Jen: Pleeassse, CJ

Jen: Ily so much

Jen: Cmonnn, give me another chance

Those texts made everything come crashing down again. All those suppressed emotions and focusing on anything but Jen and now she was texting him, drunk. Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to keep them down, burying himself with the task of cleaning up the cards until he felt a hand on his hair, a gentle hand taking the pack of cards out of his hands and set it down.

Next thing he knew, he was in the spare bedroom upstairs, curled up with his head in his best friend’s lap while he cried his eyes out into her grey sweatpants, leaving water stains behind as he tasted salt.

I stroked his hair, fighting the urge to cry myself as I cradled him like I did back when he had his depression spell. I whispered words of encouragement and love to him, trying to make him feel the slightest bit better as those pretty green eyes steadily turn redder by the second.

I had to stop the cycle somehow, but I wasn’t sure how to.

Sunday 7th November 2004 - 15:48

CJ and I were writing our Psychology essays on my bed, discussing ideas to reach the 3000 word minimum requirement. The room was filled with our low rumbles of conversation, flipping of book pages and the scratching of pens on paper. But his eyes kept on flicking curiously to me, his lips pursed slightly as he noted how our time right now didn’t consist of giggles, jokes and playful pecks on the cheek paired with cuddling. It was somber, almost quiet, and he could sense that with my loving glances, there was a small weight to them that he couldn’t explain, but he knew I could.

“Hey.” He reached out, brushing my curtain bangs out of my face. His head tilted as he gazed into my eyes, finding only a sadness that he didn’t like to see. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, Cee.” I whispered, but he thumbed my bottom lip with a soft frown. His eyes looked so worried, it ached my heart and it ached his too, seeing me without my usual smile. My lips parted in a silent gasp, my breath hitching as I closed my eyes to steady myself before opening them and taking a good look at him.

I wanted to say what three words so badly.

But he was hurting.

“Looks far from nothing to me.” His thumb on my lip tried to push them up into a smile, but when one didn’t come, he pulled me into his arms. It was like we had a psychic link. Whenever one of us were upset, the other was. If one was guilty, the other would try and find any reason whatsoever to feel the same.

Right now?

I felt lost, just as lost as CJ.

I didn’t feel lost when I was curled up on his lap, my head in the crook of his neck while he rocked me gently. I didn’t feel lost in the slightest when he murmured affirmations into my ear along with little kisses. I didn’t feel lost when his fingers brushed my cheek and his lips wiped away the one tear on my cheek that dared to escape my eyes, his fingers soothing the following ones.

I knew that if he let me go, I’d feel just as lost as ever. Unsure how to help him and unsure how long we’d pass the hot potato in the form of negative emotions that manifested as per their own will back and forth like a pendulum. It was a cycle.

One of us got upset, the other cuddled with them until the sniffles went away. Then vice versa, and it would… never… stop. I just wanted it to stop.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered into my ear, kissing the spot beside it as he drew comforting circles on my back. “S’gonna be ok, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You can tell me what’s up when you’re ready, ‘k?”

“You’re hurting.” I whispered, gripping his grey Henley in a tight fist. He let out a long breath through his nose before nuzzling it in my hair. “It hurts when you hurt.”

“Sweet girl.” He whispered, sounding like he was physically pained to hear those words. “I may be hurting, but please don’t-don’t do that to yourself, ok? I’m almost over Jen, just hold out on me a bit longer, y’hear? I can’t see you like this. I just need that beautiful smile, ok?”

“Please be ok.” I whispered. “Soon. I’m so mad at Jen, but she-she’s not even a bad person, so I can’t fully hate her.”

“I feel the same way.” He kissed my hair. “But this is affecting you, so I’ll try my hardest to get better. I promise.”

“Don’t do this just for me.” I pleaded quietly. “Do it for yourself, too.”

“I’ll try.” He whispered, still rocking me. “Let’s set down these essays, and take a break. We can watch Johnny English together to cheer you up. I know I’ve been holdin’ out on watching it, but I can make an exception.”

I sniffed, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” He kissed my cheek, then swept me into a bridal carry, his strong arms cradling me to his chest as he walked over to the sofa, laying me down. “Just lay back and relax, sweetheart. I’ll get the popcorn.”

The rest of the night was spent with loud laughs, comforting kisses as he held me close under the blanket. I couldn’t help but look at his perfect side profile as he stared at the TV with a wide grin on his face as he chuckled at Rowan Atkinson’s shenanigans on the flashing screen. His face illuminated in the dark room (the blinds were drawn) looked so peaceful, his arm around my shoulder and a few strands of hair brushing over his forehead that I wanted to move with my fingertips.

Instead I snuggled into his chest, his arms instinctively cocooning me in his embrace. CJ closed his eyes, wanting to do all of this all over again but this time with us kissing each other’s lips and telling each other ‘I love you’.

I’m in love with you.

I’ve fallen for you.

I’m hopelessly addicted to you.

The words were right there, but he choked up at the last moment.

You’re my best friend.

You’re my rock.

My everything.

It was easy to say in his head, but not so much out loud.

You’re my universe, sweetheart. Ever since we could talk.

Sunday 19th December, 2004 - 18:26

We were celebrating Uncle Bill’s birthday, so, naturally, we were over at his house. Even better for Uncle Bill, Grams, or Evie, as Bill knew her, was coming over to visit. So I’d finished dressing up in a plaid dress, putting a belt over it and letting my hair loose for once. I ran a comb through it, and I could barely remember the last time I dressed up was my graduation. I put one last swipe of lip gloss on, then opened the door and descended down the stairs nervously. Uncle Bill and Grams had their backs to me, but CJ’s eyes lit on fire when he looked up from the lively conversation to see me standing there. He instantly stood up so fast he almost toppled over the armrest of the sofa, his jaw almost hitting the floor.

“You…” A grin twitched at his lips as he made his way over to me in a daze, taking my hand and twirled me, “look stunning. My god, sweetheart. But… personally?” His lips brushed my ear and his voice lowered to a murmur. “You look even better in sweatpants.”

“Oh, shush, you.” I snickered, and then we saw Uncle Bill and Grams’ eyes on both of us with smirks on their faces. The air turned awkward, but then CJ lifted my hand to his mouth to kiss my knuckle before interlocking our pinkies as they dropped.

“You look beautiful, darling.” Grams smiled affectionately, gesturing for us to come over and sit down.

“Thank you, Grams.” I grinned.

“Like a Barbie doll, sweetheart.” Bill added, but got swatted on the arm by Grams. “What? Y’all can compliment her but I can’t?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, honey, and you know it.” She laid a hand on Bill’s forearm. “How about I go with CJ to get your cake ready, hm?” She looked keenly towards CJ, who clapped his hands and rubbed them together, going with Grams, who shuffled into the kitchen with CJ. The cake was already laid out, which planted some confusion in the poor boy’s mind.

“Was this some masterful plot to get me to talk about something?” He asked with a raised eyebrow as Grams shut the door behind them.

“You got that right, young man.” Grams gave him a smile, then gestured for him to sit on the barstool in the kitchen. He obliged, sitting his apprehensive ass down before he had the mind to complain or object. “Now, I don’t want you to deny anything that I’m about to say, because frankly, CJ, I have seen enough to know.”

“Know-?” CJ chuckled nervously. “K-Know what, exactly?”

“You are madly in love with that stunning young lady in the next room.” The fact that it was said aloud caught CJ off guard, rendering him speechless. “I have no objection to this matter, even if my granddaughter and you were quite the couple, but that isn’t the point here. I understand from William that you and that girl have been friends since you could talk. And it is quite clear to me how closeted you are about your true feelings, when all she does is reciprocate them in her own special way, which is letting you shower your affection because it makes her feel special. In more specific words, you make her feel special.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are a handsome boy, but you are also, as I’ve said before, someone of pure heart and good intention. I love my granddaughter, but no one is a better match for you… than your best friend.”

To say that CJ was flabbergasted was an understatement. He’d never considered that his best friend could reciprocate his feelings.

That never occurred to him once. But nah, she couldn’t. She’s too good for him.

Sunday 19th December, 2004 - 9:56

CJ walked into the spare bedroom where his best friend was staying, and found her in his favourite outfit of hers, sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard. Sweatpants. The lip gloss was still on, and still looked stunning.

He closed the door, his eyes flicking down to my lips as he walked over, desperate to kiss it off and taste it on his tongue, but he digresses. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, Cee.” I smiled, patting the space beside me, which he flopped onto.

“I know I’ve probably said this a million times, but you look amazing.” He reached out, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. I blushed, my eyes flicking down to his lips before back up.

“I’m in sweatpants.”

“Exactly. Amazing.” His lips brushed my cheek, then he grinned softly and continued to press them over and over again, lips soft as silk, and I knew they’d taste as sweet as sugar. His hand cradled my cheek, his thumb stroking my cheekbone as I giggled and blushed even harder. “So amazing.”

“You’re just saying that.” I chuckled, leaning into his hand as I looked down bashfully. My lips parted slightly, fighting off the urge to smile like a goof.

“No, I’m not.” He muttered, smiling against my cheek as his nose brushed it as well. He let out a deep sigh, nuzzling into my cheek. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out, and I looked to him just as he thumbed my bottom lip, his breath mingling more with mine by the second as his pretty eyelashes fluttered closed.

“What-?”

“Shh…” He murmured, his lips pressing against mine, sweet as ambrosia as the taste of coffee, vanilla sponge cake and chocolate flooded my tongue. His gentle touch on my cheek had me melting as my own mouth found the dignity to respond, my hand tangling in his hair as I breathed in… his cologne. Cinnamon. Vanilla scented body wash. I broke apart briefly, my lips barely grazing his as a soft gasp fell from my lips as I leaned back in, tilting my head as I met him halfway.

That sweet sound, god, that sound, it almost made CJ melt. His hand immediately hooked under my knee, pulling it across his legs and setting it down so I was straddling him. His hand gripped my waist gently, not missing a beat as he pressed me against him, feeling everything he could. The way my hand slid across his chest, over his Henley, as his tongue brushed my bottom lip, a low sound of pleasure swallowed by my mouth falling from his. My fingers rubbed his soft hair, gently tugging until I got a moan from him that made me feel like I was on fire. He only added gasoline to it, coaxing more noises out of me by leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses down my neck as his hand squeezed my upper thigh as the other rubbed my hip in circles.

His hand on my thigh kneaded down to my knee then back up, gently gripping and rolling my hips down to meet his, which made us both jolt and meet in the middle again, honeyed sounds leaving both of our mouths, the hot air stealing mine while CJ’s vibrated against my neck. My head tipped back to allow him better access to me, fully trusting him. I could never not, and this right here felt like a dream. I always was his, but now, I was… his. Really his.

His hand took mine as he sweetly mouthed at my neck, breaking off to press a kiss to my knuckle and then my palm, placing that hand over his heart in a silent thank you for letting him touch me like this. The gesture made me smile, and I tilted his head back up to capture his heavenly, sinful lips again after they made me feel like the only girl in the world. He reached for my hip again, pulling me flush against him, but his elbow accidentally knocked his phone to the floor with a loud clatter that had both of us cringing and looking at the door for any signs of someone entering.

“You kids alright in there?” We heard Uncle Bill call out, followed my Grams’ voice after.

“Leave them alone, William, they can take care of themselves. Besides, I’m sure they’re… busy.”

I turned back to CJ, who gave me an apologetic grin, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed my nose and then a bold freckle on my left cheek. “Sorry.” He mouthed, but I giggled instead and pecked his lips for another taste.

“It’s ok.” I whispered, brushing his hair back from his face with a smile. “For what it’s worth… I’m in love with you, too.”

The statement had him grinning like an idiot, cupping my cheeks and pressing his forehead against mine. “That’s worth everything, sweetheart.”

Monday 27th December, 2004 - 8:46

“God, Cee…”

The cool slab of the kitchen counter in our apartment pressed against my back, a contrast to the warm hand pushing up my sweatshirt. My hand was buried in CJ’s hair as his lips moved against mine like they were on fire and I was the only source of quenching it, like he was in the desert and I was his only source of pure water. His palm pressed against the now exposed skin of my waist, a low chuckle escaping from his lips.

I giggled in response, humming as his lips connected hungrily with mine once again, the taste of our morning coffee flooding each other’s mouths as he hummed back, his other hand reaching up to take the band tying her rope braid together and letting it loose, his fingers working to untangle the strands and mess it up just right. He let out another low moan that I couldn’t help but whimper in response to, especially as his hand squeezed my thigh playfully, lifting it to hook it over his hip before his lips regretfully left mine and instead descended to tease my neck in a way that had me tilting my head for him and pressing myself back into the counter to avoid getting hyperthermia; he was making me feel that much like the friggin’ sun.

CJ let out another low chuckle before lavishing more attention on my neck in order to elicit more sounds from my mouth. “You know,” He murmured between kisses, “I’ve always imagined doing this here.”

“Making out?” I breathlessly replied, also laughing a bit before it dissolved into a whine, those pillowy lips working their magic. As always.

“Oh, yeah.” He teased playfully, his hand in my hair tilting my head just a bit more, fingers massaging my scalp to soothe me as he planted a few more open-mouthed kisses on my neck, his elbow keeping my leg on his hip while his hand moved to play delicately with the drawstring of my sweatpants, tugging on it to make my breath hitch. “But now? Now, I’ve got a bit more in mind.”

TAGLIST:

@hobby27 @leigh70

Make sure to like, comment, or reblog with feedback! Sorry if this came late 😅

[ronearoundblindly]

for shut up jensen hehe

11. How do they feel about nicknames/pet names? If they like them, what pet names do they use? If they hate them, why do they feel that way?

17. How well do they communicate? Are they open with their feelings/thoughts or more reserved? Why?

32. Do either of them drink? If so, who’s the lightweight, and how does their partner care for them?

Questions from this ask game and for this Valentine's fic with awkward date!Jake Jensen.

Whoopsy, this got a bit spicy...

11

In typical dude fashion, Jake prefers more masculine nicknames or terms of endearment, specifically, 'handsome' and 'big guy.' He's not opposed to softer ones, but you'll have to only use those in private unless you want to upset him.

To be fair, he already gets relentlessly teased by his colleagues. Just let him have this, yeah?

As far as nicknames for you, he's waited so long to have his own girl and sweetheart that he sticks with the classics, too. 'Sweets' or 'sweetheart' are the most common. 'My girl' is mostly private and frequently sexual. 'M'lady' is because he's a fucking dork.

🙄🤣

17

Ehhh, Jake is not articulate with the more complicated feelings. He can deal in certainties--how much he wants you or what is attractive about you for him, saying 'I love you' actually ends up being pretty easy, etc.--but when it comes to things that Jake thinks he should feel a certain way about but doesn't, he struggles to say.

Like for whatever reason (because at first he doesn't know the reason), he can't share space very well. He hesitates to spend the whole night. He hesitates to use your bathroom or shower even. He definitely hesitates to move in.

This takes many coaxing conversations to comprehend until finally he confesses that he has so little space to himself when working that his own apartment is a haven in every way. He has complete control of that space. The eventual middle ground is moving into a place big enough for his own office/tech room and his own bathroom. Jake needs a retreat from everything. You are allowed in there, of course. It isn't a part of your home that's off-limits to you, but he's responsible for those areas. Nothing ever moves unless he moves it.

32

Oh yeah, y'all drink. Nobody gets blind-drunk for the most part, but you have drinks out with friends, with dinner, and most notably, play drinking games.

Jake loves drinking games--as well as strip poker, as discussed here--but gets overzealous and can get very drunk, very quickly sometimes. He's not a lightweight, but it can escalate when he doesn't pay attention to the volume of alcohol he consumes.

Drunk Jake gets handsy and has no tact. He will face-plant into your pussy or motorboat your breasts. This is just a thing you have to live with or preemptively stop him from doing/get him home quickly. There have been incidents of quickies in bar bathrooms because he will not stop grabbing at you or talking about how fucking hard you make him.

Spoiler alert: this is not a quiet man when he 'whispers' dirty things to you OR when he comes while tipsy. You absolutely have to cover his mouth and pray nobody overhears if you're still out and about.

The key thing about Jake is that you feel very safe with him, and that translates to a comfort where you trust you'll be okay even if you go a little overboard yourself. He's attentive. He notices changes in your mood easily. He can sober up super fast if he senses you need help or want to leave.

Ok and this barely has to do with alcohol but Jake has this thing about how romantic it is to be super close on your nights in. If you two are watching a movie together or even playing a video game, your body is against his, either by way of snuggling into his side or sitting between his legs. It's half the fun to hold his controller in his hands right above yours and try to distract you by kissing your neck (or you by wiggling your ass against his lap). I mention this because if you two are gonna sit that close and kiss and share everything, you usually share a drink, too. There's only one beer, or one glass of wine, or one cocktail on the table for both of you. Almost always your choice of drink, he doesn't have a preference usually, but it also creates fewer dishes.

Jake Jensen hates doing dishes. It's just...a thing...

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Jake Jensen Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[jacobsbigmelons]

Jacob x male reader who is Emma's brother and reader has had a crush on him since they showed up

Jacob Custos x Male Reader

Sibling Beauty

cw: fluff, playful sibling teasing, Emma peer pressuring reader to a degree but nothing crazy. Emma being a big sister (reader was born like 2 minutes after Emma so she’s taking the big sister role lmao) and we love her for it. Jacob being the dumb himbo he is but we love him, and Emma and Jacob not being a thing as well el oh el.

“So when we’re you going to tell me you like Jacob hm?” Emma said as she playfully nudged herself into you as you guys were walking back from the trail, the rest of the councilors more up ahead so no worries about anyone overhearing you guys. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, besides even if I did like Jacob he’s so out of my league.” You said kicking a few rogue pebbles away from you.

“Oh please it’s so obvious you like him, you literally offered to carry his hydration bag knowing you would struggle. No offense but long walks even back home weren’t your strong suit.” Emma glared at you, her statement coming off not hurtful, I mean she was right you kinda outdid yourself offering to hold something so heavy for such a long walk but she didn’t need to know that.

“Well excuse me, didn’t think i’d be getting flamed by my own sibling, you’re a bitch y’know that, and for the record I was doing it out of the kindness of my heart, you should learn a thing or two about that.” You replied back, your poker face keeping Emma’s accusations (which weren’t wrong) at bay for at least a little bit.

“Everything I do for you and I get called a bitch?!” You scoffed at Emma’s hurt comment knowing she doesn’t care in the slightest, you’ve called each other worse things after all. “If I didn’t know better you sound adamant on defending the fact you don’t like Jacob, you must like having his name in your mouth huh?” Emma knew exactly what she was doing and as good as your facade was able to keep up, the heat in your cheeks and the rare drop of sweat was blowing your cover.

“It’s not like I talk about him 24/7 geez.” You rolled your eyes realizing last second you left yourself open to an obvious comeback. “But you do talk about him…maybe not everyday no but you seem to like talking about him, if not to me maybe Dylan, or Abby.” Emma giggled at her words as you annoyingly sighed as you picked up the pace, you knew your sister was just gonna keep bringing up every little thing until you break your defenses.

At least you thought you’d be safe before a familiar ear jerking voice caught your attention as he was calling you, it was Jacob. You looked back as Emma slowly but surely caught up as you stopped so Jacob could walk with you. “Hey man, look thanks again for holding onto my bag, never got to actually thank you for that.” He patted his hand on your back as a sign of gratitude but to Emma it was all the evidence she needed.

You didn’t care at this point, she was already seeing everything and your very clear change in personality was more then enough to prove her point. “Uh…ye-yeah, anytime Jake…anytime.” You fidgeted with your hands as they patted your thighs, a way to try and ignore the man you’ve been crushing on since you’ve arrived at this camp. Thought he was making it very hard. “Look uh, how long until we get back to the cabins? My legs hurt so mu-“ You were cut off by the feeling of an arm pulling you closer to the big jock next to you.

“Y’know my brother would be down to hike with you, he loved going on walks and such back home.” You couldn’t believe what your sister was telling your crush, you didn’t want to subject yourself to all that pain in your legs but if it meant you had more of a chance you’ll let her do her thing. “Hell yeah bro, you and your sis can come hiking with me after summers done or something like that” Jacob said, his smile imprinting itself in your head, god you’re a mess. “Oh sorry I don’t really do hikes, it was already tough for today but-“ Emma tried to remove herself from the invitation before Jacob interrupted her “Oh nah nah it’s cool, we can just go on a smaller hike or maybe just a walk” You glared at your sister as she stared right back “Don’t act like you’re the one who doesn’t do the hiking” you whispered as you nudged her right back from earlier, yet all she did was scoff.

Eventually the group returned to the cabins as all the kids were separated into their own cabins as the counselors returned to their own places to rest. Though Emma pulled you aside before you got close to your own cabin. “Hey hold up” she said calling out to you before you stepped away to your cabin. “You gonna make a move or something? Guy is an absolute beefcake.” you both stood in front of each other, arms crossed thinking what to do, or at least you were. At this point all you could do was agree instead of play the fool, you didn’t deny anything after your run in with Jacob.

“I don’t know dude, what if he’s straight? What if he’s homophobic dude? think of that hm?” A slight sassy tone lacing your words. “Y/N, he’s not homophobic. If he was he would’ve probably been shit talking Dylan from day one, it’s obvious he enjoys a good man and Jacob hasn’t done anything so you should just go and do it. Even if he says no you at least sent your shot” She rested her hand on your shoulder, there weren’t many times when she would be super serious about this stuff but now is one of those times.

“it’s just-“ you tried to speak before Emma stopped you once more, “if you don’t take your shot, someone else will then you’ll be all up in your head about how you regret what you did.” Emma spoke up as her hands cupped your cheeks, if she wasn’t being 100% she definitely was now, and all you could do was rest one of your hands on top of hers. “So go get him before you miss out” You didn’t think about that, you didn’t think how you might have no chance if someone else goes for Jacob.

You left each other with a genuine hug before you entered the cabins which Jacob was also staying in, and you were greeted with the stunning sight of him with his shirt off as he was goofing off with the other boys. “Yo dude catch!” Nick practically ran in front of you as he caught the incoming football, you sidestepped carefully as to not get hit by any incoming sports ball.

You watched the boys play as you thought on what Emma said, it was only Jacob and Nick playing but you couldn’t help but think who might take a shot with Jacob. But the only person might be Dylan, Ryan seemed to just be in his own world most of the time and Nick seemed more interested in Abby. You didn’t linger on the thought to long as some time passed and you decided to go for it. You walked over to Jacobs bunk as you took a seat next to him, he was just spinning around his sport balls or just throwing it up and catching it himself. “Sup dude” Jacobs casual demeanor was always welcome, a comfort even.

“Hey…um I got some stuff to talk with you about, if that’s cool with you.” You softly spoke, as you patted your hands on your legs to fidget a bit. “Yeah- yeah go ahead man” Jacob straightened out his back to listen to what you have to say. “Look, i’ll be blunt because if i’m not first off my sister is gonna beat my ass but also because I don’t wanna stall longer then i need to, Jacob you’re really nice and cool and I really like that about you and I think I like you a lot, but not as a friend…y’know?” Jacobs silence was more then loud enough, you wanted him to say something but you didn’t want him to rush his answer, you did just drop this on him after all.

“So…You’re like- crushing on me?” He questioned as he looked at you, you didn’t want to stare back at him in fear he may be disgusted with what you just said. “Yeah…about a month now, better to get it out when I can right?” You shrugged as your heart was racing, as much as you wanted to just forget about doing this your sister proved too much of a point to let this chance slip away.

“Respect dude, I mean shit, you beat me to making a move” He flipped his football in the air before catching it once more before he saw your eyes connect with his quicker then ever. “Wait what?!” You said with shock in your voice, the other boys looking over slightly to see what’s happening. “You’re serious right now? Not fucking with me or anything?” Jacob nodded in disagreement as he covered his mouth to yawn. “Look, i’d love to get this squared away but i’ve tired myself out, let’s talk tomorrow when i’m not completely exhausted” Jacob said with a sluggish tone, but not before he let you go with a cheeky move as he gave you a kiss on the cheek.

All you could do was stand up and hold your cheek, Jacob clearly has his priorities set on sleep as he was already laying back down with his arm over his eyes.

Tomorrow aught to be fun.

[sawtastic-sideblog]

Adam wakes with a start. A dull ache pulsated from his shoulder. He groans and rolls out of bed. He dresses in a pair of black jeans, a white shirt, and a light blue plaid button up. He carefully puts his arm in the sling the man, who he has learned is called John, provided him.

A commotion and the sound of glass breaking pulls Adam from his room. Newly built and still smelling of fresh lumber and paint, his room is one of six built to house John and his assistants. Currently it's only Amanda Young, Mark Hoffman, and himself in the rooms. It's large enough so you don't feel cramped and definitely better than his last apartment.

"If you hadn't put the plate there-" Amanda starts but is cut off by Hoffman.

"I had nowhere else to put it!"

Adam grabs a broom as the two continue to argue about the placement of a now broken plate. Struggling, he attempts to sweep the ceramic shards. He's stopped when a hand lands on the broom. Adam's eyes meets John's as he looks up. Amanda and Mark fall silent as John steps forward. He gives Amanda the broom and looks at Mark, who quickly vanishes.

"Adam, you shouldn't have to clean up after Mark and Amanda. It was their fault. They should clean it up."

"It was Mark's fault," Amanda mutters as she sweeps under a chair.

"It was yours, you little brat," Mark responds as he crouches down holding a dustpan out for Amanda to sweep into.

"Don't start," John commands. "I want you to do a steak out on our next test subject."

"Yes sir, I just need a couple hours to get ready."

"Take Amanda with you."

"What?"

"Your pictures come out blurry. Amanda's aren't great but they're passable."

"We have a professional photographer right here! I'd rather sit in uncomfortable silence with him all night than fight with Amanda!"

"Okay, so don't fight with Amanda. Adam's arm isn't fully healed. Once it is, if Adam chooses to do so, he will be joining you," John shrugs and gives Adam a cup of coffee.

"Fine, but you owe me," Amanda pipes from where she is emptying the dustpan.

"I owe you nothing," John states while putting plates of eggs, bacon, and toast on the table for all four of them. "Eat."

"Are you gonna talk today?" Amanda asks scooting her chair closer to the table.

"It's been three weeks, Amanda, he's not going to talk," Hoffman says around a mouthful of toast.

"He will in his own time. He's still upset with me over Dr. Gordon," John states matter of factly.

Adam cuts his eyes toward John before quickly looking down at the food in front of him. He pushes his chair away from the table, grabs the coffee, and retreats back to his room. The only place he didn't feel judged and he felt safe.

He set the cup of coffee on the small wooden table he uses for a desk. He pulls a journal from its hiding spot under the mattress corner nearest the wall and sits at the desk. He lets out a sigh and grabs his pen.

'Dear Lawrence,

It's been thirty two days since I last saw you. You told me you'd come back for me. That you'd get help. I don't know what happened to you, but Amanda tried to suffocate me. I played dead. I think it was more convincing than the first time around. I don't blame you for anything that's happened to me. I know you tried your best. The guilt from all of this is eating me alive. John says it'll pass. I'm still not talking, but John says he can see it on my face. I try to keep a poker face so he can't tell what I'm thinking. It's hard. To think about what happened to you. To navigate what is happening to me. To think about my future. And my past. To use my arm. To eat. To sleep. To breathe. To live.

I don't think Hoffman and Amanda understand. The guilt of being alive after watching someone you hardly know and yet know so much about die.

I feel the guilt, anger, pain, and whatever else I feel, I don't know anymore, when anyone says your name. I hate John, but I'm still here and I don't know why.

At least I think that's what happened to you. If I could see your body or see you alive, breathing, moving, hell even blinking, I'd breathe a little easier.

It's been thirty two days too long and as silly as it seems, I miss you.

I'm sorry Lawrence. Truly sorry. For everything.

Forgive me.

Please.

Adam'

[ultrastarbee]

hii dear🖤 may i request kokonoi, izana, mitsuya, kakucho with reader who acts & looks like celeste ludenberg??

Hello honey! I miss Danganropa so much this is gonna be good! But hear me out: koko and ceres would be the money couple for sure! I love Celes since the first time I saw her. She's pretty, smart and fun as hell. But fuck I'm obsessed with Junko. I love the thrill of despair.

Queen of Hearts is with a despair addicted reader if you want to give it a try. I'm working on the next part and it's a serie with Koko x reader as the main couple.

Title: Celestia Ludenberg-like girlfriend Request: Couple: Kokonoi x fem!reader, Mitsuya x fem!reader, Izana x fem!reader, Kakucho x fem!reader Category: fluffy Content Warning: Word Count: 333 Summary: the boys with a girlfriend who looks and acts like Celestia from Danganropa A/N: Kakucho was the only one I struggled a bit

MASTERLIST ....... RULES ....... SERIES LIST

Kokonoi

You and Koko are the ultimate money makers. With his management skills and your gambling ability you two are an unbeatable couple. When you are gambling together Koko is delighted by your poker face. Everytime you go out on a date you both come back with way more money than when you left. Koko's in paradise with a girlfriend like you. If anyone tries to harm you for winnig so much Koko has his ways to protect you.

Mitsuya

Your clothing preferences make him curious and inspired, so Mitsuya will ask you to be his private model. He will study more about victorian and rococo styles just to make you special dresses, but this man is thrilled to know you also have interest for designing your own clothes, so you two will work together sometimes. He's so proud to walk around with you dresses on clothes he made you. Please, allow him to take as many pictures as he wants to.

Izana

You see, Izana is a person who will do anything to achieve his goals and you are more than happy to help your sweet boyfriend. Even if it's about killing. You are adaptive and a great liar, what makes Izana way more cautious around you. When you lose your temper over some minor inconvenient Izana gets overexcited and supports whatever is your reason as well as the punishment you want to give for the one who annoyed you. Izana is happy on treat you as his queen.

Kakucho

Your presence is always so calm and collected Kakucho didn't knew your true self untill Izana brought you to join them at Tenjiku. You weren't a former S-62 and you aren't a violent person in any ways, but your mind games are dreadful. Kakucho has a hard time trusting you, but end up head over heels for you when you deceived some cops on letting him and Izana go after a bloody situation. Now he seems always so amazed by your tricks.

[violence-uncut]

One helluva reunion. ( j.m. & e.k. )

pairing: jon x eddie

warnings: m/m, sexual situations, thigh riding, choking ( really just eddie's hand around his throat, not so much actual choking )

type: one shot

words: 1,764

summary: Jon and Eddie see each other again after ten years apart.

a/n: So this is my first time writing Eddie in anyway and even though it's mostly taken from the promo inspiring this, I think I like this a lot. hope you all enjoy! this originally wasn't gonna end how it did, but I'm glad it went that way. let me know if I should write more Jon/Eddie.

Jon was ecstatic when he’d heard his long-time friend Kingston had been given an AEW contract. What he wasn’t excited about was facing off against said friend.

Back when they were younger, Jon being the little shit he was back then, Eddie had secretly taken him under his wing when no one was looking.

 It being over ten years ago, deep down he still had those feelings he’d developed about the older man. Whether or not Kingston felt the same way now, would be wrong. Or so he thought.

Jon’s face was stoic as he made his way down through the empty arena. Heading towards the one man, hell, probably the only man he really didn’t feel like fighting.

The walk was antagonizing and heavy. All the responses to anything Kingston might say sitting on the tip of his tongue.

Mox could see Eddie from his peripherals as he climbed into the ring. Kingston was egging him and he knew that, fortunately for Eddie; TK made this segment no physicality.

“Get out of the ring! Cut his music, cut his music! Schiavone, get out of the ring!”

Resisting the urge to climb right back out, the anxiety starts in Jon’s feet as Kingston gets right into his face. The skin on skin contact was a bit of a shock and he had to try real hard not to look at Eddie’s lips.

     Jon’s ears stopped ringing and he could barely clear the words Eddie was saying to him. Having mastered his poker face, Moxley just stood there, clutching the title over his shoulder. The only tell of any emotion was how hard he was gripping it.

“--- saturday, you understand that? On the seventh I’m gonna ruin you, and I’m gonna take that championship. I'm gonna hand it to my mother and I’m gonna tell her ‘ ma, the reason why you don’t have grandchildren is because of this! The reason I didn’t give you a daughter or a son in law, is because of this! Because this is all that matters in our sport.”

     All Moxley could do was stare into the older man’s eyes, face void. He didn’t think this was how their reunion was gonna go. Each bump of their noses together made Jon feel like the other actually wanted to kiss him.

Despite the anger behind his words. He was always able to read between the lines during promos, but Eddie was putting off serious mixed signals. It was hard for him this time to really see.

“It’s too late for me Jon, you ain’t saving nobody. An’ I’m taking that championship from you.”

     Just as Kingston was finishing his rant, Mox reached down and gripped the mic. The two men locked eyes as Jon attempted to raise the mic between them.

He could feel the power struggle for the object before Eddie reluctantly let Jon have it, tossing his hands into the air.

     The subject of friends and the art of trying to make them was never Mox’s forte. When Eddie made the violin gesture with his fingers, his armor chipped a little.

“I was so happy for you man, I was so happy for you when you signed a contract- shut up, I’m trying to tell you-”

“I don’t care! I. Don’t. Care!”

No matter how many times Kingston interrupted him, Jon kept on speaking, pushing back every time Eddie bumped against him. He just didn’t understand, did he? Moxley did the only thing he knew. It was time to fight.

     “I was so happy for you. I was happy for your mother. Whose dream it was- yeah, your mother Ruthie. Whose kitchen table I sat at. Who I said grace with! Who I made a promise to. That I would look after you! That I would always have your back. No matter what trouble you caught for yourself, I made that promise to her. And. . . I guess I broke that promise didn’t I?”

The whole energy changed right there. Eddie had turned his back on Mox amidst his rant. Jon walked up against his back, his lips almost level with Kingston’s ear. The elder had a good few inches on him at least. Jon felt like his body was betraying him the longer he stood against him. 

     “See, I believe the loudest one in the room, is the weakest one in the room. And you’ve been real loud lately Eddie. Why is that? That’s not you, you’re not weak. So what’s going on up here-”

     The small crowd of wrestlers in the seats applauded him as he barely tapped the side of Eddie’s temple. It almost made him want to stop right there.

He so wished no one was even seeing this right now. Acting wasn’t a good fit for him, so hopefully no one could tell what was really going on behind the words these two men were speaking to each other. 

“-I think I know what it is. After eighteen years you finally get your shot this saturday. You get your shot. The shot you never thought you would get. Deep down in your heart you know, deep down in your heart you know you’re gonna be in the ring with the AEW world champion. The best wrestler on this planet right now, and you’re gonna lose.

So it is a scary thought, I get it. After eighteen years it turns out, you didn’t deserve it after all. The worst part of this Eddie, the worst part that makes me sick, that puts my stomach in knots; You made a promise, you made a promise to your mother that you. can’t. keep!”

     The arena echoed with how loud Moxley’s voice was. The ring thrummed with their movements. Now it was his turn to do the instigating.

Everything that Jon was saying without the microphone was the most important to Kingston and Kingston only. To the AEW galaxy, he looked angry and tense. This tense had a whole other meaning behind it. 

After Eddie left the ring, Jon tried to hurry the segment along.

     He knew what was gonna happen the minute he made it back to his locker room. He was in for a surprise. Jon ended the segment by kneeling in the center of the ring, shaking his head.

Boy oh boy did he try his best not to interact with anyone on his way back. He only accepted a bottle of water from a stagehand.

He tossed the cap away as he practically chugged it the whole way back to his locker room. His brow furrowed, crunching the empty bottle. Why did it have to come to such lows? Jon knew he’d receive a worried call from Eddie’s mom.

     Mox sighed as he entered his room, kicking the door closed behind him. Maybe he was just paranoid about the idea of Kingston waiting for him.

A smile crept onto his lips though. They knew each other way too well for Jon to ignore his gut.

     He draped the title over his duffle bag before shrugging off his jacket. He headed over to the bathroom, kicking off his shoes before entering. Mox didn’t even flip the light on before a hand reached out and yanked him into the darkness.

“King, wait ple-”Jon groaned out when Eddie slammed him back against the door by his throat. He reached up, digging his nails into his forearm. He felt Eddie press against him, his eyes struggling to make out his face in the dark.

     Jon gave up fighting the other’s hold, arms falling limp at his sides. His chest heaved, all of the sudden he felt the presence of lips near his own. “You just had to bring up my Ma huh?” Eddie growled out, slamming his lips against Moxley’s.

     All the tension had left Mox’s body the second their lips touched. He gripped the sides of Eddie’s tank top, keeping the older man’s body against his.

Kingston squeezed his hand once around his neck before breaking the kiss, pressing his forehead against Jon’s. Their eyes had finally adjusted to the dark and all the two men could do was stand there, staring at each other.

“It was the only way I could get you to listen.”

     Jon swallowed, feeling his adam’s apple bob against his hand. He felt bad about bringing in the one person he knew Eddie didn’t want to disappoint.

The bathroom had gotten hot at this point. Which didn’t help the way Jon’s body was reacting to the kiss and Eddie’s hand around his throat. “Well I’m listening now, an I know what I wanna be listening to right now.”

     Kingston pushed his thigh up in between Jon’s legs, making the trapped man moan under his breath. He couldn't believe this was happening. “King, please.” He sighed out when Eddie started grinding up into his crotch slowly. 

     “Move.” The elder growled against his ear. Moxley didn’t need to be told twice as he started grinding down on Eddie’s thigh.

The friction of their jeans rubbing against his cock made him moan more consistently. He’d picked the wrong day to go commando.

“At least I know that you know how to listen.” Eddie mumbled against Mox’s neck, sucking at the skin. Jon wrapped his arms around his neck, head falling back against the door.

He worked harder, crying out when Kingston suddenly began grinding his knee up and in time with every jerk of his hips. 

     They were holding onto each other like their lives depended on it. He could feel Eddie’s big hands on his lower back, helping him edge closer to his climax.

Jon gasped, letting Kingston hold him up as he came in his jeans.

     His body jerked with aftershocks, scratching against the back of Eddie’s neck as he came down from his high. “That’s it, such a good boy.” King rasped as he connected their lips.

     Mox whimpered into the kiss as the knee between his legs disappeared slowly. It took a second to gather his strength before they broke apart fully.

“Don’t ever bring my family into our personal business again, understand?” Eddie questioned, making sure Jon was staring into his eyes.

     All he could do was nod. “Looks like you made a mess on my jeans. Figured you’d wait a little longer before making me have to punish you again. . .” Jon groaned loudly as Eddie reached into his jeans and wrapped his hand around his messy cock.

“Jesus Christ King. . .uh. . .”

This was going to be a wild feud, especially if each altercation ended like this one had. 

fin.

[diedbutterflies69]

Cars- Bang Chan imagine

Contains: explicit sexual contact, chan as hot rich hotel owner, car sex, slight degradation, blowjob, fingering, etc

Minors don't interct.

Working in one of the most expensive hotels in the country was something you never expected. You were just a normal student who was struggling to meet deadlines and pay for tuitions and so doing many part time jobs. A law student washing dishes in random restaurant and drooling over food, observing the way those chefs used to work with wok , deep fried food, the process fascinated you so much. Even though you were familiar with cooking since a young age it was rather more like responsibility, a chore. And that's how you learned cooking by slowly observing the chefs and utube videos, as changing the entire career dreams at the last year was little too wild and impossible. But struggles eventually leads to happiness, the owner of one of the restaurant you used to work at got surprisingly close with you ,her name lucy a single divorced hot milf she thaught you many skills and tricks with cooking. Your last straw before quitting the law school was getting failed . And just like that a blessing in disguise. She noticed how dishearted you were and then decided to give you the greatest opportunity in your life.

Working in God's menu was every chef's dream, and Lucy made your dream come true. The owner and main chef of God's menu Bang Chan was close with Lucy and just by that using some connections you got yourself inside that paradise, but Chan was a total boomer with you, he didn't wanted to give you job at the first place as you lacked experience and knowledge but he valued friendships way too much to deny Lucy.

Chan was always hard on you, constantly making you work with him, teaching the mystery behind flavours, making you memorize foreign cuisine recipes, you sweared you didn't even struggled that much in law school as there was no one lecture you and expect from you. He acted all tough just to make you perfect and eventually became close, you fell in the pit of one sided love the moment Chan agreed to hire you. What you adored most about Chan was how he always made sure to not make you panic while being near fire, never told you to hurry while cutting vegetables. His this small gestures meant so much too you. And in span of 7 months that baby was finally your boyfriend. Chan was someone who followed his heart and just like that, he confessed in the most cheesiest way possible. And here you are today a great chef with lot of knowledge and a handsome, caring and loving boyfriend. 3 years of loving relationship.

"baby~~ " you said while hugging your boyfriend from the back who was too invested in making a 4 tower cake for his best friend's wedding even though he wasn't much experienced with baking whatever he tried doing was no less than perfection.

"yes, baby? Need anything?", Chan asked you. Even though you have been listening to his sweet honey voice since years it never failed to make your heart flutter.

"stop working now, it's 2:30 am let's go home now", you whined slightly tipping on toes and kissing Chan's neck. Getting a small hum from your boyfriend.

"just few more minutes babe", Chan said turning back and softly giving pecking your forehead . You huffed in response being too tired of your boyfriend's night owl tendencies, you went back to the table and singing a good night in most extra way possible. Chan just smiled at his girlfriend, he too wanted to go home and just cuddle with you but work was trash .

Finally looking at clock it was 3 :15 something, his work finally done. After cleaning up every thing,washing the dishes and shoving the massive cake into refrigerator carefully, Chan happily made his way to you. He too saying baby~ in most extra way possible, he was an true night owl no matter how much he worked at nights without you being by his side he wasn't able to fall asleep. A habit he picked up 3 years ago.

"get up, it's 5 am", Chan whispered into your ear while aggressively moving you to make you leave your dreamland.

"aggh, good morning the love of my life", you said slowly leaving your subconscious world. Even in slight unconscious mind you were flirty and cheesy.

"good morning, it's 5 A.M ", Chan again told you a wrong time just messing up with you.

"what the fuck", you yelled being angry on your boyfriend's crazy work habits , you were glaring at him till he bought his his wrist infront of your face . His watch reading 3 : 08 , being confused and worried for your wrong vision you looked at the wall clock that to read 3:07 am.finally realising you have been scammed.

" you fucking lier", you yelled at Chan for pranking you, but you were glad that he finished the work soon.

"heheh", Chan laughed, he was too cute for you.

"let's just go home", you said trying to keep a poker face, packing your stuff then gripping Chan's hand and walking out of the space.

Going down through the elevator, Chan unleashing his 50 shades enthusiast.

"What is it about elevators?" Saying this and immediately pulling you into a deep kiss, he tasted like chocolate probably from the previous cake flavours, his tongue feeling so good while exploring your mouth, one hand at the back of your neck and the other interlocked with yours. His lips always felt like heaven.

He broke the kiss as the door opened, he adjusted your hair and outfit and locking his eyes with you giving you a warm smile, fully a contradiction to his previous action. This man's duality always suprised you.

"let's go baby~", Chan said getting out of elevator with you, hands interlocked moving back and forth, if someone saw you both they would probably think that you both are possessed, smiling and jumping like kids finally reached the car.

"let me open the door for you", Chan said with a smirk while opening the car door for you , there was not a single human present in the parking lot, creepy vibes but perfect for your both future activities. Chan entered the car and stared at you in the most innocent way possible.

"what?", You asked him giving him the same innocent eyes.

"babe, the kiss made me hard", Chan admitted almost shamelessly his eyes pointing at his pants , and yes it was a great hot site too notice.

"will you melt, till we reach home?", You asked Chan looking into his eyes hands slowly creeping to his thighs dangerously close to the not so safe zone.

"I would rather burst here than melt till we reach home", Chan said holding your hand bringing it straight over his memeber, you blushed deeply at his actions.

"Come on babe, we had done Car sex multiple times", Chan said making you blush and wet down there even more. You got a little too needy as the memories of Chan fucking you ruthlessly on the back site of the car came to your mind. Your hand still palming his cock through pants.

"hop on the backseat", you said almost breathlessly, Chan smirking at your needy , horny State. You both went on the backseat to make a great mess over there .

"aaah" , you moaned loudly as Chan slapped your left boob while sucking your neck. His teeth never failed at marking you all over, his touch was heaven especially whenever he squeezed the back of your neck or roughly groped those boobs. Detaching himself from your neck he gripped your neck in an erotically painful way and forcing you on your knees.

"Suck, use that mouth atleast one time for a good cause", Chan said , his degrading voice mixed with heavy lust. Nodding at his words , without wasting any time you bought your hands to undid his belt and zipper . Palming him through his boxers and finally releasing it from all restraints, you slowly put hs cock inside your mouth, he was really really hard. A fucking long and thick cock he had, you not being able to take him even half way as the position was slightly painful but nevertheless you started bopping your head up and down and palming the remaining with your hands. His loud groans and moans indicated that he was satisfied enough, you increased your speed, occassionally hollowing your cheeks to take him deeper every time. He gripped your head as he was close , he started to move your mouth as he pleased making you gag non stop, it hurted but you liked it so much. " You feel so fucking good, all mine", Chan said breathlessly after a final thrust and empting himself inside your mouth, his cum feeling your mouth in escasty. You sucked off every single drop not wasting anything.

Chan lifted you up from the car floor and made you sit on his lap. You looking fully fucked out, with clothes misplaced and mouth dripping with saliva and his liquid , black mascara tears running down.

"My precious slut", Chan said while making his way to your panties, your jeans were already removed a long ago.

"you want my fingers? Hmm?" Chan said as his fingers were slowly entering your pussy , his cold hands making you shiver .

"yes please sir" , you begged voice laced up with pure desperation and needily grinding on his fingers and thighs. Chan smirked again at you.

"what you want more, my fingers or my cock?" Chan made gave you 2 choices both of them heaven.

"your cock, sir please" You begged again. He finally smiles at you pure ill intention smile.

"Since you are too good girl, I should give you whatever you want", Chan said and finally bought his cock towards your tight leaking cunt slowly entering himself inside you.

"ride", Chan said and you felt like being on cloud nine. Slowly moving your hips up and down in decent speed . His cock fitted so well inside of you, it was pure bliss for you.

But without a warning Chan bought his hands towards your clit and pinching it making your whole body jolt in overstimulation.

" babe,you are too good, so deserve my fingers too", Chan said with a sadistic smile.

It's gonna be a long morning.

[notkageyamasprincess]

21:58 | kozume kenma x reader

characters: kozume kenma x gn!reader

genre/warnings: fluff

words: 1.1k

Kenma gets jealous when you get attention from other guys while you’re gaming. It’s not uncommon that you’ll come across someone who’s a little too eager to help you beat bosses, or they’ll gift you rare items, or send you resources at the slightest mention that you’re running low. When that happens, Kenma shuts himself in his room and distracts himself with another game. Usually, that does the trick to make him feel better, but this time, he found himself getting more and more irritated.

+++++

“...aaand done. If you ever need help again, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks so much! It would have taken me forever to finish this stage on my own.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Hey, has anyone ever told you that you have a really pretty voice?”

You giggle. “That’s sweet, but I thought I told you that I was taken already.”

“Nothing wrong with giving a compliment.”

You catch a glimpse of your boyfriend when he comes out to get some water and you notice the sour expression on his face.

“Hold on, I’m going to mute myself for a sec.”

You turn off your mic and spin your chair towards Kenma.

“Hey babe, is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he responds curtly, setting down his glass a little harder than he intended.

You raise an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“You sure sounded like you were having fun.”

“Oh, someone came to help me with a part of the game that I was having trouble with.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Bet he was real happy to flirt with you while he was at it.”

A smile slowly crept onto your face as you got the hint. “Baby. Are you being jealous?”

“Jealous? Of who? A loser who thinks he has a chance with you?”

As those words were leaving his mouth, he remembers—all over again—the smug tone of the guy fawning over you all day. His jaw ticks and he strides toward you from his spot in the kitchen.

“Why the hell would you ask someone else for help when you have me right here? I can easily beat whatever you’re struggling with, I’ll pay for the skins you want, and I can buy anything else you need in the game,” he huffed. “I’m your boyfriend, so I don’t understand why you rely on other men instead of coming to me.”

You were amused. Kenma rarely ever had outbursts like this, and you thought it was adorable how much he cared. Truthfully, you were enjoying this quite a bit. You really tried hard to stifle your laughter, but he hears it anyway.

A muscle in his face twitches. “____, are you seriously finding this funny?”

“No, no! I mean, maybe a little bit. Look, you always seemed so busy with work, so I didn’t want to tire you out even more with unimportant things.”

“Anything related to you is important to me,” he sighs. “____, do I not make that clear enough?”

Your cheeks redden from his unexpectedly candid behaviour. He surprises you by pulling you into an embrace, but you quickly relax, gently stroking his back to calm him. He breathes deeply as you release the leftover tension from his body.

“You do, Kenma. I know it even if you don’t say so. I just want you to get more rest,” you soothed.

You kiss him on the cheek when he lets you go, and his eyes softened.

“I’ll make time for you even if I’m busy.”

He checks his watch. “Actually, I have time right now. Move over, I’ll play the next round with you.”

“You have an account? I didn’t think you played.”

“I used to, but I maxed out my account and got bored. Needed something more challenging.” He shrugged—as if it was a casual thing to say. Not that you expected any less from your pro-gamer boyfriend.

He settles into the chair beside yours and turns on his computer.

He puts on his headphones and smirks. “Tell him that Kodzuken will be joining the next game.”

“Right,” you respond, sitting back down. “Hey, I’m back, I was talking to my boyfriend.”

“Yeah okay, your ‘boyfriend’. Come on, we both know you made that up.”

“What? No, he’s gonna join us.”

“Alright, what’s his username then? I’ll let him into the room.”

“It’s Kodzuken.”

You hear him chuckle after a pause. “You mean, as in the CEO and streamer? Sure, whatever you say, sweetheart.” But his laughter starts to subside after a few clicks. “Uhm, that’s weird, there’s actually a player with that name requesting. It’s gotta be a fake right?”

Kenma cleared his throat. “Not at all, I’m very much real. Thanks for keeping ____ entertained when I wasn’t here.”

“Holy shit, this guy has the same voice! No fucking way, are you actually Kodzuken? Dude, I’m a huge fan, you have no ide-”

“I appreciate it, but ____ and I have something to do after, so let’s make this quick.”

“Yeah man, of course!”

You turned to him with a quizzical expression. “I didn’t know that we had plans.”

“Trust me, you’ll see in a bit.”

+++++

A couple minutes into the game, you hear an indignant shout coming from the other guy. A banner message briefly appeared at the top of your screen: XxKTOxX has been eliminated by Kodzuken!

“Mate, you just shot right at me! The fuck was that?”

“Sorry, man. Game glitched,” he lied. “But it’s fine, we’ll manage without you somehow. ____’s in good hands.”

A quick glance told you that your boyfriend’s lips were quirked up slightly at the edges. “Kenma, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” you whisper. You thought that he had already gotten over his jealousy, but it clearly seems like you were wrong.

He drops his smile and puts on a poker-face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Also, this dude sucks at this game.”

His eyes glint mischievously as he prepares for what he says next.

“Ah that’s right, before I forget, you asked if anyone had ever said that ____ had a pretty voice, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean any-”

“I don’t think you got a response though. I told ____ that last night in bed, and I’ll probably be doing the same in like, thirty minutes or so, depending on how far along we get. By the way, just in case you were wondering, ____’s voice sounds the prettiest moaning my name. Too bad you’ll never be able to hear it.” Your new friend coughs violently as Kenma finishes. “Did that answer your question?”

The line causes the boy to sputter, and you gasp while smacking your boyfriend’s arm.

“What? You can’t wait? Thirty minutes a bit too long for you? Guess we’ll just have to end the game early, then.”

a/n: well, well, well, look who decided to write something! wrote half of this before realizing that i didn’t use any pronouns so i might as well make this gender-neutral and more inclusive. i usually write f!reader but if anyone wants gn!reader you are always free to request a piece <3

[arrowflier]

Arrow write the mickey spotting ian and kev fic challenge!

Had to do this while it was still topical lol, so here goes.

The first time was an accident.  Well, sort of. 

"Ian can help with that," Mickey offered, watching Kev struggle to shift kegs and pour drinks at the same time.

"Thanks man," Kev grunted, hoisting another keg.  He waddled with it along the length of the bar, body hidden behind the counter, and set it down with a heavy thunk.

"Not easy though," he added as he straightened.  "Don't wanna make him strain somethin' before your wedding."

He waggled his eyebrows at Mickey, tongue stuck out, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

He knew exactly what would come next.

"You think I can't lift a keg?" Ian asked from the stool next him.  His voice almost broke on the last word with sheer disbelief.  "I'm not some skinny kid anymore, Kev, I just got out of prison for fuck's sake!"

"Cause there were plenty of kegs there to lift," Mickey muttered into his beer, and almost sent it splashing over the old stained countertop when Ian shoved his shoulder too hard.

"Just point me where you need me," Ian told Kev, puffing out his chest.

Kev eyed Ian, then Mickey, then Ian again.  But ultimately, he shrugged, and tapped the top of the keg he had just put down.

"Uh, this guy here needs to go out back," he said.  "Brought in the wrong one."

"On it," Ian said, and made his way to it.  He bent over at the waist, his hands reaching for the handles, ass stuck out in his too-tight jeans.

Mickey tilted his head, and sipped his drink, admiring the view.

"Whoa, whoa, not like that!" Kev said from behind the bar, arms out.  "You're gonna hurt yourself, man."

"Then how," Ian forced out between gritted teeth, still leaning over, "would you suggest I do this?"

Kev came around, whacked Ian in the back until he let go and straightened with a huff.  Then he took up position at another keg alongside the first.

"Lift with your legs, kid," he said, and dropped into a half squat right in front of Mickey's face.

Oh.

"Like this?" Ian relented, assuming position next to Kev, broad back stretched and straight over bent legs and strong thighs.

Oh.

Kev and Ian each hoisted their kegs, beginning their awkward walk away toward the back, and Mickey leaned so far back on his stool he almost fell off.

Well, he thought as he downed the last of his drink, eyes following two ridiculously built sets of shoulders strain their way across the room.

He could get used to seeing that.

---

The second time, it was definitely on purpose.  He had talked Ian into trying out KevFit after his own misadventure--he was not eager to keep working out on his own, but Ian kept wanting to do new shit together.

They were only one round in at the keg lift station, Ian already grunting and heaving and sweaty next to him, when Kev came by.

"Good form, Ian," he congratulated, clapping a hand on his shoulder hard enough to make him drop the half-filled keg with a clatter.  "Way better than last time."

"Gee, thanks," Ian answered dryly, wiping his forehead with the hem of his thin workout tank, and Mickey had an epiphany.

"Hey, Kev," he said slowly, like the idea was just occurring to him, "You got all this equipment rigged up, but how are you on basics?"

Kev's brow furrowed, his muscled arms going slack at his sides.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean like, pushups and jogging and shit," Mickey answered.  "You know, the kind of stuff they do in the military."

He let his eyes widen, and turned them on Ian. 

"Oh wait," he said, "that's kinda your thing, ain't it?"

Ian shrugged, looking confused.

"Uh, I guess?"

"Why don't you show Kev one of your old workouts?" Mickey suggested innocently.  "He could add some things to the whole KevFit routine, maybe bring in more clients."

Kev perked up at that.

"Yeah, why not?" he said.  "C'mon Ian, show me what you've got."

Five minutes later, Mickey was leaning against the "spring water" station, sipping from the flask he had snuck in from next door, watching two ridiculously tall, ridiculously strong fuckers take up half the open floor space doing increasingly impressive pushups.  Right then, Ian had one arm behind his sweat-slicked back, Kev mirroring his form, and Mickey's eyes followed the rise and fall of their bodies with total focus.

"Excuse me," a wimpy, hipster-sounding dude said hesitantly from behind him, " but do you know when they're bringing out more waters?"

Mickey didn't even bother to look.

"Get lost," he answered, waving a hand in the guy's general direction.  "Go drink outa the bathroom sink like a normal fucking person and let me watch my show."

---

The third time, he was pretty sure Ian was catching on.

Not that he cared, honestly--the view was fucking worth it.

"You call that a bench press?" He goaded his husband from behind the bench.  "Kev's kickin' your ass, man, that's just embarassing."

Ian glowered, breath hissing out between his teeth as he pushed up again.

"I'm pretty much pressing you right now," he gritted out, "so I'm feeling pretty good about it, actually."

Mickey hid his grin behind a hand, feigning disinterest even as his eyes followed Ian's bulging arms up and down, lingering on the tight plane of his chest.

"Well he's pressing like two of me," Mickey countered, letting his eyes wander, "so you might wanna step it up, tough guy."

Sure enough, Kev's current weights were at least half again what Ian had, and he was doing an admirable job of lifting them considering that his gigantic self was too big for the bench.  Mickey hadn't considered that when he invited Kev to check out the gym at their new place; it was designed for recreational exercise, not fucking seven foot tall body builders.  The man's legs stretched out awkwardly off the bottom of the bench, knees bent but stuck up far too high for proper form.  His broad shoulders dwarfed the other end, making it look like his upper body was just suspended there.

Mickey licked his lips, watching the shift of muscles under Kev's tanned skin--thank the lord the man shared his aversion to sleeves--and almost got chinned when he leaned too far over Ian's station.

The bar slotted into place without his help, Ian sitting up and wiping his face with a hand.

"Why don't you spot him for a while, then," Ian said. "While I go hit the shower."

He stood, making his way to the door, and Mickey paused, torn.

"Or I could give you a practical demonstration of my ability to lift you," Ian added over his shoulder, and Mickey was making his excuses to their guest and chasing after him before Kev could even finish another rep.

---

Ian never brought it up, after that, but Mickey still decided to cool it, just a little. Ian had seemed a little jealous, at the gym, although you'd never have known it by the things he said later--bet you like it when people look like they can throw you around, Mick--and Mickey did not need to throw a wrench into their marriage just for a little extra eye candy.

But then they were all at the pool together, the Gallaghers plus Mickey, plus Tami, plus Kev and Vee, and he really couldn't help it.

"Damn our men are hot," Tami had commented, sitting in a white plastic chair next to Mickey.

Mickey leaned back with a grin, taking a swig of lukewarm beer, and said, "You think that's hot?" nodding to where Ian and Lip were splashing each other over Franny's head in the shallow end.

"Watch this," he finished, and cupped a hand over his mouth to help his voice carry.

"Hey Ian," he shouted. "Bet Kev could beat you in a race."

"Hell yeah!" Kev called back from where he was manning the grill. "Name the time, man!"

Mickey could see Ian roll his eyes, and worried for the briefest of moments that his husband was done humoring him. But after a brief, hushed word with his brother, Ian was swimming to the side of the pool nearest Kev, saying "right now, backstroke, three laps," and Mickey was falling in love all over again.

"You do this a lot?" Tami asked, amused, as Kev stripped off his shirt and jumped in to take his place at the wall of the pool.

Mickey waited until they were off, arms wheeling wildly through the water and sending the sparkling spray onto sculpted, heaving chests, to answer.

"Define a lot," he said, not looking away from the spectacle as Ian and Kev hit the wall and turned, their swimsuits flashing through the water.

Tami snickered.

"Got it," she said, then, "thanks for sharing the wealth."

The race finished, Ian and Kev lifting themselves out of the pool, water running down their bodies as they clasped hands and went in for a shoulder-slapping bro hug. Ian looked back to where Mickey sat, and smirked.

"No problem," Mickey murmured, watching closely.

Ian leaned up to say something into Kev's ear, and Mickey squinted, like that would somehow help him hear it.

"Ogling the competition, Milkovich?" Lip's voice came from behind, and Mickey nearly fell out of his chair.

"The fuck are you talkin about?" he demanded, twisting around in his chair to look at Lip's knowing smirk.

"Nothing," Lip answered innocently. "Just noticed you've been watching Kev a lot lately."

Mickey scowled.

"And what's it to you?" he challenged. "Nothing at all," Lip said. "Just an observation." His grin widened. "And a distraction."

Mickey's eyes narrowed.

"A distraction from wha--argh!"

He cut off as he was lifted by two pairs of string arms, familiar ones wrapped under his own and different, strong hands holding his feet. He flailed, barely registering the flash of green eyes and a mostly bald head, before he hit the water with a splash.

By the time he surfaced, snorting chlorinated pool water out of his nose, it was to see two grinning faces looking down at him.

"Thought you might need to cool off after watching us," Ian said with a grin, laughing when Mickey tried to splash water into his face.

"Next time you want a show," Kev added, "just ask, man." He waggled his eyebrows. "I learned a few things when I worked that gay club."

Ian laughed again at Mickey's shocked expression.

"You need to work on your poker face, Mick," he said. "But it's okay, we don't mind."

He winked, then turned to walk away, leaving Mickey floating in the pool. Kev left with him, hips swaying slightly, and Mickey bit his lip and watched them go.

"Really?" Lip asked from the side of the pool, sounding disgusted, and Mickey just shrugged without looking back.

After all, if they didn't mind...

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker x fem! Reader - The Saints Of Freedom

(Gif not mine)

A/n: So this just came up into my head... There's going to be so much Shadow and bone content I'm just saying in advance - I'm so sorry! Also Matthias is alive!

Warnings: Sexual abuse, abuse, harassment, angst, fluff, terrible men, death, blood, language I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Some man from the Crow Club wants a good time with you

I take a sip of my water, sighing. Inej and Kaz are in the corner talking to each other, like they never broke up. Wylan and Jesper are in a couple seats over from me joking with each other like their lives depend on it. And Nina and Matthias are in a both in back, Nina trying to get Matthias to kiss her while he's trying to be decent. Apparently.

Why did I have to fall for the Bastard of the Barrel?

I shift around on my bar stool a bit so I can listen in on a conversation.

"Let's play a round of strip poker boys!" I flinch, nope not happening.

I guess I never really fell in love with Kaz, I drowned for him. Him and all his terrible ways and his broken mindset, I drown in that. I yearn for that death in an ocean of Kaz Brekker. Wanting that kills me, slowly although.

"James! Go get some Chicks!" I stiffen up and start to get out of my seat. I gracefully like a snake avoid anyone in the crowd slipping into the darkness acting as just another man looking for it's prey.

That way you go unnoticed.

A hand grabs me and forcefully drags me away from the entrance. Damn it, I was so close. I am harshly turned towards the person who dragged me away from my freedom. A shiver runs up my spine as a man with yellow teeth grins down on me. His left hand goes up and down my arm, while his right has a bruising grip on me.

"Your gonna come play some poker with us aren't you little- Umm let me think." The man pretends to think for a second

"Ah! Your a fawn!"

I freeze.

That's what my father called me when he use to rap-

Don't think about that you need to try and make up a plan to get out of here!

I realize that I'm dragged all the way to the back where a table is, too late.

"Come on girly, we want some." The monster says.

"Now." He growls.

I shake my head trying to get the thoughts out of my head from my home life. I can't kill them because their good pigeons to the Crow Club. But I can injury them if necessary.

"Your not even going to tell your name?" I look up to the man who dragged me over here, knowing that he's going to get me and will be the only one to get me. He got his prey now the others get to watch.

"It's James pretty girl, and take your pants and panties off now, if I win you'll get to keep em." The men around the table chuckle in delight knowing what will happen - he will try to loose.

"And if you don't?" I cheer myself on internally for not loosing it and keeping my voice strong. Stall, it's the best thing you get do.

"We really start playing poker than."

Lies. I hiss in my head, once my pussy is out he will do what ever he wants with me.

I place a hand on his arm, stall Y/n, stall.

"When does the game end?" I lean in and whisper into his ear like I'm trying to seduce him. Bile rise's up from my throat but I shallow it back down but then I realize it makes me seem like I'm nervous. Shit. He seems to have picked up on that though and he likes it. It means he has control.

His hand goes to my thigh.

"As long as I want." He pulls me onto to him and I struggle out of his grip. Five other men come and hold me down on the table. I attempt to wrestle them all and I almost get out, but two other monsters come up and hold me down.

"Let's give them a show boys!"

Tears gather up in my eyes.

"Monsters." I hiss at the men. One with blond hair punches my arm with the bed of his fist and a small scream is with drawled from my throat as I hear it... Crack! Fuck, it's definitely broken.

"You can't break a girl that's already been broken, you'll only get cut." I rasp my voice quiet but very, very angry.

"You litt-" He gets cut off from the other man who brought me to this torture.

"Gather round! People, gather round! Let's see what we can do to this pretty little fawn here?" The man - James says as he places a hand on my stomach. Mostly horrid men gather around the table but the odd woman is here too, probably the dumb ones. As soon as the predator got it's prey you run.

So your not it's next meal.

Struggling to try and get out of the men's grip on me, but it's hopeless. They have two on each limb of my body holding me down.

"Come on little fawn, it's time to play." The man whispers into my ear.

Memories flood into my sense's of my father. Doing terrible, terrible things to me. Marking me. Tainting me, as I learned not to scream anymore so mother wouldn't beat the crap out of me because if he couldn't get me - he got her.

The barbaric beast crawls onto me surely leaving bruise's and his hand goes to lift up my shirt and-

BANG! He's on the floor bloodied from where something hit his face. Hard.

The other men don't try and stop whoever hit the other vile man to the floor. I almost don't open my eyes to see who might be my savoir in fear that they just might want some.

I open my eyes.

Kaz! I think and I nearly sigh in relief.

"Let her go." Kaz says dangerously low and calm and the men practically drop me on the table.

Kaz's cane is still on the table as I sit up. Hi cane is pointed towards the men in question and at this point the other man starts to get up. Kaz nods to Jesper and Inej and she smiles a bit, always a pleasure to hurt some nasty men. Matthias seems to be guarding to doorway so now one can get out and Nina seems to go help Inej and Jesper as Wylan goes help Matthias with the door. Demo at the entrance, nice.

Kaz holds out a gloved hand, I take it and stand up next to him and at the angle we're at I'm pressed up against him.

"Come on little fawn." My father opens the door to my room slowly with a sadistic smile on his face.

"But fath-"

He lifts me up by hair and the cry of pain that would come from a normal child did not come, for they had not been train to be solider at seven.

"We don't call me that when it's play time. You know that." He growls as his hands start pulling off my shirt.

"Yes master." He takes my shirt off and h-

"Y/n." I voice says and I open my eyes and they lock onto some dark brown eyes. "Would you like to do the honours?" A voice rasps. I realize that Kaz is referring to the seven men lined up, held up my Nina, Inej, and Jesper and with some help from Wylan who has a grenade out to scare them.

I feel myself fade away like a I'm ghost.

Come on Y/n, be a good little fawn.

No. I think and push the memories back.

I go to the first three and I simply cut their throats with my double sided daggers. A man laughs and I swiftly turn. I then stab one in the stomach, the one who laughed while I killed the others. He howls in pain, I then simply kill him and the others till it's just the last one left. The monster. The one who dragged me away like a sack of kruge. Like I was a prize for him.

A ballistic smile creeps up on his face like he was paper and someone was drawing my nightmares.

It's my brother.

My brother who has the same smile as my dad, the brother who made fun of me at school, the brother who helped mom and beat me on his own accords as well. The brother who toke after our father in every way.

"You won't kill me." James smiles.

"You won't kill me." My brother says as I pull out a knife with serpent around it's handle.

"You still love me, I'm your brother." I drop the knife and he see's it as his chance and strikes.

The knives shake in my hands but I put them away.

"See." He chuckles like he knew what would happen. Imbecile.

"Your doing it wrong." Kaz limps up to me, the familiar pace of his cane hitting the floor. "You need to have a reason."

"I thought you didn't need one?" I sigh in disappointment of doing it the wrong way. Again. Kaz stares at me for a couple of seconds then shakes his head slightly like he's trying to clear his mind.

"No. You need a reason behind why we're here."

My brows frown in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Limping closer to me he places a hand on my shoulder.

"Why are you here?"

He walks back a bit giving me space to do my work. I suck in a deep breath, why am I here?

I release my weapon, an extension of myself and it doesn't hit the traget.

A man hits the ground with a thud, the man who tried to get a night with me yesterday is dead right on the ground. The blade embedded inside his chest and the snake sticking out.

Checkmate.

Kaz flash's me a smile but I barley catch it and it's gone in a blink.

"Good, not what do you want to be called?"

"Serpent." I whisper as I look up into his eyes.

"The Serpent."

I take out my knife with a snake around it's hilt always looking like it's moving and ready to strike.

Why are you here.

I close my eyes and it's done in a flash.

His ankles and hands are severed off and they drop to the floor like their separate bodies.

I lean in and whisper into his ear.

"The Serpent as struck and it seems." I grin a little.

"She has not granted you the mercy of death."

I lean in closer so only he can hear as he howls out in pain.

"Eight years." I breath. I come back up and turn swiftly out of the Crow Club shoving past Matthias who looks to be horrified but I don't know beause he did survive hellgate.

I stumble into an alleyway and I grip onto the brick wall.

The wolf is no more.

Streaming down my face tears flood my vision as I weep for all the pain, for all the years of torture finally the last one of them is dead.

Thump. Thump.

I hear the rhythmic of the crow cane but it seems to stop.

I lift my head up.

Kaz.

"Breath Y/n." I gasp in a breath and I stumble forward into his arms. I tense up and-

"Come on sister time to be a..."

"I'm not him." He whispers and it pulls me back into reality like an anchor.

He goes to try and touch my face but he stops midway and takes his gloves off. He touches his ungloved hand to my face and I can feel myself losing him to the past.

Think, Y/n! Think! He helped you, he saved you from everything! From your retched family, from the men today! He made it so you could defend yourself! He-

"Sankta Kaz." I blurt.

His eyes snap open and goes to back away.

"No, no, no! You can't possibly think of me as a saint!"

Normally I would be discomposed and would already be running out from embarrassment but a weird calmness wash's over me and a strange sort of serenity makes me want to go swimming.

"You may not be a saint to them." I point out behind him even though there's no people.

"But to me..." I pause trying to find the right words.

"You are my savoir. You saved me from my family." I walk up to him. "You killed my father and mother." I keep on walking closer. "You saved me from myself, you saved me today, and..." I trail off realizing how close we are.

I look into those dark eyes and I barely breath out,

"You gave me freedom."

I hesitantly warp my arms around him and he stiffens up but he relax's in my embrace. Our face's get closer and closer then-

"Why are you here?" It's the question he asked when I first learned how to throw a knife: What do you want?

"I am here because..." I trail off trying to find the words.

"I am here because of the kids." A new found confidence builds up in my chest.

"I am here to help the children safe from their abusive homes. I will help the children of Ketterdam." A fire of passion ignites in me making me bold.

"Will you help me?" The words hang in the air and Kaz looks into my eyes with a calculating gaze.

"I run a gang Y/n." I go to look away my face burning with embarrassment.

"But..." He takes my face into his hands.

"This Bastard can do both I guess." I grin in happiness and our faces finally get closer and we kiss.

Lightning crash's through me but I think of Kaz and our friends. Our lips shift together and I realize now that...

I'm drowning.

I'm drowning in Kaz, I'm absolutely deep into the ocean, falling but never rising. I just keep on going deeper and deeper till I pull away.

We pull away and I feel like a wave just crashed into me Kaz smiled and I whisper;

"Sankta Kaz."

Sankta Kaz the saint of greed. Sankta Y/n the saint of suffering. Together they are the saints of freedom.

Words 2383

-thedelusionreaderbitch

All rights go to Leigh Bardugo, Netflix and you! I just own the plot!

[jawllines]

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

or

Harry still doesn’t like the other camp counsellors but Y/N’s an exception 

part 1

(tw: mentions of suicide) 

ii.

Psst. 

Harry was typically a heavy sleeper. When he was younger his mum used to joke that he could sleep through an earthquake-induced tsunami if someone allowed him to. An alarm would have to be pretty loud to stir him from his slumber, and unless he was on edge, a mere call of his name would not drag him from whatever dreamland he’d submerged himself within.

Psst. 

There had only been two things before that could notably wake him. His mum, who was the sweetest person on this planet yet managed to be the cruelest being on earth when he needed to be up for something, and his childhood cat Molly, who sits on his chest and makes it hard to breathe (which, from what he’s learned, encourages his brain to panic and wake him up so he could fix it). Other than that, he was blissfully unaware of the world for hours at a time. 

Yet, there was something stirring him now.  A low sound that puzzles him as he toes the line between consciousness and his dreams, aware of the blankets that cover him but still dancing on a stage with his limbs thrashing wildly and people shouting his name. 

Psst. 

Was it an insect? Maybe he was performing outside then -- a crowd of thousands in an outdoor field to see him for... .what was it that he did again?

Psst. 

Oh, he’s dreaming, isn’t he? How deep in his dream is he? He thinks this is the first time he’s ever been asleep and realized that he was asleep...he could probably conjure something up, right? Manifest something that he’s always wanted, try his hand in lucid dreaming. If only he could focus apart from the insect zipping past his eardrum. 

Harry, please wake up, we’re being haunted -- or murdered, or something. 

Harry’s eyelids flutter like swallowtail wings, his gaze blurry and unfocused as he comes to. He’s confused, piecing together the puzzle that always presents to him when he’s just woken up and has to readjust to the world around him. The whole process of it took nothing more than 10 seconds, maybe 15 if he’s really out of it, but that’s only because thoughts run through his mind at a hundred miles a minute. 

 What time is it? The room around him his pitch-black apart from a very small amount of light illuminating beneath the curtain covering the window he’s beneath, so it couldn’t be morning. Potentially early morning, but he would say that would be 3-4 AM. Did he need to be up? He didn’t think so, actually, because there’s no alarm buzzing him awake and as far as he’s concerned, he hadn’t signed up for any early morning shifts at the bookstore as of late. The last time he went in at 5 to open up shop while the owner was on vacation and Harry was more or less ran down by a mother raccoon when he’d stumbled upon her babies after getting out of his car -- Harry had been reluctant to go before sunrise since. 

Where was he? He knows he’s not at home, that’s for sure. The sheets smell like him but not him enough to be at his own place -- and the bedding isn’t as soft either. He knows he hasn’t passed out at someone’s house because he only does that if the person is close enough to him that he would recognize their scent, or if he was too drunk to get home, but that was usually accompanied by a wicked headache and a sour stomach. No, where he was smelled like wood and generic fabric softener. There was an air conditioning unit that rattled and rumbled from where it was fixed to the wall, he felt a tension in his neck that he only experienced at one place and, yeah, he was at the camp. 

He was at camp, in a cabin with Y/N, who slept with the lamp on because she hated the dark, was the owner of the voice that had woken him up in the inky black room. 

“Hm?” He hums, brows pinching as he lets his eyes shut again, only to open them a few seconds later, “Wha’s wrong? Why is your light off?” 

“I don’t know,” her voice is still just a bit over a whisper, and Harry wonders why she doesn’t just speak up now that she knows he’s awake, “I woke up a little bit ago and thought maybe there was a storm that knocked the power out or something, but I checked the weather and it’s been clear skies all night. I think our power line was cut which is like -- straight out of a horror film.” 

Harry sighs, a bit of him regretting the number of horror movies they’ve been watching once they finally got to watch Midsommar (in three days, they’d sifted through six different movies -- two movies a night and each one managed to horrify Y/N more than the last). He begins to press himself from the bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark around them, making out slivers of shadows, “I’ll go check --” 

“No! Are you crazy?” He hears her bed frameshift with her as she moves, “That’s just asking for a maniac to come for us. Plus I keep hearing noises and I can’t tell if it’s like...like little raccoon feet or a one-armed hook man.” 

“Alright, then go back to bed.” Harry begins to lower back down to the mattress but a sharp whine leaves her throat, “It’s dark when you close your eyes.” It’s silent for a moment, but then Harry feels a bead of guilt dribble through his body. He sighs, reaching up and wiping his hand down his face, “What do you want to do, yeah? If you don’t want me to go out there. Do you want to stay up?” 

She’s quiet, Harry is straying further and further from the state he would’ve been in to fall right back into his dreams but he tries to wipe away the irritation the best he could. What he reminds himself is that four days prior, Y/N had trekked out in the forest toward a lake despite her unremitting distaste for the woods in the dark and slapped Jack clean across the face because he was being rude to him. And he was going to ignore her? Fall asleep while she’s frightened? Harry could be a prick, but he wasn’t the bleeding antichrist. 

“I...um, well, I don’t want us to stay up, no, we’ll be so cranky tomorrow,” she shuffles in the sheets, “I dunno’, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed, I’ll be okay.” 

Harry isn’t sure what to do but in his half-awake state, the next few words that leave his mouth seem like just the temporary fix necessary for them to get the last few hours of sleep that they can, “Do you want me to read you a story or summat?” 

She giggles quietly, “No, it’s okay, really, go back to sleep, okay?” 

What Harry could have said was I can’t now, knowing that you’re awake and scared, but instead he utters a simple, “No.” He sits back up, patting blindly for his phone in his sheets, slipping his fingers around it, and tapping it awake. His screen blinds him with its brightness, so he lowers it before finding the flashlight. It lights up the floor at his feet and subsequently at its edges, he can make out Y/N’s shadowy figure. She’s sat up, curled in her blanket, wrapped around her head, and giving her a pseudo-nun appearance. She waves at him lamely and he struggles not to roll his eyes, “Maniac be damned, I’m gonna go out there and look for the breaker. Maybe the arseholes broke their vow of integrity.” 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Jack or one of the others came around and switched the breaker off, just to be inconvenient for the morning. They’d left them alone for four days sure, but Harry figures that it’s not so much four days of silent reflection and questioning why they feel the need to be such pricks to him, and more so four days for their anger to fester and brew. If not for the fact that Y/N slapped him then made him find laundry detergent and commanded the others to go get his clothes, then for the way she acted like nothing had happened the day prior. Jack’s cheek was still a stingy, red splotch, Oliver and Brandon were straight-faced looking irritated, and Y/N -- well, Y/N had never been more content with her day. She was having a blast with her kids playing bean bag toss, they did their little dance when one of them got it in the hole of the board, and when they were all getting drinks, Y/N offered to grab Harry his. He watched as she went to the cooler around the same time Jack did, they both reached for the last Dr. Pepper, and Y/N plucked it up and handed it to him before grabbing both her, Harry, and Mitch’s lemonades. 

He thinks it’s the sincerity that she holds, that would aggravate him had he been in their shoes. Y/N was completely unbothered by the night prior and Harry could tell, just like when he doesn’t reciprocate their maleficent tendencies towards them -- it was digging under their skin.

(She makes Harry laugh when she comes back with their lemonades, handing him one and uttering, “I let the prick have the last Dr. Pepper, and I’m regretting it.”) 

And while he’s hoping that they haven’t turned their target to her out of spite, he wouldn’t change what had happened for the world. It had made the two of them that much closer, and in the following day’s Harry had poked and prodded Y/N’s brain a bit more. Especially after what he’d seen on her page, he was intrigued by her. Intrigued by how she saw life, why she came at things the way she did, what built her up to be the person that she was in these very moments that he’s speaking to her. Harry hasn’t asked her about her old college roommate and he doesn’t plan on it either -- he doesn’t feel like he could, or he should. 

Harry has lost people before and he thinks the worst thing someone could do was to bring it up unprompted. He knows that it’s probably always on her mind but even then, maybe it isn’t at the forefront of it. Maybe she’s just trying to have a good few weeks, separate herself from the real world for a while, and he would be cruel to dig up something that she may not be ready to just up and chat about. No matter how curious he is about the whole situation, and no matter how much he wonders if she treats him the way she does because of what happened. If the topic was brought up by her he would openly and freely discuss it as long as she was comfortable, but he wouldn’t give her the third degree. 

So he minds his business and focuses on trying to get to know her better instead. 

He can’t say that it doesn’t change how he treats her a bit though. Harry is much. . .gentler, than he had been. He tries to be less critical of her unwavering optimism and seeks to understand where it was coming from instead. If he’s in the right mood he’ll attempt to match it, which makes for a good day with their groups, who he finds -- despite the small age gap -- have begun to kindle very close friendships. Mrs. Graham had even commented on it one of the days after they had a riveting game of balloon tennis. 

“You two make a good team -- putting all these other counselors to shame. And to think you were pouty about having to share a cabin.” 

It was true, they did make a good team. Harry thinks that them sparking a friendship had made the whole experience much more enjoyable for everyone involved. 

All of this together gives insight into why Harry is willing to stuff on his shoes at 3 AM and go out in the dark, muggy night to check and potentially fix a breaker. And no matter the number of times he assures her she does not have to come out there with him, she keeps hold of her ‘no man left behind’ mentality, pulls on a pair of flip flops, and pads out after him. 

Had they been in any other cabin, finding the breaker would have been much easier. They’re typically on the backside in the upper right corner, surrounded by a little cage with a lock similar to that of an animal crate. The struggle with their cabin was that the backside was basically in the woods, so he had to dodge low hanging branches and tangles of ivy to get even remotely near it. He hands Y/N his phone and she shines the light over the metal box, her hand steady despite how she looks back and forth and all around them like she’s making sure there are no red eyes glowing at them. The world around them is silent apart from the chirp and groan of insects, the scutter of an animal somewhere in the far distance makes Y/N huff a weary sigh but otherwise, nothing comes out to attack them. Harry restarts the breaker, they go back inside, and the lamp on its dimmest setting is switched on how they had fallen asleep with it. 

They both breath out in relief, Y/N dives back into her bed and Harry flops down atop of his covers, giving himself a second to feel the cool air from the conditioner fan over him. 

“Theoretically,” Y/N begins as Harry lets his eyes fall shut, “If there were some creature in the forest --”

“There’s no creature in the forest.” 

“I know, but theoretically --” She continues again, but Harry is quick to cut her off once more. 

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he tells her, “Go to sleep.”  

Once more, Y/N falls silent, but a quiet, “Thank you,” was the only thing to leave her mouth. 

                                                      .                               .                              .

A summer thunderstorm wasn’t abnormal during camp, which is why the recreation center and the art building are beneficial. It keeps everyone preoccupied and entertained with well-insulated walls to mute whatever carnage is taking place outside, which makes for less frightened children and an easier time for everyone involved. Harry liked being active and running around with his campers, sure, but he also really enjoyed a nice, calm, relaxing day trying his hand at DIY projects and abstract paintings. Plus it gave him the chance to wear the camp hoodie that he had spent a pretty penny purchasing, which was made of the softest fabric he’s ever felt and was far more comfortable than the t-shirts that they normally wear.

Y/N had also bought the hoodie, Harry saw as she stepped out in it after her shower this morning, and she seemed to be drowning in it but in the best way. The fabric pools off of her, but she looks cozy, and well-rested despite them waking in the middle of the night. He thinks she looks pretty cute, but he kept the thought to himself and instead asked her if she wanted his extra granola bar for breakfast. 

They alternate throughout the day, between the rec center and art building, and on the schedule, it appears that most the day he would be with Y/N’s group (which he prefers) and a few times he’s even with Mitch as well, which is nice. Mitch doesn’t grow to like many people, but he liked Y/N well enough -- he thought she was oddly entertaining (or so he’s told, Harry) and good for a chat. The only times he and Y/N were not with each other were when the activities were age-specific, but even then, it wasn’t like anyone was in a different room. They were all just at different stations within a big room in the art building and the recreation center was more or less free for all. 

Harry wondered when he started basing whether or not a day was going to be good by whether or not he and Y/N were able to be around each other, but he decided not to think about it too much. Lately, he’d been a little more on edge with whether they were together, simply because of Jack and the others. He didn’t want them fucking with her, and even though she’d proven that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he still worried, especially knowing he would be the cause of it. 

Y/N doesn’t seem the least bit distressed about it, or as far as she was letting on -- she’d not expressed any thoughts or concerns that they would be spiteful towards her. Hell, the only thing she had told him the night after was that she hoped she didn’t make things worse for him. For him. Why was she so willing to defend him? What did she get out of being so kind? 

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

“I especially like how multidimensional it is — purple and pink stars? Beautiful, I love those two colors together,” she places her hand on Oliver’s head, and it’s then that Harry notices he’s holding something, “Harry, Oliver here wanted you to see the flower he drew because I told him how much you like lilies.” As bashful as he always is, he holds out the paper toward Harry. It was cute — a singular, yellow lily and he could tell that Y/N helped him draw it, but the paint and crayon marks all over the page suggested she left the color duties up to him. 

“Oh my goodness,” Harry gasps, looking at the painting, flipping it to Oliver and pointing at it, “You did this?” Oliver nodded excitedly, “It’s gorgeous.” 

“I think our groups are the best artists,” Y/N motions to her table, only a meter away from them all working diligently on their projects, “Charlotte is over there doing an artistic interpretation of the both of us, we are not allowed to see it until she’s finished. Mikey is doing his own rendition of Disney world, I see Maisey is creating a beautiful tree  -- Noah is that a cowboy you’re drawing?” 

Noah barely looks up from his paper, very carefully dragging the tip of the marker in a circle, “Yes.” 

“And Noah is drawing a cowboy! Modern-day Van Gogh’s, all of them.” Harry smiles as Y/N drags a stool up beside him, positioning it in a way so that she could watch both her kids and speak with him, “I heard they’re having one of them party things tonight, I didn’t know if you wanted to go or not.” 

“Hm, I dunno,” his brows knit together as he lightly scratches a mosquito bite on the inside of his forearm, “Do you feel comfortable with going after what happened last time?” 

She suckles her bottom lip into her mouth, gnawing on it as she nods her head, “Mhm,” she looks around them for a second, making sure that none of the kids are paying attention to them before she lowers her voice, “Mitch said that you used to go to all of them last year, and would like -- have a good time. I hope that I’m not ruining that for you.” 

“How would you be ruining it for me?” It’s true, Harry hasn’t gone to any of the parties that they’ve been doing since the very first one he’d escorted Y/N away from. Not for any other reason apart from he was just spending time and hanging out with Y/N, or he’d be too knackered to even think about leaving the nice, cool setting of their cabin to be in the muggy heat with drunk college students. He had much more fun not attending, and other nights Mitch would come around and chill with them too. . .he had all he needed then. Didn’t need the booze for a good time. 

“I don’t know, I just didn’t know if you weren’t going ‘cos of what happened the first time and you felt like you couldn’t leave me out or. . or something like that.” 

Harry shook his head, “No,” he answers, “We can go tonight if you would like, but it’s unnecessary for me. I’m good either way.” 

Although Y/N appears unconvinced, they have little time to go further into the topic because Charlotte is running up to them, a big grin on her face, “I finished!” 

“Well give it here,” Harry holds out his hand, waving her over, “Let’s see it.” 

On the paper are stick figure versions of he and Y/N, with big grins and 12 other little stick figures surrounding them. Above Harry’s stick figure, there’s a pink arrow and a very five-year-old esque writing of HUSBAD (Harry presumes it’s supposed to be husband), and above Y/N’s in the same fashion, she’s written WYFE. It’s then Harry realizes that Y/N’s figure has a veil on and Harry’s has a bowtie, “This is for you twos wedding! So thens when they take pictures you can has this one.” Charlotte chirps brightly and Y/N and Harry both cast each other a disbelieving glance. 

“Whoaaaaa,” Y/N is the first to break their silence, a smile pulling at her lips, “This is really good Charlotte! I didn’t know Harry and I were getting married, though.” 

Charlotte nods quickly, still grinning at them, her bottom canine missing as she gleams, “Me n’ Mikey thinks you should!” 

Y/N turns toward him, nodding toward Charlotte, “Well, the god’s have spoken. Where’s my ring?”

Harry coughs on a laugh as he hands the paper back to Charlotte, “This is really good, Bug. Why don’t you and Oliver go help Josie finish her coloring pages, hm?” 

The both of them head the short way back to their table, hiking up on the small stools and Harry makes sure they’re all settled before he turned back to face Y/N, who was biting down on a grin, “Don’t start --” he began but she’s already started, shaking her head. 

“Listen, it’s okay to be in love with me, but you should really try to tone it down. . .the kids are starting to notice.” 

Harry scoffs before he proceeds to tease her,, “How d’ya know they aren’t basing it off your actions, huh? Giving me love eyes every couple minutes like nobody would see.” 

Y/N mocks offense to his words and he tries to keep up the facade, but his sheer delight for getting in a teasing match with her overcomes him and he can’t help his smile. Harry loved teasing people -- loved making them flustered or reducing them to a bashful mess by his words alone. Y/N, however, was much less into flustered gazes and sheepish tendencies, and more so ready and willing to give him it right back. He’d met his match -- if he teases her she’s teasing right back (if she hadn’t started it in the first place), and both of them found mutual pleasure in it. 

“You can’t use my love eyes against me, I can’t help but give them to everyone I’ve ever met” she tells him, feigning sincerity before an additional anecdote, “You know my college roomie always told me they’d get me in trouble one day, and she had never been more right, ‘cos they did once at a party. She wouldn’t shut up about it weeks after it’d happened.” 

Harry feels his body tense just a bit at the mention of her, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s surprised how she so casually brought her up, “Yeah? What’s the story?” 

“The little ears around us suggest that I tell that story later,” she checks her watch, before looking back up at him, “Oi, we’ve got five minutes until we’re in the rec center. You get to pick what we all do since I picked the last rotation.” 

                                                             .                           .                          .

This time when they’re on their way to the party, Harry lets Y/N walk in front of him as he directs where she was to go. Opposed to when they had first made this journey together, Harry feels far more protective of her than he originally had. Plus, he’d seen how clumsy she could be and after the earlier storm, the softened dirt and broken off tree branches from the billows of wind made for a much harder terrain to navigate, so he felt more comfortable being able to reach out to catch her if need be. 

Harry was wary of going to the party tonight but Y/N had been borderline insistent that they attend, “Mitch says he misses you at these things and Niall told me he could only stand Shaun theorizing about the universe and us not being the only life form so many times before he snaps. I say we’re needed.” Harry never minded free drinks, and a potential fuck at the end of the night, so he wasn’t all too worried that he would be having a good time. He just hoped that the others would allow Y/N to have a good time. And he knows he’s being paranoid, because they hadn’t necessarily targeted her for anything prior to or after the lake incident, but he still worries. . .he can’t help but worry.  

But he wouldn’t hover. Once they got to the clearing, he helped Y/N get her drink and she sought off after Niall while Harry went over to Mitch, the two of them promising to meet up again in a little bit. He didn’t hover, but he did watch semi-closely, eyeballing Jack and the others, making sure they were staying away from her. Apart from a few less than friendly looks thrown in his direction though, they seemed to be keeping to themselves which Harry was ultimately very thankful for. 

The night goes by as these nights usually do -- he and Mitch drank, had a laugh, gabbed about music for a while, some of the drama going on around the camp (Y/N had an ear for gossip and eyes that could make anyone tell her anything, so Harry’s had a door to all the melodramatic events happening throughout the counsellors). It was a bit weird when Stacey -- one of the counsellors he’d only ever briefly spoken to --  had come up to them, and a little weirder when she borderline propositioned him for something more than a chat in the woods, but Harry politely declined. Told her that he was pretty exhausted after a long day and was probably just going to have a few more beers and retreat back to his cabin. 

He passes it off as a fluke. . .maybe he’d been making eyes at her and hadn’t realized it. But then Mia makes her way toward him and Mitch, and this time Harry’s brows furrow when she starts chatting him up. This one he entertains for a little while before eventually ebbs away from the conversation, because he and Mia had a fling once, but Jack convinced her and the free world that he was a prick, so she called it off. He didn’t necessarily understand why she would want to start that up again, or what “little birdie” put a bug in her ear that he still thought about her (as she said one did). 

It was after Cara had finally left after coming around to chat with him, that Mitch began to chuckle lowly at his side, shaking his head slowly, “Jesus Christ,” he tilts the nozzle of his beer against his mouth, and when he pulls it away, his lips are shiny from the liquid, “She really is working hard.” 

“Huh?” Harry feels desperate for an explanation as to why three times he felt as if he were being propositioned for a romp in the woods when he was not actively pursuing one. He had a feeling that it was the others trying to get him alone so they could enact some sort of piss poor attempt at fucking with him without Y/N spotting and tearing them a new one over it, “Are you in on something that I’m not, ‘cos m’feeling pretty fucking lost here, man.” 

Mitch nods his head, and Harry follows his gaze to Y/N, who is speaking with her brows dipped inward to Cara, “A few days ago she’d been asking me and Niall what you were like last year, and we told her just the same, jus’ a lot more ‘fornication’ is how Niall put it,” he smirks softly with a shake of his head, “And she seemed all concerned, asking us if we thought she was holdin’ you back or something. Personally, I told her if you wanted to sleep with someone you would have whether she were around or not but she didn’t seem very convinced.” A snort leaves him as he motions towards her again, still as amused by her ideas as he had been when she’d first explained them,  “Guess she’s trying to set you up.” 

“Oh fuck me,”  he exhales so forcefully, it whips the delicate plumes of smoke from Mitch’s cigarette into a misshapen huff. Why was she so concerned with it? Harry hadn’t once expressed any avidity in needing to spend time with someone in that manner -- he could go without sex for three weeks. . .did she not think he could? Was he exuding nymphomaniac tendencies? He surely hadn’t thought he was -- a few quick handies in his nightly showers typically tide him over just nicely for a bit of a dry spell. And what was her business that he hadn’t slept with anyone since they’ve gotten here? Why was she speaking about him with the others what she could as easily ask him? What she had as easily spoken with him about, albeit leaving out a pretty large portion of it. 

For the first time since they had begun getting along, Harry was irritated with her. He’d never been one to brood, however. He liked things to be up front and honest as soon as possible if the situation allowed for it, to stop his mind from taking an idea and running away with it. He held little interest in playing mind games with people. 

Which is why he hands Mitch the rest of his drink, fixes his heavy cardigan around his shoulder, and sets off in her direction. He dodges many bodies, avoids an empty cup on the ground beside what he could only presume to be a sticky puddle of liquor, and narrowly makes it past a playful fight between Oliver and Brandon who were wrestling one another. Y/N doesn’t realize that he’s making his way to her until he’s just a meter or so away, when Niall catches a glimpse of him and attempts to be inconspicuous in the way he pinches her side. She gasps from the way his nails had accidentally bit into her skin, flinching from the pain before her gaze had settled on him, “Harry!” She cheered but his face doesn’t soften as it usually does when they see one another, which alerts her to his disapproving gaze, “Oh, what’s wrong?” 

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” He inquires, motioning out past the trees. Enough trust had been built into the foundation of their friendship for her to not question him. Instead, she passes her drink off to Niall and follows Harry into the woods -- he wouldn’t go so far that they wouldn’t be able to see one another from beneath the curtain of leaves shielding away the moon, but just far enough that nobody would be eavesdropping. In any other situation he might wait to bring this up until they’ve made it back to the cabin, but Y/N’s intentions had been clear that the person he was taking home tonight wasn't supposed to be her. 

She pauses with him at a particularly thick tree trunk, and places the arch of her foot against one of the jagged roots that carved its way through the earth, “Is everything okay?” She balances herself with a hand against the bark, wincing when it jabs into her skin, “I was keeping an eye on Jack n’ them I thought so they wouldn’t try messing with you, but did they say something?” 

That does melt him some, Harry was strong enough to admit that. Just as he had been concerned with her wellbeing, she was just as much concerned for him, and he appreciated that. And while it does threaten to soften him down to his core, he still had questions that needed answers, and he wouldn’t let up until she responded to them. 

“Why are you sending girls over to me?” 

Her brows raise, but less in shock of learning the information, and more so with wonder how he’d found out she was the one sending them their way. The surprise dissolves into embarrassment quickly, her shoulders slump and she casts her gaze deeper into the forest, “Dammit,” she doesn’t hide her disappointment from being caught, or even feign confusion to try and pass the blame off coincidence that every girl who had come up to him had subsequently talked to her prior, “I was hoping you would be less observant.” 

“Y/N.” He says her name sternly, and her shoulders drop dramatically further as she steps down from the tree root. 

“Listen, in my defense I just felt awful!” She admits, waving her hand toward the party, “Jack had tried telling me a few times about how you just fuck people and leave them, blah, blah, blah, right? And I wasn’t paying any attention to him, but it made me curious to what you were like last year, so I asked Mitch and Niall. You came to these things all the time and you had fun -- then I come ‘round, ruin the first one, and you’ve been hanging out with me since. I just. . . I wanted you to be able to have fun and not feel like you have to worry about me, y’know?” 

A ‘v’ sits between Harry’s brows, “What is it your business what I’m doing, hm?” He fixes his cardigan from where it slumps off his shoulder once more, “If I wanted to sleep with someone then I would. Do you think I can’t set something up myself?” 

“No, of course not, I just thought --” 

“You didn’t think,” he cuts her off, and Y/N’s arms curl over herself instinctively when a cold brush of air rolls past them, “You should have just came to speak with me about it, I could have told you that I didn’t need anything like that, and that would have been that. Don’t go behind my back trying to orchestrate things for me, okay?” 

He wanted to say it -- he needed to say it, because Harry wasn’t some sex driven lecher that everyone at this camp tried to make him out as. He thought Y/N had known that too, but he guesses he was wrong. 

But he wasn’t expecting her to look so fucking defeated by it. A guilt weighs on his being when she nods, tipping her head down, “Okay, yes, I won’t anymore. I’m sorry,” her fingers dig into her bicep, as she breathes out, a shiver rattles through her that she tries to be inconspicuous about it, “I wasn’t thinking -- I wasn’t thinking how it would look.” 

Harry sighs, peeling his cardigan off of his arms, revealing his bare arms to the chill but he ignores it in favor of holding it out to her, “Put this on,” he wiggles it some, “I know you’re cold.” She takes it from him carefully, looking up, brows raised slightly as if to ask if he’s sure, “Go ahead.” 

“I really am sorry,” she tells him, pulling the patchwork cardigan over her arms, it hangs off of her, and Harry swallowed thickly. She’s. . .cute -- Harry had always been able to admit that. Her face is sweet, her eyes exudes nothing but understanding, kindness, and such a soft glow that Harry couldn’t quite explain. He finds that those eyes give him great comfort and warmth, because now when they’re tinged with the contrition she feels and Harry feels cold. 

“I know,” he murmurs, he holds out his hand for her, and very carefully Y/N slides her hand into his own, “Do you want to go get pudding?” 

A small smile pulls at her mouth. 

“Yes please.” 

                                                          .                          .                         .

Niall lets them use the key after a few dozen promises to be careful with it. They trek the familiar way, mindless chatter fills the air around them until they get to the cafeteria and their voices quiet in case the security guard is looping around. Y/N reveals her hand from the shield of his cardigan sleeve, Harry watches as the fabric pools around her arm, toward her elbow, and produces the key (that Niall only trusted her with). They creeped into the kitchen, pulled open the large refrigerator door, and the pudding sat in rows on the bottom shelf. 

They both choose vanilla this time, having tired themselves out on chocolate, and they sit at the spot they had last time, across from one another. He can tell, despite his peace offering, that Y/N still feels upset about what had happened earlier and it sullies his mood. She’s still chatting but not with as much heart as she typically has, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He just wanted her to giggle as she teases him again, without feeling like she’s tip toeing on eggshells around him. 

“Hey,” Harry starts, dragging her attention towards him where it had previously been scooping the sides of her pudding container, “Would you stop being so. . .tense? Is this about earlier?” 

Y/N clears her throat, opening her mouth and furrowing her brows like she was about to deny it, but she relents, shoulders dropping, “A little. I still feel bad about everything,” she shakes her head, dragging the edge of the spoon around the plastic, “About everything, not just that you aren’t able to sleep with someone. I came in late, ruined you having your own cabin, woke you up with my alarm, made you get out of bed ‘cos I’m afraid of the dark and -- I just feel like this massive burden. I feel like this massive burden on everyone.” 

Harry is alarmed by this sudden confession, but his body ultimately rejects the notion that she could ever be a bother, “How are you a burden to anyone?” He inquires, shaking his head, “You’re such a ball of light that just swarms through rooms. The thought of you being a burden is akin to the thought of Satan being a saint. . .it doesn’t sound right.” Harry sets his pudding down, though he keeps his hands fixed around the cup and the spoon, “Don’t know what gave you that idea, but the last thing you are is a burden. Who gave you the impression that you were?” 

She wipes tiredly at her eyes, “Nobody in particular, it's just,” she shakes her head, “Even now, I wanted to make your night good, and then I fucked it, and now you’re here with me instead of having fun at the party. I just feel silly.” 

“Don’t.” Harry tells her simply, “I like to spend time with you, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” 

The tension in her shoulder releases, “Thank you for this, I’m sorry m’just saying the same thing again and again. Back at home it feels like everyone is just. . .so hyper aware of me -- they’re always being so careful, or overly concerned and I always wonder if it feels like a heavy weight on their shoulders, like I’m forcing a piggyback ride.” She shrugs her own, reaching for the second pudding cup, “It’s just shit, so I overthink everything all the time to try not to be a burden, but I keep making it worse. Or at least that’s how it feels.” 

Harry tilts his head to the side some. He’s not usually someone who pries and probes people for information, but he’s never been more curious about Y/N than in this moment. When he thinks of Y/N at home, he thinks of sunshine pooling in the hallways through casement windows, her spinning around the kitchen in a dainty floral dress that billows around her as she stirs homemade jam. Harry imagines her amongst woodland creatures who coax her to the forest with songs, escorting her there as she gambols freely. 

He could not imagine her going home and feeling like a burden. Hell, he would have thought that she considered everyone else a burden -- that maybe it was draining to be the absolute light of everyone’s life. Yet here she stood, seeming worn, and broken. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is everyone hyper aware of you at home? You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable.” He says it delicately -- he means it. . .if she didn’t want to share this with him, then he wouldn’t force her, but he wants to open up the possibility. He wants her to know that he’s an open ear if she so chose to utilize him. 

“Um,” her gaze does shift downward -- she suddenly appears so small, “Are you sure?” 

Harry nods. 

“I just -- it's not that I don’t like bringing it up, I just don’t want you to treat me any differently than you would knowing it, yeah? I think that’s what I hate the most.” She notes, “So do you promise that you won’t -- you won’t start tiptoeing around me?” 

“You’ve got my word.” Harry vows, but he has a feeling he knows what she is to say.

The sleeve of his cardigan covers her hand as she brushes the hair from her face, “In freshman year of UNI, my roommate was Mrs. Graham’s daughter, Penelope.” She straightens out in her seat, “We didn’t like each other much at first but we had grown very close -- um, once she threw away my fruit snacks and so I dunked her toothbrush in the toilet, but I felt guilty and went out to buy her a new toothbrush,” a laugh leaves her at the memory, as she rolls her eyes at herself, “That was what we had going for a while, but a late night heart to heart kind of made us closer. She told me things that. . .she’d been through a lot that nobody should have to go through, you know? She was bullied a lot growing up—in high school it was bad, people used to always gang up on her over stupid shit.” Harry hums, encouraging her to continue, and she stirs the pudding around mindlessly, “And we were just close after that. We had a flat together sophomore year and most of junior year, she’s my best friend,” she swallows thickly, “I didn’t realize how sad she was. . .I didn’t realize what she was still holding onto, and she -- we went home for Christmas break, and she never came back.” 

Harry feels his stomach sour as her eyes bead with unshed tears, “Oh, Y/N,” 

“It’s alright. I’m okay, I’m fine as I can be --  I’ve -- I’m mourning and I miss her, but I’m trying to be strong. Most days I am, but everyone at home just expects me to be this fragile thing, y’know? The days I’m happy, and chatty, they think I’m faking it. And some days I do, yeah, but. . .it’s just disheartening when everyone pretends to know what’s going on in my head.” She plants the pudding directly in the center, leaving it there and retreating her hands to her lap, “Mrs. Graham told me she felt the same. That’s why I came in last minute -- I’ve got all my volunteer hours settled and everything but she said it might be nice to get away.” A slow, easy sigh leaves her lips as she blinks the tears away, not one drop trickled down her cheek, “It is nice, but I still worry that I’m a strain on people around me, even if not for the reason I am at home. And I’m sorry to like, info dump all this on you,” she laughs a little in spite of herself, “You can’t ask me things, unless you want an hour long explanation.”

Harry reaches out his hand for her, for the second time that night, and once again she slowly slips their fingers together, “Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it must have been hard,” he squeezes her hand, “But I understand you a bit more now. I’ll keep my promise, I won’t treat you any differently, but before that --” she blinks at him, waiting, “I think you might just be one of the kindest, strongest, most caring people that I have ever meant. I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or add stress onto my life, so you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to try with me. We can just exist together, yeah? We’ll exist without burdens and without worry.”

The look in her eyes, was one that Harry had never seen before. One that makes him melt in her touch. 

“I would like that.” 

                                                             .                                    .                                  .

 “I can’t swim.” 

Harry was crouched down to Maisey’s height, fixing purple mermaid floaties around her arms. The day was not unusually muggy, but there was an additional itch to jump belly first into the cool watered lake. He had woken with a revitalized need to pry a star from the morning sky as it shifted from an inky purple to an early, dusky morning blue -- and give it to Y/N. He had decided after their conversation last night -- after they’d gone to bed and Y/N fell asleep cuddled in his cardigan -- he had an overwhelming, and an all encompassing want to hold her. 

Which made it hard to part ways this morning, but he managed. And maybe he played out an image in his head where he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before they went to wake their respective cabins, or maybe he didn’t (but if he did that’s his own problem). He is quick to convince himself it was because she’d shared a piece of herself with him that he doesn’t think she lets many people see, and Harry always develops a bit of a platonic crush on his friends at some point or another. He questioned whether or not he was in love with Mitch for a solid four days once. . .sometimes he just let his heart get carried away. 

He had been enmeshed in these thoughts as he got his campers ready for their time in the lake. At first glance, a ton of children in the lake seemed like a horrible, and faulty idea, but they took precautions so that everyone was safe. Every child wore floaties and/or life jackets no matter how proficient their swimming abilities. There was netting about ten meters out so that the children and counsellors couldn’t float out toward the middle, and they worked it so that only three children could be in per counsellor at a time, so that they could keep an eye on everyone. Harry wasn’t so nervous because he was a strong swimmer, and his kids were a little older, but he could tell Y/N had been a little jittery about it. It’s why Harry told her that while she was out in the lake with her little ones to let him know, he would come out with her to bring her some additional comfort that even the floaties could not provide. 

Harry had been pretty sure all of his kids were excited to go to the lake and he was grateful for that, until he looked up to see the nervous, large blue eyes of Jackson, downcast after he had spoken the words. The unprompted admittance confused him as he turned to face him, “That’s okay, buddy, we’ve got floaties for that.” 

Jackson did not seem convinced, shaking his head fiercely, “No, I -- I can’t swim.” 

“J.J. is afraid of the water,” Noah exposes the truth just as easy as he takes a sip from his juice box, equipped with his own blue arm floaties, “He didn’t want to say though ‘cos --” 

“Noah!” Jackson cuts him off, betrayal laced within his features. 

“--’cos he didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but he almost drowned when he was little.” 

Jackson looked as if he could cry, and Harry shook his head quickly, “Hey, hey, hey, c’mere buddy,” he motions him over, and he comes easily, stepping before Harry who had not bothered to leave his already crouched position, “Explain to me what’s going on, yeah?” 

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, a frown prevalent on his mouth, even as he speaks, “When I was little little, my big brother pushed me into the pool and I went under the water and my mom had to come in and get me because I can’t swim good.” 

Harry pulls his lips back, reaching out to squeeze Jackson’s shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that buddy. I won’t force you to get in the water if you don’t want to, but I do want to tell you that if you feel more comfortable, we could try a life jacket instead of the floaties? It’ll keep you more buoyant -- more bouncy in the water.” 

“Aren’t those for little kids?” Jackson inquires, brows pinched, but Harry shakes his head and points toward Y/N, never more glad in that moment that she had the age group she did, along with her views on not making them do, wear, or say anything that she wouldn’t herself. She’s got the life jacket swung around her arm as she clips Oliver into his own. 

“Y/N’s going to wear one too, and she’s not a little kid. I’ll wear one as well if you’d like.” He promised him. Albeit looking reserved, Jackson nods softly with his hands in little fists, worrying his lip between his teeth. The poor thing, Harry thinks -- he used to be afraid of water too. Nobody wants to conquer that fear suddenly, let alone with a group of people that may or may not poke fun because they’re kids and kids are jerks sometimes. 

Harry finds him a life jacket -- a cute one with a shark on it, that he helps him clip on, and fits it to his body with the straps. Next, he needed to find one for himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure where they kept the counsellor life jackets, so he called for Y/N where she’d been a few meters away and she popped her head up from where she was like a meerkat. Her eyes softened when she realized who had called her, and a gentle smile pulled at her mouth, “Hey hubby,” she greets him, much to the delight of Charlotte, who claps giddily, “What d’ya need?” 

“A life jacket, please. Where’d you get yours?” Harry tries to be decent -- tries desperately to keep his eyes to himself, but he finds that this is surprisingly difficult when Y/N is in her swimsuit. It wasn’t obscene in any sense of the word -- in the pamphlet they get when they sign up, it is very clear that speedos and bikinis were not appropriate, and therefore not allowed. If a child couldn’t wear it, then you shouldn’t bring it -- was the apothegm that they chose to live by in reference to dress code. 

This, however, doesn’t mean that Y/N’s swimsuit didn’t suit her well. It was fitted in a way that wasn’t too tight, yet wasn’t too loose -- like it might have just been made with her in mind. A simple one piece of nylon and lycra colored a powder blue, that barely showed off that much more of what she wears to bed, and yet his mind still flutters elsewhere. To unwise places, that he drags himself from before clearing his throat and forcing himself to look around the lake so it appeared his eyes were just scanning everything. 

“You’re in luck,” Y/N jogged the short way from where they stood, back to where her kids were all gathered, playing happily in the sand. Beneath what Harry had assumed was just a cluster of towels, another life jacket was hidden beneath the fabric. She hands it toward him with a triumphant grin, “This was the last one. I grabbed it for you in case you just wanted to float rather than keep your legs kicking -- you had a big lunch, didn’t want you to get a cramp.” 

Harry hates how his heart balloons in his chest. There was no reason to be a melt because she had thought of him -- that she had him in mind, so she snatched the last life jacket, and hid it beneath towels so nobody else could have it. No reason to feel all mushy from the way that she unfolds it for him, a silent prompt that she’s going to help him pull it on. And there was certainly, absolutely no good reason for how stupidly affectionate he feels when she strokes her finger along the heart tattoo on his forearm mindlessly, before murmuring, “You make me wanna get covered in them. Maybe I’ll just go and get all of yours.” She looks down at the ground, “Maybe not the toe, my feet are ticklish -- think I would kick the artist.” 

He recruits Y/N for the process of easing Jackson into the water -- Noah and Elinor are floating and bobbing about happily at their sides, while Charlotte and Mikey playfully kick and float close to their older counterparts (if not practically on top of them). There was a chill bite to the water when they had first stepped in, but as they walked out further and sunk a bit deeper, the cold eases up. The cool air soothes them from the sharp bite of the scorching sun, Jackson holds his hand so tightly Harry thinks his fingers may go numb, and he figures Y/N is feeling the same way, if her soft, “Loosen your grip up a bit, Sweetheart, you’re gonna take off my hand.” 

Eventually, Jackson relaxes. He finally understands that the life jacket will keep him afloat and holding onto Y/N and Harry wasn’t a necessity. Once the idea of this settles in his brain, he is more willing to let go and enjoy himself. It feels wonderful to see that he’s having fun, and even better when he sees the smile on Y/N’s face from this small victory. Last year, he hadn’t felt this parental over the children last summer, but something had changed. . .something that made him feel like he was a bit of a parent. 

It has to be Y/N. There was something about her that just oozes mother figure for these kids, even if she wasn’t intending to do so. She kissed the bandages over their wounds to take away the hurt, she praised the ground they walked on, picked them up if they asked, danced with them, encouraged them, treated every single child as if they were her own. Harry believes she’ll be a beautiful mother one day, if that’s what she’d like, and whoever the father or mother was she had chosen to spend her life with, they were unbelievably lucky. He just hoped they would understand that. 

Y/N floats into his line of sight, “Are you okay? Ellie said you look like Maisey’s aunt again, whatever that means.” 

Harry snorts, before nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit tired.” 

An understanding gleam overtakes her, “Y’know, I did think you seemed a bit snoozy,” she reaches out for him, squeezing his shoulder softly, “D’ya want to have a sneaky nap? I could watch the kids.” 

“But I like having you both,” Jackson whined, shaking his head quickly, finding their hands once more, reassuring that his grip was tight as ever, “Please stay.” 

“Yeah,” Noah splashes over to them, sliding his arms around Harry’s neck, wetting his hair with the water clinging to his life jacket, “You two are fun together! We always have so much fun -- Brittany said her counsellor always yells at them when they ask her to play with them.” 

Elinor was quick to add, “And Ro’s counsellor falls asleep during art days! He doesn’t even help them stay in the lines, and they’re little like Oli, and Charlotte.” 

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in the prettiest little pout -- Harry finds himself wanting to pluck it with the pad of his thumb, “That’s silly, isn’t it? I have so much fun with you guys, I couldn’t imagine not playing. Right Harry?” 

Nodding his assent, he reaches up, settling his hands around Noah’s arms and bring him along with him as he kicks them closer to Y/N and the other three, “It is silly. Some people just aren’t as fun as Y/N and I, Bug, it’s proven fact. They did the scientific method and everything.” 

Oliver gleefully pushes himself up on Y/N’s shoulders, flopping back into the water and bobbing, “I love yous!” He chirped brightly, “Yous guys are my favorites! I love yous.” 

The sight is adorable, especially as Y/N wriggles around and holds her arms out so they could hug, which Oliver happily accepts, “I love yous too, button.” 

They have fun -- for hours, as they switch out which kids are in the water, spend time on the beach with all of them, making sandcastles, burying one another, chatting and playing. It was very freeing; Harry could easily tell that he and the others were having far more fun than any of the other groups were -- Mitch and Niall had gravitated their groups closer to them when Y/N and the kids began to pour sand over the top of him. Even Cassidy came around with her kids after they had heard them all giggling and laughing and wanted to know what was going on. Harry was having fun, and maybe he was just mushy, but he credited it to the joy Y/N was exuding. It was hard not to be in a good mood when he was around her. 

By the time the sun sat a little lower in the sky, casting the shadows of trees over the sand and cooling them to the point of chilling. The kids washed their feet and hands beneath the rush of water from a yard hydrant, wrapped up in towels, and headed toward the dining hall for their dinner. There was a taco bar today, and Harry found that Y/N and he had a mutual love of tacos as a whole. She showed him how she adds feta crumbles, even let him have a bite of hers to see if he would like it so he could decide whether or not to put it on his own (it was delicious, she was right). 

Once dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted. They all gathered around the campfire, one of the counsellors strummed a song on his guitar, they all had s'mores and then they dispersed. Not even the rush of sugar from the chocolate and marshmallow gave any of the children an umph in their step; they were all so sluggish and slow, dragging their feet through the dirt on their way to their cabins. Harry’s group barely kept their eyes open as they stalked to the showers, washing off the lake water and sand that had been clinging to their bodies. After they brushed their teeth, they all but face planted in their beds and snores soon filled the quiet air of the cabin. They only made him realize how exhausted he was from the day spent baking in the sun, floating and kicking in the water. 

He trudges back to his cabin, where he finds Y/N had already showered off. She was face down in her pillow, her back slowly rising and falling with each gentle breath she took. She hadn’t covered in her blankets -- no, instead she used his cardigan as a makeshift cover over her body, and Harry thinks it might just be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The patchwork swallows a good portion of her body, the sleeve flopped limply by her head. . .he could imagine her crawling into bed. Could imagine her putting her knee up first, dragging the cardigan that had been lying limply over the post with her and just letting it drape over her body. She probably wasn’t thinking she would fall asleep. . .probably thought she would just lay there for a minute before gathering the strength to get beneath her covers. 

It’s adorable -- Harry hates how adorable he finds it, actually. If he could crawl in beside her he would, but instead he ambles to the bathroom, starts up the shower, and climbs in. 

The water his hot -- boiling drops pelt his skin, washing away the grime and sweat that felt as if it’d been caked onto his skin. It felt good; to cleanse and scrub himself free of the lake, massage shampoo into his scalp, soften his curls with the conditioner, and just allow himself to revel in the feeling. Showers feel wonderful - a renewal that he deemed necessary by the end of the day. And when he gets the temperature just right, it soothes the aches and soreness in his bones, turning his muscles to softened jello. By the time he slipped out of the shower, he was practically boneless and thought he’d be lucky if he made it to his bed before dropping to the floor and falling asleep. 

He expects Y/N to still be asleep when he leaves the bathroom, but he’s surprised to find her sat up in her bed, his cardigan pooled around her body and a deep frown on her face. 

“Oh!” He’s started some -- he really thought she was out for the night, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

“It’s morning?” Her face further turns to that of distress and Harry bites down hard on a chuckle. 

“No,” he responds, “It’s not morning. Only about 10PM, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest still.” She looks around groggily, rubbing at her cheek with one hand while she fisted his cardigan in the other, pulling it closer around her body, “Why don’t you get beneath the covers, Babe?” He asks her, and she’s quiet for a little while. The only inkling Harry receives that she even heard him was how she tries to shuffle and wriggle the covers down with her still stretched out on the bed, stuffing her legs into the blankets first, then sliding the rest of the way smoothly. All the while she clings to the cardigan, holding it tightly, resting her cheek on it. Harry doesn’t know if Y/N’s just far more affectionate than he had even thought prior, or if she was just half awake and doing things she wouldn’t do if she was fully conscious. Vaguely does he remember her saying something about typically cuddling with a teddy at night -- how she stuffs her face against it because it always smells like her fabric softener. 

He wonders if that’s why she snuggles with it -- he wonders if she likes the smell of him, so she buries her nose in the fabric and breathes it in as she rests. 

Harry hates this. He hates how inconceivably soft he’s been feeling, but he can’t help it. Y/N had found him worthy enough to poke inside her brain -- she opened up to him in a way she expressed she’d not been opening up to many people about.  It made him feel closer to her.

But he told her he wouldn’t treat her any differently after finding out. And if he suddenly started expressing more affection, he fears she would think he was only doing it because of what she told him. He just wants to be. . .he just wants to be gentle with her. Doesn’t want her to ever think that she’s a burden to him, because the anecdote had made him question and second guess how he’d been treating her their entire time here. Of course, he was never intentionally cruel, but some of the situations he thinks about the two of them in, and how he responded, makes him cringe. 

He switches off the overhead light, her dimmed bedside lamp and muscle memory guide him to his bed. Harry climbs in, shivers as he adjusts to the warmth beneath his covers, and breathes a soft sigh of relief to have finished with the day. 

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice startles his eyes open, which he’d not been aware he’d closed. 

“Hm?” He hums -- he had thought she’d fallen back asleep already. 

“You’re okay?” 

A soft smile plays at his mouth -- she asks him every night before bed, he’s noticed. 

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you okay?” 

She nods, “You did really good today,” her voice is muffled from her cheek mushed against his cardigan, “The kids had a lot of fun, they were telling me. I had a lot of fun too.” 

“Yeah? Me too,” he reaches to thumb the hairs of his eyebrow down, “And thank you. You always do really well with the kids.” 

She’s quiet for a minute, and once more, Harry thinks she must have fallen asleep, but the shift of the mattress tells him she’s changing position and Harry notices once more that his eyes have closed, “I’m glad you’re my roomie.” 

Harry utters the words, that two weeks ago he thinks he would have spit at. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re my roomie too.” 

                                                     .                                   .                              .

Harry was drunk. 

Typically, he didn’t allow himself to get very drunk at these little parties. He trusted the others so little, he had no doubt in his mind that any moment he was slightly impaired in some way they would take it upon themselves to prey on his weakness. This means he only ever gets mildly tipsy -- drinks enough to feel good but caps himself when he thinks he might start stumbling. 

But he just didn’t cap himself today. Not for any reason in particular -- their day hadn’t been difficult. They helped their kids through a mildly strenuous obstacle course throughout the morning, cooled down with them drinking juice boxes and eating popsicles and by 2PM they were inside doing little DIY projects. Harry burned his finger with some hot glue, but otherwise it was a pretty easy smooth kind of day that they didn’t get often. He and Y/N hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, which he wouldn’t admit loudly was a disappointment, but he and his kids had all agreed that they missed her. 

(And when they had seen her and her group walking into the art room, the lot of them had erupted in cheers, Noah, Eli, Maisey being the loudest of them.) 

They had a pasta dinner that was surprisingly filling, they told “spooky” campfire stories and ate s’mores, he got his kids ready for bed and he went off to the cabin. He and Y/N were going to one of the parties tonight, not because they had such spectacular luck with a good time before, but because they were coming up on some of their last nights here at camp. It was a bittersweet feeling -- Harry remembered being more than ready to flee last year, counting down each day, each hour dragging on longer than the last. This time, it felt like it was coming too quick. He would miss the kids, he would miss the busy days some. . .and sure, he was happy to go home and take a shower that stays hot longer than five minutes and rest on his soft, cozy bed, but he would miss not having Y/N right across from him. 

That was what he was having the most trouble coming to terms with, he thinks. The idea of them not having to spend every moment of every day with one another after doing it for three weeks almost sounds wrong. It's the same feeling he gets when  he knew he and Mitch wouldn’t have such easy access to one another once they went back home. Being at this camp sort of felt like being stuck in a time loop where the outside world doesn’t exist, so it’s very easy to forget that they all have lives outside of here. They all go to class, go to work, go home, study, eat and sleep. 

He and Y/N live relatively close to one another -- only about a ten minute drive up the street with only one turn and it's into her apartment building -- but he wonders if they’ll utilize it. He wonders if their friendship is tied to this camp and if that’s where it will remain, or if she even wants to be friendly with him after. Harry hadn’t considered that maybe she was only putting up with him because they had to live together and she didn’t want it to be miserable. Had he questioned if he was even enjoyable to be around? How does he ask her that without sounding entirely too desperate or needy?                   

So partially, he drinks to ease some of the worry in his mind. Harry doesn’t think he would “break down” or something like it if they weren’t able to continue being friends -- like a forgotten summer love that he might think about throughout the fall, and message her to see how she was doing -- but he certainly wouldn’t be delighted if that’s how it ended up. Harry thinks there’s so much more to Y/N that he would like to see, and know, and hear. Three weeks isn’t enough time, Harry decided, but in the same breath he wondered if she had thought it was more than enough. 

Harry knows she cares for him, at least a little bit. He knows that he cares for her and her wellbeing; he was fond of her. From what he knew of who she was fundamentally, down to her core, Harry knew she was selfless and kind -- it was hard to find people like that, who were that, without it being cakey or clouded by something else. She was transparent in who she was and her feelings regarding most things, and Harry valued her honesty. 

And she was just so damn fun. Every moment with her he spent, the air filled with laughter; she brought a slice of sun in her pocket wherever she went and Harry was consistently being warmed beneath it. 

The fact of the matter is, Harry doesn’t know how he could meet someone like Y/N, and get used to the idea of her not being in his life after three weeks. If he could refuse it he would, but what was he going to do? Kidnap her and take her home with him? 

He’s sat on the tree root, opposed to standing beside it like he usually is, with his back pressed against the bark of the tree and he ignores the jagged, uneven trunk against his skin. Mitch was beside him, leaning lower than he was with his jacket bundled up and stuffed behind his head, his legs kicked out as far as they would go and because of this, his foot rested against Niall’s lap. Niall was pleasantly gone himself, a bit louder than normal but also zoning out every so often. 

He was a good guy, Niall -- he had good opinions, and he chatted him and Mitch up about guitars often (he was typically the camp’s go to for an acoustic guy if they ever wanted campfire songs). Harry thinks they could probably be really good friends, if not for the fact that Niall was so barefaced in his crush on Y/N. 

It was obvious, Harry thought. He’d thought it was obvious from the first moment he spent a prolonged period of time with both he and Y/N -- his cheeks got rosy when she touched him, he stuttered over his gratitude if she complimented him, and if she went out of her way to do something (like when she’d stuffed her hand into a thorn-bush for his guitar pick that had flung from his fingers, and subsequently got all scratched up), he would look at her how someone might stargaze. 

Harry doesn’t know why he doesn’t just ask her out, if he likes her so much. It almost irritates him how skittish Niall seems to get at the prospect of it; to run away from those warm, nice feelings that she provides is silly. It reminds him entirely too much of himself and he loathes it. 

Tonight had been no different, only Y/N was dancing back and forth between them and a few other counsellors (Harry only recognized one of them , who was called Rosie and had been in his first year maths). Harry watched her most of the night, in the least obnoxious and creepy way he could, just because. . .well, she was nice to look at. He liked how her body animated as she spoke, or how she nodded her head as someone was speaking to her -- it was an encouraging nod, and her eyes locked onto theirs like they might be telling her where the fountain of youth might be located, or the secrets to the universe. 

She was cozy today -- it was cooler out than most of the nights that they had experienced, with a chill breeze that had even stirred goosebumps on Harry’s arms (and he was all but swaddled in his hoodie). Y/N had a light fitted sweater that she sometimes slept in -- not heavy enough to shield her from the icy terrain that winter would provide, but enough to fight past the harsh summer night breeze that threatened to help a storm roll in within the next few hours. Loosely, he let the images of her cuddled close to him invade his brain. What it might feel like, how the knit would brush against his skin, if she would hide her face in his neck or spider around him as the big spoon and burrow against his hair. Y/N struck him as someone who liked to do more of the cuddling than being cuddled herself.

He would miss her when they had to leave. Harry worried who would just exist with her, like they had been doing. He worried about her going back to a place where she felt like a burden -- he would be around, wouldn’t he? If she allowed him to, he could be there for her, but he doesn’t want to seem pushy. By all definitions, they had really just met -- Harry had known Y/N for approximately 17 days, but it felt like so much longer. He wonders if he had known her in a past life, or if it was the fact that they spent almost every day all day with one another for at least 15 of those 17 day -- he finally understands how everyone in the Love Island villa always goes on about how a day in the outside world feels like a week where they are. 

It’s not like he’s professing his love to her, for fuck sake. He just likes her -- whether it be platonic or not, Harry thinks Y/N is just delightful. 

“Your little girlfriend’s not with you?” 

Harry had forgotten how Jack’s voice sounded how grating nails against iron pipes might make someone feel, mostly because they hadn’t spoken in quite a while. After Y/N had slapped him, he had kept to himself, resorting more to disgruntled glares and probably pissy comments he was murmuring to his mates about him. If someone asked Harry, he would say that him and his friends were afraid of Y/N -- she posed a good threat to them. Sure, they hadn’t understood the extent of her words that night (like how and why she knew Miss. Graham), but they were enough to rattle them. No matter being in university, or within the range of 20-23 years old, nobody wanted to be scolded by a woman in her 40s, nor did they want to be kicked out of a camp counsellor position, or to have their volunteer hours revoked. 

So they had left him alone, which Harry thinks may have been such a strain for them he would be surprised if they hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Even if they wanted to, he was always with Y/N -- they never really had the chance, and if they did, they didn’t really take it. 

Which is why he is both surprised and incredibly annoyed with Jack’s sudden appearance. 

“Piss off.” Harry responds, nursing his beer bottle closer to him. 

“You’re always so ill-tempered,” Jack leans up against the tree, “Just wanted to have a chat. Like why Cassidy suddenly wants to break things off after chatting with you and Y/N. Got any ideas?” 

Harry’s brows dipped in confusion, “What? What are you on about?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know,” Jack rolls his eyes, “Cassidy and I are doing just fucking fine for six months, but we come here, she starts chatting with you and now all the sudden she’s ready to break up. What the fuck did you say, hm?” He nudged Harry’s side with his foot, “Fucking Y/N wasn’t enough, you had to fuck Cassidy too?” He kicked him this time, harder than before.

Harry, who did not take too kindly to being kicked, rolled his eyes and pushed himself to a stand, “Dunno why you’re so fucking insecure that you think me being around has anything to do with Cassidy finally seeing what a prick you are, but this needs to stop,” he handed his bottle to Mitch who took it wordlessly, “I’m not fucking Cassidy, I’ve never fucked Cassidy, so if you could just grow the fuck up and recognize that maybe she broke up with you, because you’re awful to be around, that would be great.”            

Jack, which Harry had expected, took more of a physical approach, giving a shove to Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s back slams against the tree behind him, “Fuck you,” he spit, “You all holier than thou ‘cos you’re dipping your dick in Miss. Rainbow Bright? What do you know about me, hm? You’re just a dumb fuck who has to be here because you’re a no good druggy fuck with anger issues. How does it feel knowing you’ll amount to nothing after UNI?” 

There isn’t a lot that could get under Harry’s skin. A lot of people could say a lot of shit that he brushes off and lets go, but there are two things that he really just can’t. One of them is when people try to speak poorly of his mum, and the other, was when someone pretends to know his situation when they don’t have a fucking clue. Who was this trust fund bastard to tell him he was a druggy fuck? That he would amount to nothing after UNI? Harry worked two jobs to set himself through school and keep himself fed, with a roof over his head, just so that he could live the life he wanted to after university. 

Maybe it was silly to punch him, but it felt good to. Harry reared back his fist and it collided with his jaw, making Jack stumble backward, his hand flying to his face, “You fucking --” he swung in return, only he catches Harry’s shoulder because Harry moved out of the way in anticipation. Niall narrowly dodged being caught in the crossfire as he rolled out of the way. 

The fight didn’t get too far, however, because when Jack was gearing up to swing again, Y/N appeared and easily wormed her way in between them, “Are you serious right now?” Her brows were furrowed -- she looked legitimately pissed off, and, well. . .it made Harry take a step back at least, “Thought we had a chat about this, hm? You were going to leave him the fuck alone -- no, look at me, not him,” she grabbed at his collar, giving a sharp tug when his angry gaze had flittered back toward Harry, “I’m not an angry person, Jack, I don’t like being mean, or cruel like you seem to be so fond of, but I can and will be if I need to and I promise you that. Don’t you ever speak to someone like that again, yeah? What you were saying was just awful.” She lets go of his collar, taking a step back and sighing in a sharp huff, “I can’t speak for Cassidy, but if I had to guess she probably cut things off because you’re a jealous bastard who questions every interaction with another person and try this alpha male persona to scare other people away. It must be exhausting.” 

Jack shook his head, “We were fine --”

“You thought you were fine. Things aren’t always what they look like, alright? The sooner you understand that, the easier your life will be.” She nods toward the center of the clearing they were in,  “Go get some ice from the cooler, and go the hell back to your cabin. You’re not a fun drunk.” 

Albeit reluctantly, Jack follows her orders and slinks his way to the cooler. The others around them had grown quiet as they had watched the confrontation unfold, but they soon all lost interest once they realized nothing more would happen. Y/N turned to face Harry, the anger on her face immediately dissolving, as she shakes her head, “What a dick. I’m so sorry he spoke to you like that,” she takes ahold of his wrist, the hand that he had punched Jack with, running her thumbs over his reddened knuckles, “I told him -- after the lake, I told him that he needed to leave you alone or I’d do something about it. Dunno what I was gonna do, but I was going to do something -- I will --” 

“Hey, hey,” he cuts her off, “It’s okay -- it’s okay, come on, let’s. . .let’s go to the cabin, yeah? Should we go back to the cabin?” 

Y/N looks at him like he was batty, “No shit we’re going back to the cabin! I’ve got to give you like a full medical look over. He slammed you into the tree, and honestly, you bruise like a peach.” 

They make the trek back to the cabin, relatively quiet, Harry still attempting to process what had happened and what Y/N had said. Had she really spoken to Jack after the fact and threatened him if he messed with Harry again? The softest, probably sweetest person he knows, had taken Jack off to the side and told him if he didn’t leave Harry alone she was going to do something about it. Not only that, she grabbed him by his collar and told him off in front of everyone. It made his heart race, the thought of it, and his cock twitches in his pants at the moment on repeat in his mind. 

Once they get back to the cabin, Y/N has him take his hoodie off with her in the bathroom so she could visualize his back and shoulder. Jack may be short-tempered and smaller than Harry, but his punches still packed a great deal, so a nice, reddening bruise was forming quickly around his shoulder. On his back there were scrapes from the tree bark, Y/N tells him, and a ton of little bruises that had begun to form as well. She makes him stay still as she retrieves the first aid kit from their medicine cabinet. 

“Y/N,” he started, and she hummed to encourage him to continue, “When did you speak with Jack privately?” 

She clears her throat, plopping the first aid kit down on the sink counter and unclipping it open, “The morning after the lake,” she answers without hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to like, fight your battles or anything, but I needed him to know I wasn’t bluffing when I told them I would rat them out, and worse if the situation allowed it. I hate bullies,” she pulls out a small tube of bacitracin, tutting her tongue as she squeezes it out on the tip of her finger, “And I hate how they treat you. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

“You didn’t at all,” Harry remarks softly, jolting when her fingers very carefully graze over one of the tender areas on his back, “Thank you, actually, for sticking up for me again.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. I think I’m pretty scrappy when I need to be,” she giggles to herself, “Like, if need be, I would take on the Queen for you. Might be an uneven match though, she’s pushing 100.” 

Harry spins around to face her though, “Y/N, I mean it,” he tells her seriously, their gazes locking, “Thank you for everything. For dealing with my attitude, for sticking up for me, for helping with the kids, for making this experience bearable, for being such a positive light,” he sighs, “You’re amazing, you deserve amazing things.” 

Y/N looks taken by his words -- he wonders if she’s as lost in his eyes as he is in hers. Her mouth falls open gently, like she may be searching for what to say back to him but can’t come up with anything. He worries that he’d said too much -- that he freaked her out or something. He wasn’t trying to, he was just so grateful for her, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to express it. 

He is about to apologize for being too forward, when Y/N pushes the short distance and connects their lips together. 

Harry’s confused for a moment as his brain registers what’s happening, but when he feels that she might pull away, his body finally seems to wake up. His hands find her face, cradling her jaw in his hands as he reaffirms the kiss and lets the butterflies in his body take over in hoards. He’d given thought to kissing Y/N, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen. Not only that, he’d never thought it would feel this nice. She tastes like the pineapple wine coolers she’d been sipping on that night, her lips still a bit sticky from the residue of the alcohol on her soft lips.

She’s gentle in how she kisses, like Harry would have guessed -- careful too, and cautious with how her lips parted from him only to fix back together. A pool of heat had formed in Harry’s lower belly and rose to his chest, stirring his heart in flutters when her tongue slid into his mouth and met her own. Harry hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to kiss her until their tongues are sliding against one another, and his hands are slipping down from her jaw,  caressing the delicate skin of her throat, skating down her chest to her hips. He squeezes her sides and pulls her closer to him, feeling the knit of her top rub against his bare torso. It was as soft as he’d imagined it’d be. 

Had she been wanting to kiss him for as long as he wanted to kiss her? Normally, Harry could tell how badly someone wanted to kiss him by the act alone, but with Y/N he was so caught up he couldn’t focus. She was calm and soft, but the longer they kissed, the more ardent she became. It was the tiny moan that had left from her mouth into his own, that made him lightheaded. He had to pull away to breathe but his forehead pressed against hers as he breathed in, “Harry?” Her voice is low, she says his name like a secret, “Was that okay?” 

His response is to press their lips back together, but this time only for a moment, before he withdraws. Harry loops his fingers around her wrist and brings her with him back into the main room, flopping onto her bed since it was the closest and urging her to climb into his lap. She straddles him, and just as soon as she’s within reach, he slides his fingers at the nape of her neck and pulls her back to his mouth. 

It was good -- it felt so fucking good, Harry couldn’t begin to describe it. He held her close, and tried as he might to stave off his cock from ruining the moment, the longer they kissed the harder he got. How she was positioned at first made it so she couldn’t really feel him, but when she tried to get closer to him, she scooted her hips forward and rubbed up right against him. A gasp leaves her as she parts from him, looking down, having lifted her hips, “I’m sorry,” she apologizes and Harry gives a startled laugh. 

“I’ve got a stiffy, and you’re apologizing?” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got a pretty girl in my lap kissing me, s’kind of hard not to get hard. We can stop if you want.” 

“I don’t want to stop,” she answers with no delay nor doubt, as she lowers back down, resting her front on his prick and with this she gives an experimental roll of her hips. Harry hisses in a breath as she does it again, her own little moan slipping from her mouth. She was only in a thin little pair of shorts, and Harry had chosen sweatpants for the night, so there was little fabric truly separating them. Harry was thankful for it as she continued to roll her hips against him, sponging kisses from his mouth, down his jawline, to the curve of his throat. She fixed her lips there, lulling her tongue over the skin before she started suckling at him and Harry’s hands danced along her back, stroking up and down it, feeling her, holding her closer. Each roll of her hips made him harder, and he was desperate to know if she was wet. If he pushed his fingers into her shorts, would they come back slick from her arousal? Would she watch him as he slid them into his mouth to taste her? Would she let him split her thighs and lick straight from the source. 

His mind was overcome with filth, smutty images entangle once innocent thoughts as she brought the blood to the surface of his skin. When one of his hands left where it had latched onto her hip and slowly maneuvered around to her front, she paused, but left her face dipped in his throat, “Are you wet for me?” He asks her quietly and she nods through a little shiver, “Yeah? Bet you soaked through your little panties,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers past the elastic bands of her shorts and underwear, but left his fingers just past them, “Answer me.” 

“Yes,” her voice trembles, she swallows thickly and the muscles in her abdomen contract beneath his fingers. 

Harry hums low, slipping his fingers down further and he dips between her slick folds, “Oh, Sweetheart,” he presses a chaste kiss to the side of her head, “Is this your first time getting wet for me?” She shakes her head, “Hm, really? So you’re like this often? Do you take care of it?” 

“I -- yeah,” she stutters over a moan as the pads of his fingers roll over her swollen clit slowly, feeling it flick beneath them, “At night, sometimes I will in the shower if I can’t. . .if I can’t wait anymore.” 

He feigns a gasp, “Oh my goodness,” he speeds up the slow lull of his fingers, “Your showers are always so fast, doll, you’re really that quick to cum?” 

Harry may not be able to see her face, but he can hear the pout clear in her voice, “It usually isn’t that fast! Just with you, it is -- when I think of you, it’s always quick.” 

He thought it would be impossible for his cock to be harder than it already was, but her words make pre-cum bubble at the tip, and when he dips his fingers back into her slick little hole, he gets even harder. Gliding his fingers from her panties, he draws them up to his mouth and presses them past his lips as he’d wanted to. Y/N has withdrawn from his throat, watching him do it with glassy eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders, digging her fingers into grape sized dents at the muscle. Her mouth falls open as he sucks her juices away, his eyes fluttering and a groan torn from his throat. 

“Get on the bed,” he instructed and Y/N followed without question, crawling from his lap and lying her head on her pillow as Harry stood, and repositioned himself. He takes a hold of shorts and drags them down her legs, wriggling them off her ankle and tossing them elsewhere. His lips finds her ankle first, before he’s peppering and sponging kisses down her leg, the parts that he had tended to throw over his shoulder. When he gets to her thighs, he makes the kisses slower, softer -- he suckles and nips at the supple skin until he’s right before her center, only to switch to her other thigh and push kisses up and down the length of it. 

Y/N’s whole body trembles with each shaky breath she gives. She’d spoken no words until he was positioned right in front of her core, looping his fingers in the waistband of the little cotton pair she had on, pulling them up toward her hips so the fabric stretched out over her. He could see her pussy beneath it, made out the outline of her swollen lips and engorged clit -- it made his mouth water. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” she tells him, and his gaze is pulled back up to her -- she looks apprehensive. 

“What?” 

She shrugs, “I know some guys don’t really like to so --” 

“Do you want me to eat your pussy?” Harry asks her bluntly, and he revels in the way her eyes widen, and how bashful her face turns as she looks away, “It’s a yes or no question, honey, if you don’t want me to, I can come back up and kiss you while I make you feel good with my fingers. If you do want me to, I’m g’na pull those panties to the side and make you cum on my tongue -- either I’m good with.” 

“I -- yes,” she answers, her voice meek, “Yes I want you to.” 

Harry smiles softly, “Poor thing, How many stupid boys were refusing to eat this sweet little peach?” He runs his thumb up and down her slit, visualizing where the wet spot had grown and soaked her panties so that the fabric thinned. Leaning in, he nosed at her clit and she inhales, “God, I’m so excited — you’re okay with this? You’re okay with me eating this little pussy out? Need you to let me know because once I start sweet girl, I’ll be in heaven.”

“Yes, please, please lick me.”

“So polite,” he suckles a kiss at the very innermost part of her thigh, before licking one, long stripe up her center through the fabric. She moans, pushing her hips down toward his mouth as he drags his tongue over it again, and again, and again. He soaks it with his spit, teasing her — he wanted to pull her panties to the side and suckle and slurp between her lips until she came — but he wants her to beg for him. Wants to hear that she wants him just as much as he wants her. 

He smiles against her as he hears her getting impatient, little huffs between each moan. She whines, her hips bucking up against his tongue — he looks up to her, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly. The fingers of one hand are dug into the sheets beside her, while the others rest between her teeth. Her brows were tilted, lips pouted, whimpers come more frequently the longer he suckles and laps on the fabric, drenching it. 

“Harry,” she finally works out, shivering when he pauses just over her clit and flickers his tongue over the top of it, “Oh, please just -- please.”

“Hm?” He hums against her, jolts, inhaling sharply, “What is it, baby? You’ve got to use your words.” 

“Please stop teasing me,” she tells him, “Please take them off.” 

And Harry may love to tease, but he wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t a bloody monster, was he? So he slides his index and middle finger in between the fabric and her core and tugs them over to the side -- he didn’t want to waste any time wiggling them down her legs. No, instead he dips his tongue in between her lips and slides it flat and straight up to her swollen clit. The groan that leaves her is sinful -- it makes his cock twitch in his pants, his heart slamming against his sternum as he suckles and her fingers find his curls. She digs her fingers within the strands, rocking her hips up to meet his mouth, and for a moment, Harry just leaves his tongue out and flat for her to grind against. Harry thinks, if he could spend the day just strapped to Y/N’s bed, willing, ready, and waiting for her to come use his mouth how she pleased -- he would be inconceivable happy. 

Eventually he wiggles his face back into her, sliding his tongue back and forth before he latches his lips back around her silky folds. The swollen little button crying desperately for his attention was where he spent most of his time, lapping, or lulling his tongue in circles around it. She keens, her heel digs into the mattress and begins to slide down but Harry grabs a hold of her thighs and pushes both of them up, so her knees are to her chest. The new position makes her cry out his name raggedly, and Harry was teeming with carnal desire, and so horny he thinks he would barely have to hump against the mattress to cum. 

“I’m close,” she warns him, mewling, “I’m g’na cum, I’m -- oh, please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

Harry doesn’t think he’d stop if he was paid to do it. He doubles his efforts, sucking harder, sliding down to tongue at her hole while his fingers wrapped around and spun little circles into her clit. His other hand he reaches up with and slides his thumb into her mouth and she accepts it graciously, as it muted her moans that grew louder and louder the closer she got. 

When she cums, it’s beautiful -- Harry wishes he would be able to see it on repeat, how her back arched upward and her hips bucked loosely as she pulsated around his tongue. Her mouth hangs open around his thumb, her eyes squeezed shut, the fingers in his hair tighten and her other hand wraps around his wrists and holds him tightly. The initial lurch of it subsides and she melts into the mattress, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving beneath her sweater. 

After he thoroughly cleans her (until she’s twitching and jumping away from his tongue), he crawls up her body, pushing her sweater up over her breasts, “Can I fuck you, Darling?” He asks her, a small smile on his mouth when she leans her chest closer to him so he can reach behind her and unclip her bra. Tugging the cups away, he grabs them carefully, thumbing over her nipple, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, don’t feel bad about it, just let me know.” 

“I want you to,” she rushes to tell him, nodding, “Do you have a condom?” 

He dips his head against her chest, breathing out a sigh, “Fuck me,” he utters, shaking his head, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.” 

He usually does -- Harry always keeps a few on him, but he remembers very vividly he and Y/N had blown his last one up just a few nights prior and drawn a face on it. For a moment he feels hopeless, a sad pit forming in his stomach because the thought of fucking Y/N sounded like paradise and he only brought one bloody condom that he wasted. 

“It’s okay, we’ll do it next time then,” she tells him, and Harry feels a joyful spike in his overall demeanor. Next time -- she wanted there to be a next time? And if she wanted there to be a next time, then they would have to see each other after the camp. . .they would spend time together, Harry could learn what she was like in her normal day to day. He was eager and delighted, and not even just at the prospect of pushing into her (which he was also pretty damn excited for), “I mean, if you wanted to do this again, then, yeah -- right? We’ll hang out after camp is through?”

A smile threatens to split his cheeks, “Of course we will,” he tells her, nosing at her jawline, “And not just ‘cos you promised to let me fuck you. I was hoping we would see each other still but was worried that you might be sick of me.” 

Her brows pinch, “Sick of you? Dummy, I thought you would be sick of me!” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the both of them, “We’re so stupid, we ought’a communicate better.” Y/N presses at his abdomen, “C’mon then, I’ll spin around and you can fuck between my thighs. I did it once with a boy -- I just shaved in the shower last night too so it should be soft.” 

Y/N flips over, scooting her bum in the air for him as she cuddles a pillow to her face, her ankles locked in place and her thighs squeezed together. Harry wiggles out of his pants and boxers before he lets a glob of spit fall onto his stiff cock that had soundly slapped up against his stomach, slicking it up nice and wet so the glide between her thighs wouldn’t be too dry. One hand he lays palm flat to her bum, stroking the skin there with his thumb while the other hand navigates his prick, tipping it down and fitting it between her warm, soft thighs. 

It felt good; Harry groans wantonly as he pulls out and sinks back in, watching himself disappear between them. She wiggles her bum at him and Harry playfully swats it, chuckling when she squeals and giggles, “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos before bending over, stretching himself over her so his chest was pressed to her back as he started steadily fucking in between her thighs. One hand he uses to cup her breast and tweak at her nipple while the other he slides down to her pussy, finding her swollen little button and rubbing it. 

Harry’s skin prickles as she moans, her legs falling open just slightly but he tuts his tongue, “Keep them nice and tight for me, baby,” he murmurs, and she nods, tightening the channel for him once more. He won’t last long, he knows it -- he can feel that pool of heat crackling in his lower belly. His blood buzzes in his ears as he fucks his hips forward, their skin slapping together sound in their little cabin. Her breasts bounce with each thrust he gives, she’s beginning to cum again from the ministration of his fingers, and Harry’s nearing the end of his rope. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he’s just a breath away from her ear, “You’re gonna make me cum.” 

He nibbles at the shell of her ear and lets his eyes flutter closed, his senses on overload. All he can hear, and taste, and smell, and feel is her. Dizzy and overwhelmed, Harry feels as if he may burst at the seams. 

“Cum,” she murmurs, “Please, I want you to feel good -- I want you to cum.” 

That’s all it takes -- the little push of her words has his hips stuttering as he cums, spurting long stripes between her thighs, some catching her skin, some landing on her sheets below them. His world fizzles out, static splinters through his body as warmth rushes through his veins, and his toes curl hard enough to lock up. As he comes back to, he giggles, the last of his orgasm drooling from the tip as he pushes a kiss to the back of Y/N’s head, “Stay still, lemme go get us a rag.” 

His legs feel like jelly when he stands, fleeing arse naked to the bathroom and returning moments later with warm, wet rags. He cleans her first, careful in how he works her underwear down her legs before he pats gently around her thighs and at her center. She’s sensitive, so a few times she twitches and flinches from him but eventually relaxes as she holds tightly to the pillow. He wipes himself off a bit haphazardly, more concerned with getting Y/N somewhere to lie down as he gently tugs on her arms, “C’mere, poor thing, I came all over your bed.” 

“Yeah, you jerk,” she says puckishly, letting him guide her over to his bed, climbing in and immediately snuggling beneath his covers. Harry is not too far behind her, and at first she snuggles up close to him, she hisses and squeals before trying to shuffle away, “Why are your feet like ice?” She asks him, her words accusing, like he’d come in the bed with intent to freeze her. 

Harry shrugs, “I dunno’ I usually wear socks to bed to keep them warm.” 

“Socks? To sleep?” She slowly wiggles her way closer to him, despite the words that follow, “I don’t think we can share a bed, you’re batty.” 

“Guess you’ll have to go sleep on the jizzy bed then.” 

Y/N laughs, and Harry feels it vibrate through his body as he holds her close to his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They’re quiet for a moment, as they both settle, taking deep, slow breaths, allowing themselves to slip towards sleep. 

Before Harry could get there, Y/N murmured his name. 

“Thanks for being my camp ‘husbad’.” 

Harry smiled to himself, and held her a little closer before he teased her. 

“You can say thank you next time with an 18 carat diamond.”  

[kaerenebrainrot]

Random but like...

I'm really concerned for my eardrums if Kalpas takes an interest in me lmaooo man basically scream and shouts all the time and I'm a fan of quiet and peacefulness

Well there's always headphones :)

Kalpas asked Elysia for advice in romancing you once he finally accepts after so much griping and struggling and complaining because he hates these feelings but he’s gonna have to live with it now, so he might as well

He comes to you

You expect death threats

It is worse

 It is really badly written poetry that sounds like a discount Linkin Park song that had a baby with an Evanescence song and was sprinkled with angsty teenager tier literature

And he’s screaming it at you in front of the whole base

Kevin is struggling not to laugh, he is trying SO hard to poker face it, so are the other Flamechasers but they eventually have to give in

At least Eden gives you a sympathetic smile???

[crucible-memes-4-salem-teens]

deciding whether or not i think characters from the crucible could beat me at uno

those who could:

giles corey. do i need to explain this one? he's so normal and i think he'd love a friendly game of uno. our friendship would even remain in tact after he beats my ass at that game. maybe he'd eat the cards, but who am i to judge?

abby. yeah she'd win, but then she'd be an asshole about it. would probably make me draw 40 during the game because we somehow got into a drawing card standoff and she happened to have more of them in the end. tv high school bully behavior.

mercy. lowkey i forget about her sometimes. whatever. i feel like if we played, she'd horde her action cards and then just fucking end me right at the end of the game. she'd be cold and calculating with that shit.

marshal fucking herrick. this guy deadass shows up in the play like once. still, he'd find a way to beat me at uno. he has the vibes of someone who probably is smarter than they let on. we'd both have a good time playing, though.

the maybes:

proctor. i cannot spell this man's name right for the life of me. it's actually a problem. anyway. i feel like he'd lose at first, experience the entirety of the hero's journey, win a few times, and then go back to losing. all in the span of a few hours.

elizabeth. not gonna lie, i don't doubt her ability to win, but she's so nice, she'd let me win. so, i'd be nice about it and tell her she wouldn't have to go easy on me. then she'd strategize and we'd be on equal footing.

betty. i talk shit all the time, but kids love games like uno. she'd win like, 50% of the time. like her cousin, she'd be a bit mean about it. but only at the beginning. then she'd be normal after i basically tell her that shit's rude.

ruth. same thing as betty! except i think she'd also be all "my father will hear about this" whenever she lost, only to stop after not getting up to tell on me even once.

tituba. really, i think she'd probably beat me at uno a few times. however, i think those would be flukes, for lack of a better word. regardless, at some point she gets into her groove and just fuckin. dominates. it's true. slay

mary. i'd have to explain the rules a couple times after watching her make the same mistakes a bunch. but then after that, it'd be a 40-60 split winning and losing. she'd be unsure of when to use action cards.

fuck no:

parris. absolutely not. i would gladly watch him cry over the silly colorful card game. in fact, because i am an asshole, i wouldn't even explain the rules. he is thrown into the deep end like a kid struggling to learn how to swim.

hale. he is pitiably bad at uno. i would teach him the rules a million times, each more thorough than the last, and yet he still wouldn't get it, i think. no matter how hard he tries, no matter how little i strategize. even if i let him win. he is terrible at uno. he could probably kill me in chess, though. so he's got that going for him.

danforth. no. he wouldn't even play with me, therefore having me win by default.(plus i feel it in my Bones. uno would be a struggle.)

putnam. just because i hate him. his lack of a poker face would be his downfall. and when he'd attempt to cheat, he'd still lose, because god favors the righteous. amen. praise be.

rebecca nurse. she too, would not play with me, but it's different from danforth because i actually am okay with her. therefore she wouldn't win, but i'd still be bummed about it.

judge hathorne. tbh i forget about him a lot. he'd suck ass at uno, though. no debate about it. gives me rancid ass vibes.

[existential-angstt]

37th and 101st // Shane “Dio” Morrissey X Reader

AN:  Just a smutty smutty one-shot where the reader is Dio's gf and when they go to the mall, the reader decides to get a choker to wear for Dio. However, when you get Dio riled up and you suddenly end up trapped in traffic, Dio takes matters into his own hands.

You'd never really been one to wear chokers before Dio- they were too tight and irritating and just a little too much for you. But that was before. Since you'd gotten together with Dio your tastes had changed a lot and you were more open to the idea of keeping a few on hand just because you knew how hot it made him to see you in them.

So on one particular trip to the mall at your usual stop in Hot Topic, you made a choice. Dio was stood in the back corner staring up at the band t-shirts, his eyes running over the patterns quickly. "Almost ready to go?" You said, holding what you wanted at your hip, slightly out of sight. Of course, he noticed and he grabbed your wrist like a viper striking its prey, bringing it up to where he could see.

You had a choker in your hand- it wasn't anything too heavy. Clear PVC with an O ring and two small spikes on either side. His eyes flicked up to yours and he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's get the hell out of here," he replied, guiding you towards the counter to pay.

You could tell something had changed in him-- the way he was suddenly acting twitchy, his grip on your wrist. You'd certainly done something to him. You just weren't sure what was going to happen because of it.

He paid for the choker (you had planned to pay for it, but didn't fight him when he dug wadded-up bills out of his pockets) and he halfway dragged you out of the mall to the massive parking lot where your car was parked outside.

"Will you put it on, butterfly?" He said, nodding at the bag. You smiled and nodded, getting your keys in your hand so you could drive the both of you home. "I'm driving," he added, holding out his hand in a grabby motion for the keys. You handed them over and instead slid into the passenger seat, immediately working the choker out of its packaging.

You snapped it on around your neck and adjusted it, the PVC biting into your neck a little. You looked over at him and flashed him a cheeky grin and you could practically see him drool staring at you in it. His ringed hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and you knew he'd so much rather have his hands somewhere else right now.

Instead, Dio revved the engine and sped noisily out of the parking lot, nearly clipping another vehicle. You took a deep breath and tried to hide your smug smile and making him like this. With any luck, you'd be home in minutes and he'd be fucking you silly.

---------

Well, you weren't home in minutes. 20 minutes later you were still sitting in bumper to bumper traffic behind a bad accident at 37th Avenue and 101st Street. Had you known this would be in the cards you never would have teased him like this-- you could tell Dio was quickly getting so impatient he was irritated and that was never a good thing. It wasn't like he would take it out on you or anything but he'd certainly be moody for several hours, even if you did lay him like you planned.

You were staring out the window, watching the people walk past on the street, not thinking about anything really when the hairs on the back of your neck stood straight up. You turned your head and--- he was staring straight at you, so hard you felt like he could bore a hole into your skull. He glanced down at the choker and then up at your wide eyes and huffed a little, turning back to face the traffic ahead. You blushed a little and went back to staring at nothing in particular until he said, "Unzip your pants."

You looked over at him in alarm, almost unsure you'd actually heard him say that. "What?" You said softly. His head turned sharply in your direction and his eyes burned. "Don't make me ask you again," he snapped. It was cold, yes, but you knew that was all an act, something he would cut out the second you told him to knock it off. At this moment, though, you liked it. It sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, so you unbuckled your seatbelt and did as he said. When you'd done it, you sat waiting, feeling like an absolute fool in stationary traffic with your pants sitting open.

Quick as he liked, Dio's hand reached over the console and slithered down the front of your pants, underneath your underwear where he pressed his palm against you. You'd felt yourself get a little wet earlier between the looks he had been giving you in the mall and the way he gripped your wrist the whole way to the car, so it was no surprise that as soon as he touched you, you were soaked.

You inhaled sharply and looked over at him, waiting to see what his plan was, but his eyes were forward, watching the traffic inch ahead as he let the car coast a few inches. He rubbed a few circles around your clit, finally looking at you after a moment, his eyes raking over your neck again.

"Dio-" you said, looking at him slightly alarmed. It was a busy Saturday and there were plenty of people out enjoying the sunshine, walking down the street and weaving between the stopped cars as they crossed here and there. "Dio-" you said again.

"Shush," he said, lowering his hand a little so he could run his fingers over your lips, tracing your entrance. You tensed in your seat, looking around frantically, so afraid someone would see.

"If you act like that, someone will see," Dio hissed, reading your mind. You hated when he did that. The traffic inched forward again and again Dio rolled the car forward, acting like he was doing anything besides what he was really doing.

Your breathing got heavier and you swallowed nervously. Dio chuckled under his breath and sank a finger into you, curling it inside of you. You cried out in surprise and froze as you felt someone on the sidewalk look over. "You want them to see you falling apart all over my hand? You want them to know I'm fucking you with my fingers here in the street?" Dio said, still not looking at you. That man had to have the best poker face you'd ever seen.

He withdrew his finger to reach up and circle your clit gratuitously a few times before sinking the finger back into you again, adding a second one this time. You could feel the cool metal of his rings pressing into you and it made you moan long and low. He was asking a lot of you, to keep it together for him here-

You looked over at him sharply. He flashed a sharp-toothed grin. This was payback. It was payback for teasing him in the mall. He was getting you back. You hadn't even said anything about the choker, hadn't whispered dirty things about all the things you could use it for, and still, he'd taken offense, like you'd slighted him, enough to do this to you in public.

Or maybe he was just incredibly horny. Who knew.

You clenched around his fingers and gripped the top of the passenger side door, clinging to it for dear life. "I think that guy over there is staring," Dio said teasingly, still not looking at you or the aforementioned guy, as though he had better things to pay attention to.

You groaned as he moved his fingers in and out of you but kept yourself composed for the most part, not daring to turn your head to look for the guy Dio mentioned. Best to pretend you weren't getting fingered by your boyfriend on a busy New York Street at noon.

You might have been keeping up appearances fairly well but you weren't far from orgasm. Dio liked to hear you in bed and you always made sure to completely let go whenever he made you cum, moaning and crying like you were being murdered. You weren't sure if you'd be able to keep yourself from a similar performance once you got there.

Finally, the cars in front of you started to move, the car ahead of you pulling away and still moving. Dio kept his hand where it was, his thumb messily circling your bundle of nerves while his fingers moved in and out of your pussy. He kept it up even as you passed by the accident, where three cop cars were parked around the two half-destroyed vehicles. That was where Dio fucked up.

As you passed by, one of the cop cars pulled away from the accident behind you on the road. "Dio, D- I'm-" you cried, trying to tell him you were about to cum when the cop car behind you flashed his lights.

"Fuck," Dio growled and pulled his hand out of your pants. You whimpered as he pulled over the side of the road and pointed his index and middle fingers at you. You quickly took them in your mouth, cleaning off your own juices and licking away as much as you could while your hands struggled shakily with your pants. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a wet pop just as the officer got to the driver's side window.

Dio rolled down the window lazily. "Officer," he said smoothly. He'd had his days running the cops around the city, causing trouble. By this point he was practiced with greeting the oafs they called law enforcement around here. You were still shaking, right on the edge of orgasm still, fighting every instinct to shove Dio's (or even your own) hand back down your pants to finish what he started.

"How are you today, sir. Do you know why I pulled you over today?" You stared down at the floorboard dizzily, trying to keep yourself as hidden as you could from the nosy cop.

"Uhhhh, no. Enlighten me," Dio said. You knew him well enough to hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice but the cop misread it as politeness, as he was meant to.

"Your girl there isn't wearing her seatbelt. That accident back there, someone died because they weren't wearing their belt," the cop said dryly.

Dio looked up in faux surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry, officer. My girlfriend saw the accident and suddenly felt like she was gonna hurl, so I was just about to pull over to let her stick her head out the door when it passed and she felt better. She was just about to put it back on," Dio replied charmingly.

The officer looked at your full of shit boyfriend and then at you, who was flushed and sweating slightly, eyes wide. He sighed. "All right, just don't let it happen again," the cop said impatiently.

"Thank you, officer," Dio smiled menacingly at him as he turned and went back to his car.

"Now," Dio said to you, reaching over and grabbing the O ring on your choker, pulling you close. "Whatdya say we go home and finish what we started, huh, doll?" He said sarcastically, smirking at you.