#like the past....few years this place has become so depressing

[clockwayswrites]

So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

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“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)

[hollowdeath]

obsession (hjp)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it's you.

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

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

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

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

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

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

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

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but now, things are different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were just. so. hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and so do a few other guys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

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

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

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

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

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

"help me?" you ask seductively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

perfect, perfect, perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're leaving me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but, now that he has them…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

harry could've died happy at that moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"[y/n]?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

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

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"harry, have you been working out?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was finally your birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

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

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

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

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

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

"just enjoy yourself."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that's all it takes for harry.

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

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

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

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

————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what he finds instead makes him see red.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

harry smiles. no promises.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————

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

[crowlyne]

Cant stop thinking about emperor sy au...

Thanks to sy's modern knowledge of historical palace dramas and encyclopedic knowledge of pidw along with him having max stats on luck and charisma he survived the succession war (and somehow becomes an emperor? He is still confused on how he got it. Its not that he cut down his fellow princes nor did he scheme to get the emperor position but hes the only legitimate option left). SY doesnt have any experience on ruling kingdoms however (or anything really) but thankfully SY got an economics degree in his past life so hes not a fish out of the water.

Although the imperial rule doesn't affect the cultivation world directly, they're still impacted in the form of trade and manpower. The power to empower and cripple sects is in his hands. Ever since SY declaring SJ as his long lost brother CQM received a lot of lucrative trade. SQH is appreciative but hello?? He didnt write any long lost family members on SJ! So he got curious and begged the sect leader to send him instead of SJ to meet the emperor for trade discussion, and thats how he met his fellow transmigrator.

SY made him cough up all of his authorial knowledge and found out about OPM and HHP, although its already too late to save SXY as LBH has been born. Needless to say, HHP's coffers are running thin these days. With them having less money their manpower and support from noble families are slowly diminishing, the maintenance and security of the seals fell to disrepair, and SY (in disguise) with SQH's cultivation expertise managed to free TLJ. A few brief expositions later, TLJ and ZZL thanked both of them and slipped back go the demon realm. News of their freedom got out and HHP is scrutinized and support dropped even further than before.

SY did manage to visit QJP regularly to visit his brother and consequently, meeting LBH a number of times (making LBH absolutely smitten with him and considering joining the nonexistent imperial harem). With SJ more assured in his position (also maybe SY's promise of him always having a place in the palace and his family and less people being hostile towards him had an impact) SJ had less frustrations and projections to subject LBH and his students to. He still doesnt like the beast but his stupid brother (an emperor!) doted on him like a favored child so he tried his best to ignore him instead.

Things were going well until the immortal conference where instead of SQH orchestrating the attack, its TLJ and ZZL trying to get a hit on HHP's OPM and dragging LBH back to demon realm kicking and screaming. LBH is presumed dead.

SY found out of course but he didnt know the details (SJ remains tight lipped and insists that hes dead and thats all he should know) and thought LBH fell into the abyss and SJ pushed him like the original plot and grew depressed of thinking of his brother that he grew fond of turn into human stick. Also considering LBH's going to merge the realms and conquer the human kingdoms under one rule he might not have long either, he is, after all, a human male which by the novel's rules itself, a cannon fodder.

Years passed and the demon army, under the demon emperor LBH, conquered other human kingdoms and eventually showed up on SY's kingdom's doorstep but not for the reason SY's thinking of.

SY found himself still alive (!!!) and married (???) with LBH for alliance. CQM stays unmolested and unburned for years to come. SJ, however, remains a sour pickle with this whole arrangement, but at least hes left in peace.

Bonus :

LBH loves to roleplay as a concubine whenever he dropped by SY's palace. When SY visited the demon realm however, LBH loves to show him off that the demons thought of him as a concubine instead (much to SY's embarassment)

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 023 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Terminal Illness, Angst to Fluff, Solo Leveling Spoilers ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 2 || Part 1 ♡𓂃 �� ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ We'll Try This Again, Begin Again with Zero. But This Time? I'm Never Letting You Go. ] ¡! ❞

Living felt more like a punishment more than anything. The pain he goes through starts feeling more and more deserving in his eyes. He was pushing himself to the limits when he shouldn't, he's punishing himself over a sin that wasn't really his fault.

But if anyone tells him that, he wouldn't look back at them. He would ignore their concerns.

He has a duty to uphold anyway, a duty that only he can do as a monarch.

Jinwoo has ultimately grown to be a vessel of war thanks to the system.

He didn't really care much, he already placed insurance to his name if anything happens to him.

When he's gone, his remaining family would atleast live off of something.

He has already watched his father die too thanks to the godforsaken monarchs.

What more can he loose?

Over and over again, he puts himself in the battlefield, exhausting himself on purpose, never even sleeping nor eating.

He was just fighting like a dog.

Well, dog's get much more care than what he does to himself, so does it really count?

It doesn't matte,r Jinwoo physically cannot be exhausted.

But mentally? It's a different story.

He wasn't really depressed, at least, that's what he tells himself.

He really felt numb, not exactly sad, not exactly happy either. It's as if his emotions lie in the middle.

Jinwoo felt hollow, completely hollow.

As if he were merely nothing more than a puppet in war.

The only thing that really urges him to move forward is the distant sound of his beloved's voice in the back of his head.

And soon, after he had finally murdered the Monarch of Destruction— He would be granted a wish.

Battered and tired while on the floor, he thought of what he could possibly ask from the rulers.

Thought of?

No, Jinwoo already knew what he wanted.

It was to turn back time.

To meet old friends again, to stop the gates from opening, to have his family whole again

,... To meet you again.

Yes. That's right. All of this was for you anyway.

Jinwoo recalls that memory very clearly, how you were still in the hospital bed and you two were playing a game of cards while he tells you about how he plans to be a hunter soon.

Your words were quite cute really: "I hope Woowoo becomes a really strong man!"

Those silly, innocent words of yours.

Up to this day, he still smiles lovingly whenever he remembers that.

He became this strong not just for himself and his family who needs him, but for you, the brave little soul who endured that illness—

Jinwoo fought for you

And since he is given the opportunity to correct the past, he requiested for time to be rewinded.

Right then and there, a brilliant flash of white would engulf the earth, bathing it in all it's glory. eradicating all traces of the lifeforms and shadows there is to this pathetic universe. For once in a million years, the earth was beautiful again. It looked like a star gleaming along with countless others.

Soon, Jinwoo would wake up to the sound of his baby sister's calling. Jinwoo would sit up, gently smiling at her.

It took a while for everything to sink in, for everything for him to realize that this? All of this was reality.

How badly he wanted to find you in the time he spent, for just a few weeks, he enjoyed being a child again.

Laughing with friends, screaming at others for a vanguard or healer in the pc cafe— He wanted to find you in an instant. But not right now.

He took care of some stuff first.

Your illness wont awaken until then after all.

27 years, he spent time in that goddamn dimensional crack fighting monarchs and all that crap.

When he was done, he finally came home.

Just as he set foot back in earth again, he went straight to the hospital.

April 9th of spring, where the pink petals bloomed and flew around the air— This beautiful but tragic day.

Was the first time you had collapsed and coughed out blood.

It started with your lungs, to your kidneys, to your heart, to everywhere.

You had metastatic cancer.

Coughing up blood was only the start.

And Jinwoo had come home just in time.

He didn't even ask for directions, he just went straight to your hospital room.

He knew this godforsaken place better than the doctors and nurses himself after all.

As he pried open the door, there you were, resting on the bed staring absentmindedly at the pink trees outside your window. When yopu heard the sound of the door, you turned your attention to Jinwoo.

Dazzling and innocent eyes, just as he remembers. Your youthful face, free of any sign of wrinkles. Still chubby and plump that he wanted to just kiss your cheeks all over.

As you called out his name, Jinwoo marched over and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry, it took me a while" Jinwoo whispers ever so lovingly as he rubs the b ack of your head affectionately.

You were confused at first, wondering why your best friend is acting all cuddly and sappy when he totally did not disappear off of the face of the earth and come out of nowhere like some sort of boogey man. But regardless, you can't help but notice the traces of tears about to break from lovely grey eyes.

When you reached over to touch his face, his voice broke and he started crying almost instantly.

Panicked and confused, you pulled him to a tight hug.

Jinwoo was crying, and in his tears and broken voice you could hear the amount of anguish he had been bottling up, the brokenness in his heart finally being revealed in the open for you to hear and see. It felt as if Jinwoo was carrying a hundred years worth of burden. And you could do nothing more than to soothe him.

"I'm sorry... Ditching you out of nowhere and acting like a sappy pup wo got kicked" He chokes as he chuckles gently, "I promise, promise, that I won't leave you like that anymore. Just trust me, okay? Here, drink this."

He hands you a weird fantasy-potion thing with red liquid inside. You wanted to deny him of it but Jinwoo stubbornly insisted upon it, as if your life depended on it.

Well, tehnically speaking, it did depended on that potion.

After making sure you gulped down every single drop of the crimson liquid, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours.

Mumbling ever so sweetly; "Let's do this again, okay? You and me, goofing around. I'll let you eat as much sweets as you like, I'll show a lot of pretty things. Don't worry about anything else, Woowoo will take care of it."

Somehow, you felt that Jinwoo meant that on a deeper level. You felt like right now, what in front of you wasn't just anyone else, but someone ready to lay down their life for your sake. The person in front of you, you felt as if he was going to follow you to the ends of the earth to the stars above your heads. Somehow, it feels as if his words was a promise that he would follow you wherever you go.

He already lost you once, damned will he be if that happens again.

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[eldritch-spouse]

Can we get Santi making his match ~Properly~ apologize after they gave in and resummoned him after banishing him?

[Ohhh I'm gonna hurt you good. Fem reader.]

TW: Manipulation; Brief but descriptive past gore; Struggling with trauma; Angst and abuse.

Ironic, isn't it?

You did it. You successfully banished a high-ranking demon from your life. Not just any high-ranker, one that claimed to be your "match". You had assumed that was just another appeal to emotions back then, a trick to wrap your around his pinkie further, but you've done a lot of research in order to successfully pull off what you did, and there's no lie to be found in those words.

Few humans can drive their matches away for good, very few. You have the scars to show for it, certainly. The ragged rifts on your limbs from when Santi had sunk his claws so very deep into your flesh, raking them down and tearing your muscles apart in the process. You have a bad eye. It's not blind, but it's definitely not as good as its twin. Lastly, of course, there's the dead and withered mark on your mons... Faded, but still there, still visible, still mocking you every single time you look at yourself in the mirror.

It's been years.

Yet you still scrub at it ruthlessly, hoping that it'll disappear little by little, like a grease stain. The nightmares remain, feeling it throb through your entire organism, glowing that hellish magenta, signaling the nearness of your personal castigator. Your unrequited pest that, much like a cockroach, refuses to die.

It's been years...

And he's still haunting you.

He's in Hell, probably in Lust if you had to guess, where he belongs- And he's still fucking up your life. Poetic, a true demon.

The exhaustion you felt the moment Santi successfully got phased back into the fires has stayed since. It dug roots into your soul, hugging it possessively, his parting gift to you- Numbness.

You reinvented your life.

New hairstyle, new fashion, new place to live, new interests, new friends. It felt like the only way to be free of the incubus was to become anyone but the person he claimed to have fallen in love with.

No matter what you did, what new hobby you took on or what personal goal you achieved, you never felt accomplished, never felt good. Psychologists treated your supposed chronic depression with every tactic they had, only succeeding in making you feel even more pathetic when every single one of them failed.

It was clear you were not in the mindset to begin any type of relationship, but... Your libido demanded it of you. It's unclear what changed your appetite. Was it the mark? Was it the constant sexual contact you had before? Or is it just that you can't satisfy yourself anymore? Maybe all.

You tried sex again once.

It was... A monumental disappointment.

Enough to make you swear it off, and live in a gross state of constant frustration, unsolvable no matter how much you pushed yourself into new spaces to attain new sensual experiences. Maybe, maybe you just had to try something different, right? Try a few kinks.

No, not even the almost shameful collection of toys you've amassed since Santi's been gone have done a single thing to relieve you properly. Every orgasm feels dull and requires too much effort.

You started hating yourself when the only thing that seemed to make you cum faster was thinking of him.

The image of your very own abuser above you, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear and moaning as he sunk his cock into you. The thought of his skin on yours was enough, it was effective- And the wave of pure self-hatred that rolled over you when you orgasmed crying his name was strong enough to make you break down into screaming tears, naked and soaked and humiliated.

You'd wake up in fetal position, throat hoarse, the crust of your own pleasure sticking to your thighs, numb as per usual.

It's been years, of this.

And today, you've given up.

It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, of course not. It was more of a slow spiral into hopelessness.

Is this misery going to be the rest of your life? This insupportable existence.

You'd rather never live another day than allow it to continue. And if, to fix it, you need Santi again... Then you need him again.

Is it weak of you, to do this? Maybe a stronger, more dignified person would choose death. But you've been worn down, you've never recovered, you're still on his fucking palm!

Were you ever truly free of Santi?

What does it matter, right? If you're still going back to him after all this.

Making a summoning circle is easier, certainly more so than cleverly hiding a banishment circle. Droplets of shame drip down your cheeks as you arrange it, as you come to terms with your defeat.

In spite of his rank, there's no need for a big offering. Santi will know it is you who's calling him, because of your blood. You're letting him know preemptively. An orgasm should suffice.

There's no need to think about his sigil, the very shape of it is embedded on your frontal lobe, a pesky cattle tag clipped onto your body. It's on your fucking cunt, the blasted thing.

There's a long moment of contemplation where you stare at the spacious circle in your living room. A brief streak of resilience has you wanting to put everything away, except your legs don't budge, stone-like.

Once more, your mind says no, but your body says yes.

Bile rises in your throat, yet if there's anything you've learned to do by now, it's swallowing.

There's an exhausted grimace in your complexion as you sink to your knees before the circle, pushing panties aside, and fall into your guiltiest pleasure. People use the term very loosely these days, you've noticed.

It should disgust you how easy it is, how quick you approached a peak, how the anticipation of feeling his hellishly delightful touch brought you that much closer, that much faster, that much wetter- You're a loser.

And maybe you deserve this. Whatever comes of this.

As soon as you orgasm, the circle pulses, your blood seems to sink into the demonic sigil, and a stillness follows, lulled by the hum of a portal waiting to manifest.

Torpid hues study it. Seconds pass. A minute maybe.

A hysteric little giggle escapes as you wonder if he'll deny you now. Reject you.

No. No, he wouldn't- That filthy piece of scum would suck the grime off your shoes sooner than reject you. Because that's all he is, a worthless fucking worm who should be grateful you're letting him see your face again.

Eventually, a rift cracks through the floor, widening, the symphony of Hell echoing out in a scream of triumph. A hand pushes through, as dark and large as you remember it, sinking into the first anchor it finds. Soon, a great body is pushed through.

Santi.

... Santi?

Your breath catches in your throat.

He looks... Off. Turned away from you, crouched in the circle, it's hard to put your finger on what's changed, but he feels different. His horns have grown bigger, sharper.

Motionless, you watch a thick tail twitch. He rises to a stand carefully, joints cracking when he rolls his neck. God, that's not his usual posture at all. And then, you get to see his face. Gaunt cheeks, a larger, darker mouth with unnatural teeth. Santi's charm had been, in large part, his ability to toe the line between handsome and monstrous, taking advantage of his inhuman abilities to impose and using his sightly features to cause a "scared but horny" effect. That line has been long eroded, if you had to guess.

What strikes you the most are the eyes.

His stare has changed completely. The demon looks... Horrifying. Where once there had been something sharp and seductively warm to hide the evil beneath, there's now a corrosive transparency oozing off him, an animal carelessness. The left eye is particularly dulled, having lost pigment, the pupil won't move, lodged in an upwards position as if midway through rolling back into his skull. The whisker on that eye is also damaged, it looks to have been cut.

Certainly, it wasn't just you that changed.

You both look like complete shit. Well, he looks like shit as much as a concubus can...

Still, once he's fully turned towards his summoner, Santi attempts to put on a familiar mask.

The result is a far cry from the past.

" Minx. "

The incubus nods, his gaze blazing into you, unreadable.

Your mind wars between fear and irritation. The nerve of this motherfucker, to immediately address you the same way he did when you were but his mindless cur! When he did unspeakable things to you in the name of love. This anger is tempered by the shock of his rougher tenor, by the simple fact that you hadn't heard Santi's voice in so long- It feels too real, it feels like he can hurt you just with it.

Returning the favor, you call him by something that'll make him feel vulnerable.

" Noph'ae. "

A slight wrinkle.

Success.

His chest inflates. You think Santi's about to start shouting at you, but he just exhales afterwards. This happens a few times before you realize he's smelling something.

" It's been a while since I've been to the surface. The smells are so different, the lights, you take it for granted until it's stolen from you. "

He stole a lot of things from you that you took for granted too.

When Santi's tongue snakes out, it becomes clear he's now just trying to catch whiff of your recent arousal. Whatever trace of it still wanders.

Surprisingly, all the incubus does afterwards is just... Sit down, in the middle of the circle, continuing to look you up and down, as placid as can be.

You hadn't expect this, needless to say. You assumed there would be anger, indignation, a vicious desire to maul you or demands to let him free. Mockery even. Not this. Not nothing.

Your attempts to stare him down and coax some kind of response -Not that you even know what you want to hear from him. An apology? A justification?- Are fruitless. He just stares back, and speaks when he pleases.

" I see life has treated you harshly. Pity. "

" Shut- " The anger lodged in your throat like a knot makes you choke. " Shut the fuck up. "

He does, waiting. A few seconds pass before you can gather enough calm to say anything.

" I hate you. "

Santi blinks slowly, the words having no effect on him. God knows you've screamed them a hundred times and they never amounted to anything. Why would they now?

Still, the fact that he seemingly won't react to them drives you mad enough to pull at your own hair in a small tantrum.

He smiles faintly at the show.

" Would it please you to hear me say the same? " Santi interrupts the pain, making you all but glare venomously at him.

" It would make you happier if I said I hate you too, right? After you banished me. That I only exist to make you hurt. That I answered your call just so I could wait for a moment to kill you. " He sighs. " That's what you want. "

" But that's not the truth. "

When Santi's expression softens, and he spends several moments openly observing you in an almost nostalgic manner, a pit of dread forms in your stomach.

You start shaking your head. " No. No, don't you fucking dare- "

" I love you. "

A shriek bursts out of you. " You piece of shit! You don't know what love is, you know fuck all about love, all you know is how to break someone down to nothing! "

New tears follow tracks already left behind. " You can't even apologize to me. You're just soulless, aren't you? "

" If ever there was someone I loved, it was you. " He taps the floor with his clawtips as he speaks. " I only wanted us to be. You felt it too, but you kept fighting it. I would never willingly let you take away the best feeling I had ever felt. It was my paradise. "

" It was my Hell. "

He frowns.

" Don't lie to yourself. "

Before you can bark anything else at the demon, he continues.

" It was 'your Hell', but here you are, calling for me again. " Silence. " Doesn't add up. "

There's so much you want to say. So much you want to shout at him. Too many ways to contest his arrogance, his shamelessness, too many ways you'd like to torture him. The rage fueling you, generating those fantasies, dies when you realize it's all pointless.

Santi won't ever believe he's wrong. He won't ever say what he did to you wasn't justified. You could probably kill him, he'd still think he was right all along.

It rips the small, sick joy you could attain from picturing him groveling for all his mistakes. Talking to Santi about this is like debating a brick wall. It's time to move on.

He reads the defeat on your face plainly, wisely deciding not to poke further.

" What happened to your eye? "

The incubus tilts his head. " Concerned for me, love? " Again, he hardly allows you to inhale. " I felt that we should match. "

Confusion and anger is a very bad mix. " Is that your idea of a joke?! "

" No I... " Santi has the decency to look away, if even for a second. " I wanted to punish myself. It was never my intent to blind you. "

You huff, then make a broad gesture over your face. " And the rest? "

He lets the question hang for a while, then shrugs. " I've changed. Didn't you? "

As much as you want to deny it, squish it like a bug, reality is that he's been miserable too. It shows. This should make you happy, but all you can feel is a mysterious frustration.

Only in the ensuing silence do you begin to hear the gentle pitter patters of raindrops on the windows. A soothing sound, hushing the turmoil in your racing mind for a fraction of a heavenly beat.

" Will you break the circle, love? " Santi eventually concedes, leaning the least bit forward.

The fact that he's the first to address the matter of his summoning is a small victory for you, one that doesn't please you that much, though you still eat it up. It must be hard for him, seeing you after so long, yet not being able to touch. Must be torture. Good.

There's an avenue of power you'll always have over Santi, a double-edged sword actually, but he's more affected by this than you are. As his match, you are the incubus' most favored meal, and just being in front of him in nothing but your panties is likely chipping at his composure in fast swings.

Not that you are faring that much better, your current arousal may be buried under the scent of your orgasm, but it will fade soon, there'll be nothing to mask the want then. Even if he's endured some changes, the demon before you is still the one that made you reach platforms of pleasure previously unfathomable to you. Even when you didn't want it, even when... The mark...

How can you still want him, even after all this time?

" No. "

The answer comes easily.

" How am I to offer my services then? "

" You're not touching me! " Of course he will, who are you even lying to anymore?

Santi rolls his neck, tail thumping idly while confusion writes itself on his complexion.

Wordlessly, you reach for the waistband of your underwear, removing it slowly. The cloth is aimlessly twirled around your index, then thrown half-heartedly into the circle.

Predictably, pathetically, Santi swipes it before the thing can even make contact with the ground, bringing it to his face instantly. The sound he emits is like a sobbed groan, he rubs himself on it like a house cat, breathing it in, drooling on the fucking thing as he appears to damn near drug himself on the scent of your pussy.

It's satisfying.

It feels powerful, in a depraved and unhealthy way.

Which is why you never expected him to turn to you with a look that gushed utter vitriol.

" Break this circle. " He demands, finally using a voice befitting of his rank and infernal authority.

It's always a shock when Santi does this. The demon so deliberately maintains his tone to a seductive lulling purr, that when his patience chips just enough to let the real beast slip, it thunders through your composure.

" N- No! Be silent! "

Even to yourself, you sound like a frightened bleating animal.

" Pathetic! " The incubus laughs, straightening, leaning those great horns forward just to have you watch when he hooks your panties in the left one. Like a prize. " You summon me out of desperation, then play footsie and cocktease like a coward- "

" Desperation?! " Your own anger rises like burning bile. " Typical of a fucking demon to think so highly of yourself! "

Santi pauses to look at you quietly, wordlessly and petulantly asking you if you're sure that's your answer. A challenge.

" I don't need you for anything! "

" Are you hearing yourself, Minx? Why am I here, then? " A dark finger wags. " Better yet, why did you summon me and not another concubus, hm? "

Wracking your brain for answers that are anything but the truth takes time, time Santi won't offer you.

" I'll tell you why. Because you made a hotheaded decision and you've been living with the consequences of it for all this time. And you can't take it anymore. "

White knuckled fists begin to quake.

" So you banished a high-ranker, ooh la la, quite the feat! " Sardonic clapping rings across the room. " But you don't know how to get that out, do you? "

When Santi points at the mark previously hidden by your panties, goosebumps cover you from head to toe.

" You don't know how to make your mind forget me, much less your needy, luscious little body. " That pointed index moves from your pelvis to your chest. " I rocked you to the very core! The same way you took me by the neck, woman. "

All you can do is gulp, and all he can do is watch the motion of your throat.

" And it's not so easy, shattering our bond, love. We have a beautiful thing, that you've tried to ruin. I still don't know why... But what I do know, is that you've put us both through torture, isn't that right? Or do you think you were the only one miserable all this time? "

For some reason, no matter how angry you are and how much you want to say, the words won't leave your mouth.

" Was it fun? Tell me, did you have a good time? " He's already laughing. " Was it nice to never feel relief, to crave pleasure you could never achieve on your own again? This isn't like smoker's withdrawal, it doesn't go away. Did any body you ever sampled after mine offer even a tenth of what you had? "

It feels like your airway is tightening.

" No. Of course not. You never got it through your skull that neither of us had a choice in this. There are some things in life we don't get to choose, right Minx? We're each other's matches, and we have real chemistry together. That scares the living soul out of you, doesn't it? That you'll always want me. "

A choked cough makes it past your lips. He's as close to you as he can get from within the carved, advanced circle. No salt here, Santi would bulldoze through it immediately.

" As much as I love you, my sweetest delight, you are selfish. More than me. Because you never stopped to put yourself in my shoes. I am just as much of a slave to you as you are to me, there's no denying that. "

The next words he throws at you lash welts into the very fabric of your being.

" Even worlds apart, with all the wards and circles and magical aid, you will still be mine. And I will still be yours. "

Hearing him say what you had recently come to realize makes you deflate in a way you can't even describe. It's the final nail on the coffin you had no idea you were inside of. The last embers of a flame before wind blows it away. He's silent while the waves of defeat wash over your figure.

Several seconds later, Santi resumes with a somewhat calmer lilt.

" We'll never be free of each other, not without the type of pain that would make you rather die than keep breathing. That's what I've been trying to tell you from the very start... So, why don't we start over? "

You hadn't realized that you had begun glaring at the floorboards in the middle of his speech, only now cautiously rising your gaze to the agitated demon trying to gather his own calm.

" After you apologize to me, naturally. "

Finally, your mouth opens. " A- Apologize? "

Santi huffs. " Well yes, love. None of this would have transpired if you had just listened to me all those years back. I rather think I deserve this much, don't you? "

You hate him. You hate him so much. But, most of all, you hate that he's right.

Your fate had already been decided long before you could begin to make a choice. You won't get rid of him, because just like Santi says, even when he's away, your body will torture you to find him again. And it doesn't stop, because you don't have the means to make it stop. He said it perfectly, which might mean he's been mulling over this conversation as many times as you have mentally imagined it.

You're just so tired. Even if every ounce of rage in your heart demands that you send him back into the fire and tough it out, even if it kills you- Another part of you craves rest, comfort, calm. It wants the normalcy and modicum of well-being you'd sometimes feel before.

It wants this to end, at any cost.

Maybe you do have to learn to live with him.

Because it's not a choice for you. For your health or mental stability.

Maybe if things are done just right, you can mold him into a more tolerable person, you can teach him to be more than he once was. It's disgusting that you have to fix Santi, but it's the only way, isn't it? That's the only way to make it work and spare yourself unnecessary torment.

And, to fix him, you first need to make amends.

" I'm... " It's as if your tongue won't move to form the rest of the sentence. It has to be forced. " I'm sorry, Santi. "

Perhaps the only thing that makes it sound sincere is the fact that you're already emotionally exhausted.

The demon hums. " Very nice, that's a start. " You quirk a brow. " But for a proper apology, you should break this circle. "

A denial almost slips off your tongue without thinking, making the demon's gaze harden. Realistically, there's no escaping this. You're going to have to let him out one way or another, might as well have it be a gesture of cooperation. For a better future.

Sighing, you reach behind the slightly shifted couch, knocking three glowing crystals out of the specific order they were previously in. These same crystals were the ones you used to create a circle not even a high-ranker like Santi can break through- They were incredibly expensive, and acquiring them without raising his suspicion proved to be one of the most anxious episodes of your entire life.

Instantly, the glow that once contained Santi and limited the summoning rift's width fades away, leaving only hasty chicken scratch markings on the ground. He looks mildly bewildered that you actually followed through, but the expression wipes itself away quickly.

There's barely enough time for you to turn before Santi's all but prowling after you, a massive body colliding with yours while restless hands instantly dart everywhere.

He seems to want to do everything at once. In his desperate longing, the incubus crushes you against him, palms grabbing the globes of your ass then squishing the fat of your sides as he buries his face into your neck and snarls hard enough to make you quiver like a leaf in the wind. One second he's rubbing your legs luridly, the next he's rolling your tits and trying to lock his teeth around your neck. It's too much too fast, but exactly what your body had been craving for endless time. It wanted his attention, wanted his soothing- Your whines fall somewhere between frustrated and inconsolable, largely drowned out by his vaguely intimidating calls of delight.

Beastly in his want, Santi licks your jaw to a humid, tingling mess before forcibly crashing his lips unto yours, easily weaseling his tongue inside. Traces of your own arousal linger, but are otherwise negligible compared to the euphoria of his kiss. It's just as powerfully addictive as it was the very first time he selfishly stole the gesture.

And, if there's one good thing about Santi's irresistible nature, it's that his pheromones and fluids won't allow you to feel guilt for enjoying this. What a wonderful excuse, to let yourself sink into the experience bereft of all shame.

You can't hope to halt the noise of animal pleasure that rips itself out your throat, something he moans for, happily receiving and encouraging it. Santi's fevered hand eventually snakes downward and palms the faded mark still clinging to you, before reaching further and offering you just the briefest feathered brush against your clitoris. He soaks his digits in your generous wetness to make the motions even more fluid, the teasing very quickly has you shifting your hips in between heated kisses and breathless panting.

No matter how much you wordlessly beg him to indulge what you'd both been deprived of for far too long, Santi doesn't cave. In fact, he growls warningly whenever you try to buck, claws digging into your meat so you can't rock yourself on him.

" None will ever compare. " He finally parts, mouth as coated in your drool as yours is in his. There's a dreamy look in those tired eyes. " I wracked the Rings looking for someone that could satisfy me, and I went mad along the way Minx, but it was okay. "

A force on your shoulders takes you by surprise, the ensuing impact of bare knees on wooden tiles sobers you up gradually. Quiet clicks follow when Santi takes a few steps back.

" Because I knew you'd call for me again. "

What a nice way to say he knew you'd come crawling right back like a bitch in heat...

As you kneel there in disheveled confusion, Santi merely beckons you forward with a deceitfully warm smile.

It's obvious he wants you to crawl, but you still try to play dumb and raise a leg.

" Stand and I will be much meaner to that pretty face, love. "

A threat that instantly stills you.

" I'm not discouraging you, by all means, I miss those times where I could feel you try to breathe through your nose but you were so flush to me you couldn't... "

His words alone evoke a myriad of images, flashes of his teeth twisting into pleased grimaces and the oxygen-deprived skip of your heartbeat while spots danced around the edges of your sight. Memories that feel all too vivid now.

Crawling towards Santi is far from the most embarrassing thing you've done, so it's hardly worth antagonizing him about it.

The monster's own anticipation betrays him and he steps forward to close the last bit of distance between you, expression somewhere between manic and endlessly adoring when he whispers.

" Now, show me you're sorry. "

You know what to do to get the incubus revved up, not that he needs much assistance, seeing as he's practically bursting out his slit.

Keeping eye contact, a reverent kiss to that overheated sheath and a tongue flirting with the edge is all it takes for him to groan, holding your head to the side so you can watch his cock slide out, already throbbing from repressed arousal. Fortunately, nothing's changed on this end. He's still just as mouth-watering as you remember him from all those years ago.

Before you can wrap your lips around him, Santi grabs a soft hold of your hair.

" Tell me about the people you've bedded after me. "

You frown. " I only... Only had sex once. "

The demon tilts his head, mind seemingly shattered by that. " Once? "

After your nod, he nudges you slightly. You get the pleasure of seeing him inhale sharply at the first feel of your warmth around him, a shaky sigh following while he waits for you to worship him properly.

" You poor thing, was it truly that bad? "

There's no answer to be had aside from your slight gag when you attempt to take a little too much of him too soon. Santi pauses just to buck and make you gag again, the gross sound turning him on. He triggers the reflex until your face is flushed and there's strings of drool hitting the floor.

" Ssh sh, that's perfect, just the way I love it. " He murmurs praises when you pull away to cough hard.

" What did you do then, to make it bearable? " Santi appears to forge his own answer. " Did you spend your days fucking yourself to the thought of me? "

Instead of thinking about his words, you just focus on pleasuring the monster, bobbing on him effectively enough to disrupt his train of thought a few times. He makes a guttural sound when you audibly pop your lips and pulses madly.

" Hhn- Did you ever regret it then? In those moments where you were just so close but nothing would get you there... And you knew you banished the only one that could help. "

When you fail to pick up the pace accordingly, Santi rolls his own hips into your now stationary face, occasionally choking you deliberately, but also pausing to simply let himself rest on on your tongue. He intends to languish every moment of this.

" Because I thought of you when nothing and no one could make me cum. I thought of every sound you made and every inch of your stupidly gorgeous skin. " His tone intensifies with his speed, words chopped into tight breaths. " I hope. You crawled. The walls. "

Almost.

" I hope- You screamed. My name. "

You did.

" And I hope. " He pants. " In the end. You cried. "

You... did.

Santi's getting close, you already know all his tells, down to what muscles he twitches when he's nearing an orgasm. Part of being his match is knowing his body well, though not as well as a demon of carnality can read yours.

Instead of wanting to sink as far into your throat as he can, Santi offers mercy to your creaking jaw when he merely has you suck him hard around the most sensitive spot, curling forward slightly in his mounting pleasure.

" That means you learned something from this. So you won't have to cry anymore. "

When his jaw becomes slack, the first rush of sizzling ecstasy hits your tongue, a taste imprinted deep into your brain, like sweet liquor enabling a spiral into total debauchery. You know, somewhere in what's left of your rational mind, that ingesting his fluids will only make you more restless- But this is exactly what you wanted.

You want that hit. The high. The relief. Is it really a spiral when it feels so good?

The incubus refuses to indulge your greedy wish, pulling you off his length so he can make a mess of your already less than composed visage. You hardly have the mind to care about the flashes of warmth as he paints you all pretty, simply smiling contentedly. Santi finds it endearing enough to coo.

" There, my lovely little Minx, aren't things better already? " His claws swipe gently over your cheeks and chin, entering your mouth with another offer of poisonous sweetness you can't decline. He lets you clean him at your own sluggish pace, spare hand pumping a slick but by no means spent cock to the sight.

The rest of it is rubbed across your lips like some perverse gloss.

" I love you so much. " He swoons. " Say it back to me. "

You barely heard his request, too busy hypnotized by his eyes. Even damaged, they're still the eyes of the most captivating creature to ever exist, for your cum-drunk brain.

" I... Mm... " You swallow, every inch of your throat feels sticky. There's something dripping down your neck.

He leans down to mouth the words for guidance, but all you do is try to reach his lips for another kiss, causing the incubus to laugh and shake his head.

" Come one, darling. Three words, I want to hear them from my one and only. "

Although his tone is so sickly sweet it borders on sardonic, you're able to focus enough to at least heed the request.

" ... I love you. "

" I love you, Santi. " He corrects quietly, yet sternly.

" I- " The lustful fog only ever allows you seconds to think clearly. " I love you, Santi? " "

He makes a face that reads something among the lines of 'good enough', grinning in an all too familiar way.

" Then hold on. "

It's a while before you realize he's not telling you to wait. Santi has curved his head just enough that you have access to his horns, and though you give him a slightly puzzled look, all he does is chuff impatiently. Your panties still hang off his horn, you imagine he'd like to keep them on for as long as he can get away with it.

As soon as you have decent purchase on those thick handles, large hands swipe you up by the ass, making you clap onto his thighs. Santi bounces you a bit more until he can stand a little straighter, with you effectively anchored onto him by the horns. Instinct has you quickly crossing your legs around his midsection. He's holding you up as if you weigh less than feathers.

The demon rumbles from the depths of his chest, a feral and drooling Cheshire beam.

" First order of business, my love, is fixing the gift I so kindly offered. "

He uses one hand to smooth over the residual mark and tuts, the distaste written all over his face. Said hand helps him adjust and, in what felt like a blink, he's hilted inside you.

Both of you quiver and call out in tandem.

Your own orgasm is triggered immediately, the cry of an addict reaching delirious heights, your vision darkens for the briefest second as you can only groan senselessly and milk Santi with a grip that might have made him burst if he hadn't only moments ago. Instead, he merely huffs and rasps curses in a tongue you don't grasp.

He drags you off his length deliciously, every ridge bumping its way out, then shoves you back down with intentional force, cockhead kissing spots that have you nearly dizzy. Each disorienting thrust has you struggling to get enough air in your lungs, toes curling hard enough to tease a cramp while your arms fight to keep holding on and your legs don't know where to shift- Not that Santi allows you to squirm much.

" Lords- " He has to loll his tongue out for a second, teeth glistening and chest heaving. " I could die buried in you. Did you miss this, Minx? "

As if you had the wits to answer him right now, grinding your teeth from overstimulation. He laughs when your body freezes every now and then, unable to accompany so much mounted pleasure.

" Save your voice, and save your tears, because when I fuck you full of cum, you're going to feel every inch of that mark blaze to life again. "

And he's right, the sparks are already burning you...

After tonight, there's no going back.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

What if this is the last time I see you?

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.

Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: ANGST

At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.

She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.

But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.

So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.

Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;

What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.

Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.

By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”

Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.

Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”

Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.

At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’

But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.

He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.

“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.

Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”

“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.

“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.

“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”

What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”

Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.

“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.

Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?

Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.

He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.

“I should let you –”

“You probably have –”

“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”

Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.

I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.

A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.

“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.

“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.

Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.

Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.

After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.

What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?

What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?

Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?

Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.

To be continued.....

[tonyboneysblog]

MOTHER HEN: PART EIGHT

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3.4k

warnings: descriptions of panic attack

note: I was laughing maliciously while writing this I hope yall know

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

two weeks.

two weeks without a single word from hawks.

whatever, no time to think about him.

not when poor Fumikage has exams, sweet thing needs help!

“Fumikage, twelve times nine- cmon…”

Fumikage stared blankly at the paper, he may not look it but..he does not know his times tables.

“I-I don’t know.” He continues to stare at the paper filled with different questions you’ve written down

“Twelve times nine.”

“You repeating it isn’t going to help me, mother.” His eyes flickering towards you and the paper.

“Just guess!” You exclaim.

“110!” He exclaims back quickly.

You smack his head gently, “so close- so far…”

Fumikages head whips up, “I was wrong?!”

“By like two numbers, it’s 108.” You pat his head gently.

Fumikages head droops slowly in defeat, “I’m failing.”

You chuckle softly and Fumikages small bit of depression, truly you doubt the entire times table will be on the exam.

You tap Fumikages chin, “keep your head up, you’re not failing anything.”

Fumikages head drops into your lap, signifying that he’s waving the white flag on studying for today.

You pet his feathers gently, your son’s been through a villain attack so you suppose he can rest!

Fumikage did mention a training camp if he passed both exams, thought he wasn’t able to tell you the location since he himself didn’t even know.

You personally wanted to bring him some food when he got home sick- Fumikage could never go over to the houses his few friends were at.

he missed his mama too much, that’s what he said.

Thought your heart was it dismay, you could feel like something was off but you couldn’t quite place it? it was deep in your gut.

if you focused too much on it then it would become nauseating.

But it was just a feeling, not truly affecting your daily life!

If you remembered correctly, Fumikages exams were tomorrow- then the training camp?

well you were quite prepared, you already predicted that Fumikage would pass with flying colors- which he did- so you gave him the most delicious meal your could think of.

With a mouth watering apple pie for dessert.

Sometimes Fumikage confused you, and bird liking apples feels wrong..but Fumikage is also just human with a bird for a face.

Your son’s confusing.

Fumikage is obsessed with apples, when he used to sleep in your bedroom you could swear it smelled like a tangy, ripe apple.

then we he left, so did the smell.

and the apple scented products didn’t help, kids said he smelled fruity so he went for more woodsy scents.

never got the apple out though.

You can take the apple out of the boy but not the boy out of the apple you suppose?

You watch joyfully as Fumikage huffs down all the food you prepared, mostly for him but it could feed a family of three or four.

Fumikages a growing boy- you’re not judging!

“You excited for camp?” You ask with excitement lining your words.

Fumikage muffled out a quick “very” almost choking on his food.

“Don’t talk while eating, you’ll choke.” You point at him.

Fumikage glares at you softly, but fixed his little attitude quickly. Whipping mouth, then pointing towards the pie.

You chuckle softly, cutting the pie dutifully into a thick piece of warm apple pie.

Fumikage holds the plate like it’s a million dollar vase, like it’s valuable.

Then he basically eats it in three bites, damned bird beak.

You can tell on his face he enjoyed it, reminded you of his father but only for a second.

He always said that your cooking made his heart swell.

well he’s not here and hasn’t been for 16 years, no point dwelling on the past.

Which is what hawks is doing at the moment, with Mirko more specifically.

Mirko rests her head the bench, arms behind her head while kicking her legs lazily to a slow tempo.

Hawks is hunched over, his hand covering his mouth while mumbling.

Mirko sighs, “you know I can’t hear you right? Stop covering your mouth.”

Hawks straightens up, leaning back on the bench with a huff.

“I mean- why would I get angry at her for kissing mean?!” His voice growing louder.

Mirkos head whips over to look at hawks, “she what..?”

“Relax, it was only on the forehead.”

Mirko deflates, pouting.

“So, let me get this straight before I yell at you.” Mirko starts slow and calculated.

“You wake up from your little nightmare in her house, then she comforts you like a “baby” in your opinion- kissss your forehead, you yell at her for confusing your small brain and then storm out?”

Hawks stays silent for a moment, staring at Mirko.

“M-my brain isn’t small.” He stutters out.

Mirko shrugs her shoulders, “don’t into that stuttering habit again, commission hates it.”

Hawks sighs softly, nodding.

“Still- my brain isn’t small, I was just confused.” Hawks retorts.

Mirko sighs heavily, agitated that she has to spend her dinner break listening to hawks, “Why are you confused..?”

Hawks plucks out a loose feather from his wings, twirling it in his fingers gently.

“I don’t know..I wanted her to do that but I still got angry.”

Hawks relaxes into the bench, staring up at the stars.

“I didn’t expect her to do it I guess? I worked so hard on trying to get her to like me and when she did that- I didn’t know what to think. Kinda like I reached my goal, but I didn’t reach it the way I wanted to.”

Mirko hums, her feet tapping softly to a faster tempo than before.

“So, your just upset cause you didn’t get the kiss you wanted?”

Hawks closes his eyes tightly, “it’s not that..i guess I didn’t want it?”

Mirko kicks his leg, “You did want it- you practically vent to me everyday on how you want to pounce and kiss on her.”

Hawks scoots farther away from Mirko, “I don’t know then, I dont even now why she kissed me anyways.”

Mirko knocks his ankle again, “She has a whole kid, her motherly instincts probably just kicked in when she saw a sad little birdy.”

Hawks hums, placing his hand over his face blocking the moonlight from seeping in.

Even though hawks was devastated on the fact that the both of you have basically cut contact, Fumikage was ecstatic.

And he even gets to go to a training camp to make his quirk better, with all his friends?

he’s living the absolute dream at the moment.

Until you rudely throw a remote at him.

You hop over and onto the couch, “Your pick.”

Fumikage relaxes into the blankets you threw onto him, what’s with you and throwing things.

Fumikage always enjoyed picking out the movie, always finding gems in the dirt.

Fumikage continues to scroll through all the options, sadly not finding anything that caught his eye.

He huffs, “there’s nothing good.”

“Not true, you just have terrible taste.”

Fumikage slowly looks over towards you with a “are you serious” face, which only makes you burst into a fit of giggles.

“You’re not funny.”

You gasp dramatically, “you’d say that to your own mother?!”

You kick his arm playfully, your laughter dying down at his hardcore facial expression that he’s sporting at the moment.

Almost like he’s planning something in that head of his..

“What’s on your mind Fumi?”

“Where’s that weighted blanket?” He cocks his head to the side, which is not a thing he does usually.

You play dumb, “What blanket?”

“The one you got me so I’d stop sleeping in your room.”

Truthfully, you have no idea where Fumikage is even going with this.

“Sold it.”

“Liar.” He retorts.

you gasp again, “don’t call me a liar!”

Fumikage hums, all you do is just confirm his suspicions.

Next time he sees hawks he’s getting that blanket back.

Hawks doesn’t need any piece of you, plus Fumikage actually did in-fact use that blanket..

Only when he went to his friends though.

And maybe when you worked nights.

not his fault he always put it back where he left it, he has manners unlike another bird he knows.

What should you even do in this situation?

change the subject obviously.

“You going to that training camp tomorrow aren’t ya?”

Fumikage nods, pride swelling into his chest.

“It’s quite exciting.” He responds monotone.

“Yea I can tell by your voice.”

Fumikages face droops slightly, “if I remember, it’s starts early in the morning.”

“Your trying to get out of hanging out with me?”

Fumikages eyes shoot wide open, “no- I-i just meant that I’d have to be there early!”

You hum, “then go to bed, don’t want you all groggy and mean to your classmates.”

“Is that what your co-workers say about you?”

“Bed, now.” You point towards his bedroom door.

Fumikage chuckles out a small “fine”, making his way to the bedroom.

“Night mom.” He calls from the bedroom.

You hum, “Night Fumi.”

You didn’t give me his nightly ruffle and kiss, you doubt Fumikage would notice though.

You wouldn’t be able to see him in the morning either, work starts just an hour before Fumikage would wake up.

You also try your hand at finding a decent movie, though your efforts were for nothing.

The feeling in your stomach wouldn’t settle.

it just got worse until it made you sick from doing nothing.

You stand up, walking over to the bathroom, trying to find some medicine that would deafen the effects.

Probably just an upset stomach, you thought.

The feeling settled, slowly may you add, as you walked over to your nest.

Letting yourself fall into the mess of blankets and small plush’s, including that damned hawks one.

your hands felt- sweaty? clammy more like, you felt nervous for something but it never came.

Reluctantly, you grab onto the soft plush.

It was nice to occupy your hands.

the feeling didn’t leave, only softened.

That’s all you needed though.

After you woke up and left for work Fumikage texted you, just checking on you of course.

He inherited your anxiousness.

Though you continue to work through the day, hoping that Fumikage had fun on his small little trip.

You got less texts and phone calls but the explanation was that they were wringing him dry.

intense U.A…that could be an email.

On the third day of Fumikages training camp, you got not texts or calls.

And when you got home from work, maybe around 11:30? The nausea came back full force.

It was a gut feeling, you tried to calm yourself down but you ended up texting Fumikage a quick message to see if he was okay.

He didn’t respond.

he was probably asleep! That was the logical way of thinking.

most logical.

you turn on the news, mostly to distract your brain from Turing to the worst possibility’s.

Fumikage was fine, no one knows where he is.

neither do you.

You sit down onto the couch, nervously biting your nails.

It doesn’t say anything about U.A. which Is a good sign.

Only says something about a spotted forest fire that they’re trying to deal with, weird that the flames are blue though.

Even more news stations can be seen in the background, they never care about forest fires? It’s not like All Might of Endeavour will be there either, so why do they care so much?

The longer you watch the news, the more information released, it seems like the aftermath of an attack but it apparently has the possibility to still be continuing.

Fumikage still hasn’t texted.

You heart doesn’t drop until they say “U.A.” And “villain attack” in the same sentence.

It’s a fucking fire, and there’s students.

is Fumikage okay?

did something happen to him?

is that why he hasn’t responded?

you can feel your breath quicken, bringing too much air yet none at all at the same time.

The scream that comes from you is guttural.

Your neighbors probably think you’re being murdered, you can’t stop though.

Imagine if you didn’t get off of work.

Would you had to see Fumikages body on the stretcher?

The nausea comes back again, you can feel yourself getting lightheaded.

And sudden knock on the door knocks you from your thoughts, only for a moment.

Quickly, you walk over to the door.

It’s police. They came to tell you Fumikages dead because U.A. Is an incompetent school-

“Y/N” hawks voice calls gently.

You don’t know what to feel, why is he here?”

“W-why-“ “I heard on the news.”

You look terrible, horror is written all over your face.

Hawks holds your shoulders, “He’s okay.”

good thing for that, you practically fall into him.

Sobs rack your throat, you can’t stop crying even though you finally know Fumikage is fine.

Hawks closes the door behind him, slowly pushing you towards the couch.

trying to make you comfortable.

He holds onto you as you cry your heart out, he can feel his ache.

He was notified on the radio before the news was, villains attacked the secret training camp.

He flew like a bat out of hell to make it to your house, he thought about going through your balcony but that would’ve scared you.

He holds onto you, rubbing your back and trying to tell you to just breathe.

You hold onto him tightly, until your knuckles are white.

He brushes your hair gently, taking off his gloves beforehand.

“Y/N, calm down.” His voice is stern but gentle.

You only respond with more sobs.

“Everything’s okay, I promise you.” His voice almost sounds like he’s begging you to feel better.

To feel like it’s not your fault.

You take a big breath, trying to control yourself.

“W-where is he?” You ask slowly through hiccups and sniffles.

Hawks continues to hold you, “most likely at the hospital getting checked for any injuries.”

He can feel your breathing speed up, “he’s fine, he’s a strong kid.”

You push your head farther into him, trying to find comfort in him.

“Why’d you come.”

“…I don’t know.” His voice tender.

You hit his stomach, “I’m not forgiving you for ignoring me.”

He chuckles nervously, “I know.”

“I despise you.”

Hawks sighs, “..I know.”

You hug onto him a little tighter than before, exhaustion coming down onto your body.

You can’t drive to the hospital like this.

“Hawks.” You mumble out from his soft jacket.

“Yeah?”

“Please go get my son.” You beg him.

Hawks nods softly, placing his gloves back on and gently settling your back onto the soft pillows.

“I was planning on it.” He sends you a small goofy smile.

you can’t return it, only just a huff of amusement leaves you.

Hawks makes his way out the door and over to the a hospital that Fumikage would most likely be at.

Hawks guess was correct since he was able to Fumikage next to the vending machines.

Fumikage glances over to hawks, then realizing that it’s hawks he stares dead at him.

“Hi Tokoyami.” Hawks calls cheerfully.

Fumikage tilts his head up, “Why are you here?”

“Your momma asked me to come and get you.”

“Liar, you just gonna kidnap me and bargain my mother for her love to ensure my safe return.” Fumikage says with an 100% serious face.

Is this what you have to deal with everyday?

Hawks smiles, “No, quite the imagination you got.”

Fumikage doesn’t return it, only grimacing.

hawks sighs, “look, your moms worried sick- just let me take you home.”

The vending machine makes a soft clutter as Fumikage speaks, “How’d she find out?”

“The news?”

Fumikage makes a small tsking noise, then dropping to the opening of the vending machine.

“Get me my drink, then you can take me home.”

Hawks laughs, clutching his stomach softly.

This kid is seriously trying to make some trade deal.

Hawks walks over to the vending machine, hitting it in the middle then shaking it.

A loud clunk comes from the opening, fumikage reaches his hand into it only to have two drinks.

He grabs both, a free drink is a free drink.

Then looking at the second one, “my mother, she’s okay?”

“Slightly disturbed, but alright.”

Fumikages words suddenly quiet down, “dkd she cry?”

He talks his foot nervously as hawks nods, then Fumikage hands him the second drink.

Hawks raises his eyebrows in surprise, “what’s this for?”

Fumikage looks away, “I’m aware that your…infatuated with my mother, and I’m assuming that you comforted her when I was unable to. This is a token of my gratitude, Hawks.”

Hawks smiles, snapping open the drinks.

Two birds with one stone, Mirko. He got to technically get good with you and your son!

Fumikage doesn’t make eye contact with hawks again, maybe it hurt his pride to thank someone he apparently despises so much.

Hawks walks out of the hospital with Fumikage, who really only had scratches apparently.

A lot of the other kids had a lot worse, one even being kidnapped.

Hawks wrap his arms around Fumikages waist, lifting the two of them into the air and making their way back to your home.

The flight was quiet, not awkward like last time.

It was enjoyable in hawks opinion.

Walking through the door, Fumikage stops just to stare at you.

Your lips wobble as you open your arms up to him, inviting him into your warm embrace.

Fumikage runs into your arms, shaking.

Hawks didn’t even notice Fumikage was affected by the attack.

Your holding Fumikage so tightly, it makes hawks heart feel..empty?

Seeing something he wished he had, not you holding onto him but his own mother.

Fumikage starts to stutter, trying to not let the tears affect his speech, “mother- im so sorry!”

You mumble to Fumikage that he did everything he could’ve possibly done, that he has nothing to apologize for.

“I-i let dark shadow out of control.”

you hug him tighter, you don’t really understand how it feels to be Fumikage, how it feels to have someone else attached to you.

You can only whisper reassurance into him ears, kissing his forehead softly.

You look over to see hawks standing there awkwardly, so out of place.

The only place you know where to put him is with you.

You reach out your hand to him, he grabs it.

You whisper quietly, “thank you.”

Hawks only tightens his grip on your hand, wanting to feel the pressure of your bare hand against his but he’s unable to due to the thick gloves he wears.

Fumikages cries grow softer until it’s quiet, seemingly fallen asleep.

You smile, happy that he’s home.

But you have another business to attend to so you shift out of his hold, laying him down onto the couch.

You look at hawks, “We should talk.”

He nods sheepishly, following you to wherever you’re heading.

You open the door, sitting on the steps and patting the spot next to you.

He sits down next to you, letting out a small breath he’d been holding in.

He speaks first, “I’m sorry for being angry with you.”

You hum, almost like you’re urging him to continue speaking.

“You confuse me, and I regret..w-walking out like that..” he stutters.

His wings flutter softly, ears growing red as he covers the lower half of his face.

he mumbles something incoherent.

You giggle softly, “What did you say?”

“I-i said I enjoyed…your a-affection.”

You hum, “thank you for the apology, and compliments.”

hawks nods, his ears growing redder.

You pinch his ears softly, “Fumikage wants his blanket back.”

“It’s mine now.” Hawks says sternly.

You laugh and stand up, waiting for hawks to do the same.

“You should get some rest at home.”

Hawks nods, standing up and making his way down the stairs.

Until you grab his shoulder softly, “hold on.”

Hawks looks over to look confused slightly.

You push up his visor towards his forehead, kissing the space between his eyebrows gently.

Hawks wings puff up and almost spread to their full length before he stops them.

“There, your reward.” You say nervously.

Hawks nods, seemingly speechless by your actions.

Then making his way quickly down the stairs, bolting out of there like a mad man.

Taking off into flight, only slightly off balance and almost tripping.

Hawks quickly flies home, shedding himself of his clothes and throwing himself onto bed.

Grabbing your blanket and holding it close.

He starts to giggle and kick his feet like some school girl.

If only Mirko could see him now.

Actually- he can’t wait to tell Mirko.

TAG LIST: comment to be tagged!💕

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AUTHORS NOTE:

I am genuinely so sorry that I can’t tag some of you guys, tumblr won’t even let me and I feel like I going crazy😭 I hope the people who I could tag were able to see this next part part and again I’m really sorry! But you better love me again after all that fluff😒

[rubyclover]

I said I can’t write but if felt nice getting that other idea out of my head. So I wrote this and will post. Technically I started trying to write this like a month ago… Please ignore the constant switching between past and present tense. It’s something I never seem to notice until someone else points out where it is.

Prompt: Professionals hate him but he was right! [Adam] Heaven and Hell come to the realization that The First Man played a larger part in the three realms’ political/social ecosystem than they thought. His absence leaves a vacuum that Lute is unable to fill but she may not need to because Hell is solving the problem themselves… The Morningstar Family can’t run from this.

No ABetaO we expire like Adam~

Imagine that Adam dies, the hotel has never looked better, the residents have healed up and Charlie gets another TV appearance. Lucifer is even more depressed than before but hides it. Adam is gone She’s going to reveal Sir Pentious’ redemption with evidence that is NOT childishly scribbled on key cards. Instead of the interview taking place in the 666News studio it’s held outside the hotel. She will take questions, live, right after the interview. Katie Killjoy wants to give the public a chance to cause chaos for ratings, so she puts Charlie in a vulnerable position.

Things go great… for the first 20 minutes. The interview isn’t even half way done when someone from the crowd interjects after Charlie says ‘The Sinners have a better life now that the Exterminations are permanently canceled.’

That person’s voice is calm but still pissed as Hell. They fire back that no, Sinners don’t have an easier life now that the Exterminations are over. It’s worse! Charlie and the crowd perk up.

The voice moves to the front. They’re short with plain street clothes, hood up. It’s obvious they’re poor and at the bottom of Hell’s pecking order. A couple of Imps are with them equally disheveled and tired looking. The man goes on to point out some rather hard truths.

Thanks to the last Extermination, angelic steel has become a hot commodity. While uncommon right now, there’s a pipeline to obtain an angelic weapon. All you need is enough money. Carmilla Carmine doesn’t care about how her product is used after purchase.

‘Permanent Murder’ is a new trend on HellTube netting ridiculous profits. The main targets are vulnerable Sinners, usually the scared and alone new arrivals, Imps and Hellhounds. All killed by beautifully glowing angelic weapons.

Overlords are more formidable with these weapons so the chance of contractees escaping, like Angeldust, has become damn near impossible even if they destroyed their contract. Some desperate souls were happy with their messed up immortality. It gave them some hope, ‘at least I have a chance to turn things around eventually,’ but that pathetic security is gone.

The Exterminations kept said Overlords in check to a degree. They were more inclined to take care of their underlings because that guaranteed their safety. Now? Just get an angelic gun for all your troubles. Valentino is having a fucking field day.

The ‘permadeath’ toll for one year will be ten times the amount of one Extermination Day considering how much Hell’s citizens like to kill Sinners…

Not to mention, whole industries in Hell, from top to bottom, are starting to crash. Their purpose or sales revolved around the Exterminations. Some workers cannot afford to lose their job and have to sell their soul against their will.

Etcetcetc

As the man speaks Charlie is surprised to see heads nodding in agreement! Someone comments that they hadn’t seen their Sinner friend in a few days and tries not to panic while another face falls in the crowd and wrings their hands together. An Imp with curved horns standing beside a young Hellhound sweats profusely and starts to leave. Tension moves through the public. Not just the ones in front of the stage but also those watching TV.

Despite her best efforts Charlie cannot lift the crowd’s mood. She realizes prematurely revealing Sir Pentious’ redemption is the only way to salvage this growing disaster. Unfortunately the man’s timing is perfect because the second she opens her mouth he turns his anger on the Morningstars.

He calls out how much her family misrepresents themselves as rulers. They don’t do anything for Hell anymore. They spend most of their time fucking around while the Sinners suffer. The other Sins manage their rings and hellborn, not Lucifer or Lilith. All three of the Morningstars can’t truly understand human suffering yet they profess to know how to best handle it. With no idea what it means to be human yet they pass judgement on them.

The crowd becomes agitated and the Imps beside the man move closer to him. They aren’t trying to draw safety from the Sinner but are taking defensive positions. Charlie realizes this isn’t someone speaking up in the heat of the moment. This is a planned speech. He’s highjacking her broadcast!

She sees the Sinner clench his fists and feels herself start to sweat. Why was he saying any of that? Yes, life will be a bit hard at first but now everyone can come together and rebuild! There are so many possibilities available to The Pride Ring. It would improve lives. Change was always good they just had to be careful. Yet the stranger goes on.

He claims that Lucifer is a washed up angel that can’t comprehend mortality because of his maladaptive dreaming and pride, Lilith is apathetic to Sinners and wishes to aggravate Heaven no matter how much Hell will suffer and Charlie is so sheltered that she thinks PTSD can be solved by clapping and saying positive affirmations.

Little is known about the royal family but the stranger’s comments sway the crowd. The hotel’s original commercials got the time of day because of Charlie’s status, not because the facility had managed to accomplish anything. Lucifer barely appears at all even when large fights break out leveling half of Pentagram City. And Lilith? Missing for 7 years after riling up all of Hell multiple times, causing Heaven to start the Exterminations.

The stranger calls the hotel a disgusting joke. Calls out how Charlie is trying to ‘pass the buck’ over to Heaven. The Pride Ring’s actual rulers are Overlords and they make sure Sinners suffer and continue to act depraved whether they like it or not. Her family has the power to take control and lessen the city’s suffering but they don’t. Instead they play with their little pet project .

Why are they focusing on shipping problems elsewhere? There’s a better way to solve the pain and suffering at the source than waiting! Fix Pentagram City! Show Heaven that the current number of Sinners isn’t a threat!

‘For all the crying and sniveling you do Princess Charlotte, you sure don’t actually help where it counts! I’m sure you care about Sinners but only on the same level as someone cares about cute public park ducks.’

Vaggie, who had been standing to the side of the stage leaps forward, places herself in between the stranger and her girlfriend. Everyone’s raised emotions have put her on edge. She ignores the harsh gasps when her angelic spear slides free and into her hands. ‘Back up! Now!’

Charlie’s heart sank at the escalation. She understood her girlfriend was still tense from the extermination but all their hard work was starting to fray around the edges! She just hoped her dad didn’t-

The King of Hell himself appears through a portal shortly after gathering himself together. The opening looked angrier in color, matching his mood. Sickly green lines run throughout the glow, radiating blistering heat. Parts of the stage began to melt and the forgotten camera crew swivel to their ruler. Lucifer’s face is set in stone but his bright flickering eyes give him away.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ He snarls, apple topped cane slamming onto the stage causing some of it to splatter. ‘How dare you speak to my daughter that way.’ Lucifer’s face morphs into a more demonic grimace. Katie Killjoy scrambles from her chair and off the stage at the same time as Charlie vaulting up to place a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder whispering ‘dad no!’ She doesn’t want the hotel’s improved reputation to evaporate. A confrontation with someone on live TV would scare people away!

Lucifer growls in the back of his throat, looking at where he assumes the bastard’s eyes are under his hood. Smoke and embers sizzle out from the corner of his mouth and inbetween teeth. He hated acting this way but he had an image to uphold. ‘Answer your King you wretch. Don’t confuse my inaction with benevolence. You’re testing my patience!’

After a beat or two of staring each other down the stranger has the gall to ‘tsk’ off to the side as if spitting. ‘As you with your majesty. It’s all fine by me.’ A small, scared hand reaches up and whips off the dirty hood exposing his face to all of Hell.

People instantly whip out their phones. His face is shockingly similar to Lucifer’s, in fact a basic carbon copy sans a few attributes.

Cameras catch alabaster skin and soft, blond, curly hair, short, wiry build, vivid green eyes, pale coral cheek markings, pointed ears and four demon wings the same color as his skin.

Leaf green eyes stair directly into Charlie’s while electing to ignore both fallen angels. He stands ramrod straight. Cutting a regal silhouette despite the filth on his body and clothes.

‘My name is Cain Adamson, The Wandering Star.’ He bows in a fashion Charlie hadn’t seen in all her galas. ‘Lucifer Morningstar’s first born and bastard son. It’s nice to finally meet you sister mine… I’ll be taking your family’s crown for my father.’

[So in this AU Cain rescued Adam’s body and resuscitated it. They had a familial bond even when Cain got banished for murdering Able and found out his bio dad was Lucifer. Eve didn’t pay much attention to her first born out of guilt so Adam stepped up. No one shamed her. Adam never felt like Cain was separate from his other kids even though he looked nothing like him. Now Cain wants to provide for his father who’s trapped in hell and in really bad condition by booting the Morningstars out of power in the Pride Ring.] Dunno about pairing but Adamsapple or Guitarhero would be a safe bet. Either way Lucifer will suffer lol

[wtf do I call this? Family Feud AU? Chessboard AU? Secret Brother AU? Idk h e l p ]

[writerslittlelibrary]

How can I help you?

masterlist

summary: since you were small, your mom has always been able to help you feel better. fallen ice cream, scratched knee, your mom always knew the solution. but now? it almost seems that even your mother doesn’t know how to help you now…

pairing: Natasha x depressed daughter reader

warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts 

genre: angst, fluff

words: 1459

a/n: I’ve been in quite a weird period the past two weeks. my emotions have been weird and confusing, which is why I haven’t posted anything in a while. I apologise for not posting a lot, and I promise to get at least three small fics out this week :) 

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You can’t really remember when it started. You were always fond of being in your room, yet at some point, being in your room wasn’t really your choice anymore. When you didn’t know who to blame, you simply blamed Covid. Ever since that virus came, your life has become confusing. 

Natasha would usually just blame it on your teenage years. You were going through puberty. Your body changed. Your mind changed. Everything changed. 

However, somewhere, deep down, you knew it wasn’t your age. 

You graduated last year, and because you weren’t sure what you wanted to study, you had decided to take a gap year. Natasha was incredibly supportive. She said she didn’t want you to choose anything because you felt like you had to, so you didn’t choose at all. 

The first few months of your gap year were amazing. You were enjoying all the free time you suddenly had, spending it with either gaming, reading, or watching your shows.

At some point, however, it started to become boring. 

You didn't want to go back to school. However, you also didn’t really want to stay at home anymore either. You didn’t know what you wanted.

Most days, you slept in until noon. Natasha would leave for work early in the mornings, and you would stay behind in bed. You only saw your mother when she came home late from work. You didn’t tell her about you sleeping in so late. Your mother has always followed a healthy lifestyle. Even on the days she was free she would wake up early.

She never shamed you for sleeping in. She never woke you up or told you you needed a better sleep schedule. However, still, for some reason, you felt ashamed. 

You didn’t tell her about your energy disappearing either. You didn't tell her you didn't have the energy to get out of bed anymore. You didn't tell her you lost the energy to eat. You never told her you lost the ability to take care of yourself. At one point, it just happened. 

You knew that if you ever told Natasha she would be worried sick. You knew she would do anything to make you feel better. She had done so since she adopted you.

When you were five you were in the park, and Natasha had gotten you ice cream. However, you were a little too excited, and after jumping once, your ice cream rolled off its cone. You stood there crying, while Natasha simply picked you up and assured you she would fix it. She kissed your tears away and got you another ice cream, in a little paper bowl this time. 

When you were 9, you were playing outside. You fell while your auntie Yelena was chasing you, and you scraped your knee. You clutched your leg and you wailed for your mama, and there she was. She picked you up and once again she kissed your tears away. She took you inside and gently cleaned your wounds. She allowed you to pick out a beautiful band-aid, and she gently placed it on your scratch, before kissing it better.

However, how could she possibly fix this? How could she place a band-aid on a wound she couldn't see?

You felt hopeless, and you felt as though the only way out would be to end it. You weren't very fond of the idea of ending your life. You didn't really want it to end, after all. You just wanted your current life to end. Your life was slow, and for some reason it felt as though you were merely floating around. 

At some point, you stopped existing. You stopped being you. You just became another dot on the map.

You weren't a person anymore. You were a thing existing in this world. You were existing, but you weren't significant. You didn't matter, so what difference would it make if you weren't there anymore at all?

Today was no different. Natasha had gone to work early, leaving you to sleep in. You were still in bed, even though it was already 4 pm. 

However, what you didn't know was that Natasha had been seeing something was wrong for a while. She knew you weren't yourself, and she knew you struggled taking care of yourself. Yet, for your entire life you've always wanted to do things yourself. You never wanted your mom to help you. And so, even now, she decided to give you time to figure things out for yourself. 

However, now she decided that time was up. You weren't getting any better, and Natasha was only growing more worried with the day. 

She had gone to work that morning, but at her job she told her boss that she was taking a few weeks off. Her daughter needed her, had been her truthful excuse, and her boss agreed. She went home around 4.30 pm, and when she entered the house she found out you were still in bed.

She walked towards your room and softly knocked on your door.

“Sweetheart? Are you there?” Natasha spoke as she opened the door, her eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness in your room. 

“Are you alright, honey?” Natasha asked as she walked into your room, closing the door behind her and sitting beside you on the bed. You barely acknowledged her presence, humming softly while you pulled your blankets up a bit, trying to shield your face from the light coming from the hallways.

Natasha let her hand gently stroke your hair, feeling the oily and knotted hair that rested on top of your head. 

“Are you okay?” Natasha then asked, and before you even had time to respond, you started crying.

Natasha didn't hesitate to pull you into a sitting position, pulling your body so it could lean upon hers. She allowed you to sob into her shoulder while she gently stroked you back, letting you know you were safe.

“I don't know why I feel this,” you sobbed out.

“It's alright, sweetheart, you don't have to know,” Natasha explained softly as she gave you a kiss on your hair. She held your head tightly to her chest, allowing her lips to rest upon your head.

“I don’t feel good, mama. I don't wanna be like this,” you sobbed out, and it didn't take long before Natasha realised what you truly meant by that. 

However, being the understanding mom she is, she didn't comment on it. She didn't suddenly sprung you with motivational quotes, telling you you have so much left to live for. She simply held you, sushing you as you cried and sniffled in her shoulder. 

“Can I help you?” Natasha softly asked after a few minutes, waiting for your confirmation. 

When you gave a small nod and let out another sob, Natasha lifted your body out of your bed, carrying you towards the bathroom and putting you down on the toilet cover. 

She turned the water on, allowing the bathtub to fill with hot water as steam filled the room. 

“I’m gonna grab some clean clothes alright? I'll be right back,” Natasha stated as she went back into your room, grabbing some clean clothes before returning to the bathroom. She set the clothes on the rack, helping you off the toilet seat and out of your clothes.

After you were settled in the bath, Natasha pulled out some shampoo, massaging it into your head before rinsing it out, repeating the process with the conditioner.

After your hair was clean, Natasha grabbed a comb, gently working on the knots and matted parts of your hair. After she finished, she washed your hair again, enjoying the feeling of the now silky soft hair in between her fingers. 

After finishing your hair, she helped you wash the rest of your body, before helping you out of the bathtub and drying you off. 

Natasha didn't allow you to walk yourself, instead lifting you up into her arms and carrying you down the stairs. Luckily she was crazy strong, so despite your age, she could still easily carry you as if you were merely a small child. 

After you were settled on the couch, Natasha went into the kitchen, preparing you a nice and healthy meal.

For the rest of the day, you simply sat on the couch, leaning on your mama while she gently stroked your back. It might have seemed lazy to the normal person, but for you, it was change. You weren't alone, for starters. There was daylight in the living room, and there was social interaction, even if little was being said. 

In the end, you realised, that despite the wound not being visible, your mama would always be able to stick a band-aid on it. 

Fic tags: @prentissluvrz @natsbiggestfan1

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @n0txn3vee @lorsstar1st

[picturejasper20]

How Vlad’s arc is going to be post A Glitch in Time?

A few days ago @pedanticat released an interview with the author of A Glitch in Time graphic novel, Gabriela Epstein, in it they cover a lot of things about the novel and the original series but what i want to focus on is in the part they talk about why Vlad was given a redemption arc in this book and some hints on how his character arc is going to move forward from here. (From around 26:50 minutes time to 33:00 minutes)

Gabriela says that she doesn’t see Vlad as exactly ¨redemmed¨, which it is interesting because it can mean a lot of things on the direction his character can take. In the context she later adds that ¨characters involved would probably not forgive him¨, so i think this means that Vlad has a lot to make up for and he is only just starting to realize what he did wrong.

Another aspect that Gabriela talks about is that Vlad ¨created his own prison¨ in a way that ¨everyone now hates him¨ and that his life is in ¨complete shambles¨ and he has to start all over again. I wonder if this indicates that post AGIT he doesn’t longer have the same power and influence he had during the series and he is likely seen as someone who isn’t trustworthy in the eyes of the public. If that’s the case, i think it would be a good direction for his character to take, since he would still be facing certain consequences for his actions and it would make him less likely to fall back to his older bad habits.

One thing that is talked about in this segment is that Vlad could use this opportunity ¨to grow and learn… or get a lot worse¨ which it is intriguing on its own but it kinda makes sense given what we know about Vlad and how he deals with his own problems.

For starters, we know that Vlad has a lot of emotional baggage to deal with on his own. This is something that has been growing bigger and bigger over many years. All these issues aren’t just going to away because he has realized he was in the wrong: Now he has to deal with them and find a way to move from there. The problem is that this man in general has… really bad ways of coping with his own problems. He has a bad history of dealing with them, choosing the worst possible ways that end up hurting others and on his own self destruction.

And considering what i mentioned earlier about how he is ¨stuck¨ in a prison of his own making, he might have lost a lot of the power and influence he originally had… i think he is very likely to fall into other bad habits that don’t involve controlling people like he did in the past but they are still quite self destructive.

In his own extreme loneliness combined with his new sense of guilt (which it what drives his ghost purpose now) i think he is going to become very quickly ¨attached¨ to Dan in a way. He would try to have some form of connection with him by trying to giving him what he wants or find any way to make amends with him just to get some form of affection from Dan back. However, he would eventually realize that he can’t get what he wants from Dan back (or at least for the momento) and that would make him feel more depressed… or look for that affection in other places.

In the interview Gabriela says she has ¨very specific plans¨ for Vlad and Danielle’s relationship. Now that on itself could mean anything- still, following the rest of her wording, i believe this dynamic could involve Vlad desperately trying to get that form of affection he can’t get from Dan from Danielle. With this i mean that Vlad may try doing a similar thing he did with Dan: Trying to make Danielle happy or giving her whatever she wants. To find anyway he can to make it up to her.

Dani would likely take advantage of this first (being in part in her right to do so) but i think all these things that Vlad does would eventually lead to Danielle lashing out to him and telling him that she can’t bring herself to forgive him for what he did to her.

I don’t know where Vlad is would go from there. Nevertheless, if he is supposed going to have growth from all this- he is probably going to have to realize that he won’t be forgiven by certain people, and while he can try making amends, there are certain relationships he left so broken that it won’t be possible for him to ¨fix¨. This could be an interesting route for his character to take, involving him realizing better how badly her hurt certain people and that are some things that just too broken to change them.

….This is just one speculation of how his character could go though. I can also seeing having doubts over if all this redemption stuff is really worth it, maybe falling back in previous habits until he learns that he is going to have to work really hard to be better and repair all the damage he has done. Or maybe having a general crisis of what he is supposed to be and do post AGIT. It is still interesting to analyse and trying to guess based on new things revealed on this recent interview. I’m certainly intrigued to see what is going to happen to Vlad and how that is going to have an impact on his relationship with other characters.

[about-faces]

Last night, I was once again struggling to actually write smut for a Harvey/Bruce/Gilda fic, when I noticed a very timely new guest comment on my Gilda fic, Bust. It was the first truly critical response I’ve gotten so far, and while that sort of thing would normally send me into a depressive tizzy, I actually found it really interesting!

So instead of actually writing the ship, as I should have been, I wanted to take this opportunity to think about just why the heck I shipped them in the first place.

Here’s how I responded, with added scans to hopefully better illustrate my point, plus some additions that occurred to me upon drafting this post:

I’m actually glad you raised this point, because I would have felt the exact same as you just a few years ago!

I’m gray-asexual, and I used to be a bit bothered by the rise of Bruce/Harvey shippers, because it was their canonical platonic FRIENDSHIP that mattered so much to me. I gradually warmed up to the shippers, because 1.) I realized I was ace and they probably weren’t, and 2.) they at least understood the importance of Bruce and Harvey’s bond, which is more than I can say for LOTS of official DC media.

Still, something bugged me about the ship, and I realized what it was: the lack of Gilda from the equation. She’s always been deeply important to me, especially her scant older appearances, and erasing her for a Bruce/Harvey ship (even one I’d come to appreciate) didn’t sit right with me.

But like you said, it’s not canon, and I’ve always been deeply invested in canon, even the stuff that’s frustrating and contradictory. So yeah, the throuple would have bugged me too.

Except! It all depends on WHICH canon you’re talking about!

So over the past 15 years, I’ve been obsessed with tracking down the entirety of the obscure, forgotten Batman newspaper comic strip from 1989-1991. I’ve posted the entire thing at @batman-daily, and I strongly encourage you to check it out. A couple years ago, I reread it and noticed something really interesting: the remarkable relationship between Bruce, Harvey, and the latter’s wife, Alice, who is Gilda in every way but name. They are all mutual friends, with Alice even going to visit Bruce alone to help/bully him to take care of himself.

It all reads like a perfect long-game setup for a love triangle, or for Harvey—having become Two-Face—to go after his loved ones in a jealous rage, like he did in Paul Dini’s “Two-Timer,” a story which notably showed that Grace had feelings for Bruce.

With that in mind, consider the final story arc of the newspaper strip, wherein Bruce acknowledges his OWN feelings for Alice and PASSIONATELY KISSES HER, all in a hilariously roundabout way to save her marriage to Harvey! It makes sense in context and is frankly hilarious.

And it works! Because Harvey isn’t jealous! The love triangle conflict you expect NEVER HAPPENS! Because they all love one another! And that love saves Harvey in the very end!

Was it explicitly a throuple? No, but nor have Bruce and Harvey ever canonically touched dicks. And yet the love between Bruce and Harvey in canon is true and real enough that shippers who want to make it sexual are perfectly allowed to do so, because it’s the love that matters. At least, for those of us who aren’t afraid to acknowledge the love between men, platonic or otherwise. And that love is rooted in canon.

So consider this: the mutual three-way-love between Bruce, Harvey, and Alice/Gilda is ALSO canon. That comic strip has been officially accepted as DC multiverse canon in the “Crisis on Infinite Earths: Absolute Edition,” which designated it as Earth-1289.

Furthermore, there’s something else you need to consider: the fact that Harvey HAS been used in love triangles against Bruce in several stories in recent decades. I already mentioned “Two-Timer,” but there’s also Nolan’s “The Dark Knight,” the animated “Gotham By Gaslight” film, and the Telltale game. In various ways, these stories serve to throw a wedge in the friendship between Bruce (the protagonist, whose story serves him) and Harvey (the guy who is going to lose it all, the woman included). I hate that shit. I hate the contrived drama that’s meant to stir up needless added conflict between two men who love each other.

And then, on the other hand, you have Mariko Tamaki’s Gilda story from “Batman: Black and White.” Tamaki depicted Harvey and Gilda being in a distant, loveless marriage, where even on their wedding day, he was constantly ignoring her in favor of work. The only person who could actually get his attention was Bruce.

At the time, this felt an awful lot like that problem I was talking about with the Bruce/Harvey shippers: raising up the gay ship while throwing the woman under the bus. In this case, for the purpose of doing an avenging girlboss take on Gilda. I hated that too, especially when Tamaki didn’t even follow through with the gay subtext in her next, miserable Two-Face comic.

You know that meme of a bride, groom, and best man all kissing one another, while the bride flips off the cameraman in the end? @whipbogard redrew the Tamaki wedding scene as that meme, right around the time I reread the comic strip. And suddenly, everything clicked into place for me.

After a lifetime of never, ever having any serious fandom ships, I fell in love with the idea of Bruce/Harvey/Gilda. Take what the comic strip did and bring it into the mainstream canon I love to spite the canon I hate.

In those great old Gilda stories, she saw through Harvey’s bullshit and knew how to reach him, however temporarily. She could do the same with Bruce. She’d be a valuable third voice for the ongoing toxic relationship between Bruce and Harvey, the one who could love them both while also getting to be frustrated with how fucking stupid and fucked-up both these men are.

Before she was reduced to a ride-or-die killer housewife in "The Long Halloween" (which, I'll grant you, has its own appeal), classic Gilda would actually stand up to Harvey and tell him to cut out his shit or else. I love the idea that she can also see right through Bruce, understanding how very alike he and Harvey are, even if they don't want to admit it.

Writing Gilda this way speaks to me as a longtime fan of both men, while also wanting to try to develop her place, as a woman stuck in the middle of their decades' worth of conflict and angst. She sees these men at their best, worst, and most pathetic/ridiculous, and while she's got the nerve to stand up for herself and call them out as needed, she still loves them nonetheless. For me, Gilda has become the voice for fans just like me, who are helpless to stop Batman and Two-Face from continuing the cycle of violent, toxic friendship, but still loving them nonetheless, and always hoping for the best.

So, at this point, let’s say I’ve at least managed to make you grudgingly accept my reasoning for the relationship. Even if that’s true, I’m gonna guess that the mention of a threesome felt like it came out of left field. I can’t argue with that. I wanted to actually write that as its own smutfic but, being ace, I struggle with that. But I really liked the idea, and as I was writing this, it just really wanted to be mentioned, so I included it.

The response has been positive (until now), which indicated to me that I had been successful in introducing Gilda as a viable third into a slice of fandom which had only shipped Bruce and Harvey. This is fanfic, after all, such things are expected, even encouraged, so I leaned into it.

Now, if I were ever (un?)fortunate enough to write for DC, officially? I doubt I’d have the nerve to go that far. But I’d still want to at least embrace the polycule-coded relationship between those three that we saw in the newspaper comic strip. I think it adds a whole new, refreshing spin on their ongoing dynamics, while being rooted in relationships that were established all the way back in 1942 by Bill Finger.

Finger’s story, at its heart, was all about how love can save a life. How love is the only way to defeat the villain. For Harvey Kent’s part, Gilda’s love was every bit as important as Batman’s unwillingness to give up on his friend. So I’m just taking it one step further within the freedom allowed me by fanfic.

Sorry for the length of the reply, but as you can see, I only came to this shit after several decades of thinking about 80+ years of official material. I hope I have at least been able to lessen your feelings of being jarred out of a story you otherwise seemed to appreciate. For my part, I hope to further develop the potential of this fucked-up polycule in future stories, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to get you on board too. Hope to see you then!

(art by ofossart)

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Shadows of Fluttering Leaves

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: depressed reader, grief, victim blaming, implied history of sexual assault/harassment, bad parenting, not super healthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I am so sorry I've updated everything sporadically this year, y'all. I've been working really hard to stockpile updates so I'll be able to post at least biweekly for the rest of the year (if everything goes to plan!) As always, please comment/reblog to leave feedback. And a giant thank you to @gracethyomen for helping me plan this arc and make their fight more cruel. She is the queen of angst, go follow her.

w/c: 4.8k

You didn’t recall much from the past three days, but that was because there wasn’t anything to recall. After your conversation–if it could even be called that–with Frank, it was as if your soul had unstitched itself from your body. You went through your days as an emotionless husk. Your creative spark extinguished, your joy unreachable.

The walls in your building were thin enough that you could hear him moving around. Going to work and returning home to Max as if you'd never existed. Perfectly fine without you. Every heavy footfall that penetrated the rotting drywall brought a fresh sheen of tears to your eyes. 

The burly marine had become such a welcomed part of your life, losing him was like losing a limb. His absence felt like a bad dream. If you focused hard enough, you could still feel his calloused hands, smell the cheap soap and spicy clove aftershave he used. But a simple exhale would wash the scent away, and you were alone again–tired, anguished, and unloved.

You drifted through the day, unsure what to do with yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to go into work, or even communicate with Leo and Stacy for more than a brief text to prove you were still alive.

While this evening hadn’t been much different, the sight of your mom’s name flashing across the top of your phone screen as it buzzed had caused enough of an adrenaline rush to force you to chat with someone. Your throat felt sore after talking for the first time in nearly 72 hours, your vocal chords still recovering from their sudden overuse. Shuddering as you willed the memory of the call to fade, you felt the tell tale prick in the corners of your eyes.

Staring down at the damp concrete, you blinked frantically in an attempt to keep the endless tears at bay. The tilt of your head caused raindrops to drip off of your hood, rolling down your forehead. Around you, the slam of water against pavement and steel drowned out the thud of your determined footsteps. Blowing out a breath you slipped an unfeeling mask onto your face as you continued your walk to the bakery.

It wasn’t more than a few blocks from your apartment to the Rainy Day, but the beams of street lights would draw attention to your glassy eyes, and you didn’t need to highlight your fragility for any creeps that might be lurking at this hour. You'd had more than enough unwanted male attention for the week. Once you were safely behind the locked doors, you could look as broken down as you needed to.

Though you were exhausted, your confusion-and-betrayal-addled brain was still unable to rest and your hands itched to do something. Wallowing in your bed wouldn’t quell the uneasiness that speaking with your mom had ignited mere hours ago. But cooking might. At least, you hoped that was the case.

A crackle of lightning illuminated the bakery as you approached; the strike of light refracting through the windows made the place look rather sinister, draping it in oddly shaped shadows. Slipping the keys from your pocket, you tried not to cringe at the cold rain as it splattered against your exposed hand. Thunder rolled overhead as you waggled the key in the lock, finally getting the damn thing to budge enough for the door to shove open.

Stepping inside, you bolted the door behind you, using your phone flashlight to maneuver through the stacked tables and chairs as you moved to the kitchen. Before getting to work, you stripped out of your semi-drenched top and slipped into a clean t-shirt adorned with the logo of the cafe. Flicking on the overhead lights, you threw a hand up to shield your sensitive eyes as they strobed briefly before steadying into their normal bright rays. Taking a place by your preferred station, you took a moment to reflect on the tasks you had cut out for you.

Though Leo was more than capable of replicating your work if you detailed the recipes, they were happy to let you be the creative lead in your shared kitchen. As they’d mentioned multiple times over text the past few days, your absence from the space meant less variation in pastries for the bakery, and more for Leo to do. If you weren’t so emotionally depleted, you would have felt more guilty about abandoning them so suddenly.

Apparently, the emotional turmoil that talking to your mother always stirred was good for something. It had gotten you here, at least. Coating your station in a thin layer of flour, you ran through the motions of a basic croissant recipe.

You weren't quite feeling up to experimenting yet, but croissants you could do.

Soon enough, the smell of salted butter and yeast engulfed the room and your fatigued mind began to wander. Despite your best efforts to forget the comment, your mother's voice echoed in your ears.

“Really, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

The condescension in her tone clung to you like the barbs of an untrimmed rose. Your brain feebly tried to reassure you that she had no idea what she was talking about. To remind you that she didn't even know his name, that you'd told her—at most—three sentences about the whole situation.

But the majority of your brain was still reeling from the abrupt collapse of your relationship with Frank. And it was far too weak to not spiral at the implication of your mom's question.

Because, while she wasn't fully aware of who Frank was and what he meant to you, she was intimately informed of your history with men–hence her thoughtless words this evening.

Your dating history was...pitiful, to say the least. You tended to draw attention from the wrong men. Bosses, teachers, even your own relatives.

It had been your reality for as long as you could remember. As a child, whenever you'd come to your mother with another sob story about attention that you hadn't meant to attract, the blame was always placed squarely on your shoulders. Your outfits were too provocative, your actions too enticing. It didn't matter that they were the ones misunderstanding your kindness as an open invitation. It was still your fault.

Expecting her to sympathize with you when you told her you'd been grabbed by a stranger as you left the construction site was foolish. But it still hurt to know that she didn't.

What hurt more was the little voice in the back of your head that agreed with her. Knowing damn well that you'd chosen that outfit to fetch the gaze of a specific man. That the low cut neckline was meant to be provocative. That it was your fault that you'd been humiliated. That your own desperation had led to the continued phantom sensation of a large hand gripping your arm against your will. 

“If you dangle bait long enough, something will bite.” She reminded you. It wasn't the ocean's fault that you'd been hoping for a specific fish.

“But I didn't want them.” You'd lamented to her. You were tired of being a plaything, a quick fuck. You wanted something more, something real. And it had turned to ash in your delicate grasp before you could so much as appreciate it.

She wasn't sympathetic. Chastising you for forgetting your place, for getting attached, for seeking love in places it didn't exist.

“Love is harder to come by when you're, well...you know.”

You slammed the ball of elastic dough onto the bench, kneading it aggressively as tears poured down your face. Your stomach twisted as it heaved with sobs, the sentiment from your mother sounding eerily similar to the curt observation that Frank had hurled at you.

You ain't my wife.

He was right. You weren't his wife. His wife was beautiful, and caring, and patient. She'd loved him, had children with him, made a home for him.

Think I'm your little boyfriend or somethin'?

Biting your lip to stifle a sob, the feeling of foolishness crested in your chest again. It was humiliating to be called out like that,  especially when your naive little heart had been convinced he felt the same way.

I never wanted that.

Those words still hit you like a sock to the gut. He never wanted a relationship. He never wanted you.  Your stupid feelings were clearly unrequited, but how were you supposed to know that?

Was your childhood so deprived of love that simple acts of kindness had your heart doing backflips? Were his pet names and compliments just his gentlemanly nature because he was afraid to offend you?

This was a mistake.

His sweet remarks, calling you beautiful, the constant teasing—the relationship you once had with Frank began to play in your head; the muted colors of the picture doing nothing to make your chest ache less when his face sprang to mind. Your brain continued its depressing montage: Frank smiling at you, his gruff voice lifting around the word “sunshine”, his genuine interest in your work, his daily visits to the cafe, the way he leaned into every touch you offered him. All meaningless. Just another regret.

Exhaling forcefully, you flapped your hands in an attempt to stop their trembling. If the fragile dough ripped between your fingers, it would ignite a full meltdown. Clenching the muscles in your hands, you relaxed them as you forced every thought from your head, focusing on the pliant mass beneath your rolling pin as you mashed it into a lopsided rectangle. Carefully lifting the edges of the shape, you tossed it onto the sheet pan you'd prepared as tenderly as you could.  Using your fingertips to stretch it into a more appealing shape, you nodded in satisfaction, shoving the tray onto a cart and picking up your rolling pin again.

Each extension of your forearms, pressing the wooden cylinder into the raw pastry, condensing and lengthening the blob with small, stiff movements. Your elbows creaked with every stretch of the elastic dough, the swing of your arms feeling almost foreign despite being a common practice in the kitchen. A 72-hour break was too long, apparently. Any other day, you'd dance through this recipe effortlessly; Today though, every step felt choppy and hesitant, as if your brain expected you to fail again and again.

You hadn't felt this hopeless in a kitchen since the last few weeks of your atrocious entrepreneurial experience years ago. Yet another example of you being too trusting, too optimistic.

Your mouth flooded with the metallic tang of blood as your teeth dug into the flesh of your cheek, halting the choking despair that threatened to drag you down to the linoleum floor. You wanted to give in; your brain was still a ball of exhausted mush incapable of handling your day-to-day tasks.

Sloppily prepping a few more trays for their initial rise, you shoved the croissant dough onto the proofing cart and out of sight. The smell of yeast usually made you happy, but the biting edge of the scent was turning your stomach. It was becoming increasingly clear that you'd thrown yourself into your work without the stability to handle the sensory input of the bakery. Your head was pulsing because of the fluorescent lights, the whir of the electric mixer rattling your ear drums. Once the sticks of butter you'd added to the stainless steel bowl of the machine were smooth, you shoved the lever to shut it off—letting out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Slapping heaping scoops of the creamed butter into a half-sheet pan, you set the pan in the fridge to solidify and shuffled blearily into the break room, collapsing onto the worn leather couch.

“You are such an asshole.”

Gritting your teeth as the words ripped you from an uneasy sleep, you peeled one eye open reluctantly. Two shadowy figures swayed in your field of vision, neither looking particularly happy with you.

The taller figure marched towards you. ”Three days? THREE DAYS? No calls, only a single fucking text,“ The annoyed voice grew closer, making you curl in on yourself.

”'M sorry.“ You mumbled, tears springing to your eyes.

”You better have a better apology than that. They were worried sick.“ A blurry image of Stacy manifested against the doorway to the breakroom, her arms crossed. Standing in front of your shoulders, hands firmly attached to their hips, was Leo.

”We were worried sick,“ Leo corrected, throwing Stacy a look.

Not denying the allegation, Stacy's cheeks dusted pink.

Crouching in front of you, Leo gave you a once over. Their furious expression quickly morphing into one of concern. “Did you sleep here?”

“Didn't mean to, the kitchen was just,” You gave a limp shrug, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Too much.”

“How long have you been here?” Stacy asked, striding over to drape her legs across the arm of the couch.

“Since midnight-ish.” You muttered, shame pitching your voice lower.

“Babes,“ Leo sighed, running a palm over your exposed arm as you tried to shrink into the couch cushions. ”What happened? Was it your mom?“

You should your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “Pete.”

“Pete?” Stacy raised an eyebrow, looking at Leo with wide eyes.

“What did he do, hun?” Leo plopped into a cross-legged position, leaning against the couch with an expectant look.

“Did you break up?” Stacy's voice was uncharacteristically soft, but the words were still teasing.

You burst into tears.

“Stace!” Leo scolded, climbing onto the couch and hefting your torso up so that you could lay in their lap as you bawled.

“What? It seemed impossible!!” Stacy said, mortified. She absorbed Leo's vacated spot, hands hovering apprehensively in front of you. “Shit. Please don't cry.”

“It's a bit late for that.” Leo huffed, cradling your cheek with one hand. “What did that bastard do to you?”

Gulping in air, you cowered against Leo's thigh. Your friends sat quietly, patiently awaiting your story. With a stuttering inhale, you wiped the newest round of tears from your face and pushed yourself into a seated position—gratefully leaning into the arm Leo threw around your shoulders. Looking up at them wide-eyed, you waited for their encouraging nod before speaking.

“Um..” Your voice was hoarse, words shaky. “So three days ago, I tried to bring him lunch...”

As if your consciousness was sparing you from the depressing events, the words tumbled from your lips instinctively, thoughtlessly. The story pouring directly from your torn heart, accompanied by a few stray tears.

Throughout your ramble, your friends remained silent–sandwiching your body between them. Leo's sturdy frame was a comforting weight to your left. Stacy had migrated to your other side, tentatively resting a manicured hand on your shoulder. They were both eerily still as you caught them up on the implosion of your relationship with your neighbor.

Eventually, you sighed, your body sagging with exhaustion. Briefly lifting your hands, you gestured to the small, bare break room you'd passed out in. “And then you found me in here, and that's it I guess.”

Your mouth snapped shut, your eyes flinging the final few droplets of saline off of your lashes as you blinked at your lap. There was a beat of silence. Two. Three.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Is he fucking serious?“ Stacy bit out, retracting her hand to cross her arms. Her brows were raised, jaw clenched as she looked at Leo.

”He told you that you were a mistake?“ Leo squawked, clearly fuming.

“I mean, that's not—” You began to reason, words dissolving on your tongue as Leo grabbed your hand with a glare.

“Absolutely not. Do not start that bullshit.”

Frowning, you averted your eyes. ”I'm not doing anything.“

“Princess, we love you, but don't pretend you're not blaming yourself.“ Stacy scoffed, standing from the couch and tugging at the roots of her hair.

“And defending him while you're at it.” Leo gently prodded your side with a knuckle, giving you an all-too-knowing glance. At your resulting pout, they sighed. “I know that hearing your mom blame you again and again is hard to unlearn, but she's wrong. So is Pete and all the other men who have done this to you. You deserve better.”

“Seconded.” Stacy nodded firmly, pointing a finger at you. “The next time I see him, I swear on my grandmother—”

The petite brunette was pacing, fists clenched in her fury. Leo looked equally angry, though they were much less obvious about it. Smirking at Stacy's empty threat, they finished it for her. ”We'll beat him senseless with a baseball bat.“

Giggling, you leaned into the hug Leo offered, exhaling into their shoulder. ”I appreciate you both, but I'd rather just move past it.“

”Deal.“ Leo kissed the top of your head, holding out a hand to help you stand from the couch.

”Speak for yourself, I am not willing to let this slide.“ Stacy called with a huff, stalking out to the counter to begin prepping for the morning rush.

”Should I be worried?“ You bit your bottom lip, eyes following her out of the break room.

”Nah, you know her. It'll pass, this is just how she shows her love.“ Leo reassured you, striding into the kitchen at the ambling pace you set. ”We would do anything for you, you know.“

Smiling bashfully, you nodded. “I appreciate it, Leo. Thank you.”

Though you were still dead on your feet and reeling from the emotional whiplash you'd been put through, an odd form of peace had engulfed you. Talking things out had taken a massive weight off of your shoulders.

You felt heat prick your cheeks as you sheepishly recalled the way you'd isolated yourself after leaving the construction site. At the time, it had felt like the natural path forward. But it clearly hadn't done you any good.

Your coworkers were eternally patient as you fumbled your way through your daily tasks, your brain still a glob of jelly after being berated by both Frank and your mother.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you collapsed onto a bar stool. Kneading your forehead with one hand, you inhaled deeply.

Peeking around the corner of the walk-in, Leo frowned. “All of them?”

Nodding miserably, you forced a response around the lump in your throat. ”Every. Single. One.“

”Aw, babes.“ Leo pouted, coming to inspect the trays you'd thrown around your station as your defeat grew.

”They're all flat. How did it slip my mind that the rain would throw off the humidity in the main room? That's, like, proofing 101.“ You moaned, prodding one of the dense croissants with a finger. ”Christ, I feel like I've lost my mind. It should not be this hard to do something simple.“

Patting your back reassuringly, your best friend ignored your protests, lining your ovens with the ruined croissants and setting a timer. “Do you remember the first time Ez and I broke up?”

Ezra, Leo's on-again-off-again partner, had broken things off for the first time right before you both took your final preparation exam for your first pastry class in school. Leo had nearly flunked the course after they used salt instead of sugar in every dish.

Stifling a chuckle, you fiddled with the strands of your apron. “I seriously think Allard was reconsidering his decision to teach. His face!“ You and Leo snorted in tandem, picturing the old french man's grimace.

”Oh he definitely had regrets. My point is, the brain works in mysterious ways when you're grieving.“ Leo stated matter-of-factly.

”Grieving?“ You asked. “Frank didn't die–”

“I know that, smartass. But you still lost something, did you not?”

Pondering for a moment, you conceded. “I suppose.”

“So, your brain is handling this just like any other loss. Grief processing is its current main priority, remembering how to make picture-perfect croissants is not even in the backlog.”

“It should be, given that we operate a bakery.” You grumped, watching the pitiful slabs of dough puff slightly in the oven.

Smacking you gently over the back of your head, Leo's expression turned endearingly stern. “You, my dear, need to be kinder to yourself. Something huge and incredibly hurtful just happened to you. Give yourself a moment to breathe.”

Their soft command gave you pause. They weren't wrong. You'd jumped from escaping, to wallowing, to working without so much as a millisecond to relax. Had this bullshit happened to anyone else, you would've been much more understanding. But being kind to yourself was never your strong suit.

Mulling over the possibility of granting your brain a smidge of grace, you watched the flat pastries expand ever so slightly as they began to brown under the yellow oven lights. Realization finally striking you, you turned to Leo with a quizzical expression.

“You put them in the oven.” You stated simply, mind not quite forming a question to remedy your confusion.

Chuckling, Leo nodded. “I did.” They leaned against your station with a smile.

“Kitchen adaptations, hun. What did we used to do with pastry dough that didn't rise properly?”

Understanding dawning on you, your lips parted. “Croissant sandwiches.”

Squeezing your shoulder, Leo hummed in confirmation, striding back to their station to finish shaping bread loaves. You continued to watch the thin crescents puff, reminding yourself that the mistake was fixable. Sure, they wouldn't be the gorgeous, fluffy pastries you'd envisioned—but they could still be made into something delicious. For today, that was enough.

Feeling less hopeless, you wiped your hands on your apron and strolled over to the lines of proofing bread, moving them to the proofing cart easily. ”What are we stocking today?” You asked, hoping they'd notice the hidden meaning of the question.

“Let's stick to simple comfort foods. The weather is nasty, we probably won't be too busy. After we finish the staples, we could make some baguettes and a soup or two? Maybe some kitchen sink cookies and brownies too. Those won't take much effort.“ Leo tapped their chin thoughtfully, looking to you with a soft expression. ”Sound good?“

Smiling, you nodded–glad that Leo was willing to take charge for the day. Sliding your arms around your best friend's waist, you squeezed them tightly before bustling off to prepare some yeast.

Over the next few weeks, your mood improved significantly. Out of concern for you, and more than likely out of concern for the bakery, Stacy and Leo had spent a handful of nights at your place–helping you wind down after work, and motivating you to get up the next morning. Their presence and constant glares towards your and Frank's shared wall made it easier to move forward without him. You could feel your consciousness wading through the stages of grief, rapidly approaching acceptance.

For now, though, you were still moping–much to your friends’ dismay.

”C'mon, Princess! Live a little!! You haven’t gone out with us in forEVER“ Stacy whined, pinching your arm as she took a seat on the counter you were cleaning.

Scowling at her, you switched your rag out for a broom, determined to keep tidying around the obstruction she presented. ”I already told you. I don't feel like going out tonight, Stace.“

Sweeping stray coffee beans from under the machines, you fought back an eye roll at her snort. ”Oh, I'm sorry, did you have plans besides crying on your couch while watching rom coms?“

”Christ, Stacy, I told you to invite her, not insult her!“ Leo scolded as they exited the kitchen.

”Someone needs to say it!“ Stacy threw her hands in the air, looking at you pointedly. ”Being sad has its time and place, but the only way to truly get over a man is by going out and getting wasted, you both know I'm right!“ She huffed in frustration as both you and Leo opened your mouths to protest.

Scratching the back of their neck sheepishly, Leo raised a brow at you. “She actually might have a point.”

Pumping her fists victoriously, Stacy leapt from the counter. “See? It'll be good for you!”

Glancing between her and Leo, you sighed. Pouting in distaste, you knew you had been outvoted. If you refused to go, they’d drag you out anyway. “Fine.”

Your friends cheered, high-fiving their success. Stacy danced over to you. “It's gonna be great, princess. You'll see!”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You snarked, dipping the formerly abandoned rag in a bin of bleach solution and resuming your afternoon disinfecting duties in the front of the cafe while your coworkers plotted the outing.

“What are you going to wear, hun?” Leo called over their shoulder to you, after complaining to Stacy about their lack of cute clothes.

“Considering I am only going to please the two of you? I'm not quite sure.” You snorted, tone still sharp with irritation.

“Well, since you're clearly in such a great mood,” Leo giggled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Maybe we could get ready together?”

“We totally should! While blasting EDM really loudly in your living room!” Stacy grinned, feigning innocence despite her clear intentions to make Frank's life a living hell.

“Ok now you are definitely not invited.” You frowned, imagining how much he'd curse at you if you became a horrid neighbor on top of all your other faults.

“It's cute that you think you have a choice!” Stacy laughed evilly, rubbing her hands together in a movie-villain-esque motion.

Groaning miserably, you stiffened as Stacy padded over and held a hand out for the rag.

Making a grabby hand gesture, her other palm landed on her hip. “Hand the towel over, princess. You and Leo can head to your place to get you all fixed up and I'll finish cleaning.”

“I'm not sure whether I should be offended that you're implying I don't look stunning like this,” You circled a hand around your unwashed face. “Or worried that you're offering to lock up. You hate closing.”

“Exactly. That’s how much I want you to have a good night out, dude!” Stacy gave you a stern look, flicking her eyes between the damp rag and your stubborn expression.

Sighing heavily, you tossed the rag to her and slipped out of your apron. “If this place isn't gleaming tomorrow–”

“Yah, yah.” Stacy waved you off, putting earbuds in as she walked to the other end of the room.

“The disrespect.” You muttered, turning to Leo who was clearly amused at the fact that you'd been outwitted by the other girl.

“C'mon, sweets. We'll need to stop somewhere for drinks unless we want to go into debt to get drunk tonight.” Grabbing your hand, the two of you left Stacy and the bakery behind as you braved the heat outside.

Slogging up the stairs, arms laden with a paper bag filled with the cheapest alcohol the three of you could stomach, you adjusted your center of gravity to avoid toppling down the stairs. It felt like you were swimming upstream, given the weight in your hold and the immense humidity of the stairwell. Finally reaching the landing, you scrunched your nose as a bead of sweat dripped from it.

“Took you long enough,” Leo remarked, smirking at you from your front door, having made it up the stairs long ago. 

“Not all of us have a lithe athletic build and the heart rate of an Olympian.” You huffed, shuffling toward them with a small smile. Despite your initial apprehension, excitement had started to build in your chest at the thought of the night ahead of you. As you were about to express that much to Leo, the click of a doorknob stopped you in your tracks. 

Stepping out of his apartment, adorably happy pitbull in tow, was none other than your neighbor, Frank Castle. 

Frozen in place, it was a miracle you didn’t drop the bag in your shock. You’d assumed he’d avoid you just as you’d avoided him. Apparently you weren’t that lucky. 

Looking a bit surprised himself, Frank hesitated for a minute before plastering a scowl on his face and tugging at the leash in his grasp. “C’mon Max.” 

Watching Frank stalk past you without so much as a glance in your direction, your mouth dropped open with indignation. Poor Max was dragged to the stairs behind him, despite the dog’s efforts to greet you on the way down the hall. 

Gritting your teeth, you marched to your own door and unlocked it. Carefully depositing the bottles on the ground, you grabbed a handle of cherry vodka, cracking it open and taking a swig as you stomped into your apartment. 

“I suppose that’s one way to handle whatever just happened.” Leo murmured, studying you with a concerned frown. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“Nope!” You grinned, pulling another gulp of liquor from the bottle. “Care to help me pick an outfit? I’m hoping to drink for free tonight.” 

Striding into your room with Leo on your heels, your gut burned as the lump of despair you’d been clinging to for a week burned red hot with rage. Your friends were right. You deserved better. 

If Frank Castle didn’t want you, then you sure as hell didn’t want him.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[bu-blegh-ost]

A short essay about how Caspian is mathematically not a mole (ep. 115 spoilers) (and for the whole series for that matter)

Okay, alright guys, I saw your concerns. I saw it all, and you are right to be worried that your favourite blue wet man's blue and equally wet best friend may turn out to be a traitor. And so am I, trust me. Which is why I went through every single bit of Caspian's past I could dig out to create an unltimate timeline of his entire goddamn life to see it it'd be plausible for him to become a mole at any point in time and ultimately prove his innocence! If that's something you're interested in reading, then buckle up!

"Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones. This is totally seperate from the Black-Ops situation that you learned about in the Stronghold. And you, in this book, can tell that there is a plant on Lizzie's crew."

This, of course is something I need to point out first. Whoever Lizzie's mole might be, they are not a doppelganger. They are not a clone, or Black-Ops, just a solider of the Navy, a person that must have gotten into the Navy via regular recruitment, be trained by them and then put into a spy division. Jay ofc had this entire process sped up, due to her grandma's influence, but no one other than her, especially an Undersea citizen, who would probably have to put in extra effort to be trusted given their shaky political situation few years back, would get the same treatment. What I'm trying to say, Caspian would need time, at least few years of training to become a mole they'd trust to infiltrate a crew, and not just any crew might I add. More on that later. Let's go back to his most early years for now. This is a fragment of episode 84 in which Caspian talks to Gillion abt his early life:

C: We all have family. I consider my life up here, this crew to be my found family. But my previous…tribe with the water genasi in the Undersea, where I was growing up…sort of in a [illegible]... remember me telling you about the outskirts? We um…was very nomadic, quite a, quite a peaceful, tranquil life, but it was always, you know…mixed with this life of poverty and my family wasn’t very…wouldn’t really have much but the water around us, and each other, I suppose, so uh…You know...I mean my mother didn’t make it past old age, and uh…

G: I’m sorry…

C: When my sister left the tribe, my father sort of fell into a depression of sorts and he stopped moving around. And when we stayed in one place, I was 18 or so, maybe 16, it was a while ago, and then…that’s when I left as well. Ventured to the Oversea, and um…and it’s history, so that’s my family. Not sure what they’re up to these days, I mean…I know my sister went to the capital, where you were.

G: Pirating is a pretty lucrative business, maybe if…we managed to find them or run into them, we can give something back, put them in a better situation.

C: …Well um…I mean this was 10-15, 10 to 12 to 15 years ago, quite some, quite some time, so I don’t even know if my father is alive still, I mean I don’t really have the desire to go back to the undersea, Gill.

G: Wha-why not?

C: Because I like my life up here. This is where I’m happy.

So, before we go to what all of that entails, one more quick crazy thing to mention: so, Caspian's sister is an Elder of the Undersea. Like for sure. This is confirmed by this part from ep. 79:

The Triton who you remember as the Elder Odolaf, who looks like he is about to speak, but is cut off by the water genasi, who has been doing a lot of talking thus far, who is Elder Celeste. They stand up and there is a familiarity that you notice now in their face. It’s like you have met them before, but not in the way that you know them because they are the Elder, but in a way that it’s like, they look like somebody you know. And she has sort of these uh, white tied-up like dreads that are tied up in like a bun and they come across the face and then one side is shaved. And there are beads and piercings in her hair, her ears are a little bit more sea elf-like in the way that they are pointed and they kind of like gradient into pink. They all kind of wear the same sort of ornate robes, though hers is more, I guess faded and like cut a bit, look a bit more warriorous, or like tribal, but still very well-made and professional.

Tribal clothing, a water genasi, that looks like someone Gillion saw before in the face. The only water genasi Gillion met after leaving the Undersea is Caspian. Elder Celeste is Caspian's sister. Wild. Anyway, not what we're here for, but I needed to mention that.

The crazier thing is that Caspian left to Oversea when he was 16-18, and it has been 10-15 years since then. That means Caspian is currently 26 at possible youngest, and 33 at his oldest, which was surprising to me, I did not imagine Caspian as a man in his 30s! But that's straight up facts, so holy shit, you know?

Okay, so I'm going to list a lot of small facts that determine a lot of ages in quick succession. I hope it's not gonna be too scary to look at, I'll simplify it all at the end. [Deep inhale]

Right now Gillion is 22. So when Caspian left the Undersea, Gillion was 12-7. Jay is 21 and Ava was 2 years older, same age as Lizzie. So Lizzie is 23 now. When Caspian left the Undersea, she was 13-8. Chip is 19, so Lizzie is 4 years older. Hole in the Sea happened when Chip was 9, so Lizzie was 13. So Caspian left the Undersea around the same time Lizzie crashed on the uninhabited island with Chey after the Hole.

It's a lot, I know, I know. So let me clear this up a little.

Hole in the sea was 10 years ago. Chip was 9, Lizzie was 13. 10 years ago Caspian was in the age between 16 and 23, and he left the Undersea when he was 16 or 18. So roughly at the same time the Black Sea happened, Caspian came to the surface for the first time.

(also pls note that we are talking in estimates, casue in ep. 36 Lizzie says she was 11 when the hole happened, but in ep. 101 she says she was the same age as Ava which by the power of math would put her at 13. Either way, somewhere around that age)

After that, Lizzie spend some time on an uninhabited island with Chey, the Black Rose cook, who sacrificed herself for Liz, so she could survive and died shortly after. We do not know how much time passed, but I assume no longer than few months, and after that she was saved by Captain Shadowbeard where she met Caspian. They were a part of Shadowbeard's crew, Caspian saved her from the massacre where Shadowbeard was killed, and then Lizzie went on to create her own crew, Grandberry Pirates with Caspian never leaving her for a second since he met her. That means that the only time Caspian could have joined the Navy would be RIGHT after he came to the Oversea for the first time, roughly at the same time Lizzie was stranded on an island, and in that short period of time (between Lizzie's crash on the island and her being found by Shadowbeard) he would have to find the time to be trusted and accepted by Navy, get trained specifically for infiltration AND infiltrate not anyones BUT FUCKING SHADOWBEARD'S SHIP. Not a NEW crew. A crew of one of the most legendary pirates on the sea. Cause before Lizzie, Caspian was Sadowbeard's crew member, and since then he never stopped being a pirate, so if he was a solider, he would have had to be one before Shadowbeard. And remeber what Grizzly said in 115: "Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones."

Shadowbeard was not new. Not upcoming. He was dangerous and Navy must have had the balls of steal to send a rookie solider, which Caspian would have been at that point in time, to infiltrate him. The numbers say it's impossible. Guys, the numbers! They don't add up!

Anyway, so basically Caspian could not be a mole. He is not a new pirate, he was not a member of a fresh crew, becaue his pirate journey did not start with Lizzy, it started with Shadowbeard. Grandberry Pirates is a new crew, but Caspian is not a newbie in it. You know who is? Rudith. I mean what kind of doctor lets a bunch of rowdy pirates have a secret base under a place where sick and vulnerable rest??? Like ANY other place would have been better and more respectful! Also you know what's interesting? Gillion could heal these people with lay on hands easily, and yet the only thing Rudith did for them was give them potions that didn't seem to help and look after them on purely non-medical level. Bro didn't do shit. Like, why would you even become a doctor without having access to healing magic? The answer, you are not. You are a Navy solider in disguise.

Okay, okay, I'm done, that's all. If you got this far, you are a hero, thank you for reading this insanely long ramble, but that's kind of the conclusions that I came to, of course, any counter-theories and discussion in general is very much welcome! I'd love to hear your opinions! Love you guys, bye~

[aydience-world]

Kai Chisaki's past headcanons

Since we won’t be getting any additional info anymore and for the sake of my own sanity, I have decided to create my own headcanon of Kai Chisaki’s past in detail and how he came to be the man we know as Overhaul based on the few crumbs we got in the manga. 

*Kai was born to a less than average income family and his parents also have similar deconstruct or reassemble quirks, although to much more limited matter.

*Overhaul is a complex quirk and young Kai initially struggled, especially with the reconstruction part. He would attempt to break down and repair his toys but fail more often than not. His parents were uncaring and did not make any effort to support or help their son improve his skill.

*A freak accident happens one day and Kai accidentally deconstructs one of his parents. Frightened, he tries to undo this accident but fails and his parent ends up completely disfigured. The remaining parent freaks out and says some atrocious things to him, similar words Overhaul used to say to Eri. (Ex. “Your existence is a curse”, etc.). I hc this happened when he was around 6-7 years old.

*Following this incident, the remaining parent takes their broken spouse and Kai to a quirk doctor, Dr Garaki, or another doctor associated with him. The doctor takes great interest in Kai’s ability and sees him as a potential candidate as one of AFO’s spare children. The parent wants to get rid of Kai asap and the doctor gladly takes him into the orphanage. Kai would be living there for several years.

*In the orphanage, Kai has to undergo a series of tests and exercises by making him use his quirk on objects, lab animals and sometimes even other children. This is where Kai begins to become more proficient in using his quirk, on both physical and living matter.

*The abandonment from his parents and the grotesque nature of the experiments causes Kai to fall into deep depression and existential crisis. At this point in his life, he hates his quirk and wonders why he was born with it, why was he born at all? He starts questioning everything. Where does this ability come from? Why do people like him exist? Why is the world this way in the first place?

*During one of the experiments, Kai brings up one of his questions to Dr Garaki, who answers what scientists currently know and while there is no concrete evidence, there are several theories, one of them being the mice theory which deduces that quirks are a virus originating from mice. He refers Kai to the small library in the orphanage.

*Kai then proceeds to read several books and science journals about this quirk phenomenon to understand the origin of quirks and the current state of humanity and studies the mice theory. To him, it all comes together. Quirks are a plague, a virus which comes from dirty animals which explains why quirks mutate so rapidly. Among all the material he has read, this had to be the truth because it made the most sense.  The reason why he’s the way he is and the reason why his parents abandoned him. He realized they are all infected and quirks don’t have any cure. This realization drives him into a frenzy and he develops a germaphobia, specifically against quirk users, since they will always remind him of the mice theory.

*Due to his phobia, Kai develops a further disgust for people and keeps to himself, avoiding other children in the orphanage.  He prefers to keep to himself and read books, learning new things about science and the world. He never formed any meaningful relationships in the orphanage.

*After some time Tenko was born, AFO began searching for the right quirk in the orphanages that he could give him to make Tenko an ultimate weapon of destruction and hate. Thanks to all the tests and experiments, Kai’s quirk catches AFO’s attention and he instructs Garaki to make a stronger copy of Overhaul but remove the reassemble part since the quirk should only be used to destroy.

*This time, Garaki needs to restrain Kai in order to extract his quirk genes to make a copy that focuses on the deconstruction part and enhance it, which would eventually become Decay. This would be done by Dr Garaki extracting blood and small pieces of flesh from Kai.

*Now, this experiment was not simply just to make a copy and remove the secondary function, the deconstruction part needed to be much more destructive at a much faster rate and unlike Overhaul, which only affects a single target, Decay has to affect multiple targets through a domino effect. It takes numerous tries to achieve this outcome. Other children would be given the copy to test it and many would perish in the creation of this quirk.

*The continuous pain and physical contact during the experiment leaves Kai in a frenzy and he completely breaks out in hives multiple times throughout the process. Regardless, the experiment continues until Decay turns out the way Garaki and AFO envision. This trauma continues until adulthood and he now breaks out in hives whenever someone touches him.

*At last, Decay is complete and AFO proceeds to give it to Tenko. Garaki doesn’t bother healing Kai because he knows Kai can fix himself. He is released back into the orphanage but has to stay there in case AFO needs any adjustments. He is still traumatized from the experiment and hates his quirk even more. He blames his quirk more than Garaki.

*Tenko’s quirk activated for the first time which meant the experiment was a success for AFO and Garaki. AFO informs Garaki about the progress and he leaves the orphanage to help him with the preparations of grooming Tenko. (Tenko was 5 years old when this happened so Kai is 12 at this point). A substitute is assigned to the orphanage during Garaki’s absence but they don’t really come through. Only a handful of kids are left since most of them died during the creation of Decay. With all the attention on Tenko, the children left at the orphanage are neglected and left to starve.

*Eventually Kai has enough and uses his quirk to escape. He runs into the night, not looking back or stopping until his legs can’t take it anymore. He wonders why he didn’t escape sooner but realizes he has nowhere to go and wanders aimlessly alone through the streets at night.

*He has a small panic attack and hives outbreak but this is overshadowed by hunger and fatigue. Eventually exhaustion takes over and he slumps down against a wall in an alley, falling asleep on the street.

*He wakes up the next morning, covered in dust and dirt from the ground but the raging hunger is too distracting to care. He looks for food but no one is willing to help this dirty kid. He considers going through trash but can’t bring himself to and goes on hungry.

*It’s already afternoon and only then does someone notice Kai. A middle-aged man calls his attention, offering to help him get home. Realizing this child doesn’t have a home, he adopts Kai and makes him part of the Shie Hassaikai.  To Kai, this act of kindness would never be forgotten and swore to himself he would repay this kindness no matter what.

*The life of a yakuza is not exactly the most suitable environment for a child/teen to grow up in, and “affection” would be shown through tough love or ’roughing up until set straight’. (The traditional Asian way).  Pops did attempt to ask Kai about his past but Kai’s answers are very vague so Pops does not pry further. The trauma doesn’t get addressed and shows some behavioral problems from him later on.

*Kai eventually befriends Kurono Hari who grew up with the Shie Hassaikai. Hari shows Kai the ropes of being a yakuza, and also gives him tips about the gangster life. Kai quickly adapts into his new home and Hari becomes his closest and most trusted friend, joining and supporting whatever Kai comes up with.

*Kai truly cherishes Pops and his new home, to the point that he gets into fights with other kids for insulting his new home, or comparing them to villains, who he considers sick. Pops thanks him for defending the Shie Hassaikai’s honor and Kai makes this his life mission. As mentioned before, Pops showed affection through a “tough love” style, so hearing praise like this was rare. Kai secretly craved to be given more appreciation and affection, which is something he never received as a child, and the reason why he goes far and beyond just to ‘repay his debt’ to Pops.

*Eventually, Kai comes to terms with his “infection”. The quirk he blamed for his abandonment and suffering is now seen as a tool he needs to use to defend the Shie Hassaikai. And he knows his quirk makes him powerful. He needs this power to protect his home and become the man the Shie Hassaikai needs. 

*Kai started wearing a facemask during his teenage years, wanting to protect himself from breathing the same air as his filthy, quirk-ridden classmates. 

*The exposure to illicit activities and fights among gangs and other gang members made Kai truly develop his fighting and social skills. He learns how to charm, manipulate and intimidate to get his way. Above all, he leaves his enemies dead or near dead after a battle, instilling fear in not only rival gangs but also his own members. He quickly becomes well-known among the yakuzas as a deadly and fearsome individual who should not be taken lightly. Pops does not approve of Kai getting into these kinds of fights but Kai considers this part of repaying his debt.

*The yakuza influence is diminishing in society as one after another organization gets disbanded. Kai is hurt from seeing their organization backed into a corner and he blames the quirk plague, believing that quirks cause further delusion to use them for heroic or villainous causes. He imagines that the world would be a more ideal place for the yakuza if there were no more quirks. No heroes to oppose them and no villains to take their rightful place in the underworld.

*He proceeds to make the Shie Hassaikai more powerful by gaining more recruits and money. He does so by getting into ring fights to garner more respect and also starts businesses such as loan sharks and drug dealing for more income. Pops also does not approve of this and calls him out.

*Pops and Kai frequently clash about his methods. Pops believes in adjusting to the new normal as a yakuza but Kai cannot agree to this and wants the yakuza to come back to power, standing by ‘the end justifies the means’ philosophy. 

*One fateful day, Pops’ daughter calls him out of the blue, panicked about her daughter’s ability, unceremoniously drops Eri off at the Shie Hassaikai’s compound and leaves to be never heard of again. Pops notices that Eri’s quirk has similarities to Kai’s and (foolishly) thinks it would be a good idea to have Kai look after her and study her, somehow hoping Kai would connect to her and have something else to do rather than engaging in criminal businesses.

*There is an instant aversion towards Eri when Kai first sees her, which is because she reminds him too much of himself. But then he studies and starts understanding her ability, realizing she could actually revert back humanity to their original state- quirkless. After all this time, all the suffering caused by quirks, the hopeless truth of the mice theory- at last there was an answer and Eri could make it all go away. He finds a way to use her quirk genes the very same way Garaki had done to him. He comes up with a plan that not only answers his questions to his former existential crisis, but also a way to help the Shie Hassaikai. If there were no more heroes or villains to oppose their place, the yakuza could rise to power again. In addition to that, they could also make so much money if they monopolized quirks. All the previous struggles he had could be fixed through Eri.

*Kai proposes this plan to Pops and we all know how that ended. When Pops threatens to kick him out, Kai falls into despair, afraid to lose the one thing that matters most to him. He puts Pops into a coma so he can proceed with his plan unopposed but he does feel very guilty about hurting him but comforts himself in the thought that all of what he’s doing is for Pops, to repay his kindness. He discards his name, going by the name of his quirk instead which he formerly detested, and wears a plague mask instead, symbolizing he is on the pursuit to cure the world.

Spoiler alert: no more arms and no more Shie Hassaikai.

[sleepymoha]

Chilshi death headcannons? Mainly with Senshi’s reaction and coping mechanisms after?

Hmm death headcanons…

Well for starters, we all know by now that Chilchuck is terrible when it comes to expressing and communicating his emotions, but he does exchange letters with Flertom from time to time. I don’t really think this aspect of his character would change after getting together with Senshi, and I think it would be nice of him to ask Marcille to give some of his pre-written letters to Senshi every few years or so.

And well… I honestly don’t really think Senshi would cope particularly well with Chilchuck’s passing, at least in the first few years. He is no stranger to tragedy, but Chilchuck being all old and sickly could remind him of his parents in a way, bedridden and weak and all. But, just like when he was a child, he has a fairly decent sized support group by his side, ready to step in and help out a grieving friend in need.

I think he’d be a honorary member of the small half-foot community on the Island, and an active one at that, especially after Chilchuck’s passing. Having learned and getting first-hand experience of what a half-foot can go through in life thanks to Chilchuck, he’d probably find closure and comfort in trying to make other half-foots’ lives easier.

Lots of ups and downs, good days being washed away by bad ones, seeing Chilchuck’s favorite mug making him smile one day, then pushing him into a deep depression the next. Still, once being offered to move into the castle, or just away from their shared home, he’d adamantly say no. That home is the proof of their love, their past, a life they built together, how could he disrespect it by rejecting it.

I don’t think he’d regret their love, he’d never do that, he’d just mourn the fact they were only given such a short while to spend together.

Despite Chilchuck only being part of his life for such a short while, I think he’d try to live life to the fullest, living for the both of them in a way. Going on adventures to see beautiful places, places they never got to see together because Chilchuck was too busy at his locksmith shop, spending more time with their loved ones - especially after getting reminded once again just how quickly short-lived races’ lives can fly past. He would go on long hikes, discover dungeons when life becomes too mundane to his taste, but he’d never stay away from their home for too long.

I honestly don’t really think he would visit Chilchuck’s grave all too often, but he would probably carry something of Chilchuck’s with him, the way he does with Grillin’s helmet. Maybe Chilchuck’s lockpick tools? They’re small, compact, and full of memories, and despite being in fairly decent shape - he tries to maintain them regularly, even though it isn’t his strongest suit - he’d never dare to use them, in fear of breaking them.

I don’t think his grieving process could turn violent, he respects the order of life too much to do something he might regret later. He has accepted this outcome of Chilchuck dying and him staying for a bit longer when they started their relationship, but it doesn’t mean he was ready to actually experience being alone so soon. Still, living a life full of regrets isn’t a tale worth telling once they reunite, so he aims to live life to the fullest.

[bettyfrommars]

Missed Connections

older!Eddie x f!Reader

We are in a new town with drifter!Eddie, he's in Oregon and it's the mid-2000's. He survived the Upside Down and has been traveling ever since, carrying his wounds with him. There is no "monster" action in this, as with the other drifter Eddie stories, there isn't even any smut, but I love thinking about him, and I wrote this purely for myself, and maybe two other people. Eddie is in his late 30's to early 40's, and reader is over 30.

18+ONLY, MDNI, mechanic!Eddie, alcohol consumption, mention of scars and depression, loneliness, mutual crush, surprise ending

wc: 1.6k

On the outskirts of town, just before you could catch the highway in either direction, there sat the only gas station for 20 miles.  The tiny mom and pop market behind it housed various essentials including lottery tickets, deep fried corn dogs, and booze.  

The liquor store was a separate entity, but a part of the same building, which made for one hell of a convenient stop, and over the past year, it had become a part of your routine to drop by after work every Friday.

It wasn’t long before you noticed him, the guy with the long hair and wallet chain with bats tattooed on his forearm.  His work boots were scuffed, and he wore a long-sleeved flannel in the winter, but by the time spring came, his button-up, heather blue work shirts gave you a view of the rest of the ink and scar tissue covering his arms.  One day, when he was going in, you were coming out, and he held the door for you.  He had silver hair at his temples, and a thin white scar on his cheek that tugged down his eye a bit. The patch on his pocket said Eddie.  

Another month of Fridays went by.  You were lingering in front of the rows of bottles, humming to Hank Williams being played over the sound system, wondering if you wanted to try a new vodka.  Maybe the coconut flavored one would change your life?  A bit of fizz and perhaps you could close your eyes and pretend you were on that vacation you’d only been able to dream about for years.  

“‘Scuze me,” the deep whisper was so close, it made your heart somersault. 

It was that Eddie guy again, stretching his arm out long in front of you to grab a pint of Jameson.  The fact that there was plenty of room for him to go around and get it without interacting was not lost on you.  You took that opportunity to inhale a sharp breath, noting the hints of motor oil to match the dark stains under his fingers and in the creases of his knuckles.  A touch of sandalwood softened with vanilla and nicotine, and a secret other thing you couldn’t put your finger on.  

“My grandpa loved Jameson,” you mumbled, keeping your attention on the clear booze.  

Eddie scowled curiously, searching your profile. “He had good taste.”

You offered a tight grin, not sure what else to add.  You’d been alone for so long, you were starting to forget how to interact with people, but the clunky gears in your mind registered that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring.  He did have a silver hoop piercing in one ear, though, and a few days' worth of scruffy beard growth.

It startled you to find him chilling on the sidewalk, lighting a smoke just outside the door.  

“Have a nice night,” you hummed politely, beelining for your car. 

The lit cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke. “Same time, same place? Next Friday?”

With your driver’s door open in front of you like a shield, you paused to look at him.  All the months you’d been crossing paths, you’d never caught him smiling before, but just then, one side of his mouth curled up and a dimple popped in his cheek. An unusual warmth crept through you, and you bobbed your head a few times to answer his question. 

When you got home that night, you sat outside in your car and bawled into your open hands. Your life had been spiraling out of control for a while, and every so often the dam burst when you least expected it. You didn’t have any tissues in your car, so you blew your nose on an old fast food napkin and wished you could afford to relocate and start a new life. You wondered if Eddie was lonely, if he ever sat on the couch watching TV, wishing he had friends, wondering where all the years had gone.  

You’d been wallowing so hard in your misery, you didn’t hear your mother stomp out onto the sidewalk.  “ARE YOU COMING IN?” She shouted it, as if you were hard of hearing and had no neighbors. “The damn remote is broken or something.  I can’t figure it out.”

Staring glassy-eyed at nothing, you took a deep, withering breath that made your lower lip tremble. Another weekly ritual of yours was to show  your mother how to use the TV remote and listen to her tell you how tired you looked.  

The next Friday, you were running late from work and only caught sight of Eddie driving out of the parking lot.  It was then you realized that you didn’t really need anything at the market that day, so you wandered around for too long before settling on a Snapple and a few of their cheapest scratch tickets. You did not win anything.

He was late the next week, but your skin flushed with excitement when you caught sight of him zooming in off the main street in his beat-up work truck.  When he came in, he scanned the store until he found you, and then you both picked up items nearby and pretended to be interested in them.  

You shifted too close to one of the shelves and knocked a row of tampons to the ground, cursing as you fumbled to pick them up before anyone could stroll over to investigate.  

When you stood to full height again, your Eddie had vanished. Maybe he’d gone to use the restroom, you had no clue, but now you had a box of super plus tampons in your hand that you actually needed to buy, along with a few other things in a shopping basket on your arm, and you wanted to check out before he returned.  

Ten minutes later, he was still MIA. 

What the hell were you planning to do, anyway?  His truck was still there. Months of nothing but a few words and goofy stares was all it would ever be.  Just a silly little corner market crush.  Get over it.  

You decided to start your car up and hit the road. 

But your engine had other plans.

You pumped the gas a few times on the old Chrysler that used to be your grandmother’s, asking for her help from beyond the grave. 

“Please, please,” watching the door to see who was coming out, you tried the ignition again.

The engine cranked a bit, and then nothing.  

You tucked your chin to your chest, about to lose your shit right there at the corner market parking lot. 

But then

there was a knuckle tap at your window, and for some reason, you weren’t surprised to see Eddie standing there.  His hair was pulled back in a ponytail that day and he was still wearing coveralls like he’d been in such a hurry to leave work and had no time to change.  Chocolate eyes were concerned as he made the universal sign for you to roll your window down.  

“Won’t start?” He rested his hand on your side mirror.  “Want me to take a look at it?”

One thing about you, it was nearly impossible to accept help of any kind, especially from strangers.  

“No, I—” you tried the key again, knowing you’d get the same result.  “I’m sure you have other places to be.”

“I got no place to be, I promise you,” he wanted to help, but he was also weary not to force himself and make you uncomfortable.  “I’d be happy to help.”

“I’ll just call triple A,” you flashed a nervous smile. 

“If you’re sure,” he bit his top lip and gave an awkward thumbs up before heading back.  

Eddie sat back in his truck a second and thought about it.  It didn’t take long for him to jump back out and go over to offer you the use of his flip phone, in case you didn’t have one.  Maybe he’d think of some other clever thing to say, but probably not.  

He found you in the same position, both hands gripping the wheel, a catatonic look on your face.

“Hey,” he waved as if it were the first time seeing each other that day.  

“Hey,” you gulped. “I’m really glad you came back.”

“You are?” He cocked his head, jaw muscles tightening.

“Yeahhhh.  I don’t have triple A,” you let out a strangled, self-deprecating laugh.

“Is the engine turning over at all?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and shook your head, and by the expression on his face, you could tell that was not a good thing.

With a deep breath, he glanced from you to the hood of the car, hooking a thumb into his pocket.  “Well, we might have to tow it to the shop so I can get a better look at it there.”

“I appreciate it, but I can’t afford—”

“It’s on me,” he shoved both hands all the way in his pockets then. “The guy that owns the shop, he owes me a favor.”

Fucking right Lou owed him a favor. He owned him like 20. He'd been busting his nut sixty hours a week, while simultaneously keeping quiet about the illegal chop shop that Lou ran out of his second garage. Not to mention Eddie had never asked for a handout or so much as a day off in the eighteen months that he'd been there. Plus, Lou did not want to meet Eddie's bad side.

"I can change your oil, rotate your tires, make sure everything else is running okay."

You sought his eyes for reassurance.  The neglected heart inside of you didn’t know what to do with the generosity.

You were grateful he'd opted not to lift up your hood right then and there. It would've been pretty easy for him to sleuth out that the distributor cap was missing, and those didn't just vanish out of thin air. For now, it was in your bag, and you'd find a way to get it back on eventually.

“Do you want to wait here while I go and get the tow truck, or do you want to ride with me? I'd love to buy you dinner, if you're hungry."