#so most of her relationships fizzled out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollowdeath · 1 year ago

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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]

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venuzasmuse · 10 months ago

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𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐓

ellie with a reader that has a cat!

oh my god i’ve been meditating on this idea for so long

warnings: none. just ellie with a cat because they’re two things i love most in this world.

❀ i feel like in a modern au, ellie would lovelovelove animals and she’d jump at any opportunity to pet any dog she sees but she probably had some weird, bad experience with a cat when she was younger and just was not that fond of them.

❀ UNTIL. she met you.

❀ the two of you have been dating for a while and you decided to invite her over for once after only really going to her apartment on the days / nights y’all would be together.

❀ all is well and you’re turning your keys in the lock, too immersed in the oh so interesting conversation the two of you are in that you don’t even notice your pet leaping towards the two of you.

❀ her eyes would turn into saucers and she’d let out a really high pitched yelp before masking it with a cough to not look like a fool in front of you.

❀ initially, ellie is caught off guard.

❀ you never mentioned that you had a cat despite having been together for a few weeks. you’re so excited to see your furry friend and she’s just kinda standing there like 🧍‍♀️because like i said, she probably had some random traumatizing experience with cats when she was younger and engaging with them again just never crossed her mind.

❀ your cat is the sweetest baby in the whole wide world and after some warming up to her, ellie literally falls in love with your cat. i’m talking, she cannot stop holding her and loving on her.

❀ ellie didn’t really know how to pet her at first. she’d awkwardly rub her hand over your cats head and you’d just fizzle out into a puddle of giggles, trying to demonstrate how to.

“baby- no— here look. like this.”

❀ and you cat loves her too. you practically have to pry her off of ellie when she decides she in fact cannot sleepover that night.

❀ as your relationship together grows, so does her love for your cat.

❀ once y’all get to a comfortable stage of your relationship, you end up giving her spare key to your apartment and there’d be times where she’d literally just be there without you and you wouldn’t know until you walk in from a long night at work, and she’s just passed out and splayed across your bed with your cat perched up on her chest, sleeping.

❀ the way ellie plays with your cat is she’d pretend to be hurt when it playfully bites her and shakes it when it doesn’t let go of her.

❀ whenever y’all are running errands together, she’d randomly find a toy, even if it’s not a cat toy, and throw it in the cart without saying a word.

❀ she just knows your cat would love it. it’s her maternal instincts.

❀ is the type to give into whatever your cat wants. her food? fine. a random bracelet your cat just randomly starts to latch it’s teeth onto? it’s got it now, there’s no turn back.

❀ when y’all are laid up together after a long night, your cat would try to slot itself in between y’all and she’d just move it repeatedly until it settles on the spot near her neck and just lays on her.

❀ she’s so tired she wouldn’t even react to it. she’d just let the cat slowly suffocate her in her sleep.

❀ would randomly send you pictures of your cat attacking the camera and it’d be from the funniest angles ever.

❀ hella .5 pictures will also be sent and taken.

❀ that’s basically what her entire camera roll consists of.

❀ just you and your cat.

#tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams headcanons #ellie fluff #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams imagine

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little-fae-hero · 6 days ago

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Linked Universe, The Hero of War

My headcanons/aus

Art by Atro

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for implied self-harm and intentional scarring. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Time. Hyrule. Four. Sky. Legend. Wild.

Warriors (Hyrule Warriors): Other nicknames: The Captain, Knight, Pretty boy, Flirt, One-Man army, Scarface.

Titles: The Hero of Hyrule, the Hero of the Era of War, The Gerudo’s prince, The Blood-stain General.

God who has claim over his soul: Demise (Because of the blessing from Ganondorf)

Note: Because of how much his war affected time and all that, he has met many different versions of the hero and looked after them (pretty much babysitting them). He’s also fought enemies he shouldn’t have and been to corrupt places, so he knows a little bit about everything.

History (note connecting to an au so most not canon):

Link was abandoned in the desert because he was a bastard, he ended up being adopted by Ganondorf the leader of the Gerudo. This Ganondorf knows the history of Hyrule but doesn’t want to be a destructive force, just wants his people to stay safe and alive. Ganon wants to be good, and makes a promise to himself by looking after the child he later calls his son. He eventually learns his son carries the Triforce of Courage, but doesn’t care, just wants to prove himself.

Ganondorf is sort of warlike, mainly because his desert keeps getting attacked by outside nations and he’s trying to protect it. War grows up learning all different types of weapons, planning attacks and all that, but still always being protected by his father.

Eventually the malice was too much for Ganondorf, so Ganon sent War away, hoping he could have a good life before Ganondorf went to the Guardian of Time and pleaded with her to break apart and seal his soul.

Link is left in hyrule, his voice sealed away. Eventually he joins the army of hyrule as it’s really the only place that will take in someone like him, an orphan with no voice. Eventually the war starts, and it is revealed that he has the Triforce of Courage. He’s put in charge as the battle continues before Cia reveals hers, saying she is working for someone with the promise that Link will be hers. Eventually Cia is defeated however Ganondorf is now back.

Link tried to get his father to go back to normal, however it doesn’t work so Link was force to kill him, which only allow Ganondorf with his mind back, to plead and apologize to his son.

Link soon took on the persona of a flirty pretty boy, mainly as a way of coping. He also ends up carving up his face, because of what Cia would do just to get that pretty face. Right now he is Zelda’s right hand man and adviser.

Death: Unknown…..

Interesting stuff/Headcanons:

War’s love language has always been physically touch, the feeling of holding someone or being held and knowing you are safe.

He carved up his face after everything, mainly fearing that someone else would be after him, might as well damage what started the war.

He started the persona of the flirty pretty boy to survive in the army, most don’t know his true self besides the links, Zelda, Impa and Linkle.

Any romantic relationship he had with Zelda fizzled out when Cia happened.

War had deep seeded trust issues considering how many of his ‘friends’ were all in favor of tossing him to Cia to end the war.

War turned the flirting to girls during the war up it as a big ‘screw you’ to Cia.

War is ace, specifically a sex repulsed ace.

Ganondorf was somewhat paranoid about people taking his son away, so he trained War to be able to use any weapon he got his hands on.

He even taught him how to fight without one or turn your environment into a weapon.

This very much contrasted later as he refused to allow War to get involved when conflict happened, he had to stay in the palace where it was safe and figure out strategies.

War always had a stupid number of weapons on him. Many are hidden of course.

Even when sleeping he at least has three blades in reaching distance.

Because of what happened with his father, War always has a plan on what would've happened if one of his friends got possessed and what he could do to save them.

He also watches for weak points in others mostly to help them improve.

War thinks about battle and war in a terrifying mix of courage, wisdom and power, knowing where to strike and how to be effective with it.

Has a natural parenting instinct from babysitting young ones, both at home and from the war.

Typically wraps and tucks his scarf around his waist so it can’t be grabbed and actually choke him in battle.

He actually has Ice and Fire magic, because of a blessing from his grandmothers, it’s just not his preferred way of fighting.

Plus, it makes him weaker to the opposite element, it’s why fire from the dragon knight scarred and hurt more than normal.

Has a lot of manners from the gerudo (like why he had no problem with Zelda/Impa in charge), it’s just no one knows about the gerudo tribe in his world to notice.

Monsters either target War or hesitate to attack him, he uses this to his advantage.

War can play music on an Ocarina but can’t sing to save his life. (Correction, he can sing, it’s just gerudo sounding and most don’t like it)

He is like a field medic, he knows how to save a life, but it won’t be comfortable.

The only person who knows who War’s father is, was Mask. Mask didn’t seem to judge War for it but was super angry at Ganon.

War doesn’t allow himself to express emotions outside the select ones for his ‘persona’.

So, if stuff gets really bad, he needs to scream or cry, he goes to somewhere completely hidden and breaks down (he knows this isn’t healthy, but he doesn’t care).

War is attached to the scarf because it reminds him of the fabric he wore at home, the one which was insisted on to protect his skin from the sun.

War has a screwed-up sleep schedule. He often takes a second shift and then just doesn’t wake up the others and continues the watch.

He still has a necklace from his father, which his dad promised was laced with magic and would protect him. Despite how many times War tried to get rid of it, he can’t.

Sometimes gerudo words will slip in when he’s talking, most just think it’s a mistake.

War ‘hobbies’ are typically cleaning armor and sharpening weapons. However, he can use his magic to make little ice statues.

He has flashbacks, where he relives memories and battles. There not as bad as Wild sense he can be brought out of them, however there is a chance he could react violently.

Confined spaces can really set this off as he was captured by Cia for a short time.

He’s the closest and trusts Time/Mask the most, there are no secrets between them.

War acts almost like a drill sergeant in battles at times, no one dares go against his orders (this is after he got his voice back).

----

War is done, as you can see he is heavily based off my ‘Like father, like son’ au. The boy isn’t canon which means I can do whatever I want. Let me know your thoughts.

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nayaesworld · 28 days ago

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Mafioso

Part 2

Warnings: violence, past mentions of domestic situations, fluff

Terry X OC!Marina

Terry had been experiencing true bliss the last month he had spent with Marina. She was intelligent beyond words and found ways to teach him something new everyday. Whether it was her place or his, they carved out time from their busy schedules to spend quality time to get to know one another. Friday had rolled around and Marina was currently napping on his plush couch snuggled up with a thick throw blanket.Hands together underneath her chin as she snored lightly. This had been their ritual. She’d end her work week and spend the weekend with Terry.

And they shared similar stories about how they had grown up. Her mother Zen was also a single mother who was in a large city all by herself and they both were an only child. She spoke of the day her mother had finally finished school and became a labor and delivery nurse, she wanted to welcome babies into the world for the rest of her career. Marina spoke of the day they celebrated and how much she looked up to her mother. And Terry loved his mother dearly as well, he had provided her with the luxury of never having to work again, a gift for her sacrifice as a mother. She knew what he did, what he had to do for them to survive and yet his most current life decision she did not agree with.

She’d heard Marina talking in the back of their phone call one day and was currently icing him out for it. Grace had called Terry everything but a child of god, and was hell bent on not letting him make this “mistake” again. He caught on eventually to what or rather who she was referring to… a past toxic relationship that had fizzled out almost three years ago now. Terry was whoring and running through Houston like an angry bull when he met Carmen. They argued, fucked, and fought on a repeat constantly, tearing through his house, her house, vehicles you name it they had an altercation there.But eventually like most relationships like theirs the shit got old fast and he was tired of his face looking like he had gotten into an altercation with a mountain lion.

But Carmen didn’t leave peacefully, no that wasn't her. She disrespected his mother and attempted to slander his name in the media. It was messy and the cleanup to attempt to scrub his name clean of her lies cost him a pretty penny. Last he had heard, she had successfully trapped some poor unfortunate soul…rather them than him.But Marina hadn't exhibited any of the signs that Carmen had early on in their relationship. She was about her money, had dreams and aspirations, and above all else she was genuinely happy about life. The only words that soothe this mother were future promises of actually getting to meet Marina, that would have to do for now.

Terry tossed his head back and squeezed a few drops of eye drops into his eyes. Sleep had evaded him again the night before and his eyes felt tired and dry. His body felt stiff and sore from jumping out of a moving car the day before. Some shit that had to be done. Another day of asserting dominance and knocking heads off, the usual. His hands gripped the bathroom vanity as he closed his eyes to allow the solution to soothe his eyes. He was zoned out and didn’t hear Marina walking toward him, her warm hand reaching out and lightly rubbing his forearm made him flinch and pop his eyes open quickly.

“Oh-oh Terry I’m sorry… were you crying?” Her eyebrows rose in worry and stepped into the bathroom with him.

“No sweetheart, it’s just eye drops… I swear. You nap like a house cat you know..I’m starting to think you only come over to use my couch.” Terry capped the eye solution and placed it in his medicine cabinet before resting a hand on her waist.

“If you did the same you wouldn’t need those drops boo, I take my beauty sleep seriously and you should start Mr.Night Owl and maybe you’ll get as pretty as me.” He placed a hand to his chest in feigned hurt and chuckled at her.

“Oh so I’m not pretty enough for you already?” The hand on her waist slid up to gently rub against her back.

“Mhmh you belong on the cover of vogue.. now shoo I have to empty my bladder.” She rushed a juicy kiss to his cheek before he left her to give some privacy padding across the house to his bedroom.

He let his tense body sink into the recliner in the corner of his room. Body relaxing and sinking further into the plush expensive chair, his eyes slowly rolling into his head.

“Terry…oh Smiley you actually are sleepy aren’t you…so I guess that means I can’t beg you to go to Target with me huh?” He listened to her walk closer to him until she stood next to him, eyes still closed.

He loved when she called him Smiley, the nickname she created because she said anytime he smiled or grinned even just a little all 32 of his teeth would show.

“I was gonna drag my mama with me, but she flaked on me to go wine tasting…Smiley I need to go pick up some makeup stuff for our date tomorrow, will you come with me?” She rubbed her hand over his head softly and he leaned further into her touch and rested his head against her belly.

He pulled her down into his lap and she sat sideways squealing at his quick reflexes. She had taken off her bonnet and her sleek silk pressed hair flowed past her shoulders sleek and shiny.

“Mm I love your hair Mari… so soft and long.” He ran his fingers through the course strands pleased by how the new style framed her face and made her even more irresistible. “So pretty…I’ll go with you just let me change ok?”

“Terry no..I am not driving this, are you crazy..What if I wreck it?” Terry was in a fit of tears. He was currently trying to convince Marina to drive his BMW X6 to Target and she was not having it.

“Then I’ll just buy another one…remember what I showed you last time? Just put your foot on the gas and press the drive button right here.” He went over it again with her before she finally felt comfortable enough to back out of his driveway and head towards Target.

They stopped at Wendy’s after Marina got a craving for it a few minutes into the drive and she eagerly ordered them both large combos.

“Man just eat the burger, one burger won’t undo your six pack Smiley I promise.”

“You just got me breaking all my rules. Got me eating red meat and sweets…eating in my car. How you gonna pay me back for all this lack of discipline?”

“Will a kiss cover me for my bamboozling activity?” Terry gripped her chin and pulled her face close to his just close enough for the tips of their noses to touch.

Her dark eyes filled with mischief locked onto his…so tantalizing and expressive, even for him. She had a way with her eyes, and he always felt so bright and important when she looked at him. “A kiss will do just fine, pretty girl.”

He allowed her to lead the kiss, her plump lips pecking gently around his mouth trying to tempt his mouth open. He inevitably gave in, too eager to stroke and roll his tongue over hers. Heads cocked to the side Terry thrusted his tongue into her mouth lost in the feel of her soft cheek and tongue. It was so hot and warm and everytime they kissed he imagined the same feeling on the tip of his dick, pure ecstasy.

A knock to the passenger side window ceased their lip locking session and Terry groaned loudly. The ceramic tint on his windows had him mean mugging the man outside of his car. Motherfucking Scotty, a well known addict in the area that couldn’t be trusted. He would run his mouth to anybody that offered him a fix and for that reason alone Terry didn’t deal with him like everyone else did, and yet here he was In Terry’s face too damn close to the one new thing he was hiding from that part of his life— Marina.

Terry pulled the gold rim glasses from his face before looking over at Marina. “You know him?”

“I’ve seen him around town a few times.. he’s a good man that was dealt some bad cards in life. I help him out whenever I see him.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a crisp 50 dollar bill and rolled his window down with his back to Marina he was prepared to give a silent warning. He didn’t like being ambushed.

“Hey man you just love popping up on me huh..here’s a little something to send you on your way, stay out of trouble.” Terry sent the man a smile that didn’t meet his eyes before Scotty got the memo and thanked him before he headed back to sit in front of the restaurant. Nosey ass nigga.

“That was sweet Terry, you know your giving nature is one of my favorite things about you.” He met her gaze with a smile before bringing her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it.

Target wasn’t as bad as Terry had anticipated, he had frequented the store maybe once or twice but now he was seeing the hype in it. Marina surprisingly only came for one little makeup product, something she apparently couldn’t live without a brow gel or whatever she had called it. He was enjoying her company nonetheless though, they had a date planned Saturday and he was more than looking forward to it.

“Can I get a hint on where we’re going at least.” She was at the island inside his kitchen, engorging herself on the creamy Alfredo and salmon he had made for them nimble fingers gripping the wine glass filled with moscato.

Terry wiped the white cheesy sauce from his mouth with a napkin before giving her his attention “I want you surprised sweetheart… so no hints unfortunately. Just wear that little red number you showed me today and you got it baby.”

“Aww you’re no fun Smiley… but at least your wine is good to make up for it.” She raised her glass towards his and the glasses clinked together.

“Mm you’ll love it, it’s right up your alley, now that’s all the info I can give you…you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow…how’s the new episode of your podcast coming along?”

“Ehh it’s going..I have two different subjects I wanna talk about but I’m having trouble narrowing it down. One is speaking to me more than the other one though.” Terry chewed and swallowed a piece of salmon repositioning himself on the stool.

“I’d go with the one you favor then…it’s likely that one is sticking to you more because you have great insight on it. Which you usually do on all your topics.” He grabbed their plates and dumped the remains into his trash can before loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “What’s the topic you're favoring?”

“It was more so a cocktail of things honestly, and it’ll probably be a really long episode. But it was drug abuse and the selling of drugs within our community.. and the obvious fucked up results of that on our youth and their futures.”

Terry felt his back tense up at her words before he relaxed himself. She had every right to talk about this and yet the topic couldn’t be any closer to home than it was. Here life was yet again trying to wave a red flag in his face, and it would be yet another ignored one.

“That’s a beautiful topic Mari..a really important one, I’ll be looking forward to hearing your points on it.”

Both tuckered out and tired from the day Terry headed towards one bathroom to shower and Marina headed to his other. His hands pressed firmly against the shower wall as the warm water cascaded over his sore muscles, his body called for plentiful hours of deep sleep. He was feeling deprived at this point but Marina brought him relief that sleep would come to him tonight peacefully and without the constant nightmares that haunted him. It was an attack on his mind and body that tossed him back and forth through REM sleep and deep sleep. Those souls he sought out and took came at a price, a mental one. Sometimes he wondered if he could actually ever shake the dead or if they wandered around him restlessly and unseen, waiting on their turn to torment him in the dreamworld.

He heard the tv in his bedroom switch on, an indication that somehow he was taking a longer shower than Marina had and that he was in his head longer than he had thought he was, he switched off the water before stepping out and wrapping his waist with a towel. Sleeping in bed with a woman that he had never had sexual relations with was new and he wouldn’t act as if he never thought about sex with her when she was around, because he did. Marina was fucking sexy. Her mind, her voice, her intelligence,her body..it was all a turn on for him but he was trying to do right by her, and that meant learning how to be intimate in more ways than sex.

Stepping out of his spacious walk-in closet fully clothed for bed he noticed the tv watching Marina as she laid against his pillows, remote still in hand. He accessed his smart home app from his phone and turned off his bedroom lights, weary body eager to sink into the cool mattress. She sought him out not long after he laid down, her bonnet clad head resting on his chest. He pulled her a little closer that night, her slow breathing and steady heartbeat lulling him into a deep slumber. A slumber where he met no angry souls or demons, only a warm light that encased him and drowned out the weariness.

“Only thing that’s saving Terry ohhh is the heart of Marinaaa.” Terry kept his left hand steady on the wheel as Marina held his right hand singing loudly into his ear as she currently butchered Summer Walker's newest single.Why he let her down those three shots of tequila he did not know. Either way it went he loved seeing her let loose, and she wasn’t particularly stuck or or anything he just rarely saw this side of her.

The red satin dress was made for her, and she was practically a magnet for his affection as they both got ready. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Her soft plush thighs were exposed to him and when she dropped his hand he eagerly rubbed and kneaded them.

He couldn’t wait for her to see where they were going. He had called ahead days ago and made preparations at his restaurant; Stone Pier. It was best known for its plentiful surf and turf meal options, fun and fresh atmosphere, and elegant dining. He had planned a three course meal for them tonight over an intimate candlelit dinner.

It took no time to arrive and Marina’s confused expression was comical to him. The empty parking lot had to look absolutely insane from her point of view, but he needed her to trust the process. She sat still as Terry blindfolded her and waited patiently for him to help her out of his car. He opened the passenger side door grasping her head and slowly leading her into the building. He sat her down at the table and removed her blindfold. Pretty eyes adjusting to the low lighting in the establishment.

“Terry woww…this place is soo beautiful. I’ve passed by it so many times and never had the opportunity to check it out.”

“Well I own it so feel free to stop by whenever. I wanted this to be special, so I figured why not bring you someplace that was as special to me as you are.”

“Well you've definitely made a good impression, this place is amazing…is that a Malcom X quote over there on the wall?

“Mhm ‘A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything’ that’s one I keep with me everyday.” He watched her eyes drag all over the place soaking in one corner and the next.

“All the greenery in here..omg all the black history. Terry, this place is a true gem. Thank you for bringing me here Smiley.” They leaned forward and shared a kiss before Terry poured them both a glass of sweet red wine and signaled for his top chef to serve their first course and he and Marina indulged in more conversation.

The second course consisted of herb butter steak and lobster By their third course they were both full of food and wine. They shared a slice of decadent rum cake, savoring each bite of the moist cake. He watched Marina with lazy drunk eyes as she whined her waist slightly in her seat to Marvin Gaye’s ‘I Want You’. Pretty manicured fingers pointing in his direction with every lyric.

“You want me sweetheart.. give me a dance then. Show me.” He watched her confidently strut over to him and hold her hand out.

His long arms wrapped around her waist tightly, pulling her into his chest. His face nuzzled into her neck pecking at it lightly as they swayed under the glass roof, stars twinkling down at them in a dazzled fashion.

“I really like you Terry Richmond, I’ll admit that realistically I’m still a little nervous about this…but I’m learning to live in the moment and trust what I can see.”

“I really like you too Marina Evans. I’m trying my hardest to show up for you in ways that cater to you, my only hope is that in the end you choose me.” He twirled her around and held her back to his front holding her close.

They circled through a few more songs before they were ready to call it a night. He handed her his car keys to get inside while he locked up his restaurant. He shut down the dining lights and music before thanking his chef for being a huge help tonight. His phone vibrated on a repeat in his pocket and pulled it from the picket of his slacks, it was his cousin Semaj. Fuck. Semaj knew not to call him today yet he did, and that only meant one thing. Some bullshit had hit the fan, or it was going to.

[ -What’s the word man..I told you I couldn’t take no calls today about business.

[Scotty’s talking man, going around saying he been seeing you out with some girl..this shit could be a problem T. I told you that nigga was watching…he don’t just pop up.

[- If he been seeing me the whole time and I haven’t been seeing him.. it’s a chance he’s working with somebody… I thought that shit was weird earlier when he popped up but I couldn’t be too sure

[- Exactly, since when you know Scotty to be anywhere around this damn city besides the Southside… yeah something ain’t right T we need to get hands on him asap!

[- Never a day to fucking breathe around here shit.. I want you, Blue, and Prime with y’all motherfucking ears to the wind behind his ass. And don’t stop until yall find him.

[- Aight I’ll keep you posted every hour on the hour he can’t be far.

Terry ended the call and sighed heavily. He was pissed, fucking enraged. Somebody was snooping in his damn business and attempting to keep tabs on him like some coked out socialite. He wanted to regulate his temper before he was back in Marina’s grace but when he turned around he found a man talking closely to Marina through his passenger side window. His face scrunched up with confusion quickly as he made a quick walk over to his car.

“Hey my man… can I help you with something?” He had to look as agitated as he felt and the stupid expression on the man’s face was hard to ignore.

“Bro this car is fucking sick… I was just asking your girlfriend or you know whatever she is, what model this was, this has to be a custom paint job or something.” The man ran an open hand over the hood of Terry’s X6 irritating him even further.

“It’s not custom, it’s factory now get your hands off of my car and learn to admire some shit without touching it!”

“Are you kidding me man it’s just a fucking car, it’s probably rented anyways.” He sent a kick to his rear passenger door before attempting to walk away.

Terry couldn’t restrain himself anymore and he went flying at the disrespectful man. He snatched the man and turned him around to face him. How dare this man think he would walk up to him, disrespect his car and leave here unscathed.Balling the front of his shirt up Terry used it as leverage to send punch after punch to his face, he never even stood a chance against Terry.

“Terry..Terry.. wait please stop! Terry you’re gonna kill him..please.” Her helpless screeches reached his ears in a panic and Terry realized he had forgotten all about their date, his words to her. What did they really mean if he was going to beat somebody to a bloody pulp in front of her. With a menacing mug on his face he shoved the absolute waste of space to the ground and stepped over him like a patch of grass.

“Remember this ass whooping because next time I put my hands on you, they gone be singing and sending you off dressed in all black."

“Get in the car Marina…I’m ready to go.” He watched her eyes flash from the beaten man to him over and over, eyes clearly not believing the scene in front of her.

“Bu-but Terry he could die we have to call an ambulance..you can’t leave him like this please.” He shook his head no and watched a hand cover her mouth in an attempt to choke back tears.

“Get. In. The. Car. Marina..now.” She jumped at his tone before she hurried into the car, makeup smudged from the tears that came in a steady stream.

He whipped out of the parking lot quickly, headlights catching the woozy steps of the beaten man as he stumbled away.

“See he’s all good..Marina sweetheart what’s all these tears for hmm, I’m the one that got disrespected. Was I supposed to let him walk away after that shit?!” His raised voice boomed in the confined space of his vehicle and he watched her put space between them. Her body pressed into the passenger side door as she thumbed tears.

“Oh I see, I’m the bad guy now…he was all in your face by MY window touching on MY car, but you only feel bad for him…got it.” Terry gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped down the freeway. This night had turned for the fucking worse and even still he was trying to mince his words.

“Why are you yelling at me… you just assaulted someone in front of me Terry, and then you threatened to kill him. You keep speaking like I’m blaming you but I asked you to stop…to just please let him go..and yo-you just wouldn’t stop.”

“What I saw back there…that wasn’t the Terry or Smiley I’ve been getting to know…you didn’t even look like yourself back there, your face and eyes were just..I don’t know. I think I’m going to spend the rest of my days off at my own home.. I don’t even get you right now.” She continued on, and he was realizing each passing minute how royally he had fucked up.

“I fucked up Mari..I see that now. I realize that what I did back there scared you and if you think less of me after it that’ll be all on me, but I don't regret it.” Pulling into his drive way he shut off his car and rested his head against the headrest.

“You keep buckling down on what you did, but you said you would kill him. Terry, that's not something I can just ignore because he kicked your car, that’s not normal to blurt out after an altercation so small. You really hurt my feelings, and I have to think about me first.”

“Am I going to hear from you again..see you…touch you?” When he reached out to touch her she pulled away, her dark eyes turning to stare at him, analyzing what actually was in front of her. She shook her head and sighed to herself before opening the door, but Terry got up to help her out instead. She hesitated to give him her hand, but eventually she let him help her out.

He pulled her into a tight hug, fingers inching up slightly into her hair to tug lightly at it. The hairspray she used tickled his nose as he inhaled the scent of it. Her hands stayed at her sides and she made no attempt at returning the affection.

“I’m not sure Terry, I need time to think and process tonight. It was all going so well before that and I wanted to trust what you told me, but I need time.”

“A kiss goodbye then?” She looked up at him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before attempting to walk away. Terry pulled her back and held her face in his hands, full lips sucking her bottom lip into his mouth as his teeth slowly nipped at it. He wanted to savor what was left of this night because she still looked oh so good, and he still wanted her. He got as far as suckling against her jaw before she put a hand to his chest severing the connection.

“Goodnight Terry” she walked away without a backwards glance and he watched her leave from his driveway until he couldn’t see her car anymore.

He had plans on winning her back, and hopefully gaining what little trust back she had in him from the get go. Terry was a resourceful man with every resource possible at his fingertips, this situation was a bump in the road. Some shit she wouldn’t even remember eventually. So he’d let her run away for the night, get her pretty little head together for a few days. Then he was gonna win her back, one day at a time.

A/N: I said 10pm yesterday and it’s going on 8am😭I hope yall enjoy this nonetheless!

@blackmoonchilee @zillasvilla @simplyzeeka @megamindsecretlair @uniqueoutlierblog @blackerthings @keehendrixx @ranikyani @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @tvchi @23jammy @henneseyhoe @theereina @ovohanna24 @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @keyaho @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

# Aaron pierre #rebel ridge #terry richmond #black!oc #terry richmond black oc

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mywhisperingwords · 24 days ago

Text

am i what you wanted? | fred g. weasley

summary: casual. no strings. just something to forget the loneliness. right? word count: 7.6k masterlist

The air at the party feels heavier than usual, like everyone is trying too hard to pretend they’re having a good time.

You’ve spent most of the night nursing a drink you don’t particularly like, offering polite smiles to people you barely know. It’s not your scene, but you came anyway because that’s what friends do—they drag you out, convince you it’ll be “fun,” and leave you regretting it by the second hour.

You’re just about ready to slip away when you spot him—Fred Weasley.

He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, casual and effortless as always, but there’s something different tonight. The usual spark in his eyes is dimmer, his smile not quite as wide. He’s talking to someone, but his gaze keeps drifting, like he’s only half paying attention.

You consider leaving without a word. After all, you’ve spent years perfecting the art of avoiding him. Not because you dislike him—quite the opposite.

Your stupid schoolgirl crush on him hasn’t quite fizzled out, no matter how much time has passed.

And of course, there was the matter of his latest relationship, a whirlwind romance with someone you considered a friend, Leah.

It would be wrong to approach him now, wouldn’t it?

But then Fred’s eyes land on you, and there’s no escaping. He gives you a faint smile, a shadow of his usual grin, and lifts his drink in a lazy sort of greeting. It’s an invitation, subtle but unmistakable. Against your better judgment, you cross the room.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, his voice low enough to cut through the background noise without effort.

You shrug, trying to seem unaffected. “Alicia dragged me out. Said I needed to get a life or something.”

Fred huffs a quiet laugh, looking down into his glass. “Sounds like something she’d say. George said the same to me, actually. Guess misery loves company.”

The comment surprises you. Fred doesn’t usually talk like that—so openly, so vulnerable. It’s enough to make you pause, to glance at him more carefully. “You don’t seem miserable,” you say, testing the waters.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink and stares past you, like he’s trying to find the right words. “You’d be surprised,” he finally says, his tone softer now.

It’s an opening, one you hadn’t expected but can’t ignore. “What happened?”

Fred glances around, his expression unreadable, before gesturing toward the balcony. “Do you mind? It’s a bit loud in here.”

You follow him outside, where the night air is cool and quiet compared to the chaos inside. He leans against the railing, staring out at the city lights, and you stand beside him, unsure of what to say.

“She left,” he says abruptly, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about her—his ex.

“Oh.” It’s all you can manage.

Fred smiles faintly, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah. Not the dramatic kind of leaving either. No big fight, no slamming doors. Just… stopped caring, I guess. Said it wasn’t enough for her.”

The confession stirs something in you, a mix of sympathy and something sharper, harder to define.

You’ve never known Fred to be anything but confident, self-assured. Seeing him like this—guarded, almost uncertain—it’s disarming.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, and you mean it.

He glances at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How loneliness sneaks up on you. One day you think you’re fine, and the next, it’s like you can’t breathe.”

You nod, because you understand more than you’d like to admit. “Yeah. It’s awful.”

Fred studies you for a moment longer before offering a faint, almost wistful smile. “You get it.”

The words settle between you, warm and unspoken, and before you can overthink it, you say, “Maybe we’re just terrible at choosing the right people.”

Fred laughs then, a soft, genuine sound that eases some of the tension in your chest. “Maybe we are.”

It feels like an unspoken agreement, a quiet acknowledgment of shared pain. And when he leans just a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, you don’t pull away.

The door slams shut behind you both, barely closed before Fred’s hands are on your waist, pulling you closer. His mouth is on yours again, urgent and consuming, and the world outside this moment ceases to exist.

You’re not sure how it started—or maybe you do—but you’re too caught up in the feel of him, in the way he kisses like he’s unraveling a part of himself he’s never shown anyone.

Your back hits the edge of the couch, but Fred doesn’t stop. He moves with you, stumbling through the dark like neither of you can think beyond each other.

You barely make it to the bedroom. A trail of discarded shoes and jackets marks the path, forgotten in the haze.

He pauses only briefly, just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. “This…” he begins, his voice rough, barely a whisper. “This is what I needed. Something… easy. No expectations.”

The words are quiet but land with a weight that sticks somewhere in your chest. You know what he means—casual, uncomplicated, something to dull the ache of loneliness he spoke of earlier.

Your heart lurches, but your mind, clouded with want and the intoxicating proximity of him, nods before you can think it through. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

The lie tastes bitter even as the kiss resumes, as his lips trail down your neck, as his hands find your skin. You tell yourself you’re fine with this. It’s Fred, and it’s what he wants. Isn’t it better to have this than nothing at all?

When morning comes, he’s gone.

You’re not surprised—he doesn��t strike you as the type to linger—but the silence in the room feels deafening. The sheets are cold where he was, and you stare at the ceiling, replaying his words in your head.

Something easy. No expectations.

Your agreement, muffled and uncertain, rings louder now. You agreed. This is what you signed up for. So why does your chest ache? Why does it feel like you’ve made a mistake you can’t undo?

You sit up, the mess of the night scattered around you—a shirt draped over the chair, an overturned glass on the table. It’s all so mundane, yet it feels like the air has shifted in your room, like the walls are pressing in.

You bury your face in your hands, letting out a slow, measured breath. Maybe this wasn’t the right decision. But you can’t change it now. Fred was what you wanted for so long, wasn’t he? Maybe this is all you get.

Maybe this is all you’re allowed to have.

You hope you can convince yourself of that.

The pub is buzzing, laughter and conversation spilling out from every corner as you sit wedged between Alicia and George.

Fred is across from you, casually leaning back in his chair, a pint of beer balanced between his long fingers. His laughter blends with the noise around you, effortlessly charming, as always.

It’s easy to forget, in moments like this, that this is supposed to be casual. Easy.

You catch yourself watching him longer than you should, noting the way his hair falls into his eyes when he laughs, the way his smile lingers just enough to make your stomach twist.

You remind yourself to look away.

The conversation circles back to someone’s recent breakup, a natural segue into a casual remark about Fred’s ex.

It’s Angelina, sitting two seats down, who says it without malice—just an innocent mention of the girl who was once by his side.

“You were so into her, Fred. Thought you two were endgame, honestly,” she says with a smile, tipping her glass toward him.

Fred’s expression flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough to change the energy at the table. The easy grin falters, his fingers tightening around the glass. “Yeah, well,” he says, voice light but guarded, “things don’t always work out the way you think they will.”

The group catches on quickly, steering the conversation elsewhere, but you can’t take your eyes off him. There’s something in the way his shoulders tense, in the way he avoids eye contact, that makes your chest tighten.

The rest of the evening is a blur of noise and small talk. You find yourself gravitating toward the bar, needing space, needing air. But you don’t get far.

Fred appears beside you, leaning on the counter with a quiet sigh. His eyes are darker now, shadows of something unspoken behind them. He doesn’t say anything, just glances at you, and suddenly the air feels heavier.

“Come with me,” he mutters all of the sudden, so low you almost don’t hear it.

You hesitate, your heart skipping, but you follow.

He leads you down a narrow hallway, past the kitchen, until you’re standing outside the bathroom door. He checks once over his shoulder before pulling you in, locking the door behind him.

“Fred, what are you—”

He cuts you off, his mouth crashing into yours with a force that takes your breath away.

It’s messy, hurried, like he’s trying to drown something out. His hands find your waist, pressing you against the cold tile wall, and you can feel the tension in his grip, the desperation in the way he kisses you.

It’s different this time—more frantic, less controlled. There’s no room to think, no space for words, just the heat of him against you and the quiet hum of the pub muffled beyond the door.

When it’s over, you’re both catching your breath, the silence settling around you like a weight. Fred’s forehead rests against yours, and for a moment, it feels like he might say something—something real, something vulnerable.

But then he steps back, adjusting his shirt, his eyes not quite meeting yours. “Thanks,” he mutters, almost too softly, and the word hits you like a slap.

You blink, trying to find something to say, but he’s already unlocking the door, slipping out like nothing happened.

You’re left standing there, the cold tiles against your back, your pulse still racing. You stare at the empty space where he was, your mind replaying the moment in vivid detail.

Something about this feels wrong. But then again, wasn’t this what you agreed to?

It’s late. Later than late, really, with the kind of stillness in the air that only comes when the rest of the world is sleeping.

But you’re wide awake, perched on the edge of your couch with a half-empty glass of wine in your hand, listening to the faint hum of the city outside.

You don’t know why you’re waiting.

Or maybe you do, but admitting it feels like giving it more weight than it deserves.

It’s been a few days since you saw Fred—since he showed up at your door for the first time, with that crooked smile and a cocky, unspoken challenge in his eyes.

You hadn’t known what to expect then, and you still don’t know now. But when you hear the knock at your door, your chest tightens in anticipation anyway.

You set the glass down and cross the room, opening the door to find him leaning against the frame, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

“Bit late for a social call, don’t you think?” you tease, though your voice wavers just slightly.

Fred grins, that easy, practiced grin that always feels like it’s hiding something. “Thought you might say that. But then, you’re still awake, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and step aside, letting him in. He walks past you, his steps slow and deliberate, like he’s taking his time to assess the space.

It’s not the first time he’s been here, but he looks around like it is, his gaze lingering on the small details you’d never think to notice.

“You always keep it this tidy?” he asks, turning to face you with a smirk.

“I knew you were coming, didn’t I?” you shoot back, closing the door behind him.

Fred laughs, the sound low and warm, and suddenly the room feels smaller.

It’s always like this with him—this electric push and pull that leaves you feeling off-balance and exhilarated all at once.

He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the back of a chair, and then he’s sitting on your couch like he’s been doing it for years.

You join him, keeping a safe distance between you, but it doesn’t matter. The tension fills the space anyway, a quiet, unspoken thing neither of you is willing to address.

“So,” Fred says, his eyes flicking to the wine glass you left on the table. “Drinking alone, are we? Rough night?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Not rough. Just… quiet.”

Fred hums, leaning back and stretching an arm along the back of the couch. His fingers are close enough to brush your shoulder, but they don’t.

“Well,” he says after a beat, “I’m good at making noise. Want me to liven things up?”

You turn to look at him, arching a brow at his choice of words. “That depends. What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins again, wider this time, and before you know it, you’re caught up in one of his ridiculous stories—something about a prank that went wrong back at Hogwarts and ended with George covered in soot and screaming about cursed cauldrons.

You’re laughing so hard your sides hurt, the kind of laugh that feels like it’s shaking loose all the tension you’ve been carrying for days. Fred is laughing too, his head thrown back, his shoulders shaking.

And for a moment, it’s easy to forget the doubts gnawing at the edges of your mind.

But then the story ends, and the laughter fades, and the room feels too quiet again.

Fred’s laughter dies in his throat first. He turns his head toward you, the space between you charged, his expression softening as his eyes flicker to your lips.

“You’re staring,” you whisper, trying to keep your tone light, but your pulse betrays you.

“Am I?” he murmurs back, his voice low and teasing, but there’s something in his gaze that makes it hard to breathe.

You don’t know who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly, the space between you disappears. His mouth meets yours in a rush of heat and hunger, and your body reacts without thought, your hands tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer.

He tastes like mint and something else, something unmistakably Fred, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It starts like it always does—feverish and desperate, hands searching, breaths stolen. Fred’s hands find the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, and your back hits the cushions of the couch before you even realize you’ve moved.

But somewhere in the middle of it—between the hurried kisses and the whispered curses—something shifts.

His touch slows, his fingers trailing along your skin with an almost reverent softness. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like there’s more to this than just a casual arrangement.

Your chest tightens, and you open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat.

Fred pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out if you feel it too.

But then the moment passes, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head like he’s dismissing some unwelcome thought. He presses a lingering kiss to your collarbone before shifting his weight and standing, grabbing his jacket from the chair.

“Leaving already?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred hesitates, his back to you. “Yeah,” he says, his tone lighter than the moment calls for. “Gotta keep you wanting more, don’t I?”

The grin he throws over his shoulder is forced, you think, but you don’t call him on it.

You watch him leave, the door clicking shut behind him, and you’re left alone again, your chest tight and your mind racing.

This is what you signed up for, you remind yourself. Casual. Fun. No strings attached.

So why does it already feel like so much more?

The party isn’t much different from the last one. A haze of laughter and music hangs in the air, the dimly lit living room thrumming with energy as bodies mill about. You’re leaning against a wall, clutching a drink, when you spot him across the room.

Fred.

Your breath catches—not because you didn’t expect him to be here, but because it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this since everything began.

In the few weeks since that night, he’s always shown up at your door under cover of darkness, a secret that slips away before the world wakes. Now, he’s here, among friends, out in the open. It feels… surreal.

His eyes catch yours, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he looks away. You should probably do the same, pretend he’s just another person at the party, someone you barely know outside of shared jokes and casual conversations.

But something about seeing him here, the same Fred everyone else knows, tangles in your chest.

The game between you feels different now. Riskier.

You manage to avoid each other for most of the night, though you’re painfully aware of him. The way his laugh carries over the music. The effortless charm in the way he leans against the kitchen counter, surrounded by people.

But it’s when you least expect it that it happens.

You’ve slipped into the quiet hallway, hoping for a moment to breathe. He appears from nowhere, leaning casually against the wall a few feet away. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, low enough that no one else could hear.

You swallow, refusing to meet his gaze. “You’ve been avoiding me too.”

A ghost of a smirk crosses his face. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, filled only by the distant hum of the party, the bass thudding like a heartbeat. Then he shifts closer—too close, considering the thin walls and prying eyes just a room away.

“This is risky,” you murmur, though you don’t move away.

“Since when do you mind risky?” he counters, his voice teasing but quiet. There’s a flicker of warmth in his tone, a reminder of those moments when he’s let his guard down just enough to let you in.

You should push him away, but you don’t.

Instead, you glance up, and for the briefest second, he looks at you like he’s about to say something important. Something real. But he doesn’t. He’s Fred, after all.

Instead, his hand brushes yours, a fleeting touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You hesitate, your chest tightening. “Then why are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers graze your wrist, light and hesitant, before he steps back, creating a distance that feels far too wide.

“I shouldn’t be,” he says again, as though repeating it will make it true. Then, softer, “But I am.”

The air between you feels heavier than it should. He’s pulling away again, retreating into the shell of secrecy he’s so carefully built. It frustrates you more than it should.

“You don’t have to make this so complicated,” you say, surprising even yourself.

Fred’s jaw tightens. He glances at the door leading back to the party, his gaze distant, before his eyes flicker back to you. “You think it’s that easy?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know how to.

Instead, he leans in, his voice a whisper. “Careful. Someone might see us.” His words are teasing, but there’s an edge of something sharper beneath them.

And then he’s gone, disappearing back into the crowd as though nothing happened.

You’re left standing there, your heart racing and your thoughts tangled in ways you can’t quite unravel.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You don’t see him again, but his presence lingers like a shadow, like a secret you can’t escape.

And when you finally leave the party, stepping out into the cool night air, you can’t help but wonder if this game you’re playing is one you’ll ever win—or if it’s one you’ll lose before it even truly begins.

It’s been days since the party.

Days of wondering if Fred will show up again, if you’ll hear that familiar knock on your door in the dead of night. He doesn’t call, doesn’t send any owl—not that you expected him to. But his absence still gnaws at you.

When the knock finally comes, it’s past midnight. You hesitate for a moment, standing barefoot in the hallway, staring at the door like it might vanish if you blink. Then, as if on instinct, you reach for the handle.

Fred is there, leaning against the frame, his hair tousled, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything, just steps inside, his hands finding your waist almost immediately.

It’s fast, like always. A trail of kisses down your neck, murmured words you can barely catch, and then you’re stumbling toward the bedroom. It’s almost routine now—the way he knows exactly how to pull you apart, the way he leaves before the sun comes up.

It’s the same pattern, the same urgency, like he’s trying to chase away whatever’s haunting him.

Only this time, he leaves without saying much of anything. A quick glance back, a muttered “I’ll see you,” and then the door clicks shut behind him.

The quiet that follows feels heavier than it should. You sit on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at the empty doorway, wondering why the familiar ache feels sharper tonight.

Alicia’s offer couldn’t come at a better time. “You need a reset,” she says, twirling her straw in her iced tea. “Seriously, this guy is perfect. Smart, funny, normal. Give it a shot.”

It’s not like you have anything better to do, so you agree.

The date is fine. Fine. Paul is nice—charming, even—but there’s no spark. By the end of the night, you’re both laughing about how you’d make better friends than anything else.

It’s late when you finally get home, the streets quiet and dimly lit. You’re fishing for your keys when you notice the shadow near your door.

Fred.

He’s leaning against the frame, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He looks up as you approach, his gaze flickering to the key in your hand before settling on your face.

“You’re out late,” he says, his voice casual.

“I had plans,” you reply, matching his tone as you unlock the door. You don’t elaborate, and neither does he.

Inside, the tension follows you, crackling in the air as you set your bag down and turn to face him. He’s watching you, his expression neutral but his shoulders taut, like he’s holding something back.

“How were the plans?” he asks, his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it you can’t quite place.

“They were fine,” you say. “We’re better off as friends.”

He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line, and for a moment, you think that’s the end of it. But then he’s stepping closer, his hands finding your waist like they always do.

This time, it’s different. His kisses are rougher, his grip firmer, but there’s something else underneath it—a quiet desperation, like he’s trying to claim something without admitting it. His hands linger longer, his lips move slower, and you let yourself lean into it, pretending not to notice the shift.

Afterward, he’s quiet again, lying beside you in the dark. The air feels heavier, and you can sense the walls going back up before he even moves to get dressed.

As he pulls on his shirt, he pauses, standing by the door with his back to you. For a moment, it seems like he’s about to say something, but instead, he runs a hand through his hair and exhales softly.

Then, just before he leaves, he glances back over his shoulder, his gaze flickering to yours. “Let me know when you’re too busy.”

It’s barely a whisper, so quiet you almost miss it. But there’s something in the way he says it, something unsaid lurking beneath the words, that lingers long after he’s gone.

You sit there in the dark, replaying the moment over and over, wondering why it feels like he just said goodbye.

Angelina’s birthday party is already in full swing by the time you stumble through the door, only half-committed to being there. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—it’s all too loud, too bright, too much.

But you came anyway, maybe out of habit, or maybe because part of you hoped you’d find a distraction in the chaos.

Fred is here. You noticed him immediately. He’s impossible not to notice, leaning against the bar, his easy smile tugging at something in your chest you’ve been trying to ignore. He hasn’t come near you, hasn’t even spared you more than a glance. But that glance—it felt like it saw too much.

You bury your feelings in your drink, letting the bitterness of it settle the knots in your stomach. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, what’s with the face?” Alicia’s voice cuts through the noise as she drops onto the couch beside you. “You look like someone just ran over your cat.”

“I’m fine,” you lie, swirling the last of your drink. “Just…thinking.”

“About your nonexistent love life again?” she teases, nudging your shoulder. “Seriously, you need to loosen up. Or at least stop picking all the wrong people.”

You force a laugh, but it feels hollow. Alicia doesn’t know. No one does. You’ve kept Fred a secret, just as he asked. The weight of it presses heavier tonight, threatening to spill over as you down the rest of your drink and reach for another.

As the night goes on, the alcohol blurs the edges of everything. Faces blend together, voices turn to static, and you’re left moping in the corner, the ache in your chest louder than any song playing.

Fred’s there, somewhere. You’ve caught glimpses of him—his easy posture stiffened, his smile more strained than usual. But he doesn’t approach, and you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking too long.

By the end of the night, most people have left, and the crowd has thinned out. You’re sitting on the couch, staring at the bottom of your empty glass, when a shadow falls over you.

“Let’s get you home,” Fred says, his voice low but firm.

You look up at him, the alcohol dulling your usual instincts. “I don’t need your help.”

“Yes, you do.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but there’s something gentler in his gaze, something that makes your chest tighten.

You don’t resist when he helps you up, his arm steady around your waist as he guides you out the door. The walk home is quiet, the chill of the night air biting at your skin. Fred doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence feels heavier than usual.

When you finally reach your flat, he helps you inside, sitting you down on the couch as he disappears into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water, kneeling in front of you.

“Drink,” he says simply.

You take the glass, your hands shaking slightly as you bring it to your lips.

“Fred,” you start after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay.”

He looks at you, startled by the request. “I—”

“Please.” The word spills out before you can stop it, raw and pleading. “Just for the night. I don’t want to be alone.”

He hesitates, his expression flickering between something unreadable and something achingly vulnerable. Then, finally, he nods. “Alright.”

Relief washes over you as he helps you to your feet again, guiding you to your bedroom. He’s careful as he tucks you into bed, his hand lingering briefly on your shoulder before he steps back.

“You’ll stay?” you ask again, your voice softer now.

“I’ll stay,” he promises, his voice low and steady.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

When you wake up, the room is quiet, the sunlight streaming through the curtains. For a moment, you lie there, disoriented, the haze of last night still clinging to your thoughts.

Then you notice it—the bed is empty.

Your stomach drops, a hollow ache blooming in your chest as you sit up. The other side of the bed is cool to the touch, and for a moment, you wonder if he left as soon as you fell asleep. The ache sharpens, and you feel foolish for believing he’d actually stay.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you bury your face in your hands. Of course, he left. Of course, this is what it always is with him—half-hearted promises and fleeting moments that never mean as much as you want them to.

It’s only when you lower your hands that you notice it.

A glass of water and a small packet of painkillers sit neatly on the nightstand.

Your breath catches as you reach for the glass, the pieces falling together in your mind. The bed might be cool now, but the faint warmth lingering on the pillow tells a different story.

And then you hear it—the faint click of your front door closing.

Your chest tightens, your heart pounding as you realize the truth: Fred stayed. He kept his promise.

The ache in your chest softens, replaced by something you can’t quite name. It’s not relief, not entirely. It’s something more fragile, more complicated.

He stayed.

And for now, that’s enough.

The pub feels suffocating tonight, the air heavy with laughter and music that’s a touch too loud. You’re sitting at the edge of the booth again, nursing the remnants of your drink while the conversation at the table flows around you. Fred is there too, only a few feet away but worlds apart, as always.

At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.

But tonight, something is different. You’ve caught him looking at you more than once, a flicker of warmth in his gaze that lingers just a moment too long before he turns away.

And then there are the little things—how he slid the drinks menu your way when you couldn’t reach, the casual way his hand brushed yours when passing the salt, and the faint smirk on his lips when you dropped your napkin, like he found your clumsiness amusing.

It’s maddening. These small, almost imperceptible gestures that would mean nothing if it were anyone else, but with Fred, they feel like everything.

You glance his way now, trying not to linger. He’s leaned back in his chair, his long fingers drumming lazily against the table, his attention seemingly on George, who’s telling some animated story about a prank gone wrong. But then, as if he feels your eyes on him, Fred looks up.

The corners of his mouth twitch, and there it is again—that fleeting, private smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.

It’s a cruel kind of softness. The kind that makes you want more.

“Leaving soon?” His voice pulls you back, low enough that it barely cuts through the noise, and you realize he’s speaking to you.

Your heart skips. You shrug, trying to feign indifference. “Maybe. You?”

His smirk deepens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Not yet.”

The words hang between you, unspoken but understood. The plan forms, unspoken as always. You’ll leave first, and he’ll follow.

When the clock creeps toward midnight, you push yourself up, offering the table a vague excuse about an early morning. Fred doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension, the way his fingers still against the table as you grab your things and step into the cool night air.

The sharp contrast of the quiet street is a relief at first, but it doesn’t last. Your thoughts churn, the familiar mix of guilt and longing rising to the surface. You shake your head, trying to focus on the walk home when you see her.

Leah.

She’s leaning against the wall just outside the pub, her arms crossed, the faint glow of a cigarette in her hand. She looks up when she hears you, her face illuminated by the streetlamp above.

“Hey,” she says, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.

You freeze, your chest tightening. “Hey.”

Her lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile, and she takes a slow drag of her cigarette before exhaling, the smoke curling into the air between you.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head slightly.

She must’ve watched you—you hadn’t even noticed her in the pub. Had Fred?

You force a shrug, your voice tight. “Long day.”

She hums, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Fred seemed to have been distracted too. Must’ve been one of those days for everyone, huh?”

The mention of his name sends a jolt through you, but you keep your expression as neutral as you can manage. “Yeah, maybe.”

Leah watches you for a moment longer, her gaze unsettlingly calm. She takes another drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under her heel. “You two seemed friendly tonight.”

Your stomach twists, but you don’t falter. “We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Her lips press together, her expression unreadable. “Sure.”

The pub door swings open, the sound spilling into the street, and your heart sinks as Fred steps out. His hair is a little messy, his face flushed from the warmth of the pub. He glances around, his eyes landing on you almost immediately.

“There you are,” he says, his tone light as he steps closer. “What’s taking so long? I thought you’d—”

His words die as his gaze shifts, landing on Leah.

His smile falters, and for a moment, the easy confidence he always carries slips. “Leah.”

“Fred,” she says smoothly, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp as they flick between the two of you.

He straightens, shoving his hands into his pockets as the tension thickens.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice tighter now.

You feel like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You glance between them, your chest tightening. You can’t do this. The weight of the secrecy, the guilt, the unspoken accusations—it’s too much.

“I was just leaving,” you say quickly, your voice steadier than you feel.

Fred’s gaze snaps to you, his brow furrowing. “Wait—”

“I’ll see you later,” you cut him off, stepping away before either of them can stop you.

You won’t see him later, you’re sure of it.

The last thing you hear as you walk away is Fred’s voice, quieter now but still tinged with something you can’t quite place.

“Leah, we should talk.”

You don’t look back. You can’t.

You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The faint hum of the city outside is no comfort tonight. It’s too quiet, too still, and your mind refuses to stop racing.

You picture them together—Fred and Leah. You imagine their conversation, her calm but sharp gaze and his uneasy expression. Maybe they’re sitting close, voices low and familiar, smoothing over the jagged edges of their breakup. Maybe they’ll work things out. Maybe they’re already back together.

The thought is a knife to the chest, twisting deeper with every passing second. You roll onto your side, pulling the blankets tighter around you, but it doesn’t help. The ache is relentless, carving itself into every corner of your heart.

Hours pass. The clock on your nightstand glows faintly, marking the time you’ve spent wide awake. 2:47 a.m. Your body is heavy with exhaustion, but your mind won’t let you rest.

You try to reason with yourself. Fred never promised you anything. This was always supposed to be casual, meaningless—a fleeting distraction for both of you. You knew that. You agreed to it.

And yet.

A sharp knock cuts through the silence, jolting you upright. For a moment, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

Another knock.

You stumble out of bed, heart pounding, and shuffle to the door. When you open it, Fred is standing there, his hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled like he’d left in a hurry. The faint light of the hallway casts shadows across his face, but his eyes are clear, intense.

You can’t speak. You just step aside, and he walks in without a word.

The door closes behind him, the lock clicking softly into place. He turns to you, his gaze searching, but whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t say. He just steps closer, his hands brushing against your arms before they settle on your waist, pulling you toward him.

There are no questions, no explanations. Just his mouth on yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the way you feel.

It’s different this time.

The usual rush of urgency is gone, replaced by something quieter, softer. He touches you like you’re fragile, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not careful. His hands linger, tracing patterns on your skin, and his lips trail down your neck with an almost reverent slowness.

When he lifts you, carrying you to the bed, it’s not hurried or thoughtless. He lays you down gently, his weight pressing into you as his lips find yours again.

It’s almost too much. The tenderness, the quiet intensity—it’s overwhelming in a way that makes your chest ache.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is goodbye. If this is Fred’s way of ending things, giving you something to remember before he walks away for good.

The thought makes your throat tighten, but you don’t stop him. You can’t.

When it’s over, you lie there in the dark, the sheets tangled around you, his arm draped loosely over your waist. His breathing is steady, his body warm against yours, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is enough. That this could be enough.

But then he stirs, pulling away.

You turn to watch him as he sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t look at you as he stands, gathering his clothes and pulling them on with quiet efficiency.

Your chest tightens, but you don’t say anything. You just watch as he moves to the door.

He hesitates, his hand on the knob, and for a moment, you think he might say something. But he doesn’t. He just turns back to you, his expression unreadable, and steps closer.

He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s the kind of tenderness he’s never shown before, the kind that makes your heart break even as it swells.

When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours for a brief moment. There’s something there, something unspoken, but before you can grasp it, he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re alone again.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest heavier than ever.

This is goodbye, you think.

You close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come.

The weeks without Fred are a blur of emotions, each one more exhausting than the last. Some days, you manage to feel like yourself again, like the world might not actually end without him. Other days, the grief hits you like a wave, dragging you under with the weight of all the unsaid words and the things you wished could’ve been.

Your friends help, of course. Alicia keeps you busy with plans you don’t want to make, and Angelina sends you pep talks at odd hours of the night. But there’s a hollow ache they can’t touch, a space inside you carved out by Fred and left empty when he walked away.

You try to fill it with distractions—new books, long walks, even the occasional half-hearted date—but nothing works. Because no matter what you’re doing, your thoughts always circle back to him. To the warmth of his hands, the sound of his laugh, the way he looked at you that night before he left.

The worst part is the silence.

For weeks, there’s no word from Fred. No knocks at your door, no teasing notes slipped under the frame. He’s just… gone. And while you tell yourself that’s what you wanted—that it’s for the best—you can’t stop wondering where he is. What he’s doing. If he’s with her.

And then, one day, the silence breaks.

It’s mid-afternoon, and you’re home, though you have no memory of how you spent the morning. The hours have blurred together in a haze of restless pacing and half-formed thoughts, none of which have brought you any peace.

When the knock comes, you almost don’t hear it. It’s soft, tentative, like the person on the other side isn’t sure they’re welcome.

Your heart stutters.

You tell yourself it’s probably Alicia or Angelina, or maybe even Leah. But when you open the door, it’s Fred.

He looks different in the daylight. There’s no mischievous grin, no late-night bravado. Just him, standing on your doorstep, his shoulders tense and his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Hi,” he says, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

You stare at him, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or slam the door in his face. “What are you doing here?”

Fred shifts, glancing past you into the flat before meeting your gaze again. “Can I come in?”

You want to say no. You want to tell him to leave, to take all the chaos and heartbreak he’s brought into your life and walk away for good. But instead, you step aside, letting him in.

Fred moves to the middle of the room and stops, his eyes scanning the space like he’s trying to memorize it. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t relax, just stands there, his weight shifting from foot to foot.

“I didn’t know if you’d let me in,” he admits after a moment.

“Why are you here, Fred?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or fear. “I needed to see you. To explain.”

“Explain what? That you left? That you couldn’t give me what I wanted? What I needed?” Your voice wavers, betraying the anger you’ve been holding onto for weeks.

Fred flinches but doesn’t look away. “Yes. All of it.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I was a mess when we started this,” he says finally, his voice low and steady. “Leah and I were over, but I wasn’t okay. I told myself I didn’t want anything serious, that I couldn’t handle it. And then you…”

You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue.

“You made me feel like I could handle it,” Fred says, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And that scared me. It made me feel wrong, like I was moving on too fast. Like I didn’t deserve it.”

You blink, his words sinking in.

“I pushed you away because I was scared,” he admits, meeting your eyes again. “But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And now? Are you still scared?”

“Yes,” Fred says without hesitation. “But I’m more scared of not being with you. Of letting you slip away because I was too much of a coward to fight for this.”

Your breath catches, your chest tightening with a mix of hope and fear. “And what happens when it gets hard again? When you start to feel like it’s too much?”

Fred takes a step closer, his expression earnest. “Then I’ll tell you. And we’ll figure it out together. Because I’m done running, and I’m done pretending this doesn’t mean something.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too much. You look away, your hands trembling as you try to keep your emotions in check.

“What are you asking for, Fred?” you whisper.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. Then he reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. “I’m asking for a chance. To do this right. To give you what you’ve always deserved.”

You close your eyes, his words washing over you like a wave.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely audible. “But we take it slow. No more secrets, no more running. We do this the right way.”

Fred nods, a small, relieved smile breaking through his tension. “Slow. Got it.”

He steps back then, extending a hand like he’s meeting you for the first time. “Hi. I’m Fred. Nice to meet you.”

You laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Nice to meet you, Fred.”

For a moment, you let yourself smile, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. Then you glance at his outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow. “Though I have to say, you look a lot like this guy I used to know. Total pain in the arse, but surprisingly charming when he wanted to be.”

Fred grins, his eyes lighting up in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat. “Well, I’m hoping I’m nothing like him. He sounds awful.”

“He was,” you say, shaking his hand firmly. “But I think you might be an improvement.”

Fred laughs, the sound warm and unrestrained, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe again.

#harry potter #fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #weasley twins #fred weasley #imagine #romance #weasley #fred fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fic

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helen-with-an-a · 2 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet - Beautiful Girl series

Hi hi hi - here is the NSWF version of the alphabet headcanons. These were really fun to write and I used the template used by @barcaatthemoon if you wanna go see what she’s done too

Beautiful Girl masterlist

Aftercare

As established, Amor is on top most if not all of the time so her Aftercare for Ale usually involves helping her to the bathroom, showering and stuff before getting back into bed and helping Ale come back from subspace. If she can, she’ll try to change the sheets (at least the actual bed sheet if not the duvet and pillows too) but that’s dependent on Ale’s state of mind. Doing all of this for Ale is also a form of aftercare for her as well. It helps Amor to come down from her high as well. Ale usually checks in with Amor too - if she can’t do the physical aftercare, she’ll definitely do the emotional side

Body parts

Ale’s favourite part of herself is her muscles - she knows it sounds a little vain but she’s an athlete, she worked hard for those muscles and they help her do what she loves. Ale’s favourite body part of Amor is her arms/hands. Amor’s arms is Ale’s safe space. Everything is ok if Amor has an arm/hand on/around Ale. And Amor��s hands are magical in other ways as well 😏😏

Amor’s favourite body part of her own is her eyes. She thinks she has very pretty eyes and she has quite long eyelashes so she just thinks they’re really nice. Amor’s favourite body part of Ale’s has got to be Ale’s arse. Amor is a arse-girl through and through. She has to be touching/squeezing/admiring Ale’s arse at all times. During a hug, she definitely has her hands on Ale’s arse and she’s not opposed to “gentle and loving taps” (as Amor describes them) or “spanking” to the rest of the world

Cum

Ale is a firm believer that if it was possible, she would be pregnant by now. She doesn’t have a breeding kink as such but she definitely loves cumming on Amor’s cock. Ale’s favourite way to cum is with Amor, but that usually doesn’t happen very often - maybe that’s why she likes it so much, it’s kept as a rare occasion. Amor aims to make Ale cum at least twice, but she’s always very mindful of Ale’s state of mind and what she needs (and that isn’t always cumming as many times as she wants to)

Dirty Secret

Amor really wants to have sex on the football pitch - specifically at Camp Nou. And not just in the changing rooms. She wants to have sex in the centre circle. But she knows that’s never ever going to happen, practically and because Ale would never agree. So she’ll take that specific fantasy to the grave. Ale doesn’t really have dirty secrets just because she’s more than happy to tell them to Amor. And Amor will try almost anything to make sure it happens. But Ale loves when Amor wears one of Ale’s jerseys. One a few times Ale fucked Amor from behind, Amor wore one of Ale’s jersey and Ale just went insane

Experience

This is Amor’s first wlw relationship. She’s had 1 relationship with a man and it was nice enough - he was a good person and treated her well but the pressures of football and his job became too much and they went their separate ways. Amor has had casual stuff and one night stands with men and women before (and maybe a drunken night with Ingrid but neither of them can quite remember it so they’re pretending it never happened - they went out one night and woke up the next morning with just underwear and baggy t shirts on but absolutely no memory of what happened in between leaving the bar and the following morning). Ale has more experience with the relationship side, she was with Jenni for a few years but that just fizzled out and was definitely over well before Amor turned up. They’re both just working things out as they go and it’s working so far. The sex was definitely a learning curve, like it is with any new partner, but both of them were more than happy to try things and discover each other’s (and their own) likes and dislikes

Favourite Position

Ale loves to be fucked - as long as is can see Amor, she doesn’t care. The usual positions are missionary or cowgirl but any variation of Ale being able to see Amor is a yes. Amor loves eating Ale out. She loves when Ale is really close and her legs start to shake and when she cums Ale’s legs squeeze Amor’s head a little and Amor is just surrounded by Ale

Goofy

It’s all dependent on Ale’s mood. If Ale is in a good headspace, then laughs and smiles and giggles are definitely involved. If Ale needs something more serious then that’s what she’ll get

Hands

Amor can get Ale to cum so fast with just her fingers. It took them a while to get there but as soon as Ale started to feel so safe with Amor and they’d been together for a few months, it was insane how fast Ale can get over the edge. She has yet to squirt but Amor is DETERMINED to get her there (obvs she’s aware that for some people it just can’t happen but there’s no harm in trying right?). Amor has a slight obsession with Ale’s hands - I mean who wouldn’t - but there’s something about how her hands just fit so perfectly around Amor’s and how they can help work her up or calm her down just does something to Amor.

Intimacy

There is so much intimacy and romance between them on a daily basis and it only gets worse/more intense during sex. Amor is always acutely aware that Ale needs lots of love during sex and that she just needs to be Amor’s beautiful girl and she is more than willing to give that to her. Ale is just so in love with Amor that she couldn’t not be romantic. There’s not an ounce of degradation or roughness (being tied up and stuff, yes but no mean-rough stuff if that makes sense.)

Jack off

Ale literally cannot cum without Amor (described in more detail here) so she doesn’t really see the point in trying. Amor can cum without Ale but it’s definitely not as fun so she goes without. If they’re away on a tournament, they just have phone sex instead (so that’s a form of masturbation I guess) - perks of captaincies is their own rooms which they definite make use of towards the end of the longer tournaments/camps (Amor is VC of her national team)

Kink

Ale 1000% has a praise kink. She needs to know how well she is doing and how good she is for amor. Also mirror sex !! Not so much to watch herself but to watch her make Amor feel good. I’m not sure if this counts as a kink but Amor really loves cosy, soft sex during a thunderstorm. Beyond that Amor is an arse girlie through and through and will indulge Ale with a few spanks her and there

Location

Amor and Ale are pretty simple people - give em a bed and they’re happy. But overall, anywhere in their house/somewhere completely private (e.g., a hotel room) is a-ok too. Some of their best times have happened in the shower, on the kitchen counter, on the couch, one time they tried the stairs but Ale got carpet burn and Amor felt so bad she almost cried

Motivation

Literally anything gets these 2 going. But Ale thinks she might combust half the time whenever Amor speaks Spanish. Amor is a simple girl, a smile from Ale has her ready to drop her knickers there and then but she gets really worked up at the look Ale gives her when she receives a complement

Ale doesn’t want to do anything where she might be walked in on or found out in anyway. She has a line and she will stick to it (even hotel rooms on away games is too much for Ale). Amor isn’t comfortable doing anything that might actually hurt Ale - sometimes Ale thinks she needs physical pain or degradation but Amor knows that’s not what she actual needs and would never hurt Ale during sex, even if she was begging for it.

Oral

Oral is a must. Amor makes sure Ale has cum at least once by Amor’s mouth/fingers before she even considers a strap. Ale doesn’t really give Amor oral too much but when she does … oof, it’s her favourite thing and would die a happy woman if she could spend the rest of her life between Amor’s thighs

Pace

It’s usually on the slower/more sensual side of things. Amor knows what Ale needs and that’s usually soft and gentle with lots of reminders that’s Ale is Amor’s beautiful girl

Quickie

They definitely aren’t opposed to a quickie but it’s not on the top of the list. Amor wants to take her time and pull Ale apart piece by piece, making her cum again and again. And a quickie just doesn’t allow for that. But they aren’t opposed to it if the situation arises, although it’s usually a case of round 1 out and about in a bathroom somewhere (if it’s completely lockable) and round 2 and 3 (and maybe more) later on

Risk

They are definitely down to experiment with new things. A lot of their early relationship was experiments and figuring out what they both liked and didn’t like. But now they’ve found their groove, they’ve definitely got less risky with their ideas. When Ale did her knee, that was the most times they’ve ever experimented with new positions and things (it ended up being a lot of vibrators and things that Amor could hold against Ale rather than full on fucking)

Stamina

These gals are athletes and it shows. Sex is never just a one and done type thing (unless one of them isn’t in the headspace for more). Usually, Amor will make Ale cum at least twice, but 3 is the goal. Amor typically only cums once cos she knows any more than that and she won’t be able to give Ale the aftercare that she needs.

Toys

It’s toys galore in their bedroom. They have a sex toy dresser (it came about after Alba opened the wrong bedside cabinet drawer). They have 2 straps (one for each of them) and about 4 dildos - each varying in shape and size and thickness etc. they have 3 vibrators as well and Ale’s favourite is the vibrating dildo that attaches to Amor’s harness.

Unfair

Neither are particularly into teasing. Ale just needs a few kisses to get wet and Amor is no different. Amor’s preferred method of torture is overstimulation rather than denial or refusal. At most, Amor makes Ale hold it so they can cum together but that’s not really a punishment for Ale (she loves being able to cum with Amor)

Volume

Ale is loud! So loud that her and Amor have been banned from having sex during/after away games and tournaments. They’ve also had a few noise complaints from the neighbours. But Amor just can’t find it in herself to govern a rats arse. Amor loves that Ale is loud. She loves that she makes Ale feel so good that she can’t not be loud. Ale cums with the loudest moan, usually of ‘Amor’ or an ‘oh my god’. Amor is on the quieter side (unless she’s bigging it up cos Ale was being bratty). Amor is more of the panting/breathy type of person rather than the screaming shouting type of person. Amor usually cums with a silence scream (or the occasional quiet moan).

Wild card

Amor once made Ale cum just by touching/playing with her nipples and dirty talk. Amor wants to try it again sometime.

Xxx (kisses)

Ale gets so wet from kissing Amor. It’s her favourite activity. Kissing doesn’t always need to sex but it always starts it. Foreplay is everything to Amor and she knows just how quickly Ale can get worked up. A couple of kisses and a few strategically placed ones (mainly Ale’s neck and collarbone) and Ale’s good to go. Amor loves it when Ale leaves a few hickies on her. She pretends to be annoyed but she’s secretly so happy and it just stirs something inside her (like yes she’s Ale’s. Is that a kink, who knows?)

Yearning

They have sex at least once a week (on their off days usually) but most of the times it’s more than that. Have a late start to training? Sex. Finished early? Sex. Amor made Ale a nice dinner? Sex. They won a game? Sex. They drew a game? Sex. They lost a game? Sex. They went on a date night? Sex. Most often then not it’s sex 3-4 times a week

Zzzz

Ale gets fucked so good she’s practically dead on her feet and falls asleep very quickly. Amor tries to hold off for as long as possible, she loves watching/admiring Ale as she sleeps on her chest

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ashlynlovestlou · 11 months ago

Note

au where abby and reader try to break up :( emphasis on try because they just can’t stay away from each other :( they keep talking and updating each other on things until its too much :( and they get back together :)

(i put my whole back into this pls be nice)

꩜ cw: no smut! abby x reader , reader works at a plant nursery , use of pet names

masterlist

the breakup was rough, to say the least. abby was your first everything. your first kiss, your first girlfriend, your first time, and your first everything. letting go of that was the most heartbreaking thing either of you had gone through.

for the first couple of days post-breakup you could hardly eat and sleep. your bed felt so cold and so empty without her next to you. you even made a lame attempt to line some pillows up to make it seem like she was there. and for a moment, it worked. but her warmth wasn't there for you to wrap yourself in. her heartbeat wasn't there to listen to. and her arms weren't there to hold you.

despite the fact that you were no longer together, you still talked. but less than you usually did. so many messages went unsent, so many calls you hesitated calling.

the first time either of you said something to one another was when you texted her about the job you had been wanting for months. she knew how much you wanted to work at the plant nursery down the street from your apartment, even before you split up. so when you got the email after your interview saying that you got the job, your immediate instinct was to tell abby.

"i got the job!" you had texted her.

"thats so amazing, sweet girl." she responded so quickly that it made you think she was anticipating you to text her, "i'm proud of you."

and just like nothing had happened, you were smiling down at your phone, just like you were before you started dating.

but that butterfly feeling in your stomach didn't last long. it fizzled out when you remembered you were no longer with her.

over the course of a few days you chatted about little things. your first day at your new job. abby's dog, alice, catching a squirrel in her backyard. little, minuscule check-ins. nothing too serious.

until a week later.

"want to get coffee?" she texted you one day, while you were busy watering plants in your denim overalls.

it caught you by surprise, to say the least, but you knew it wasn't a date. just two friends getting together for a cup of joe. not romantic. strictly platonic.

no matter how much you wanted to run back into her muscular arms and re-familiarize yourself with her touch, you couldn't. you shouldn't.

"sure." you text her shortly, without the need to ask which coffee shop or what time. while you were dating, you went every week to the same coffee shop at the same time on the same day and ordered the same drinks.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟthat weekend ｡┈┈⋆

the second you walked through the doors of the coffee shop your nostrils were filled with the scent you missed so much. freshly brewed coffee grounds and warm pastries. the faint sound of chattering from the patrons enjoying their own treats.

and there she was.

sitting at a two-top table, two drinks in front of her. she was already looking at you, as if drinking in your image. even though you were devastated and still a little heartbroken from the previous events of your relationship, you did a good job at finding distractions. which is probably why you don't look quite as miserable as she does.

"hey." she greets you as you sit down across from her, "i um.. i ordered the drink you usually got."

she remembered.

the mug was still warm, so she couldn't have been here long.

"thank you." you nod your head once, "you didn't have to do that."

"its no big deal." she shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. black coffee, to be exact. you never understood how she liked the bitter taste of it, "how have you been?"

"good." you answer quickly. so quick that she has a hard time believing you. in reality, you were good. but you weren't great. you would never admit to her how you would accidentally cook too much food, because you were used to cooking for two people. you would never admit how many times you've accidentally set the table with two plates instead of one. how you would say 'i'm home!' when you walk through the door, even when nobody was there to listen, "i'm uh.. how about you? how are you?"

"im alright." she says.

but not good. you tell yourself in your head.

for a little while the two of you just chit-chat back and forth, talking about nonsense for half an hour before you notice abby fidgeting. she can't sit still, and you have a gut feeling you know exactly what's wrong.

"sweetheart, i cant keep doing this." she finally breaks, interrupting your rant about how you hate one of your coworkers.

"wait, huh? did i say something wrong?"

she shakes her head, glancing around the coffee shop like she's afraid to make eye contact with you, "we shouldn't have broken up."

oh.

your heart falls to the pit of your stomach, "what?"

"i need you more than i thought i did. i miss you."

you stare at her, eyes wide and lips slightly agape. you wanted to hear these words, but you never thought that you ever would, "are you.. are you serious?"

she nods her head, looking back at you.

"abby, i... i dont know."

"baby." she breathes deeply, desperate for your forgiveness, "dont make me beg."

you exhale, your cheeks burning crimson. you had waited so long for one of you to finally say something about the breakup. you waited so long for one of you to speak up about the need for the other.

without another moment of hesitation, you lean across the table, boldly smashing your lips into hers.

she tastes sweet, just as she always had. she was wearing coffee and the mint chapstick you left at her house and she never returned it, because she liked being able to have your taste with her.

she smiles against your lips, baring all her teeth. when you both pull away you can see her little dimples on her cheeks, the skin underneath her freckles a light shade of pink.

"so.." she says, folding her hands together in her bulky lap, "is that a yes?"

#lynnielovestlou #lesbian #the last of us #queer #fanfiction #fanfic #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem reader #abby x you #fanfic fluff #abby fluff #lesbian fanfic

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whoahoney · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie from Chili’s Pt 3

Waiter!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: After weeks of talking and texting, the stars (and schedules) finally align and it’s finally date night. Buckle up, baby. 💖

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mature language, slight angst, reader is nervous af but so is Eddie, allusions to smut, innuendos, weed smoking, lots of kissing and fluff!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie wasn’t a stranger to romance, by any means. He’d taken quite a few girls out on successful evening adventures and had done (close to) it all— dinners, movies, picnics, carnivals, festivals, concerts, rock climbing, you name it. He took pride in his creative ideas, most of them ending very well with a sleepover or quickie in the car with promises of second or third dates.

But no matter the passion and intensity that fueled their date, one of three things always happened; it would fizzle out, there’d be no real connection, or they couldn’t handle his schedule.

Eddie seemed to attract the girls that always wanted an adventure, the kind that wanted a fairy tale romance with extravagance and constant attention, which aren’t bad things to want, necessarily, he just wasn’t equipped for it.

So tonight, as he searched his closet for something to wear, he doubted his plan for the hundredth time.

You didn’t seem like one of those girls. Based off his impressions of you, you’d like to be cozy at home with a good book or a movie to watch. But if he’d asked you to spend the evening at his place to do just that, you’d probably get the wrong idea.

He sighed and dragged his hands down his face, sitting down on his unmade bed with shirts and pants thrown haphazardly around the room. “Dak!” He called through his hands. “DAAAAK” he cried until his door flew open with urgency.

“What?!” His older brother asked.

“Help me.”

“What?” He deadpanned.

“Help me.” He sat up and dropped his hands, his state somber as he help up two shirts.

“You’re not serious.” Dakota looked him over. “You’re not actually nervous right now, are you?”

“Sadly, I am deeply serious.” He shook his head at himself, in disbelief and almost disgust, “And that’s why I can’t dress myself right now.”

“Look at me, man.” Dakota crossed the room and put his hands on Eddie’s tattooed shoulders. “That girl has got it so bad for you already.” Despite his brothers assurance, Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m serious!”

Eddie swatted away his brothers hands and walked over to the closet again, “Every time you look at your phone, you’re smiling.” Dak added.

“Not every time—“

“Every time it’s her, dumbass.” Dak rolled his eyes.

“So what?” Eddie grabbed yet another black band tee from the closet to look over.

“So! You act like you’re already in a relationship.”

Eddie scoffed, “How??”

“You haven’t been working your tables like you do!” Dak accused, and was already prepared with another reason before Eddie could roll his eyes one more time. “Those girls at brunch today! Two of them were making major eyes at you, one of them touched you and left a number and you didn’t do a thing!”

Eddie scoffed.

“—and I know you’re going out on the balcony at night to talk to her!” Dakota said with a smile, watching Eddie’s blush bloom.

“No, I just happen to be smoking when we decide to talk on the phone.” He shrugged and pulled the shirt over his head. “Thanks for nothing.” He pulled on his jacket and looked in the mirror.

Dakota rolled his dark eyes this time and sat on the bed, “Every night?”

“What? It’s not every night.”

“For the last two weeks, almost!” Dakota recalled quickly.

Eddie froze. It had been three weeks since you’d come back to the restaurant. Only three weeks had passed since he got your number and kissed you, actually kissed you. Since you’d started texting, the conversation hadn’t stopped.

You’d been great over the phone, your shyness only indicated by how long you took to type out a response, which he found very endearing, still. Your conversations ranged from the day to day of your work lives to why your favorite songs are your favorites, and who introduced you to your favorite snack and how you always have a bag in the cabinet. How certain books make you sit it down to take a breath and calm down and how you feel fictional things too viscerally sometimes.

Eddie loved that his phone was never dry anymore, finding himself lingering on every text bubble that bounced in wait for the next question you’d have for him. Girls seemed to ask the same questions, about his tastes and his history, but never why he still watches his favorite cartoon every night before bed or why he wears his moms rings on his right hand and not his left.

He hadn’t experienced this kind of infatuation before, so he tried not to count too much on it lasting—but it did.

“I like her! That’s not a secret!” Eddie says, sitting next to him to tie his shoes. Dakota smiles and looks down at Eddie’s glowing screen.

A notification from Snapchat with your name popped up, Dakota’s eyes going wide, “And you have her on snap?”

You’d added each other on snapchat before a week had passed, Eddie asking if you had one because he wanted to see your pretty face. You were thankful to not have to be the one to ask because you wondered about the same thing, he had the personality for it though, like he’d thrive on it or avoid it completely.

But Eddie liked snapchat. It wasn’t public, and his circle of friends were the only people he had on it. And now you were apart of that, too.

You loved watching his stories, the shenanigans he got up to at work and home were updated almost regularly. You’d seen him practice with his band, smoke in his car singing to music you’ve never heard, make drinks and salads at work with his hours in the caption and an invitation for his friends to “come see me, fuckers!!!!”

“My point is, little brother—

“Fuck offff—“

“—C’mon let me do my job.” Dakota looks at him pointedly. Eddie nods for him to continue. “No matter what you do tonight, she’s gonna have a great time. Cause it’s with you. And you guys already have a connection! I don’t recall you talking to anyone this much before a date.”

Eddie sighed and nodded. “You’re right.” He fought a smile by picking up his phone and opening the picture you took in a mirror.

‘Is this suitable? No scuba gear needed?’

Eddie chuckled to himself before he looked over your outfit in the frame and swallowed hard. You wore a fitted black skirt with a black knotted graphic tee, your legs covered by black sheer hose and black docs on your feet. You held a denim jacket in your hand and your hair was done the same way he’d seen it last.

He was thankful for the lack of time limit on the message, tempted to save it forever.

“My point proven.” Dakota stood and waved to the phone. Eddie groaned with a smile that Dakota returned.

“Stick to your plan, Ed, it’s a good one!” He called as he treaded down the hall, off to prepare for his own company tonight.

Eddie looked back down at the picture, at your lined eyes and glossed lips. He sighed and took a screenshot.

He flopped backwards on the bed, his arms flailed out and eyes closed before he had the idea to snap a picture of himself and draw x’s over his eyes.

‘So gorgeous you knocked me dead.’

He wanted to roll his eyes at himself, but he couldn’t because he had it on good authority it would make you smile.

And it absolutely did.

You fell into your couch, clutching your phone at the sight of him. His curls were perfect and his tattoos peeked out of the collar of his shirt. You groaned to yourself in agony—how dare he be so hot!!!

And funny!!!

He was always sending you something to make you smile—‘Avaca—don’t fuck with me” being one of your favorites he’d sent as he munched on chips and guac over his break one day.

But this one sent butterflies rushing through you, and they only multiplied when you saw he saved your picture.

You check the time, Eddie due to pick you up at 6:30.

It was 6:27, and as you get up to spritz some perfume, you hear a knock at your door. Your heart leapt, how long had you been sitting there looking at his face??

You grab your purse and shrug on your jacket as you run to open the door.

In the hallway he stood, 6’2” in boots that matched yours. “Hey, sweet girl!” His smile brightened as he greeted you, his heart quickening in delight when you threw your arms around him. He didn’t hesitate to bend down and hug you back. “I missed you.” He found himself saying into your hair.

“I missed you too.” You smile over his shoulder as his large hand rubbed your back.

He pulled back from the hug to let you lock your door and immediately offered his arm, “Right this way, milady.”

You chuckle and hook your arm through his. “So can you tell me where we’re going now?” You ask as you come to the elevator and he pushes the button. You’d brought it up a couple times in the weeks you’d been texting, determined to get a clue no matter how big or small.

But alas, Eddie was proving to be a good secret keeper.

He tsked and shook his head, “Nice try, sweetheart. But each location is highly classified and I’m not at liberty to divulge that kind of information.” The doors opened and he gestured for you to step inside first.

“But you literally are.” You say as he pushes the button for the bottom floor. He looks at you with mischief in his eye, one that sends your gaze downward and your cheeks blushing.

“Hey,” he says softly. You look up and find him closer, his hand landing on your shoulder, “No shy stuff tonight, okay?” He says gently. Not a demand, but an encouragement. “I want you to be comfortable with me.”

You nod at him.

“Yeah?” He asks in confirmation, to which you nod again. He takes your hand as the doors open and leads you outside to his car.

You should’ve known he’d drive a shiny blacked out camaro, the windows tinted darker than you thought legal. Eddie looked proud as he watched you take in his pride and joy he had detailed at his second job special for tonight.

You got to the door before he could, the man mentally scolding himself as he watched you buckle up while he climbed in and shut the door. He marked how pretty you looked sitting in his car, like that seat had been waiting for you.

Your skirt stretched deliciously over your thighs and rode up in the back as you settled, your fingers sat intertwined in your lap and picking at a hangnail absentmindedly as he starts the car, his music kicking on and the air conditioning blowing his air freshener through the vents, smelling like him.

“You sure you’re comfortable?” He asked, spying your hand and slipping his fingers between yours. Your hand relaxes into his and you give him a squeeze and nod, “Yeah!” You say, “I’m sure. Thank you.” You nod again.

Eddie narrows his eyes playfully, as do you with a poorly repressed smile. “You sure…” he says with suspicion in his tone.

You nod again with a soft smile, “Yeah.”

“…Can I have a kiss to prove it?” He asked, smiling when he saw you practically melt, your eyes dipping to his lips before you nodded and leaned toward him. “Thanks—” He mumbles before cupping your face and tilting you up to meet his lips for an innocent lingering peck. He pulled back and smiled at you when you noticed yours stayed closed for a few moments longer than his.

“Thank you.” You finally manage as he gently releases your cheek as if he didn’t want to, and chuckles at you, shifting the car into reverse and exiting the parking lot.

“Wait, locations? Plural? There’s more than one?” You ask suddenly.

“Aght! That’s all you get!” He says with warning in his tone before he takes your hand again. You giggle at his touch and he looks at you and then back at the road, “M’sorry! I just like you or something!” He says as he releases your hand and you’re quick to snatch his right back up.

“No! I think it’s cute.” You say, lacing your fingers with his and covering it with your other hand. You don’t miss how he smiles at the road, lifting your hand to his lips.

“I like affection, if you couldn’t tell.” He shrugged, his lips brushing over your skin as he spoke, and then pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

You smile at the feeling, “I thought it might be a possibility.”

“If you don’t like any of it, you’d tell me, right?” He asked.

You nod, “Yeah, I would.”

“You would?” He asks in clarification.

You nod again.

“So you like it?” He asked with a smile.

Your jaw opens and you can’t help but smile and nod again, “Yes!” You cover your eyes with your hands in embarrassment, “You just like to mess with me, don’t you?” You cross your arms and ignore your burning cheeks as you smiled at his own grin, really just taking him in after three weeks without seeing him in person.

“I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t so fun!” He remarked and patted your knee fondly.

You shake your head but say nothing back, knowing you liked it when he picked on you.

“And here we are, stop number one.” He says as he pulls into a restaurant. The building was white stucco and had two stories. There was outdoor seating with large black umbrellas for shade, and a sign sat atop the building with red neon lining the swirled letters that read, ‘LaDonna’s’

“C’mon.” He smiled, opening his door. You unbuckle and by the time you’re reaching for the handle he’s popped the door open and reached out for you. You smile as he pulls you to your feet and leads you to the door, your hand in his the whole way.

When you’re seated, a waiter bounds over with a smile set on you, “Hey guys, can I get any drinks started for you tonight?” He looked between you.

“I’ll have a coke.” Eddie said when you nodded at him to go first.

“Uh, me too.” You agree before the server hurries away.

“So… you think he’s cute?” Eddie winks at you as he shrugs off his jacket and then slides a menu to you.

“You jealous?” You chuckle and go to flip the menu over to view the entrees when he lays his hand on it to keep it flat.

“Absolutely.” He said easily, leaning forward, “Don’t tell me you have a thing for waiters.” He rolled his eyes with a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You blush and shake your head no.

“Good, cause we’re gonna see a few tonight, and I’m not prepared to take a loss like that just yet.” You shoot him a questioning look just as he taps the appetizers, “This is the section you need to pay attention to—I want you to pick one for us.”

You glance down to the section of options and back up at him, his gaze set on you with gentle intensity that has you smiling and nodding. “Okay.”

You try to relax as you scan the menu with his eyes on you, fighting the smile on your face and feeling like that pathetic thirteen year old you turned into when you first met, the words not having any meaning as you read each dish and the description.

Last time, it was the possibility of Eddie watching you read the menu and having to decide in a timely manner, that made your mind blank, and then it was his proximity as your waiter that drove you stupid, not to mention the circumstances surrounding your anxiety now.

Eddie’s knee bounced eagerly, his chain lightly jingling every so often. He twisted his ring and smiled when he caught your eyes flickering up from the table to his hands and back down again. His grin spreads and you notice, sinking in your seat and nonchalantly lifting the menu to form a wall between you and his face, the measure actually helping your ability to focus a bit.

“Aww, c’mon now, sweetheart,” he tapped at your menu shield and peeked over, “—you told me no shy stuff.” He chided and snickered as you lower your menu with a playful scowl.

“It’s not my fault I lose my ability to read when I’m nervous.” You weakly chuckle and shove your hands under your thighs, dipping your vision back to the menu, spotting the words ‘chips and’ and then ‘fried’ when he tapped the table next to the menu again.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking— do you wanna g—“

“No!” You cut him off, finding his eyes soft and full of concern for you. “No, I’m okay.” You nod assuringly.

“Well, you… want some help?” He shrugs.

You cock your head but before you can ask he explains, “I could read them off to you and you tell me what sounds best! Half of my job is helping people pick, anyway.” He said as he picked up your menu and acted like he was straightening out a newspaper.

“R-Really?” You ask.

He nods as if anyone would think to do that for you—you hadn’t even thought of it.

“So we got chips, queso, guac, wings?” He looked at you like he’d cracked the code, but you scrunched your nose and shook your head. “—that’s okay— cheese fries, fried mozzarella—“

“—Cheese fries?” You ask.

“Yeah? You like bacon on them?” He asked brightly.

You nod, “And jalapeños, too.”

“Oof, so you like it spicy.” He said observantly, another blush painting your cheeks before he nodded at the approaching waiter and gathered the menus.

“Have we decided?” The guy asked after he set down your drinks, looking at you again.

Eddie answered, “Yeah! We’ll take a large order of cheese fries with bacon and jalapeños.” He handed the menus back and smiled at you simply while the waiter went back to the kitchen.

“So, how did that assignment turn out? That summer camp booklet thing.” He asks with a sparkle of interest in his eyes.

“The brochure?” You giggle, your cheeks heating as your heart swells at the thought of him asking about it.

You’d mentioned it one night when he FaceTimed you. He was outside on his balcony, his torso bare and covered with ink you hoped to inspect sometime soon. You noted where his shoulders dimpled and the way the city lights reflected in his eyes and hoped one day you could join him on that very same balcony, having the same kinds of talks about everything and nothing.

He nodded as he sipped and replaced his drink back on the coaster, “Yeah! Did you end up liking it? Was it what you wanted it to be?” He asked.

You smile and nod and take out your phone to show him the video you took of the finished product, an actual, cohesive, design that captured the vibes you’d felt when you’d initially received the assignment. The book was beautiful, in your opinion, and Eddie seemed to think so too as you told him about when you saw it printed and stapled you felt all giddy and lame.

“That’s not lame though, you’re proud of your work! I know I am! I remember you showed me when it was just the template and the color picker— it looks so good! Y’know I used to be fine with never going to summer camp, but now I’m jealous!”

You let out a hearty laugh and set your phone to the side along with his, “Eddie it’s not a real summer camp, I just made it up.”

“Oh.” He chuckles with a blush, “Well, you convinced me! The vintage kinda look you gave it feels very… authentic.” He nodded as he decided his final word, his assessment making your heart soar.

“Thank you, I got an A, so I guess my teacher agrees.” You shrug bashfully. “But what about you? How’s that song coming?” You ask before unwrapping a straw and plunging it in your drink.

Eddie smiles the same way you had when he asked about your project, “It’s getting there!” He said humbly, in a way that made you know he made great progress on it despite his words, “—inspiration struck fairly recently, you could say.”

You nod, “That’s great! What’s it about, again?” You ask, wondering if he’ll give you the run around again like when he’d first mentioned it.

“Well, i-it’s about a lot of stuff,” he nods, fiddling with his own straw but not yet tearing the paper off. “Like, where I come from and where I’m at and where I see myself going—what I’m looking forward to the most… etcetera etcetera.” He nodded thoughtfully.

You smile with him, “That sounds beautiful. I’d love to hear it when it’s finished.”

“Oh, I plan on you being the first to hear it.” He said with wide eyes that filled you with anticipation.

“Well I must be something special.” You tease softly.

He nods, “You must be.” He bites the inside of his lip to contain his smile, feeling like an idiot when he felt his heart speed up merely at the way you looked at him. Your eyes round and set on him like he was a dream. Your shoulders wanted to curl in on yourself, your shyness was lingering but you were peeking out from behind the curtain. And he loved what he saw.

You were smart, and despite your struggles with anxiety, you had a lot to say. He was determined to hear all of it, especially if it came out of your smiling mouth. He loved that you were figuring out how to play with him, but didn’t make it feel like a game. Eddie was used to flirty banter but nothing that made him feel like the way it felt with you.

Your shy nature really topped it off for him, your tentativeness making it that much more fun to mess with you.

He’d never forget the way you sounded on the phone when he called for the first time. Your trembling sighs were full of nerves, the phone picking up soft chuckles, and a shy lilt to your voice that clenched his heart to the point it ached.

You’d come quite a ways since then, though part of him hoped you’d always be a little shy.

The waiter brought over your heaping basket, mozzarella, sharp cheddar, Colby Jack, and American cheese all melted on the top of the extra crispy fries.

Eddie’s eyes were bright as he beheld the food, and then looked up to find you unfurling your napkin and silverware, your bottom lip in your teeth as you spear your fork into a measly section to pull onto your tiny plate.

“Oh, I should’ve known you’d be one of those.” He teased as he pulled a fry from the top, the cheese stretching an impressive distance before snapping.

“What??” You ask, welcoming his banter with pink cheeks you suspected wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

“Don’t tell me you eat fries with a fork.” He deadpanned and took a bite.

“I don’t, but when I’m sharing an appetizer with someone I try to be polite.” You jab your fork into another helping to plop onto your plate. “Thought that’s something you liked about me.” You quip before cutting into the cheese fries and sticking a bite in your mouth, your lips sliding off the fork as you hold eye contact with him.

You barely notice how his gaze dips to your mouth, how he swallows before he smiles and speaks again, “I do. There’s a lot of things I like about you.”

You shake your head as you chew and swallow, “That was an easy one.”

“What??” He asked as he grabs another clump of fries, carefully stacking a jalapeño on top and biting into it.

“You and your lines.” You roll your eyes.

He smiles though he puts a hand to his chest in offense, “You think I have lines??” He asked.

“How can you not? You always know what to say, how to… I dunno… stun me?” You shrug at your loss of words.

Eddie almost cackles and wipes his mouth with a napkin, “Stun you??”

“You know what I mean!” You take a bite, taking care to get the perfect amount of bacon and jalapeño on top before taking a large bite that made Eddie a little proud. You chew and appraise him as he does you, strong jaw working and his eyes waiting for your next sentence. “I just feel like you’re too smooth for it to be real, y’know—I keep thinking this is going to turn out to be one big joke.” You chuckle weakly and shrug.

Eddie deflated a little and reached his hand across the table, resting on top of yours that held your fork. “Sweetheart,” he sighed and you felt a pang of guilt swim around in your chest when you saw the hurt in his eyes, “I… I know what that’s like. Believe me, it’s—“ he sighed again, “—I can’t ever stop thinking about you.” He squeezes your hand. “I’m not used to a girl doing that to me, taking over my every thought.” He chuckled in disbelief, “I like you. A lot.” He assures with a nod and you mirror it, feeling bad he had to do this already.

“I’m sorry.” You drop your fork and wrap your fingers around his. He shakes his head, as if it were no bother. “I…” you take a deep inhale and slowly let it out as you talk, “—kinda have trust issues, if you couldn’t already tell.” You avoid eye contact until you hear his chuckle.

“I get it, I really do.” He nods before meeting her eye again, “But my interest in you has nothing to do with a joke and everything to do with the fact you’re interesting. And sweet. And cute. And smart— I honestly have no idea what you’re doing out with me.” He said it as if he believed it and took a bite.

You shake your head, “You’re so full of it.” You chuckle and prepare to take another bite, though the smile on your face told Eddie you were flattered and ready for more back and forth.

“It’s true! You know how many people see me coming and cross the street to avoid me?” He seemed pleased with himself and with the face you made, genuinely confused. “—Cause I look mean and scary.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh! Well, I don’t think you’re scary cause you’re mean.”

“You think I’m scary?”

“I think you’re scary cause you’re so… pretty—I mean handsome!”

Eddie lets out a laugh so hearty it turned a couple heads, but all you did was blush and smile at the reaction you were able to pull from him.

“You’re too cute—wow.” He grabs a clump of fries and takes a bite through his lingering smile. “So you wouldn’t cross the street if you saw me coming? Shy little thing like you?”

You shook your head, “Would you cross if you saw me coming?”

“If I’m across the street on 8th and caught a glimpse of you walking down 7th, I’m jay-running to come introduce myself.” He said without missing a beat, “I’d change direction just to walk with you.”

“You really can’t help it,” You laugh melodically, full and with your belly, your eyes practically closed in your amusement.

“When it comes to you? Not a bit.” He smirked as you collected yourself with a deep breath and continued eating.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“No way. I don’t believe you!” You chuckle madly as he nods.

“Oh, but, I did, I read every bit of it— and from the sound of it, you did too.” He looked at you with his bashful grin as you nodded quickly.

“Look at me and tell me it isn’t obvious that I’m a TwiHard.” You say pointing to your face.

The conversation had turned to reading, Eddie asking about your reading goal for the year you’d set yourself and balking when you said you were on book twelve in the month of May, and then reminiscing on his days as a bookworm when people were waiting in line for the newest additions to the Twilight Saga.

“I guess there’s only one thing I need to ask.” He said as he leaned forward. “Team Edward or Jacob? You should know that there is a correct answer, and if you respond Team Jacob I’ll l have to La Push you into traffic.”

“Of course I’m Team Edward! Jacob can keep his idealized version of Bella and shove it—“

“—La Push.” Eddie teased.

“My mistake.” You chuckle and take another bite. “So did you read them or watch them first?”

“Oh, I read them.” He urged and shook his head at his past self, “I wanted to be a Cullen so bad.” He scoffed and smiled when you nodded in agreement.

“Who’s your favorite?” You ask.

“Hmm… back in the day I’d say Edward. But now I think my real favorite is Carlisle.”

You look impressed with his answer and nod for him to elaborate, “I didn’t have the finest of upbringings.” He cleared his throat, preparing to be vulnerable. To let himself be known. “My brother and I didn’t meet til we were teens—his mom and my mom didn’t get along because of the old man, but we both landed at our Uncle’s house around the same time and—“ he shook his head feeling way off topic, “I like the found family thing. You know? The people that don’t have to love you but still do anyways.” He chuckled.

When he looked up at you, he found your eyes soft and your hand reaching out for his again. The feeling of your hand in his was becoming familiar and he liked that he knew how you’d fit together.

“And you found yours?” You ask.

He nodded warmly, “Yeah. I did. I count Dak as found family since I haven’t always had him, y’know, sometimes it still doesn’t feel real that we’re brothers and not just friends. But brothers aren’t exactly supposed to show up on your doorstep one day and never leave, right?” He chuckles at himself and you give him a weak smile as you wonder what else you’ll learn about him.

“Do you have any siblings?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No. It was just me and mom, mostly.” You say almost tensely. “Things were… a lot different between us back then. It was hard living with her without my dad.“ you nod and your eyes flicker up to his, finding his gaze on yours, his lingering smile gone for the first time. “Reading helped. Still does.” You smile.

Eddie’s smile came back at the sight of yours and he nodded, “Agreed. Though I must say, I can’t find anything I wanna devour the way I consumed the hunger games trilogy—“

“Oh my god, yes!” You hastily agree and lean forward.

“I wasn’t that big of a fan of Gale.” Eddie sighed in thought as he sat back.

“What do you mean?! He kept her family alive while she was gone at both games, despite the mixed signals she was always sending him.” You explained and he shrugged.

“Mockingjay really showed their differences, though. They were each others first love, y’know? Best friends, most importantly. But he wanted her to be something she wasn’t. He became more desensitized to the violence and Katniss needed… I dunno… a softness, and m’boy Peeta knew exactly what she needed. Til he was hijacked.” He rolled his eyes and took a sip from his now empty drink.

You bite the inside of your lip as you come to realize you agree with him. “Okay. You got me. Katniss is softer than she lets on.”

“Kinda like how you’re braver than you let on.” He winks at you and you blush down at the empty basket. A waitress drops the check by the table, which Eddie quickly swipes up and places his money inside.

“C’mon, cutie,” he stands and hold out his hand, which you take without hesitance. “Time for the main course.”

You happily take his hand and follow him out the door, wondering if he would always wanna hold your hands so firmly in his. His grip reminded you of the way your mom held your hand in the stores as a child, like he’s afraid to lose you in the crowd.

You’re appraising him in the car as he fiddles with the radio, connecting his phone and playing a song you sent him a week ago. “Now you’re just trying to get brownie points.” You roll your eyes even though you blush.

“What? It’s a good song! Much like you, it’s been stuck in my head since I first heard it.”

“Have you always been like this?” You ask.

Eddie looks taken aback by your wording, “Like what?” He looks over at you incredulously, thought you can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.

“Charismatic and laid back and outgoing and, and, and!” You shrug and he scoffs. “I just wanna know if it’s a god given gift or if there’s hope for me, cause damn. You could charm the socks off anyone.” You shake your head and look out the windshield.

He chuckles and turns the wheel, getting settled in the new direction and lane of traffic before answering, “Just the socks?” He smirks over at you and you roll your eyes for the hundredth time and blush for the thousandth.

“Honestly, Eddie, I’ll la push myself out of this car if you don’t stop doing that.” You pry your eyes away from him and cross your arms though the playful smile lingered at the corners of your mouth. You loved it though it was growing immensely aggravating.

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, look at me.” He pleaded with a sorry tone, one you’d give a child in a sour mood. You didn’t comply, choosing to watch the traffic lights instead.

Your silence is ringing louder than a gong in Eddie’s ears as he drives, and before he knows it, he’s pulling over onto the shoulder and turning on his hazards, “What’s going on?” You ask, looking over at the gages on the dash for a check engine light or something. When you find his eyes on you, you flinch back in confusion.

“Now that I have your attention.” He smiled. You can’t help your grin as you swat at his shoulder and he turns to you. “I was the town pariah until I left at 21.” He sighed, his eyes looking more and more puppylike the longer he spoke, his eyes darting away like yours had the day you met. “You know how it is—small town America, everyone hated me for the music and stuff I liked and how I dressed, it’s dumb. Me being me caused a lot of trouble. And I had to learn to overcome their bullshit or let it get the best of me, which it didn’t.” He nodded assuringly. “I made great friends there. Most of them are here with me in the city, now. College and all. But I really found myself when I left Hawkins. When I figured out the world really was so much bigger. And that the people at home are the real weirdos, not me.” He scoffed and you nodded in agreement.

“Point is.” He sighed. “It’s a coping mechanism—my charm.” He shrugged, looking at you from behind the mask, his smile weak and eyes looking almost sad. “I’m sorry, if I come on too strong—“

“No! No.” You shake your head. “You’re great, Eddie.” You assure and your heart swells with his smile, “I’m so glad you shared that with me.” You accidentally rasp as you try to be quiet, “I know what it’s like to not belong… I wish I could’ve seen you back then.” You chuckle.

“Oh you would’ve hated me.” He rolled his eyes. “Couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” He tsked.

“Oh I can’t imagine that!” You tease and lean closer as you grab his hand and he smiles down at it.

“I’ve never been so nervous about someone.” He admitted as he flickered his gaze up to your eye just for a moment before looking back down at your intertwined hands. “No one’s ever treated me like such a big deal before. Or wanted to know me the ways you do.” He smiles up at you again before kissing your hand. “With you it’s like I wanna…. keep being the cool guy, y’know?”

“Eddie, you can’t actually be saying you’re nervous… because of me.” You shake your head, “It’s me, remember? Chicken fingers?” You shake your joined hands to jostle him like a friend getting a pep talk. “Y’know I don’t just swallow my tongue for anybody, you must really be something special! Plus have you looked at yourself lately? It’s intimidating how hot you are!”

He rolls his eyes, “Can I take my girl out to eat now? Or are you gonna ignore me again when I flirt with you?” He asks.

The term strikes somewhere eager in your chest, your eyes flying to his as he turns his blinker on to merge onto the road, “Mhm.” Is all you’re able to manage as he grins in satisfaction and takes his opportunity to join the flow of traffic, all without dropping your hand.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The walk through the parking lot was quiet but the silence was warm. Eddie had brought you to a place called ‘Black Barn Reserve’ and from the outside, it looked very rustic and cozy. The dining area was dim, candles illuminating the tables, and a large bonfire at the front of the open room, the large glass doors swung open to the outside for more areas to eat and lounge.

“You ever been here before?” He asked, his eyes taking in the scene and looking for a familiar face.

“Oh, gosh, no— I’ve heard of it though. It’s beautiful! I wanna curl up and read over there.” You point to an over stuffed armchair in the corner, adjacent to the bonfire.

Eddie smiles at the mental picture of you curled up with a book and a blanket next to a roaring fire, until he spots the familiar head of hair he’d been searching for. “Steve!” He stuck his hand up in greeting as Steve pushed through the crowd, shoving his order book into his apron as he approached.

“Its so good to see you!” The guy pulled Eddie in for a quick hug, and released him before looking over at you, “And you! Eddie has told us so much about you—“

“S’enough of that Steve,” He turns to you with a smile and introduces you by name.

“Steve Harrington— Eddie’s best friend.” The guy smiled and shook your hand before looking to Eddie, “It’s all set up for you.” He released your hand and patted Eddie on the back before darting off in the direction of a set of booths.

Eddie smiled at you bashfully and took your hand, leading you through the room to a secluded corner by a bay of windows. The booth was small and round, three candles at the center of the table smelling like warm and spicy herbs.

“I used to work here, with Steve.” He chuckled as you sat and began scooting to the other side, finding him following close by and capturing your hand under his. “That’s far enough, sweet thing, come closer.” He teased. You oblige him and scoot so close your leg almost pressed against his.

“Comfy?” He asked, placing his hand on your knee. You smile and nod, opening the menu with few options and tiny writing.

“I thought you had to have a reservation to get into this place.” You smile and look up at the ornate ceiling, the chandeliers barely glowing with light.

“Uh, usually you have to! I just got lucky that Harrington still works here and the shift manager still likes me.” He shrugged, looking down at the menu before looking over at you with a smile. “I’ve always liked this spot the most. Thought it was the best seat in the house.”

“Why is that?”

“Cause you get to enjoy every part of the place sitting right here. Bonfire,” he gestures to the fire a few feet away just outside, “People watching,” he motioned to the loaded dining room before you. “Plus the food is fantastic.”

“I’ve heard!” You chirp, trying to make out the font and find the word ‘entree’. Eddie’s finger comes into view when he points it out.

“The menu changes every night, so you can choose from the steak, pasta, or soup.” He drapes his arm on the booth behind you, looking off your menu instead of picking up his own.

You sigh in relief, nodding and automatically deciding you wanted the pasta. “You mean they don’t have chicken fingers?” You ask casually.

Eddie chuckles through his nose and leans closer. “If the pasta sucks, I’ll personally get you your chicken tenders.” He squeezes your knee before stroking the round of it with his thumb and draping his other arm around you.

“How’d you know I wanted pasta?” You ask.

Eddie freezes before his smile blooms, “Oh, uh, well, I remember your mom saying you liked that pasta—the first time you came to the restaurant.” You cover his hand with yours, brushing against his rings with careful fingers.

“I think it’s really sweet you thought of that.” You giggle, lighting up his world, “And for the record, I wanted that pasta. I just said chicken fingers because it’s all I could remember.” You put your face in your hand.

“No!” Eddie tsked, “so you don’t like chicken fingers?? Is that why you didn’t eat them??”

“No, I do! Just couldn’t eat them when my stomach was in knots.” You laugh it off and find Eddie’s smile waning.

“Is it-is it always like that?” He asked gently, “Your….?”

“Anxiety? Yeah.” You chuckle as the waitress approaches, a black dress and pearls around her neck like the rest of the female presenting employees. Her French twist was elegantly loose, and her lips were the perfect shade of mauve.

“Good evening, my name is— Eddie?” She questioned.

Eddie’s eyes fell away from yours and met hers with what seemed to be hesitance. “Monica! Hey! I didn’t know you were working here again.” He said tensely, making no move to stand like she seemed to think he would.

“I just started back about two weeks ago!” She informed him as cheerfully as she could before directing her attention to you, “I’m Monica, Eddie’s friend,”

“—old friend.” He clipped.

“Old friend.” She added, her eyes looking you over.

“This is my date, Y/n.” He put his arm around you, looking back to you, “Monica and I used to work together.”

“You could say that.” She scoffs, looking down at her leather bound book, “Can I get you some—“

“Two cokes, please.” You cut her off to get her out of the way, feeling quite shitty about it until she walked away and Eddie relaxed. You hadn’t noticed how rigid he’d grown when Monica arrived, the hundreds of questions swirling through your mind like an endless loop-de-loop.

You swallow before you meet his weary eye, flashing a closed mouth smile that was supposed to be encouraging, but for Eddie it hit him deep in the chest, like he’d already fucked up.

“Monica and I didn’t date.” He blurted.

You nod, the sentiment settling in. “I get it.”

“If I’d known she was working here again, I wouldn’t have brought you here, I’m so sorry.” He held your hand in both of his, “It wasn’t even a thing y’know, but she wasn’t… exactly… interested in me so I made a clean break and she…” he blew out a breath, “—was not happy.”

You nod again, the tension releasing in your chest. “Do you want to leave?” You ask, ready to give him an out and continue this date somewhere else.

“No, absolutely not.” He chuckled. “I’ve been wanting to bring someone special here for a while. Not gonna let anything ruin it.”

You smile and nod, happy to be wherever he is. Your eyes close in bliss when he leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, as another waiter brings your drinks and asks to take your order.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That was literally the best pasta I’ve ever had in my life.” You groan in satisfaction as you leave the restaurant under Eddie’s arm, leftovers in the other hand.

“And now my question is, are you ready for dessert?” He asked with a glimmer in his eye, “too full?”

You shake your head, “Uh-uh, desserts the best part!” You insist, ducking into the car.

“Good. Cause the next stop is my favorite place to eat, like ever.” He smiled over at you and started the car, handing you his phone and the aux cord. “Play me something good, DJ.”

You racked your brain, searching for something he’d like, something that would impress him. You decide to go to your messages and play the song he sent you the most recently. “What?” He croons in disappointment as he joins the night traffic.

“What?” You chuckle.

“I said play me something good, not play me my music I listen to every day! Put on something you like.” He urged. “Let me in that pretty little cranium of yours.”

You bite your lip and nod, “You like the Warning?” You ask tentatively as you search them up.

Eddie shook his head, “I haven’t heard of them.”

“Well we’re gonna fix that.” You smile as the beginning of ERROR fills the speakers.

Eddies face lights up, when he hears the thudding bass lead the drums in. “Oh, shit! Okay!” He bobs his head to the beat, “I like it!” He says with a look on his face that shows you he’s impressed. “You’re gonna have to play DJ more often!”

You blush at the idea of being with him often.

You hoped you would be at least. And something in your heart to you, you would be.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Eddie…”

“Mhm…”

“Why are we parked in front of Chili’s?”

“Because! I have a to-go order.” He smiled, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Sit tight, I’ll be back.”

You nod as he steps out of the car and bounds up the sidewalk to the door where he’d shown you his ‘hiding place’ the day you’d come back for him. Your heart beat madly in your chest, the first moment you’d had alone since the start of the date and you finally realize how out of breath you are.

Over nothing.

You take a few steadying breaths and press your hands to your hot face, the bitter sting of your cold skin bringing you back down to earth a little bit. He’d been practically perfect— the whole date was. You didn’t want it to end, to live in this warm, giddy feeling forever.

You check your makeup and are pleasantly surprised when you see it hasn’t budged or caked or creased, with the exception of your lipstick worn off from eating and drinking. As you spot the familiar bouncing strides turning the corner you slap the mirror shut and busy yourself queuing music on your phone.

The lights come on when he pops open the door and he smiles as he hands you a to-go bag containing a single box. “Miss me?” He asked with the playful smile you were growing fond of.

“Of course.” You chuckle and look at the bag, unsure if you should open it or not.

Eddie shuts the door and settles in his seat and turns to you with a smile, as if he were taking you in after a long trip.

“What?” You giggle.

He shakes his head, “Nothing. Just looking pretty kissable over there.” He smirks and put his hand on your knee, stroking in soft circles before glancing up at you again.

You smile and huff a gentle laugh before leaning forward and letting him kiss your lips, the energy bordering between chaste and something eager. You wanna deepen the kiss, tempted to put your hands on his face, through his hair, however you could keep him close— but he pulls away.

“Good girl.” He purrs and you stifle a gasp by clearing your throat and smiling. He nods at the bag. “Open it up for us.”

You unwrap it from the plastic bag and pop open the styrofoam shell to find a chocolate lava cake, a scoop of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce drizzled across the top, and two silver spoons. You couldn’t help but notice the heart swirled in the chocolate on the bottom of the container and blushed madly as you look back up at him.

“You didn’t take a single bite—when you came with your mom. I even made sure you had a spoon in case you changed your mind and you didn’t! But… now that I know you a little better now… I assume you weren’t up to eating at the time. And everyone loves lava cake so…” he trails off as he purses his lips to the side.

You bite the inside of your smile and shake your head at him. “You’re—“ you try to find the words. Unbelievable? Amazing? Perfect? A dream come true?

He seems to realize your struggle and holds up a spoonful of cake and ice cream. “It’s still warm.” He whispers.

You take a bite and try to ignore the lump in your throat as you chew and swallow, or the tears prickling at your eyes at his tenderness. You loved how he made you feel and hated to think this could all be a trap. That he could give you this kind of love and take it away as soon as he grew bored.

And it made you feel so pathetic and weak and even a little naive all over again.

A tear slides down your cheek and he turns you by the chin to face him. “What’s wrong?” He says just above a whisper.

You meet his eye and wipe your face with a shaking head, “Literally.. nothing. I just—wow, I’m so sorry—“ you smile and sniffle and shake your head at yourself as you wipe your eyes, “—no one’s ever made such a big deal out of me. Not like this. Or—paid attention to me in the ways you do.” You shake your head. “I feel pathetic around so many people because my brain can’t handle life happening. I’m frazzled and scatterbrained and painfully shy, and I constantly feel like.. like a burden. Like it’s asking too much to be understood, Y’know?” You sniffle again as more tears fall.

Eddie nods and holds your hand and wills you to finish. His strong girl.

His brave girl.

“So, thank you.” You shrug. “Even if it doesn’t last I’ll always remember this.” You say candidly.

Eddie caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch, “Where have you been, sweetheart?” Is all he can ask. You scrunch your brows together in confusion and he leans in to kiss you again. Your lips are cold against his, tasting temptingly sweet, but he keeps this kiss innocent before pulling back and wiping away your tear with his thumb.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me to fuck off.” He said with only a hint of playfulness in his soft tone. You scan his face to find a sign that he was just speaking empty words but his eyes— his deep amber irises soft with the warmth of the sentiment he spoke between you.

You sigh and nod profusely, unable to string the words fighting at the forefront of your mind to be placed together properly, to form a sentence that articulated exactly how full and wonderful he made you feel. Instead, you lean for ward and kiss him, a hand resting on his stubbled cheek.

Eddie chuckles against your lips and you feel his smile as he moves. You break the kiss and you linger so closely your noses brush. He takes it upon himself to nuzzle his nose against yours and you let out a giggle.

You pick up the other spoon and scoop a bite to hold up for him. He chuckles and takes the bite, his eyes on yours in the dim car light.

The intro to Fade Into You by Mazzy Star comes on, and your eyes dart to his to lock in an eager gaze, “I love this song!” You both say at the same time.

You can help but share a laugh before Eddie serves you another bite, “We should’ve been doing this all night, how romantic.” He teased, though he meant it.

You blush and roll your eyes before you hold up your spoonful to his lips, and as he takes a bite, you pull it away and eat it yourself with a smile.

“Ohhh! Is that how it’s gonna be, now? We were having a moment!” He chided with an amused smile. You swallow and serve him an extra big helping to make up for it, which he’s happy to accept.

“You are forgiven.” He says through a mouthful and smiles as he scoops a bite of ice cream into the spoon and holds it up, offering it just in front of his mouth.

You lean in with closed eyes and a gaping mouth, only to feel his lips slot against yours sensually. Warm and firm and languid, the heat both physical and energetic, the passion rippling between you.

You thought back to that movie Pretty in Pink, when Iona talked about Duckie’s kiss setting her thighs on fire— that’s exactly what this felt like. The fire consumed you, licking up your legs and hips, his daring little nip at your lip rendering you utterly thoughtless until he lifted the haze like a blanket, pulling back from the kiss just as you really needed it most.

“Now, we’re even.” He winks.

“Oh, no, we are not.” You say through a scoff.

Eddie’s eyes light up at the challenge, “You took a bite, so did I.” He shrugged.

You cross your legs and shift your hips slightly, your jaw clenched and your eyes narrowed at him and his antics. Luckily, Eddie knew exactly what all of those things meant. He placed his hand on your knee and stroked in an agonizingly slow circle. “Isn’t that fair?” He asks.

Your brain begins churning into mush as he looks at you in the way he did the first time you saw him, like you’re the most interesting person on the planet—the sexiest most interesting person on the planet. And you only just now realized.

You smile in a way he hadn’t seen before as you looked him over, “Absolutely not, you practically, freakin’ mouth fucked me!” You accuse with a smile of disbelief.

Eddie’s jaw drops as he laughs, “What?!”

“You heard me!” You giggle, “You’re just gonna juice my brain and pretend it was no big deal like I’m not gonna have to take two days to recover.” You push his shoulder playfully as he keeps laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re- you’re—“ he shakes his head at her, and instead of finding a word, he brings her in for one more brain juicing kiss.

It was hot and slow, it had you whimpering without any care or notice and arching your back into him despite the console between you, his tongue moving against yours and his teeth nipping at your lip every once in a while to make you moan for him, hoping he’d soon find out how to play other parts of your body to create louder sounds.

When the kiss finally broke, Eddie pushed your hair behind your ear and smiled at you. “I wanna ask you—properly— if you’d… be my girlfriend. A-And we can get together like this whenever we can, Y’know? I kinda like how we have the same crazy schedules. And you’re good at phone tag! You make it fun.” He smiles and swipes his thumb over your cheekbone. “You make my days exciting again, you know that? He admitted. “I’ve never liked phone calls—ever! But every time you call, I wanna drop my whole life to speak to you.”

You nod, but in a way that tells him you share the feeling because of him.

“Y’know other girls, they like the whole ‘bad boy thing’ I have going on and think I’m good for a fun night and a motorcycle ride, but none of them wanna deal with my hours, or my life. They’re not actually interested in me, you know? And here you are.” He nudges your nose with his. “Wanting to know my deep dark secrets and my favorite color.”

“Favorite colors aren’t deep dark secrets! And it’s not a secret if you wear it exclusively.” You give him a pointed look and he chuckles.

“Like my own pocket sized comedian, I swear.” He holds your face in both of his hands like a child having cute aggression and shakes his head with an affectionate smile.

“What do you say, chicken fingers? Feel like bein my girlfriend?” He asks.

You smirk playfully and shrug, “I may have to take a couple days to think about it, y’know? Had a great time though.” You try to stay serious, but the second he looks fearful and the gooey tenderness leaves his eyes, you’re shaking your head, “I’m just kidding! Just kidding, I’d love to be your girlfriend—are you kidding me?” You scoff.

Eddie barely has time to smile before you’re kissing him again, his laughter a mere mumble against you before it’s snuffed out by your kiss, his lips melting against yours.

As he’s running his fingers over your hair and relishing the feeling of your soft lips against his, he can’t help but wonder what date you’ll go on next, before this one’s even over.

You pull away, “Do you, uh—“ you shake your head at yourself.

Eddie nods at you, hoping he knows what you’re gonna ask him. “Go on, brave girl.” He whispers, keeping you close.

You blush and look down, “Uh, do you wanna—maybe, take me—“

“What, you want me to take you home, now?” He asked, quieter than before.

You freeze and bite your lip bashfully, “Or… home with you?” You meet his eye before darting away and chuckling at yourself, “I’m sorry, too much? It was too much—“ you don’t get a chance to ramble on before he turns your face back to his.

He’s got a cocky, pleased smile on his lips when he says, “I will happily take you to mine. Or yours if that’s what you want.” He looks you up and down for any signs of hesitation.

You nod, “Yeah, yeah, wherever you want. Just not… ready for this night to end.” You chuckle nervously.

Eddie beams at that and scoops up another spoonful, “One more bite and I’m taking my girl home. We can finish this later,” He smiles as you take a bite, “Late night snack, maybe?” He whispered in your ear as you chewed, and smiled when your eyes went wide and your skin burned pink.

“Where-where are we gonna—?” You ask, closing the container and putting it back in the bag.

“I’m taking my girl back to my apartment,” he said as he shifted the car into reverse, “—spending the rest of the night with a movie on the tv and my lips on yours.” He smiles over at you. “How’s that sound?” He takes your hand in his and kisses it as he slows to a stop at a red light.

“…Will you take me out on the balcony?” You ask shyly. His eyes widen and he balks, your brain needing a second to catch up, “Wait, no that’s not—“

“Too late, baby, it’s already out there—and the answer is yes, absolutely—anything you wanna do on my balcony, consider it done.” He says as he eases forward with the flow of traffic and you bury your face in your hands and giggle madly.

You peek open your eyes to see Eddie still smiling at the road ahead, turning into a parking garage. He held his lip between his teeth, carefully maneuvering into his reserved spot and looking over at you eagerly as he threw it in park and turned it off. “You ready? Sure you don’t want me to take you home?”

You nod, “Mhm, I’m sure.”

He nods back at you and opens his door, “Sit tight.” He says before shutting it and walking around to open your door for you.

“Oh, special treatment?” You ask as he helps you out.

“Oh, yeah, being my girl has its perks.” He pulls you up and wraps an arm around your waist before leading you to the elevator. He slides his hand across your back and grips your elbow before grazing down your arm to lace his fingers in yours.

You catch the doors going up with one of Eddie’s neighbors, an older woman named Nadine that wore an ornate silk scarf on her head, giving a warm toothy grin as she greeted you both. Eddie eagerly introduced you as his girlfriend, the woman shaking your hand with a warm pat before joking about Eddie’s appetite.

After she’d disappeared behind a red chipped door, Eddie fumbled with his keys as he explained, “Miss Nadine makes amazing dumplings and noodles, she’s always giving me leftovers since her husband passed away.” You watch her door as he unlocks his own, “He was great too.” He adds as the door opens and thuds the wall lightly.

“Home sweet home.” He says as he closes it behind you and you scan the area. “—sorry if stuffs a little…” he says as he snatches up some food wrappers and dirty cups. You giggle and spot the place on the counter where all the mail was dropped and torn open, Amazon boxes and shoes piled by the door.

Movie and band posters hung on the walls, along with some personal pictures that dotted the spaces here and there. “It’s okay, I like it. Clean houses can feel… sterile. Y’know? You live here, it’s supposed to look like it.” You chuckle as he successfully clears off the island and smiles at you.

“Well don’t you know how to make a guy feel at home.”

“In your own home?”

“Yeah!” He said as if it were simple. “Y’know… you aren’t the first girl I’ve brought back here…” he takes your jacket off your shoulders, you swallow thickly, wondering just how much he was used to in the bedroom, if you could deliver the kind of intensity he’s used to, “—but I was always really nervous about… I dunno, their judgement? Y’know they’d make comments sometimes and I wanted it be nice the first time you came and I dunno, just hearing that from you…” he shrugs with an easy smile, “C’mon. My rooms over here.”

You follow him, your heart thumping it’s way deeper into your chest. He pushes open the black door and you’re hit with the smell of him. His cologne, his detergent, the stale cigarette smoke, and a hint of skunk wafting over from the open grinder on his desk. “Fuck!” He mutters before shutting it and shoving the tray it rested on into the drawer.

You giggle and look around his room, at his messy bed covered with shirts and pants and jackets, several pairs of shoes strung about the floor. “Don’t worry, I kinda figured it came with the bad boy territory.” You turn to him and watch him pick up the clothes and stuff them back into their places to clear the bed.

He smiles and takes off his jacket, laying both yours and his on his desk chair.

“Ah, so.. do you…?”

You nod slowly and his face lights up, “Well… in that case..” he turns back to his desk and roots around for a minute before producing a blunt with the end barely smoked. “Care to ‘joint’ me out on the balcony?” He asks with a wink.

You practically snort, “That was awful, but yes, I would love to.” You smile and follow him to the double doors overlooking the street and horizon. He has it between his lips and lit by the time he turns to face you and leans against the rail, becoming a part of the gorgeous city view.

You tuck a leg under you as you sit in his chair, and wait patiently as he takes a hit. He looks over at you and smiles before reaching out to hand it to you, watching as you take a small hit without coughing, “Look at you, sitting all pretty in my chair, smoking my weed.” He said admiringly.

“Like what you see?”

“A little too much.” He smiles as you hand it back. “Been wanting to bring you out here since you first asked to see the view over FaceTime.” He blushed before taking a drag. “No one ever.. cared to, uh, come out here with me before.” He shrugged.

“Really?” You ask as you look into the blackness illuminated by the lights of night, stacked buildings and neon lights outlining and dotting the distance as far as the eye could see. “It’s like… a giant Christmas light show.” You mumble as he hands it back and you finally look at him.

“Think you could get used to it?” He asked.

You smile at him and his hopeful eyes, his knee bouncing with his nerves. “No.” You shake your head. He freezes for a second before you speak again, “It’s too pretty to get used to. I swear I just keep finding things to look at.” You shake your head in disbelief and then look back over at his smile set on you.

“I know exactly how that feels.” He whispered before squatting down to your level and stroking your cheekbone as you take one more hit.

“Do you?” You ask, turning the joint around and sliding it between his lips. He smiles at the intimacy and takes a drag as he nods.

“Mhm,” he says and exhales through his nose, “I thought this was beautiful, but now I got you out here and it’s just…” he shakes his head and you lean into his palm as his fingers find your hair, “You make it breathtaking.” He whispers, his eyes heavy with warmth and admiration.

You scoff and blush before looking away at the scenery, but a ringed hand turns you to face him by your chin, and he kisses you deeply, a warm palm on your cheek. It’s firm and deep as you move together, lustfully slow.

He pulls back from the kiss to whisper, “I wanna see you out here more, yeah?” He asked, kissing you once more, “—get you your own chair and everything.” He offers as he rests his head against yours.

You smile and nod the best you could, “My very own? More perks?” You say just as quiet, the street noise below barely even noticeable in this moment together.

“Not to mention the super comfy place in my bed… yours if you want it.” He whispers.

You stare at him for a minute and grab his wrist to lift the joint to your lips as he held it, your eyes on his the whole time had him gulping. “Can I… try it out?” You ask daringly.

Eddie’s eyes go moony and glazed as he nods eagerly, “Good girl.” He says before he’s bending over and flopping you over his shoulder to rush inside and drop you on the bed. He takes no hesitation in crawling over you and showering you with kisses that have you giggling the most you ever had.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hours later, when the moon was full and high in the sky, and both of you were well sated in your desire for one another, you laid in Eddie’s arms, in his shirt, eating from the same spoon as you finished the lava cake and kissed the stray bits of chocolate and vanilla from the corners of each others mouths.

You’re nestled between his legs, against his chest, and he ducks down into your neck to inhale deeply like he’d been dreaming of since he first caught a whiff of you and your fancy perfume. You giggle when he presses a kiss there and when you turn your attention back to the Simpson’s, he checks his phone.

Despite the notifications littering his Lock Screen, he’s marking the date below the time, knowing deep in his heart this is how he’d wanna spend it every year forever.

Or until you tell him to fuck off…

Which is never happening.

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