#the middle option seems the most likely

[cassandrapentayaaaaas]

The fact that I have nothing capable of playing DA:TV once it comes out makes me want to puke a little

[edwinisms]

I find it so hard to believe edwin only has a first and last name. like that boy has GOT to have at LEAST one middle name. and/or a baptismal name. like tell me you can’t see this boy having like. four or five names

[2-kamikou-1]

ok but no guys seriously how do you ask for reassurance in a way that doesn't make you look like a stupid yandere stereotype

[unproduciblesmackdown]

oh yeah the way mass effect made me think of portal which is surely what youtube was doing too in sliding me a portal related video which made me think of like ah yes that little harmonizing thing want you gone credits song does, another banger. then i was like wait speaking of secret losersongs filmed rehearsal videos just the other day was reexperiencing like code monkey's really a banger as well, the way that part of the chorus could have one line end on One Pitch then the next line end a half step up but Doesn't & that pwns actually. then going hang on and they're both jonathan coulton. they're All jonathan coulton (adding in: wow just like will putting still alive on his off the shits jared kleinman a.m. pump up playlist)

[cardentist]

hey, so people need to be aware that youtube is now (randomly) holding basic features for ransom (such as being able to pin comments under your own videos) in exchange for Your State ID/Drivers License, or a 30 Second Video Of Your Face.

not to pull a "think of the children," but No Actually. I've been making videos as a hobby since 2015 (and I've had my channel since middle school), I was a minor when I started and I'm not sure I would have understood the kind of damage something a seemingly simple as a video of your face can do.

this is a Massive breach of privacy and over-reach on google's part No Matter What, but if they're going to randomly demand a state ID or license then they absolutely should not allow minors to be creators.

google having a stockpile of identifying information on teenagers is bad enough, but the Alternative of recording your face and handing it over to be filed away is Alarming considering it opens the gates for minors who Aren't old enough to have a license.

and yes, there is a third option, but it's intentionally obtuse. a long wait period (2 months), with no guarantee of access (unlike, say, the convenience of using your phone's cameras for either of the other two), with absolutely No elaboration on what the criteria is or how it's being measured.

it's the same psychological effect that mobile games rely on. offer a slow, unreliable solution with no payment to make the Paid instant gratification look more appealing (the "payment" in this case being You. you are the product being offered).

and it's Particularly a system that (I think intentionally) disadvantages people who don't treat their channels like a job. hobbyists or niche creators who don't create regularly enough or aren't popular enough to meet whatever Vague criteria needs to be met to pass.

markiplier would have no problem passing, your little brother might not be able to. and while Mark's name is already out there there's no reason why your little brother's should be too.

something like pinned comments may seem simple, you don't technically Need it. but it's a feature that's been available for years. most people don't look at descriptions anymore. so when there's relevant information that needs to be delivered then the pinned comment is usually the go to.

for my little channel that information is about the niche series I create for. guides on how to get into the series, sources on where to find the content At All (and reliably so). for other creators it can be used for things Much More Important.

Moreover, if we let them get away with cutting away "small" features and selling it back to you for the price of your privacy, then they Will creep further. they Will take more.

Note: I have an update to this post here: [Link]

[wriokitty]

part two

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

[themultifanshipper]

Poker? I hardly know her!

You and Oscar stared at Lando, who was peeling his shirt off before anyone had even put any chips on the table.

Maybe Lando didn't understand the rules of poker after all...

Warnings: Not quite proofread I just needed to get it out of my drafts before people started bringing pitchforks to my house, some of this is insane, i'm warning you, brief poker jargon, fucking on a jet, oral sex, male and female recieving AND giving, canonically bisexual landoscar, a bit of a humiliation kink, strip poker turns dirty very quickly, bad dirty talk, cum, Lando is a TEASE and a WHORE, finger sucking (inspired by something someone actually did to me once)

“Lando why are you taking your shirt off?” Oscar frowned in confusion.

“This is strip poker. You bet your clothes, don't you?” he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You'd known Lando a long time, and he was a bit of a dim bulb (affectionate) sometimes.

Oscar you'd only met when he became Lando's teammate, but you got along like a house on fire, and despite you not knowing each other very well, one of your favourite bonding activities was making fun of Lando.

“Lando!” you laughed “that's not how it works. You bet your clothes but you only take them off if you lose”

He looked offended at the implication that he didn't already know that and tried to defend himself, but he had a slight tint of red quickly spreading over his cheeks.

“I knew that! I just think it's better to put my bets on the table is all...”

You and Oscar dissolved into a fit of giggles. “Okay whatever you say, it's not like you'd be keeping it on long anyway” you teased and winked at Oscar.

“Oh fuck off!” he gave you the middle finger before picking up his cards that Oscar had been dealing. “and since when do you play poker? You’ve never mentioned it to me...”

Oscar shrugged, picking up his own cards.

“You know what boarding school is like. There's nothing to do except play poker, and ... uhh...” he trailed off and you looked at him questioningly.

“Well, you know. It's boring” he said quickly, his cheeks going slightly pink as he avoided your gaze.

Lando narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah, I do know what boarding school is like. But we never played poker”

“Okay what did you play then mister wise guy?” Oscar's tone was off, like he was trying to accuse Lando of something.

Lando's face went blank, and you could tell he was going through the options one by one, not wanting to say any of them out loud.

“I can't remember?” he tried.

Oscar scoffed in disbelief and you decided to intervene.

“Right, are we playing then?”

“Gladly” they both muttered in sync.

You weren't naive. You knew exactly what boys got up to in boarding schools.

You'd been to an all girls boarding school yourself, and had your fair share of... experiences.

But both of them seemed to be a bit embarrassed about theirs as they settled in their seats like big birds that had just gotten their feathers ruffled.

The game went just about as well as expected.

Lando ended up in his boxers after only 3 rounds, while you and Oscar hadn't taken a single item of clothing off.

His nipples pebbled in the cool conditioned air, and you could see goosebumps erupting all over his skin.

Your eyes scanned his thighs briefly and you gulped. They were thick, and he was in tight black boxers that really didn’t leave much to the imagination.

As enticing as the sight was, it didn't help your concentration.

Oscar was once again dealing cards, and you noticed him side-eyeing Lando a couple of times.

“Are you sure you're not cold, mate?”

Lando shivered but didn't relent in his stubbornness.

“No I'm fine. Besides, I am determined to beat at least one of you”

“You'll be fully naked long before that happens” Oscar chuckled but it sounded hollow.

You also forced out a laugh. Lando naked was the last thing you needed right now.

But with an ace and a jack in your hand, how could you possibly lose?

And you were right. Lando could go all in if he wanted to (and he did) but on the table were a king, a queen, and a ten. And he was a terrible bluffer, he was way too cocky.

Oscar had already folded so it was up to you to get Lando's pants off.

You put your cards down face up.

“Sorry mate, I've got a straight” you said in mock- sympathy. “Someone's getting naked and it ain't me”.

You smirked at him.

“Not so fast” Lando tutted at you and showed his cards.

He also had an ace and a jack.

But they were the same colour as the cards on the fucking table. All spades.

He had a royal fucking flush. The highest hand possible.

Oscar gasped softly.

“Well well well, looks like someone else is taking their shirt off!”

You felt your face heat up immediately.

You only had a T-shirt on.

As in, you only had a T-shirt on.

“Ummm...” you flushed and picked at the edge of the table. “about that...”

You looked at Oscar but quickly averted your gaze when your eyes met.

“What's the matter?” he asked curiously.

“let’s just say that if I take my shirt off, Lando won't be the only one with his tits out”

Comprehension dawned on their faces and they both went fully red.

It all became suddenly very real. It was all fun and games until one of had to actually do it.

“Uh- well you don't have to, you can uhh” Oscar stuttered his way through an excuse “you can take your pants off or- or something. Or like just not do it. It's just a game. No pressure to actually get naked”

You looked at Lando and he smirked.

“If you're not uncomfortable with it you can do it if you want. We're all adults here, we've all seen boobs before, no biggie”

You hesitated. “Oscar?”

“Yeah, yeah whatever you're comfortable with!” his voice was weirdly high pitched but he nodded reassuringly.

You worked up the courage and grabbed the bottom of you shirt, slowly lifting it up over your head.

When your vision became unobstructed again, Oscar was staring at a spot on the ceiling, and the Lando's smirk had been wiped clean off his face.

Despite being your best friend for a long time, he'd never seen you topless, even though (and he would never admit this out loud) he'd fantasized about it many times.

You could tell he was struggling to maintain eye contact with you, his eyes glazing over slightly.

You chuckled nervously.

“It's okay you can look. Like you said they're just tits, right?”

Oscar glanced at them quickly, then did a double take and his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly and looked away again.

Lando’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but his words died in his throat as he also just stared unblinkingly.

It was objectively quite funny how you'd rendered them both utterly speechless.

After a good thirty seconds though, it started getting a bit too weird.

“Okay this is getting creepy now, do you want me to put my shirt back on?”

“No!” they answered wayyy too quickly. “Its fine we're just a bit surprised is all”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay horndogs, shall we get back to it, then?”

They nodded almost absentmindedly, and Lando dealt the cards.

“I'm now determined to get Lando naked to take some of the attention off of me, now” you joked lightly and the other two laughed.

The atmosphere became a bit less charged over the course of the next round, but Oscar was seemingly very much off his game suddenly, because he lost two in a row.

In the name of fairness, he took his pants off, and his black hoodie, so he was still left in a T-shirt that thankfully hid the raging boner he was currently trying to make go down with sheer force of will.

He had an almost naked Lando inches away on his right, and a magnificent pair of breasts in front of him.

How was he supposed to concentrate in these conditions? He was living a bisexual's wet dream.

But he was determined to win, so he dealt the cards.

Lando was getting a bit antsy. He was already pretty turned on by the sight of you, but now, he couldn't stop staring at Oscar's thighs.

They were so thick. He wanted to touch them. Maybe give them a lick and a bite.

His fingers twitched on his lap, where he was trying his best to hide the ever growing problem in his underwear, that was unfortunately not covered by a T-shirt.

But he wanted to touch Oscar's thighs. He wanted to feel the thick muscles under his large hands.

“You doing okay there, guys?” you asked.

The two men in front of you were unconsciously squirming in their seats, doing their best (and failing) to not check each other out.

“Yeah, i'll start at 200” Oscar said, taking a single chip from his enormous pile.

It wasn't his turn, but it didn't matter, none of you were truly focusing on the game right now.

“I'll go all in” Lando said, voice cracking.

Oscar sucked in a breath.

“You sure you want to do that? You've only got one chip left”

“Absolutely” the older man said defiantly, his eyes dark as he stared at you.

A shiver ran down your spine. He was going to lose, you could feel it. He was going to lose and he was going to get naked.

“I'll fold” you muttered.

It was all between Oscar and Lando, now.

“I guess it's all in then”

The atmosphere was tense once again as Lando showed his cards first.

Full house. There was no way Oscar hadn't been bluffing.

“I think you're gonna need to take your shirt off mate” he tried to sound cocky but it wasn't very convincing.

A slow smirk took over Oscar's features, and he grinned evilly at Lando.

He slapped his cards down, face up, and the colour drained from Lando's face.

“Four of a kind. Mate”

You glanced down at Lando's boxers.

There was a small wet patch forming at the front.

Looks like being humiliated was getting him going.

You decided to try and save his dignity, but you knew Oscar had also noticed, if the way he was currently looking at Lando like he wanted to eat him, was any indication.

“You don't have to Lando, if you don't want to”

But his mind seemed made up and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers.

“No it's fine, a bet is bet” he was very red in the face, but true to his word he pulled his underwear off and let it drop to the floor under the table.

You didn't look. You swear you didn't look.

“You can look guys” Lando said, you could hear the cockiness dripping from his words. He knew what he looked like naked.

“Nope, I'm good” you replied. “Oscar?”

“Yeah, nah I'm good. Shall we keep going?” he asked you with a forced smile.

“Yep, deal the cards, then”

Oscar picked up the cards and Lando whined.

“Wait, I wanna keep playing too” he sounded so pathetic. It made your thighs clench together.

And Oscar noticed.

“Lando you don't have anything left to wager. What are you going to bet? Your skin?” he mocked, but Lando didn't miss a beat.

“I’ve got a mouth. And I don't have a gag reflex”

Your jaw dropped and Oscar choked on his spit.

“Jesus, Lando” you breathed.

But the silence that followed was deafening as everyone seemed to be thinking about it.

You looked at Oscar, who looked at Lando, who looked back at you defiantly.

Well, it seemed this game was taking a turn. But you weren't complaining, and neither was Oscar.

“okay” you and Oscar said at the same time.

He dealt the cards, and you had a particularly shit hand so you folded, almost dissapointed that you wouldn't be winning Lando's mouth.

Lando refused to fold, despite having a shit hand as well, so he lost, naturally.

“So uhh... you want to uhm-“ Oscar gestured vaguely in front of him.

You took pity on Oscar. “You going to put your mouth to good use?” you translated for him, and Lando nodded.

“Yup” he chirped, and promptly dropped under the table. He was so eager, you were starting to think he'd planned this all along, and was losing on purpose.

But no, he wasn't that manipulative.

You could barely see what was going on but Lando dragged Oscar's underwear down and groaned.

Then it was Oscar's turn to let out a pathetic little noise as Lando's head sank downwards.

“Lando, fuck-“ he squeezed his eyes shut, the sudden heat of Lando's mouth overwhelming him. “Your mouth, Jesus Christ”

The sight was quite erotic, Oscar fingers threading through Lando's hair as the obscene sounds sounds of his mouth working Oscar's cock filled the cabin.

Oscar looked down at him with a furrowed brow and his mouth open in shock, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

You certainly couldn't. Oscar had always seemed quite reserved to you, yet here he was, getting deepthroated by your friend, in front of you.

“God, yeah. Take it. Good boy” he lifted his hips to meet Lando's mouth and Lando moaned wantonly around him.

One of Lando's feet knocked into yours under the table, making you look down.

You gasped in shock. Not at how fucking round and peachy his ass looked, although that was worth noting, no, what turned your world on its axis was the fact that Lando was wearing socks.

The absolute whore.

Turns out he was that manipulative.

“Oscar!” You called, and he looked back up at you with lidded eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Lando's still wearing his fucking socks!”

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he looked down to where Lando's face was red and covered in drool and tears already.

“Lando...” he let out a shuddery moan “If you wanted us to treat you like a little slut, all you had to do was ask.” He cooed, stroking Lando's tears away.

The older man suddenly did something with his tongue that made Oscar throw his head back and tighten his hold in Lando's hair.

“Christ Lando, where did you lean to do that?” he panted, and Lando pulled off of him for a second to reply.

“Boarding school” he rasped, voice hoarse.

You and Oscar chuckled breathlessly. Of course, stupid question, really.

It didn't take Oscar very long to reach his end with how Lando was swallowing around him, throat tightening rythmically.

You were very wet. Rubbing your thighs together wasn't quite enough so you pulled down your own pants and underwear and slid a hand down your body.

The first touch sent a jolt of electricity through you. You spread your thighs, which caught Oscar's attention, and he gasped and unexpectedly came with a shout down Lando's throat.

Lando, the whore, swallowed every last drop.

His hair was a mess and he turned around, wondering what Oscar was staring so intently at.

The sight of your legs propped up on the table and your fingers pumping in and out of you as your cunt drooled onto the seat made his mouth go very dry.

He crawled over to you under the table and pulled your hand away.

His hungry gaze made your thighs clench, but his large hands came to hold them open as the flat of his tongue licked a long stripe up your soaked folds.

Your hands grabbed a hold of his hair, like Oscar had, and he closed his eyes in bliss.

“Pull it” Oscar said and you glanced at him before doing as he said.

You tugged sharply and the reaction was immediate.

The moan that came from Lando's mouth was downright pornographic, and you grinned, pushing his head down to where you were dripping onto the seat.

He wasted no time lapping up every drop and soon he slid a finger inside you, and then a second one, crooking them upwards and making you see stars.

Turns out Lando wasn't just good with his mouth, his hands were also a goddamn gift to humanity.

By the time you'd stopped shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Oscar was hard again and languidly stroking himself at the sight of you.

Lando stood up, his back cracking after being hunched over for so long.

You properly took him in for the first time. His cock was big, bigger than you'd expected, and his thighs were covered in what you assumed was precum.

You instinctively wrapped a hand around him and swiped your thumb over his tip.

He hissed and batted your hand away.

“I want to see you two fuck” he said, as if that wasn't a totally insane thing to say.

You looked at Oscar, who didn't look opposed to the idea, then back up at Lando.

“What about you?”

He grinned at you mischievously.

“I'm going to watch. And then I'm going to come on those lovely tits of yours”

You blinked up at him and he bent down, sliding a hand under your jaw to tilt your head up.

He stopped, his lips almost brushing yours as he spoke.

“It does hurt a bit. But I really, really want to see my teammate fuck my best friend.” He hooked his thumb over your teeth to press on your tongue, opening up your mouth for him.

“And besides...” he continued “I like it when it hurts”

He pulled away, leaving you completely breathless and more soaked than you'd ever been in your life.

He helped you lie down on the table, and Oscar spread your legs, biting his lip at the sight of your slick covered thighs.

He slid himself through your folds, rubbing your clit and you whined pathetically.

He decided not to tease you too much, and slid home in one go, knocking the wind out of you.

You all moaned at the slick sounds coming from where you and Oscar were joined, and he quickly picked up the pace, his hips slapping against yours.

Lando may have been good with his mouth and hands, but my god, Oscar knew what to do with his hips. Your g-spot didn’t stand a chance.

His abs flexed with every expert roll of his hips, one of his hands planting itself next to your head to hold himself up, the other wrapping around one of your thighs to pull you back against his thrusts.

Whatever poker chips were left on the table were digging into your back but you could barely feel them, you were high on the feeling of Oscar splitting you open on his cock.

Lando couldn't help himself, he turned your head to the side and tapped your lips with his pointer finger.

“Open up, darling. I want to see what you look like with a mouth full of cock”

Yes the line was pretty cheesy, but you stuck your tongue out anyway, and he grinned as he slid his tip along it. He shuddered at the stimulation, and gave an experimental shallow thrust into your mouth.

“Such a good girl... like you were made for it weren't you? Getting stuffed full of us” his fingers danced along your collarbones and you shuddered at the touch.

“So responsive as well...” he looked at your breasts, heaving and bouncing with the force of Oscar's thrusts. He pinched a nipple harshly and you cried out, voice muffled by his cock. “Would you believe me if I told I've dreamt about these quite a bit...”

You rolled your eyes and gave him the middle finger, but he just grabbed your hand and stuck said finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks at the lewd action, and then he put a second finger in his mouth and shoved them all the way back.

You were going to combust on the spot.

When he pulled his mouth off it with an obscene pop, he looked down at you condescendingly, your mouth still firmly wrapped around his leaking cock.

“Why don't you put those fingers to better use, and make yourself come with them”

You did as you were told and pressed them to your clit, rubbing very slow circles.

Oscar was losing his sanity watching the two of you interact. The bickering, and acting as if he wasn't there, was making him hornier than anything and his hips stuttered as he felt the beginnings of an orgasm creeping up on him.

“Oh come on” Lando drawled, picking up the pace of his own hips “You can do better than that”

You rubbed faster, matching the rythm of his thrusts, and very soon you were thrown over the edge of extasy, back arching and toes curling as you clenched around Oscar.

Lando desperately wanted to hear your pretty moans so he pulled out and finished himself off by hand, on your tits, as promised.

Oscar collapsed on top of you, groaning into your neck as his hips stuttered to a halt, and you could already feel his cum seeping out of you onto the table.

You panted into the now stifling air of the cabin, wondering how the hell you got to this point in your friendship.

Oscar lifted himself off you, and glanced at Lando's cum now smeared over the both of you.

He leaned down and licked a stripe up one of your breasts, over a nipple which made you gasp, and then pulled you in for a filthy kiss.

Fuck it was good. Oscar was a really good kisser apparently. The taste of Lando just added to the depravity of the scene.

Lando felt a tad jealous at that moment. He'd lusted over you for years, and he hadn't even kissed you yet.

You and Oscar parted for breath and you saw the look on Lando's face.

“Oh for god's sake, come here!” you made grabby hands at him and he gladly leant down, capturing your lips in a passion filled embrace, his hands going to cup your face as he deepened it.

The cleanup was a nightmare, but you couldn't walk off the plane naked and covered in cum, so you managed.

You did the best you could with bottles of water and some towels, before getting dressed again, just as the pilot announced he was beginning his descent.

“Well what did we learn today, kids?” you said cheerfully once the three of you were on solid ground “Boarding schools teach you very important life lessons, and Lando-“ you slapped his chest playfully ���is much better at poker than he lets on!”

The three of you giggled like children, rolling your suitcases on the tarmac of Nice airport, not hearing the pilot mumbling to himself behind you.

“And I learned today that private jet cabins are no where near soundproof....”

Taglist: @teamnovalak

[madebycloud]

You're here that's the thing

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: home isn't a four walls and a roof nor the material things that fill in it. it's the warmth in jinx's eyes whenever she smiles at you, it's the little hands clinging to your shirt as they cross the street. home is right here. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: FLUFF!! domestic ig, vulnerability (???), slight angsty at the end but happy ending <3 words: 5.5k notes: i'm glad nothing bad happened at the ending and they all live happily ever after :D

You're chowing down on a steaming bowl of seafood at Jericho's. Every bite is a savory delight, justifying your claim that this is Zaun's finest eatery. 

A hooded figure quietly slides into the seat beside you, revealing familiar blue hair when they pull their hood back. Unfazed, you continue eating.

“Bad day?” you say, and the blue-haired person helps themselves to a seafood from your bowl without a word.

Life in Zaun is tough, especially after Silco's death, leaving room for chem barons to fight for power. What's new?

Then, a kid catches your eye. You nudge Jinx. “Who's that?” You nod at the kid in the far corner. 

Jinx, casually munching on your seafood, just shrugs, “Dunno. She's been following me.”

You stop eating and look over at the young girl who's been staring at you both, squinting at her as your gaze shifts back to Jinx. She takes notice of your questioning look and quickly says, “She's not mine,” before taking another bite of seafood.

You roll your eyes at Jinx and then turn to the kid. “You hungry, kiddo?” you call out, gesturing towards the seat beside you.

She hops up onto the stool, though it's a bit high for her and you help her up. You order her a bowl of seafood like you and Jinx were having. She begins eating, her hands stuffing her face.

“So, kid, where's your parents, guardians? Shouldn't you be with them?” But her silence persists, her big, curious eyes locked onto yours.

You and Jinx finish your food and pay Jericho, walking out into the bustling lanes with the young girl in tow. Turning to Jinx, you shrug. “Can she stay with us?” 

Jinx looks at the child and back at you. “Do we even have a room for her?”

Weighing your options, you consider the practical aspect. The answer is likely a ‘no’, but with the environment of Zaun, leaving a child alone on the streets seems far from safe.

“She could use your room,” you suggest, glancing ahead. “I mean, you found her first.”

But Jinx isn't having it. “Nah, you're the one who brought it up, so it's your room.”

You and your parents once owned a house. Thanks to the all and mighty Piltover enforcers who played a role in your parents' disappearance, leaving the house unoccupied. Seeing an opportunity, you claimed the house, not only for yourself but also for your close friend who, without it, would have nowhere to sleep comfortably.

“It's my house.”

“Our house,” she corrects, smirking. “Considering most of the stuff there comes from me, it's not just yours. So that means–”

“By ‘comes from you,’ do you mean the stuff you've stolen?” Your brow furrows as you stop in your tracks, planting your hands on your hips as you stare at her.

Jinx shrugs nonchalantly, her smirk still present. “Finders keepers.”

You sigh, knowing you're not winning this argument, especially not in the middle of the street with people starting to watch. “Fine,” you relent. “She can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”

You crouch down to meet the kid's gaze, Jinx standing beside you with her arms crossed. “What's your name, little one?” you ask, but the child remains wordless, those big eyes staring back at you.

You glance at Jinx for help, but she's already thinking of names. “How about Pompom?”

The kid wrinkles her nose at the idea.

“Or maybe Pinky?” Jinx continues, grinning. “Or Sparkles!”

“How about ‘Isha’?” you suggest.

The moment the name leaves your lips, the child's eyes light up.

“Isha it is then.”

Jinx, a bit pouty, muttering under her breath, “She likes ‘Isha’ more, huh? Figures, it came from you.”

“What? It's a nice name,” you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, whatever.” She turns to Isha, poking the girl on the nose. “Well, Isha, you're stuck with us now.”

Isha's eyes dart between you and Jinx. “More like we're the ones who are stuck with her,” you reply, chuckling, as you playfully ruffle the girl's hair.

—

It's been a full month since Isha started living under the same roof.  You catch Jinx making her hold a gun, teaching her how to shoot.

You scoff, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, Jinx?”

Both Jinx and Isha look up at you, equally undeterred. “What? It's a fake gun,” Jinx defends herself.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “That's not the point, Jinx. She's just a kid.”

“Pft, ‘just’ a kid.” Jinx rolls her eyes, clearly not understanding your concern. “It's harmless, I promise. Just a little fun.”

“If you're looking for something fun…” You reach into your bag and pull out a coloring book and colored markers. “I found these in the lanes,” you explain, offering the items to Isha. “Much better than play-shooting,” you suggest, giving a pointed look to Jinx before she can protest.

She watches as Isha's face lights up, her attention quickly shifting to the coloring book and markers. “But…” Jinx starts. 

“No buts, Jinx. She's coloring now.”

Jinx lets out a sigh, clearly dissatisfied, but she doesn't protest further. She pouts, leaning back against a wall as she watches Isha happily coloring in.

You join Isha, sitting next to her. Her young hands grip the markers tightly as she fills the pages with colors.

“Making something nice?” you ask, peering over her shoulder to see her work.

Isha nods, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she carefully adds some color. She glances at you, offering a shy smile before returning to her drawing.

Once Isha is finished with her drawing, she proudly holds it up for you and Jinx to see. The drawing shows three stick figures on a bright blue sky. The two tallest figures, with one that has what looks like braids, are holding hands with the small one in the middle. The three figures smile under the sun.

“Wow, look at that! It's us, all together.”

 Jinx, though reluctant at first, can't help but crack a smile too.

She leans in closer, “Why are my eyes so big?” She snickers, pointing at the comically large eyes drawn on her figure.

You laugh along with Jinx, pointing to a comical squiggly line drawn below your feet in the picture. “And what's that supposed to be, hm?” Isha giggles, a blush creeping up her face.

“It's your shadow, duh,” Jinx quips back. 

“In that case, my shadow looks like it ate too much and grew extra limbs.”

“Well, if your shadow's a glutton, mine's got tentacles.” She points to her shadow drawing, which indeed looks like it has several wriggly appendages attached to it.

“You know, I think this is wall-worthy,” you grin, holding up the drawing. “What do you think, Isha? Do you want to put this on the wall?”

You turn to Isha, who nods excitedly, clapping her hands together. 

You hand the drawing to Isha, who eagerly takes it to the wall. You follow her, lifting her up slightly so she can stick the drawing against the wall. She smooths out any wrinkles and carefully adjusts it until she's satisfied.

“Ta-da!” you say, as the drawing now has a permanent place of honor on the walll.

“Not too shabby, squirt”. She glances at the drawing again, and then her gaze shifts towards Isha. For a moment, a soft expression appears in her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe one day we'll see this piece in a Piltover's museum, valued at a million golden hexes.” 

“Only a million? I think it's worth a lot more. Maybe we should start an auction right here and now.”

Isha giggles, her small fingers tracing the colors on her drawing again.

“Alright, alright, don't go getting ideas. We don't need some fancy Piltie art collector trying to buy this and hang it in their mansion.”

“Come on, Jinx.” You nudge her. “Don't you think it'd be hilarious to see this hanging in some fancy mansion surrounded by all those fancy Piltover paintings? Maybe we should get Isha to paint more of this and turn this whole place into a gallery.”

—

You meant ‘place’ not your face.

Laying down on the couch, you squint your eyes open as you feel a moist sensation along your face. When your vision clears, you see Isha, giggling, marker in hand, and running away as fast as her legs can carry her. 

“Hey!” You sit up, a chuckle rising in your throat. “You little rascal, come here!” 

The sound of a door opening makes you pause. Turning, you see Jinx standing there, half-asleep and clearly irritated.

“What the hell is going on here?” she grumbles, rubbing her eyes.

A snicker escapes Isha's lips.

“Looks like you've got a new makeup look, Jinx.”

“What?” she asks, her voice still groggy from sleep.

Silence.

Jinx looks at your face. Isha's hand. Finally placing her own hand on her face. Wet mark on her face. Smear of color on her hand.

“Isha.”

You and Jinx exchange a glance. Grins matching hers. Without hesitation, you both rush after Isha, who breaks into a run.

Just as she turns a corner, you quickly change direction and outstretch your hands, successfully scooping her up into your arms and spinning her around, her hands grasping at your shirt and arms around your neck as she continues to giggle.

While still holding Isha, you see Jinx's eyes as her hand darts towards a nearby marker and begins to draw on Isha's face. 

“Hold still, you little gremlin!” Jinx says, struggling to keep her marker strokes even while Isha wiggles and giggles. She manages to add a few squiggles and dots before Isha's laughter becomes uncontrollable, disrupting any further attempts at ‘decorating’.

“Come on, lemme finish it.” A few more ink-blots make their way onto the girl's face before she's set down. “Ta-da!” Jinx declares, wiping her hands on her pants. 

Isha, still giggling, runs to the nearest mirror, who is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she takes in her reflection. She turns her head from side to side, admiring her new ‘makeover’ from Jinx.

Feeling a tingle in your chest, you steal a glance at Jinx, watching her smile at Isha. 

Idiot, you silently scold yourself.

But your lips still curve into a small smile. 

Damn it, you silently curse to yourself, hoping Jinx didn't notice you staring at her with that expression written all over your face.

But Isha doesn't miss that. She looks between you and Jinx, the gears in her young mind turning, and a sly grin slowly spreads across her face.

Oh. She knows something that you'd prefer to keep hidden.

—

Isha's been down with a cold.

Today, you made her a bowl of porridge. Jinx volunteered to help.

You stand at the stove, stirring the simmering porridge, with Jinx by your side, carefully cutting up some fresh fruit to mix into the meal. You carefully ladle the porridge into a bowl, checking to make sure it's just the right temperature for Isha's sore throat.

You glance down at the bowl, satisfied with the consistency and temperature, before moving it onto a tray along with a spoon, a glass of water, and the bowl of fruit.

You head towards Isha's room, with Jinx following close behind. You can hear the sound of soft coughing coming from inside, along with the rustle of blankets.

Pushing open the door gently, you enter the room to find Isha sitting up in her bed, her blankets piled around her. Her face is flushed from the fever, and she looks tired, but her eyes light up when she sees the tray in your hands.

“Here's your porridge,” you say softly, setting it down on the bedside table. 

Jinx moves to the other side of the bed, plopping down next to Isha and gently placing a cool hand against her forehead. “You're still a bit warm.”

Isha nods weakly, trying to suppress a cough.

“But that porridge should help,” you add, settling on the edge of the bed and offering the bowl to Isha. “Slow sips, okay? Don't want you getting a tummy ache on top of everything else.”

Isha accepts the bowl and sips the porridge carefully. 

“There you go.” You smile, watching as Isha continues eating. Jinx grabs the glass of water, holding it up to Isha's lips once she's taken a few spoonfuls.

Once she's done, Jinx continues to check on her, fluffing her pillows, adjusting the blankets, and giving her the occasional pat on the head.

—

It's late evening. 

Jinx sits cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against the footboard of the bed where Isha is lying down. The little girl's eyes are focused on Jinx, her hands covering her face partially as if trying to stay up a bit longer.

Jinx tells a story she learned from Vander, one that he used to tell her when she was a child. A story about miners getting stuck in a mine and rescued by a mysterious, wisp-like woman that guided them to safety.

When Jinx finishes the story, she glances at Isha, expecting her to be asleep by now. Instead, she lies there and watches Jinx.

Peeking through the door, you expect to find Isha asleep, but she is still wide awake. Jinx looks like she's wracking her brain to think of more stories, still determined to get the little girl to sleep.

A chuckle escapes your lips as you settle down on the floor next to Jinx. “She's not tired yet, huh?” you whisper to Jinx. 

“No, not yet,” she replies. “I've run out of stories to tell and she doesn't seem even a bit sleepy.”

“She's just like you.”

“Hush,” she says, trying to suppress a smile. “I'm not the one keeping her awake right now.” She turns back to Isha, who is still awake and watching both of you.

“Well, neither of us are helping,” you point out, looking at the little girl who's staring at you both. “Isha, it's time for bed. You need to close your eyes and sleep.”

Isha pouts, clearly not wanting to go to sleep just yet. She looks at Jinx and then at you, her eyes pleading for another story. 

“Come on, kid,” Jinx says. “It's well past your bedtime. No more stories.”

Isha's pout deepens, her bottom lip jutting out stubbornly.

You stand up from the floor, walking over to a nearby bookshelf where you keep various children's books and comics. After a quick rummage, you find a colorful comic book that should interest Isha.

You return to the bed, carrying the comic book, and sit down next to Jinx again. Isha leans forward, her eyes immediately drawn to the book in your hands.

“Found one,” you say, holding up the comic book for the little girl to see. Her eyes light up when she recognizes the vibrant cover. 

Flipping open the comic book to the first page, you begin reading aloud about a group of animals in a forest. Isha listens intently, snuggled up in bed, her eyes darting between the images and your face as you read the story.

“Every day, these animals would wake up early,” you read, pointing to the drawing of the animals waking up and stretching. “Some would eat breakfast, some went to play, and some went to search for food.”

“One particularly lazy squirrel woke up late.” You turn over the page to reveal a picture of a sleepy little squirrel yawning and rubbing his eyes as the other animals were already out of their nests.

“By the time he woke up, all the nuts were already gone.” You flip over the page again to reveal an image of the squirrel, now wide awake, frantically searching for something to eat but finding nothing but empty trees and bushes.

“The squirrel was shocked and saddened that the nuts had run. But then,” you change your tone dramatically, “one of the rabbits heard the squirrel's cries and decided to help him!”

You turn the page again. This time, the picture shows the rabbit coming up to the squirrel, a nut in his paw. “The rabbit, seeing the squirrel's plight, decided to share his own breakfast with him.”

“The squirrel was delighted and grateful,” you read, and you turn the page to show an image of the squirrel happily sharing the nut with the rabbit. “The two of them ate and ate together, until their tummies were full and they fell asleep in a heap on the forest floor!”

You glance up from the book and see that Isha has finally fallen asleep. Her small head is now lying on her pillow and a smile graces her lips, as if she were dreaming about the animals from the comic book.

You close the comic book and set it down, but then there's a weight on your shoulder. 

Looking to the side, you see Jinx, who has fallen asleep. Her head rests on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your neck. Her eyes closed. Her mouth slightly open, softly snoring.

Still as a statue. 

You find yourself staring at the soft curtain of blue hair, your fingers itching to reach out and push it aside. 

But you don't. You can't. You don't want to wake her up. Don't move. 

It would be a small action, but you know that it might wake her up, and the last thing you want is to deal with a grumpy face and her snarky comment. 

But your hand moves as if it has a mind of its own. Inch by inch, your fingers close in until they make contact with her hair, brushing it back over her ear.��

Jinx lets out a sigh, her head leaning into your hand as if aching for your touch.

Her face, now with her bangs brushed aside, shows her features—so fine, so distinctly her.

Your eyes trace her face. You want to hold her in a way that you'll remember forever. You want to know her in every way possible, to learn every inch of her, to understand every thought and feeling she's ever had.

Her arms are the only chains you'd gladly wear. Her eyes in which you'd forever be lost. Her smile is the one you can never say no to. Her voice is the song that you could listen to for hours.

You wonder if she would lean into your touch, if she would arch her head into your palm. Would she let you caress her face, your fingers tracing the slope of her jaw and the curve of her cheek? Or would she pull back, pushing you away?

But as quickly as it began, it ended.

You pull your hand away. Your fingers clenching into a fist and returning to your lap. The memory of her hair against your skin remains, burning at the edges of your thoughts.

Then Jinx slowly stirs from her sleep. She lifts her head from your shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours, then your mouth, then back to your eyes again.

You saw her throat move. Are you hallucinating? Is it just your imagination? You can't tell for sure. You wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. Your thoughts are fogged by the way she's looking at you.

Her eyes linger on your face, tracing every contour, every feature.

Your heart is in your throat. You can hear it pulsing in your ears. You can feel your palms getting sweaty. You try to hold her gaze, but your own eyes are drawn to her lips, soft and slightly parted.

Finally, Jinx breaks the silence. “You're staring,” she murmurs.

You blink, her words snapping you out of your trance. “I–” you start to respond, then realize how stupid and obvious it sounded. “Just making sure you didn't drool on me.”

She chuckles, her hand pushing your face away from hers. 

“Hey!” you say, putting a palm to your face.

You watch as Jinx stands up, heading towards the door, opening it slightly, and pausing to look back at you. 

“Good night,” she says, eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

“Night, Jinx,” you reply, one hand still resting on your face.

You catch a glimpse of a smile forming on her lips as she disappears through the door, leaving you sitting there with a palm still on your cheek.

You hear a soft, barely suppressed giggle coming from Isha's bed. Confused, you turn to look at her, only to find her looking at you with a wide grin. 

“Isha,” you say, surprised, “I thought you were asleep!”

—

“You could have warned me,” Sevika grumbles. Isha continues to focus on coloring her hat.

“Fat chance,” Jinx responds, turning to face Sevika. “About what?”

Sevika glares at her, obviously displeased. “Your stunt at the checkpoint.”

“No idea what you're babbling about.”

“That wasn't you?” She scoffs. 

Jinx pauses, realization crossing her face. She glances at Isha with a knowing look, noticing the smirk on the child's face.

The conversation with Sevika continues, with Jinx growing more and more restless as it does. Once the discussion is over, Jinx rises from her spot. “I gotta go bother someone,” she says, before walking out.

You notice the look on Isha's face. Disappointment.

“Let's go, Isha,” you say, already grabbing a bat and some small balls. You don’t wait for a response, signaling for her to follow as you head to the door.

—

It's late, the sun having set and the moon now high in the sky. You and Isha had spent the previous hours playing, but Jinx still hasn't returned. Concerned, the two of you look for her.

Isha rides on your shoulder, her small hands gripping your hair. She looks at the surroundings for any sign of Jinx. 

After some time walking and climbing, you end up on a rooftop. You both climb carefully, making sure not to fall.

Finally, when perched on the edge, you spot Jinx. She's sitting with her knees against her chest, looking out at Piltover.

You gently place Isha down on the rooftop, giving her a subtle nudge, gesturing towards Jinx. Isha catches your cue, nodding quietly and slowly approaches Jinx.

Isha carefully settled herself down beside her. Her legs dangling off the ledge of the rooftop.

You take a seat on the other side of Isha, settling down with a soft rustle of fabric. 

Jinx continues to stare out at the city, her chin resting on her folded arms. “You guys found me, huh?”

Isha shifts her position, moving closer. You notice that she's looking up at Jinx, her small head resting against her arm.

Jinx glances at the child. She reaches over to ruffle Isha's hair affectionately.

“Couldn't stay away.”

“Yeah,” she mutters, “I guess you two are pretty stubborn.”

You reposition yourself, shifting your body so that you can lean back and rest a hand on the cold, gritty rooftop.

Jinx moves herself into a more relaxed position, leaning back and placing her hand on the rooftop next to yours. With her other hand, she pats at Isha, gesturing for the child to lay down.

Isha obliges, her small body now sprawled out across Jinx's lap. She fidgets a bit, clearly beginning to tire.

Watching over the city below while the moon hangs low in the night sky, a familiar touch breaks the silence, fingertips seeking yours.

There's a gentle pressure, a gentle caress, that causes your hand to twitch involuntarily, yet you don't pull away.

Her hand rests on top of yours, claiming its place as if it were always meant to be there. Jinx's fingers trace patterns across the back of your hand, like a secret language only she understands. 

“Your hands are cold,” she continues tracing lazy circles with the pads of her fingers.

You hadn't even realized how cold your hand had felt until she pointed it out, and now it seems to be burning under her touch.

“Ever thought about wearing gloves?” 

“Gloves?” you repeat, finding your own voice now. 

“Hm, I guess not.” 

Her fingers suddenly stop their tracing, and for a moment, you feel disappointed. But she quickly resumes, her thumb brushing over your wrist, the pulse point.

Jinx glances up at you, a smirk on her lips. “Your pulse is racing. Am I making you nervous?”

“No,” you say, though the speed of your pulse likely betrays your words.

“Uh huh. You're a terrible liar.” She continues to hold your wrist, thumb now drumming a slow, steady rhythm against your pulse point. “Relax. I don't bite... much.”

You try to calm your racing heartbeat, she's making it difficult. “I'm relaxed.”

Isha shifts in Jinx's lap, her body stirring slightly. Both you and Jinx turning your attention towards the girl. 

Jinx lifts her free hand and pats Isha's head reassuringly. Her touch is soft and careful, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl.

With Isha settled, Jinx turns her attention back to you. She still hasn't let go of your wrist, her fingers now massaging little circles into your skin. “You're awfully tense for someone who's ‘relaxed’.”

She studies you for a moment, her eyes roaming your face, then she suddenly releases your hand. The sudden absence of her touch feels like a loss.

Jinx sits back, creating a bit of space between the two of you. 

“What's on your mind?”

“Just thinking.”

You frown, frustrated by her vague response. “About what?”

“About you,” she answers.

Her reply catches you off guard. You feel your cheeks warm, and you mentally scold yourself. Why is she having this effect on you?

“Me?” you ask, trying to remain calm.

Jinx glances down at the sleeping Isha, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, and Isha,” she says, her hand absently playing with the child's hair. Her eyes then dart back to you. “Mostly you, though.” 

“Uh, me?” you repeat, mentally cursing yourself for sounding like a parrot.

Jinx hums, still absently playing with Isha’s hair. 

“What... what about us?”

Jinx doesn't respond right away. Her gaze flicks between you and the sleeping child, contemplating something.

“I've got a habit of bringing trouble wherever I go.” She turns to you. “I just-” she begins. “I don't want anything bad to happen to either of you... because of me.”

Her eyes search yours before she looks down at Isha. “I'm not sure what I'd do if something happened to you… either of you.” She pauses. “I care too much,” she blurts out, looking back up at you. “And honestly, it scares me.” You can see her shoulders tense, struggling to find the right words. “I don't want to mess everything up. Everyone I've ever cared about has gotten hurt by me, or because of me.”

You ache to pull her into your arms, to soothe the worries that are weighing on her shoulders. It takes every ounce of restraint you have not to. “No, no, I'm not going anywhere. Neither is Isha.”

“You don't know what could happen.”

“Yes, I do,” you murmur. “I know there's a chance we might end up hurt. Or worse.” You take a deep breath, holding her gaze steady with yours. “But that's a risk I'm willing to take,” you continue. “Because being with you, right now, is worth it.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but you cut her off. “No. No more talking. You've said what you need to say. Now let me say what I need to say.”

Eyes never leaving hers, you reach out slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted to. But she doesn't, and your fingers find their way to her cheek, gently cupping her face.

“I care about you too,” you murmur, your thumb tracing a path over her cheekbone. “I care about the person you are, not just the person you think you are. I see the good in you, the good that you struggle to see in yourself.”

Her lips part, as if to utter another protest, but you press a finger to her mouth to silence her. “Let me speak. I'm not done yet.”

“You're afraid,” you continue. “You're terrified of the possibility of me or Isha getting hurt. I understand. But you need to realize,” you pause, your fingers moving from her mouth to her chin, tilting it up so that she's looking you fully in the eye.

“You're not a curse,” you say. “You're not a jinx. Bad things happen, but that doesn't mean it's your fault. It's not your fault—” 

“I know.” She trembles under your touch. Her eyes glisten. 

“No, listen to me. It's not your fault.”

“I know.” Despite her best efforts, the dam is beginning to break. 

“It's not your fault,” you repeat. A single tear manages to escape, trickling down her cheek and into your palm. “You were just a child.”

“But I should have known. I should have—They're gone because of me. It's my fault.”

“No, no, no, it's not your fault. You were just a child. You were doing what you thought was the best to help them, to protect them.” You wipe the tear away with your thumb, your heart aching for her. You can see the battle she's fighting within herself, and it kills you that you can't do more. 

“You are not defined by your past, by your mistakes,” you continue, your hand still on her cheek, feeling the tremble as she struggles to hold back her tears. “You are so much more than that.”

“You are loved.” Your fingers trace her jawline, before moving slowly upwards to her temple. “By me, by Isha. And by many more people than you realize.” For perhaps the first time, Jinx lets herself break. She leans into your touch, her cheek pressing against your palm. Her eyes never leave yours, seeking solace, reassurance. She grips your wrists weakly, her hands trembling. “It's okay, I'm right here.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” you murmur. “No matter what happens, you hear me? I'm here to stay. We're here to stay. You're stuck with us.”

Slowly, the tears begin to subside. Her breathing steadies. Her body calming down.

You let your fingers slowly shift from her tear stained cheeks to her hair, playing with the strands. “I'll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe.” Your hands move down to her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I'm not some damsel in distress,” she mutters. 

You laugh, leaning back on your hands. “I know you're not,” you assure her. “You'd probably kick my ass if I tried to treat you like one. But even the toughest people need someone to have their backs, right?”

Jinx huffs, though you can see the edges of a smile on her face. “That's a cheesy line.” 

“Maybe,” you admit. “But it's still true. You don't have to face everything alone.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, her hand resuming its gentle stroking of Isha’s hair. “You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”

“And yet?”

Jinx snorts. “And yet somehow I tolerate you.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Isha mumbles incoherently, shifting slightly.

“Looks like someone's stirring,” Jinx coos.

With one final pat on Jinx's shoulder, you withdraw your hand, silently communicating that the moment is over, for now.

Her shoulders tense at the loss of your touch, disappointment or perhaps longing in her eyes. But she quickly composes herself.

The little girl slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily and looking around disoriented. She rubs one eye with a fist, then glances up as if just realizing that she's in Jinx's lap.

Isha grins brightly when she sees Jinx, her tired eyes lighting up. She wriggles a bit, stretching her limbs and looking surprisingly cheerful despite being woken up.

“I think we should head back. It's getting late.”

Jinx nods, carefully shifting Isha in her arms as she stands up. The child wraps her arms around Jinx's neck, clinging to her like a monkey.

“Alright, kid, time to head home,” Jinx tells Isha, bouncing her up in her arms. The girl giggles and buries her head into the crook of Jinx's neck.

Seeing Jinx like this with Isha is something else. She looks so... soft.

“Ready to go?” Jinx asks, looking at you. Isha wriggles, eager to get going.

You nod, gesturing for them to lead the way. Isha stretches out a hand towards you, wanting to hold onto you too.

“Looks like you've got a fan.”

“Nah, she just likes me that much.”

“That so?” Jinx huffs. “Or is she just using you to get to me?”

“You know she'd choose my company over yours any day.” 

“Oh, so that's how it is, huh?” She pokes Isha gently in the stomach, causing another giggle from the child. “Traitor,” she mutters, before addressing you again. “I'm wounded, really.”

“You'll survive,” you assure her. “Somehow.”

The warmth of Isha's grasp on your hand. The giggle that escapes her every time Jinx spins her around. The way Jinx's eyes soften when she looks at the child.

This, you realize, is what home could feel like.

notes: im so excited for act 4 on saturday!

[thatsveryvortex]

Writing Tools for Planning Your Story

I've tried tons of writing apps and sites, so you don't have to. Here's a list of free sites to plot out your novel, with my review and some images of how I use it.

Milanote

Milanote is like having a giant pinboard with folders. You can upload anything onto it [yes even your main doc] and then draw over it or connect things with lines and arrows

Milanote lets you add up to a hundred things for free, not including drawing. This is one of the downsides of the site as I've found myself reaching that limit recently.

For me, the best part is being able to draw over stuff, and the color swatches.

Milanote is a lot less structured than other sites I've used, and personally, I don't think their templates are worth using.

8/10 overall, Milanote is what I mainly use. Here are some pics of how I use it:

Miro

Miro is a flowchart website mainly used for corporate jobs, however, it can be a great plotting tool for that reason

Miro has a lot of great starter templates if you are looking for a more structured freeform experience. It also comes with a blank page as well.

Unfortunately, I'd argue that it's a bit of a hard tool for beginners to use without a template, I've learned copy-paste is my best friend with Miro the hard way.

It's much better than most platforms at making timelines though.

It has a limit of three boards which is a bit disappointing but overall, I think it's worth the try.

5/10 Miro is very middle of the road for me due to the limited ability to customize things and the free limit. Here are some pics:

[I wrote that part weeks ago, I am now fully using Miro and believe it's the best for making timelines and charts, I just wish it let me make more boards 8/10]

Hiveword

This might be someone's jam, I can't really say it's mine though.

First off, the unpaid version is really just a few boxes saying "Write a summary here." which makes it just not worth it in my opinion

There really isn't any way to customise things which is my favorite part of most of these softwares

I've barely used this, so maybe there's something I'm missing but

1/10, Just use Google Docs at this point, here's a couple pics

World Anvil

People like this software, it's mainly used for tabletop, which is just a different way of writing adventure, and I've seen it recommended by authors.

Unfortunately, I'm going to disagree with a lot of people and say it's hard to use and isn't even really good at plotting.

I may be biased on this one as every time I've tried to use it in the past I've struggled. However, it seems like another just write it in a document and create a folder.

I'd say it's closer to an organizing tool, but even then just use something else.

3/10, I have nothing to say about it but maybe you'll enjoy it, all here are two photos

Campfire

This is the one I think I've heard the most about, but have never actually tried.

right off the bat, I'm going to say this is 100% worth it, you'll see at the end with the photos but this is like if Miro and World Anvil had an organization baby.

It's extremely easy to understand, and it makes timelines, it's more for writing your whole book but idk about that yet.

7/10, its themes are really pretty but it limits how much you can do to 20 I believe. Here are the photos

That's all for now, honestly, I think you should use Miro if you are looking to plot things out, and Milanote if you want to collect and organize your thoughts for writing, as that's what I do. Obviously what I like won't be for everyone, but hopefully, this helped you see some options

[moonchildstyles]

fig

pomegrante part two: y/n finally convinces harry to go out with her and her friends, but the night really starts when they make it home

wordcount: 9.2k+

—————

"What's for dinner tonight?" 

(Y/N) peeked over Harry's shoulder, her hands landing on his back to keep her steady. There was a whole empty stretch of counter she could have stationed herself, where a well enough view would have shown her what he was doing at the stove, and yet she chose the option to put her hands on him and let him breathe in the bouquet of her scent. 

His lungs squeezed on instinct. 

"Jus'—uh—some macaroni and cheese. Thought it would be easy and all," he murmured, attempting to keep his voice even and mind from wandering. 

It had been a week since the drunken night in his bedroom had turned into the morning spent between his sheets, and yet Harry wasn't sure he'd ever actually recovered. Every now and again, when a particularly vivid memory of her hand fisted around him came to the forefront of his mind, he was out of commission for a few moments, something akin to an aftershock racing up his spine. 

(Y/N) definitely wasn't making it any easier to move past the intimate moment with the way she seemed to have completely forgone any kind of barrier that had previously kept her from being touchy-feely with him. It was moments like this—with her hands on his back in the middle of the kitchen—that had plagued him and kept him stuck on the week prior. 

Most mornings now included a lingering hug goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The days where he beat her home, she would make a point to come and say hello to him once she'd returned from her own work day. Cuddling on the couch during a show or movie, was something that no longer required any build up; from the moment they sat down, she was at his side with her shoulder bumping his and knee skimming the cuff of his own with every shift of her form. 

Tonight, she held no hesitation before she was draping herself over his form, the warmth of her body sinking into him. Instinctively, he wanted to melt and relax, allow his bones to go malleable so that he could wrap around her the way he wanted. At the same moment, his spine went stiff, keeping him at attention as he was unwilling to miss even a single brush of her fingers. 

"That sounds good, H," she smiled, decidedly much more at ease than her counterpart, "Do you want any help?" 

"No, I've got it," he swallowed, curling his mouth into a smile as he turned his face to find her gaze already trained right on him, "Thank you, though." 

"Okay," she sighed, dropping down from her tip toes and edging out towards the living room, "I guess I can just watch our show then."

He laughed at her exaggerated show, playing along as if she were the one doing the hard work for the night. "I hope y'can manage." 

"We'll see" she sang just before sweeping out of the space and taking the butterflies in Harry's stomach along with her. 

His chest deflated as a deep breath left his lungs. It was embarrassing to admit that, from just the smallest moment, his cock had stirred for no other reason than the fact that it was (Y/N) that had touched him. There was a part of him that figured that after that night in his bed, that he would have been freed from that lingering kind of desire; that he would have gotten everything out of his system and would have been able to move on as only her friend, but everything appeared to only have intensified. 

That's why every touch and every moment seemed to make a larger mark on him. More often than not, he was transported right back to his sheets, (Y/N) tucked to his side and his chest heaving. He knew what she felt like—the touch of her hands, the heat of her skin, the pump of her heart—and he wasn't going to be able to easily forget that. 

A furrow appeared in his brow as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to finish making dinner, and then he would worry about (Y/N) and what it meant that he couldn't look at her now without a rosy glow glossing over his vision. 

—————

Scratching his head, Harry stared at his laptop screen. A spreadsheet illuminated his face. 

While he loved his project team and enjoyed his department colleagues, there were times—just like this one—that made him wonder if he was going to be driven mad on their account. The equations and rules posted in each of these cells made little to no sense, he couldn't fathom why Tylor would think this was good enough to pass along an—

"Boo!" 

A fumbled curse fell from Harry's mouth as he practically jumped out of his skin. Snapping his head to look over his shoulder as he roughly pulled his headphones off of his head, he saw (Y/N) giving him a goofy grin, biting back a laugh. 

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his heart rate settling back to normal. 

"Did I get you?" she giggled, her hands still on his shoulder though now her grip turned into a massaging roll. 

"Yeah," he laughed, sagging in his chair, " Y'scared the shit out of me." 

Her laughter only bubbled brighter. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." 

"'S alright." He shook his head as his eyes followed (Y/N) as she fell back to sit on his bed, "You're home early." 

"Yeah," she sang, propping herself up with a hand behind her on his mattress, "My supervisor let me go early since I finished all of my reports yesterday." 

"That's nice," he smiled, making a point not to focus on the fact that seeing her in his bed elicited a much different reaction than it used to. "What are y'gonna do with all of your extra free time?" 

Something sparkled in her eyes then, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth though she made an effort to keep it from stretching wide. "That's what I came to talk to you about actually." 

"Yeah?" A flush crept up the base of his throat.

"Yeah," she chirped, "I talked to Rue and Kim, and I think we might go out tonight. They're bringing a couple of friends and I think Kim is asking her roommate to come too." 

"That'll be fun," Harry encouraged, pretending everything that happened after her last girls night didn't happen. "Y'gonna be here for dinner then, or do y'want me to save the leftovers for tomorrow?"

"Actually," she started, canting her head with a blink of her eyes, "I was wondering if you might want to come with me tonight." 

Harry's mouth suddenly ran dry. (Y/N) had talked about him joining her and her friends on a night out many different times, but he never gave it much thought. He was never one for big parties or crowded clubs, even during his university days. He was sure (Y/N) knew as much. 

He fumbled for an answer—a kind way to decline her invitation once more—, though (Y/N) seemingly met him halfway and cut him off. 

"I know you don't usually like going out like this," she started, eyes turning pleading, "But, I really, really think you'd have a good time. The bars we pick are fun, I mean it." He watched as her expression shifted, a glint passing through her eyes though her smile turned coy. "And you could meet someone, you know." 

That was the first illusion to any facet of the conversation that had taken place in his bedroom that week and a half ago. She wanted him to meet someone, still? 

While Harry had been well aware that what had transpired wasn't going to, and didn't change a single thing between them, she also hadn't again brought up the idea of setting him up. He had figured that now that she knew his secret, that she understood why he wasn't looking to find a random person in a bar, or be set up through anyone. 

(And, maybe there was the smallest, most minuscule part of him that hoped that, maybe, she was no longer interested in seeing him with someone else anymore. That, maybe she had found the same book he had pulled, and was working herself to the same page. A futile hope, he supposed). 

"I don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, "I've still got a lot I need to get done today." 

He dared to match her gaze from where his eyes had skated over her shoulder. Her glittery, pretty, clear eyes didn't shy away from him. Her lashes flared when she blinked at him, a small gape to her lips. 

"Please, H," she murmured, a small curl touching the corner of her mouth, "You're really going to make me beg—just for a couple of hours of your time?" 

Harry swallowed, making a point to drop his gaze from hers. Beg? She was going to beg for him? 

Why would she say that? Was she trying to make him fall to the floor? Light on fire? 

A warm flush crept up his neck. "Beg?" he choked out.

"I will if you really want me to," she offered, amusement in her voice though Harry wasn't finding the joke.

"No, no, 's alright," he rushed out, sparing himself and his briefs the trouble, "Y'really want me to go?" 

"Of course, I do!" Harry hadn't realized how the air had stilled, or the way her voice had dropped until she suddenly perked up. The cheer now injected in her tone was a stark difference to whatever it was that had been between them just a moment before. "I promise you'd have so much fun; if anything we'll get to have a night out for the first time in forever." 

Truthfully, did he really think he was going to be able to say no? Especially when she sat so prettily on his bed and was willing to beg for him. 

He took in a deep breath, as if he were taking on a heavy burden before he looked to (Y/N) with thinned lips. "Okay."

It was the joy and excitement that lit her up that had Harry feeling certain in his decision. He'd never had a chance. 

"Harry, really?! I'm so excited!" She popped up from his bed only to hug him as best she could while he was still stationed in his desk chair. 

He only hesitated for a moment, his limbs stiff for a breath before he succumbed to the warmth. Feeling the strands of hair on the crown of her head tickling the tip of his nose strung memories back to the front of his mind, the kind that had his heart plunging against his ribs just as she pulled away. 

"I'm going to tell everyone, and I'll let you know what time and everything." Her chattering voice filled his room even as she began towards his door. "We should probably eat before we go out, but I'll let you know what we figure out." She paused in the threshold. "Are you excited?" 

The way she was looking at him, grin wide and eyes bright, he was only able to answer honestly. "Very excited."

With one more grin over her shoulder, she disappeared out of view. 

Harry had his eyes fixed to the door frame for a lingering moment. His lungs expanded at full capacity for the first time since she had barged in, his heart beginning to even out. He blinked as he attempted to get back to work, urging himself to focus on something familiar before he was going to have to deal with the deal he made for the night. 

When she was sitting in front of him, the perspective of a smoky bar with her sounded fun and exciting. Now he was alone with the reality of a sticky, overpriced bar being his plans for the night, he could only hope that his original excitement prevailed. 

—————

(Y/N) had her hand wrapped around Harry's wrist as she led them through the congested line in front of the bartop. He couldn't help but to mumble his sorrys and excuse mes despite knowing not a single person was listening. Holding up the rear, Harry could see ahead to where Rue and her roommate lead the charge, followed by Kim, and her boyfriend, along with Cora and her brother. The usual suspects in (Y/N)'s life; some he met back when they were both in university, others she met through work. 

Meeting up outside of the bar didn't leave much room for small talk and catching up before they were herded inside, but it was long enough for Harry to see the surprise that crossed Rue and Kim's faces. They hadn't believed that he was really going to show up tonight. And, he couldn't blame them, even if it did make him feel a bit sheepish; he hoped none of them had an ill opinion of him because of that. 

The so-called bar that had been chosen for the night was verging on a night club with the way the music was pounding loud through the room. There wasn't a designated spot for dancing , but it appeared the space had been made with the way there were few tables in the room aside from the bartop and the booths lining the room. The empty space before the DJ became the dancefloor, their warm bodies swaying and moving together. Other than strobing party lights, the bar was left in the dark. 

Rue, thanks to a connection with one of the bouncers and a bartender, was able to sweep them through the congestion in the bar to find an empty booth in the back. It was secluded, behind the large speakers of the DJ. Harry was sure he was going to have a ringing in his ears for the rest of the weekend after this, but it was a preferable spot compared to just standing around while others pushed around. 

"This good?!" Rue shouted to the line behind her (or at least Harry figured she shouted, he was just making do with reading her lips). 

It only took a few nodding heads before the group took over the vinyl seating. (Y/N) kept him close, pulling him to sit on the end of the curving booth beside her. She grinned up at him, her teeth splashed in flickers of blue and magenta thanks to the lights above. 

"What do you think!?" she bubbled, close enough that Harry could just hear the octaves of her voice. 

"'S a lot," he answered, ducking down to hover his lips by her ear, "A little sticky." 

She laughed at his words. "Yeah, I never wear cute shoes here. Thank you for coming, though." 

The way she smiled at him made up for the sweat already beginning to slick the back of his head, and the way the soles of his shoes may never be the same after this. When she looked up at him with eyes sparkling, grin wide, he wondered why he'd never said yes to a night like this before. 

"(Y/N)!" 

Whipping their heads to look across the table, Cora's brother, Colin had his gaze on (Y/N). The planes of his face were highlighted under the beams of strobing light, long shadows cast by the length of his lashes and the point of his chin. Harry knew Colin was a good looking man, and maybe that was why he felt a pinch of jealousy sting the middle of his chest. Especially when he smiled at (Y/N) like that; Harry wondered if that was what he looked like when he gazed at her too. 

"I'm going to the bar, what do you want?" 

She rattled off a simple order, something fruity and sweet that he knew was her favorite. As soon as she finished though, she looked at Harry, brows raised in question. "What do you want?" 

Flicking his eyes to Colin, Harry saw the way his lips thinned. Maybe it was because (Y/N)'s attention was spread elsewhere. Or, it could just be the way his face looked, Harry reminded himself.

Nonetheless, Harry met Colin's eyes across the table and shared his own order. "Thank you," he smiled, even if Colin didn't give more than a nod of acknowledgment. 

He and Cora excused themselves a moment later, heading back into the throes of patrons towards the bar. 

Harry didn't want to, but he had a feeling he was going to be keeping an eye on him through the night. 

At his side, (Y/N) bumped him to grab his attention. "You're going to dance with me tonight, right?" 

A smile crept onto the corners of his mouth. "I don't know, (Y/N)," he drawled, "Are y'sure you're ready for everyone to know 'm a better dancer than you?" 

She let out a peal of laughter, bright and tinkling compared to the heavy bass rattling through his bones. "I guess I'll have to manage," she teased, both of them knowing the truth about his coordination, "I promise I'll get out of your way when people start cutting in to take my place with you." 

Harry played along, graciously accepting her offer. "I think that's best for the both of us." With a moment's hesitation, he gently laid his hand on her knee. While (Y/N) didn't even blink at the contact, Harry could feel his heart rate jumping as if he wasn't the one who had made the first move. 

Especially when she threw her head back laughing and leaned right into his touch, angling her body just so, he questioned if there were any others in the room. 

As if Harry would accept anyone else's hand tonight. 

—————

Bringing the small black straw to her pursed lips, (Y/N) bit back her laughter as she saw Harry move horrendously so to the music pumping around them. Tonight's game apparently was going to be one where they threw out the worst moves they could, leaving the other to replicate them and make them that much more uncoordinated. It wasn't the right game to play if they were attempting to catch anyone's eye, but that was far from Harry's mind at the moment. All he wanted was to keep (Y/N) having fun. 

Rue, Kim, and the others weren't very far away with Colin and Kim's boyfriend having taken to staying in the booth to stake claim of the space. It wasn't hard to catch Colin looking (Y/N)'s way more than once. Even if he didn't seem particularly happy with the fact she had been sticking with Harry through most of the night, Colin hadn't tried anything more than watching on with a slight pinch to his features. 

Just as (Y/N) was going to match his move and add on something extra ridiculous, her eyes lit up, flicking over his shoulder. Spitting the chewed up straw from her mouth, she crossed the few steps between them with a giddy smile. She gestured him to lean down for her, leaving his ear level with her mouth. 

"There's a girl behind you that's been looking at you! I just saw her say something to one of her friends and point at you," (Y/N) bubbled, almost stumbling over her words, "I think she's going to come over here!" 

Harry wanted to match her excitement. He wanted to look at her smile and offer up his own. But there was nothing about this revelation that made him as excited as she wanted him to be. Was it nice to be admired, and have someone know nothing about him and still want to get to know him just from one look? Sure.

But, if that person wasn't (Y/N), he didn't have much interest. 

"I can leave if you want," she rattled on, "So she doesn't feel weird coming over here!" 

"No, no," Harry immediately fired off, "'S alright. I want to keep dancing with you." 

It was a simple admission, one that could be easily shared between friends, but felt loaded falling from his tongue. 

"But, H," (Y/N) countered, "This is the best time to meet new people! It might be fun to have someone other than me hanging around, don't you think?" 

Immediately, Harry wanted to say no. It wouldn't be very fun in his opinion, to retrace all of his vulnerabilities and secrets to be shared with someone else when (Y/N) was right there. She already knew any and everything there was to know about him, he didn't need to share any more. 

His silence was taken the wrong way by (Y/N). A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "If you're still nervous about what you told me, I promise you'll be fine. Don't let it stop you from meeting a nice girl." She paused for a moment, Harry's throat bobbing as he swallowed around his dry tongue. "I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. If that makes you feel better." 

Suddenly, he could feel the heavy beat of his heart as it matched the bass of the music pouring from the speakers. What kind of twisted pep talk; one where she was encouraging him to meet other women and to not hold back due to his lack of prowess, while also offering to help him get some of those firsts off of his plate. 

He took in a heavy breath, grateful that he could still glean notes of her perfume over the rest of the sticky, smoky scent that filled the bar. "Yeah?" he breathed, already getting much too wrapped up in the implications of her offer. 

"Of course," she bubbled, entirely too bright for where his mind was going, "You don't have to worry about things like that. If any girl is worth your time, she'd never feel any kind of way about that part of you." 

Harry gave a slight shake of his head. "No—um—I mean... Y'really mean y'still want to help me?" 

(Y/N) reared back just enough to catch his eye, her half finished drink left to the wayside as she chewed on her bottom lip instead. "Of course." 

It verged on embarrassing how just those two innocuous words were able to cause a stirring in his stomach, his pants needing an adjustment. 

Before he had a chance to say anything in response, Harry felt a hand settle on his arm. (Y/N)'s expression loosened, her eyes widening when she saw whoever was behind him. She didn't say anything before she urged him with her hand on his shoulder to turn around, a bounce of her brows. 

Forcing himself to turn over his shoulder, Harry found a pretty girl with lengthy brown hair and honey eyes looking up at him. Her skin was powdered and highlighted to perfection, her lips a juicy pink with blush to match. Her lashes flared around her eyes, like a cat's eye. 

"Hi," she smiled, bouncing on the tips of her toes, "Sorry if I'm interrupting. I hope this isn't weird, but you're just really cute; my friends have been telling me to come and talk to you since we came in." 

Harry wanted so badly to feel flattered. He wanted to feel a flush go up his cheeks and warm his already glistening skin. But, he just didn't. 

All he felt was reluctance when (Y/N) excused herself, muttering that she was going back to the table. 

"Um," Harry fumbled, forcing a dimpled smile onto his cheeks, "Thank you. I think you're cute, too." 

It was true, the compliment. Though that was where it stopped. She was a pretty girl, but not the one he wanted. 

She let out a sweet giggle, her drink sloshing in hand. "Do you want to dance?" 

He couldn't help but to cut a look over his shoulder, finding (Y/N) sitting with Colin and Rue's roommate. An encouraging smile beamed from her features. 

He swallowed thickly. She wanted him to take this girl up on her offer. 

Honestly, he would have, if not for that smile on her face. As pretty as this girl was, she wasn't ever going to have the same creased by her eyes, the same crinkle to her nose, the same grin on her face. She wasn't the one that he saw himself readily watching reality dating shows with. She wasn't the one he wanted to end his night with. Not when (Y/N) was right there; not when she was the one he trusted the most.

"Actually," Harry started, morphing his features into an apology before the actual words even left his mouth, "I came here for a friend's birthday tonight; not really trying to meet anyone tonight." 

The lie came out less than smooth, but it appeared that was all the explanation the girl required.

Her lips formed an O as she gazed up at him. "I see, no worries," she bubbled off, shaking her head, "I totally get it! Maybe I could give you my number or something? So next time you go out, you can just text me if you want to meet up." 

Harry felt terribly guilty the more sweet and understanding she was. Rejection had never been and would never be his strong suit. And he wasn't going to be able to hone his skills tonight. 

"Sure," he choked out, already unlocking his phone to be passed along to her hands. 

She happily tapped away at his screen as she added her number to his contacts, a winking emoji stamped at the end of her name (Viola, he learned). 

"Have a fun night!" she beamed at him before leaving to rejoin her friends. 

Following suit, Harry pretended he didn't feel any eyes on him as he retreated towards (Y/N) in the booth. It was then that he caught the wolfish smile on Colin's face dissipate when he realized Harry was on his way back. 

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, throwing a glance around him towards the woman he retreated from. 

Harry shrugged, sliding into the booth at her side. "She and her friends are leaving soon. She gave me her number." 

(Y/N) clasped her hands in a giddy clap. "No way! She so likes you, H! I'm so happy for you!" 

It was cute, the way she bubbled his praises, as if he'd done anything at all to warrant the approach from Viola. 

"When are you going to text her?" She leaned towards him (and away from Colin) with a conspiratorial smile.

Once again, Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He dropped his gaze from hers, hoping she wouldn't press for more explanation when he answered, "Not sure yet." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, drooping some, "Well, wh—" 

Just then, thankfully so, Kim approached the table with clear eyes, her boyfriend draped around her with his own gaze looking much less coherent. "Hey, I think I'm going to take him home," she shouted to (Y/N) over the music, "Do you want to ride with us, or are you going to stay? I think Rue and Cora are planning on staying until last call." 

(Y/N) immediately looked towards Harry, brows raised in question. "Are you ready to go home? Or did you want to stay?" 

He gave a small cant of his head, warmed by the attention she gave him. "'M alright with whatever y'want to do." 

Before he even finished speaking, (Y/N) shook her head with a roll of her eyes. "No, H. What do you want to do?" 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry didn't stand a chance before his mind wandered right back to the offer she made to him on the dance floor. He... Well, he would never assume that (Y/N) would drop and follow through right away, though there was a higher chance if they weren't in public. 

"I could be ready to go home, if you are." 

(Y/N)'s features softened into a smile. "Okay," she said just before turning to Kim, "We'll go home with you, if that's alright." 

It was her turn to drop a hand on his knee, a slight squeeze of her fingers around the cuff. That was all it took to have his stomach tightening and heart choking his throat. 

Harry wondered if he would always be this easy, or if it was just (Y/N). 

Hopefully, going home early would help him find out.

—————

Harry waved one last time to Kim and her boyfriend before they drove off. Behind him, on the small tiled space just past the threshold, (Y/N) struggled with her teetering heels. 

"Are y'alright?" he murmured as he closed the door, the lock clicking into place a moment later. 

"Kinda," she sighed, "Hold on." Just as he turned to face her, (Y/N) placed her hand on his abdomen. Her fingers pressed through the material of his top just over the ridges of muscles lining his torso, steadying herself as she carefully attempted to shuck her shoes off. 

His lungs stunted, his eyes dropping to where she was just short of kneeling in front of him. The last time she touched him so low on his stomach was when he had guided her palm down his abdomen before she had taken his cock in her fist. The memory had his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. 

"Sorry," she muttered, looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, a curtain of her hair hanging over her features, "I didn't want to sit on the floor—I don't think I would have gotten up." 

He knew he was supposed to laugh along, especially when she let out a breathy laugh as she was finally able to kick off her shoes. Kicking her shoes to the side, she gave a chummy pat to his stomach before she rose to her full height. When she met his gaze, her demeanor was decidedly brighter and lighter than the direction his thoughts had taken. 

"What's wrong?" she immediately chirped, her brows slanting as she gazed up at him. 

Harry forced himself back into the moment, blinking back into the middle of his home. "Um," he coughed, turning away from her prying eyes, "Nothing—sorry, I zoned out." 

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) pressed, canting her head. Her eyes fell from his face and down the line of his neck. "Do you feel hot? You're turning red, H." 

A streak of guilt trickled through his system. She was genuinely concerned for him while he was a moment away from allowing himself to imagine if she had actually dropped to her knees in front of him and made good on the offer she extended only hours prior. 

Shaking his head, he tried his best to fight off the natural reactions his body gave when it came to his roommate. "'M alright, really. Jus' a little tired, I think." 

(Y/N) initially seemed to buy his excuse, but in that same moment, he saw something flash across her gaze. Her concerned features shifted until there was a sly smile on her lips, brows bouncing above her accusing eyes. 

"Ohhh, I see," she sang as she all but bounced on her toes, "You want to go talk to your new girlfriend." 

His eyes widened at her accusation. What map had she used to get to that destination? 

"Th-That's not—'M not—"

"It's alright, I get it," she teased, putting her hands up as if in surrender, "I'll let you get to bed. Just let me know if you need any help deciphering what the amount of i's in her Hi mean, or if the exclamation points mean she's flirting or just happy." 

Harry swallowed, shaking his head. "'M not—I don't... She was nice, but I don't think 'm going to text her." 

"And, that's alright!" she bubbled, realizing he wasn't planning on playing into her chiding, "I was only teasing. At least you put yourself out there, that's all that matters." 

A short smile touched the corners of his lips. He wasn't very interested in putting himself out there when what he wanted was right here at home. "Thanks," he mumbled nonetheless. 

Her expression grew gentle then, the look of a best friend who wanted to know what was going on in her companion's head. No more teasing was going on as far as he could see. "Why are you all flustered then? You didn't drink much tonight, but it's okay if you're feeling sick." 

"No, I—" he cut himself off before he stumbled into revealing the truth. "'S nothing." 

(Y/N) was skeptical, that much was obvious on her face. "Harry." 

"(Y/N), 'm fine." 

She canted her head, looking up at him through fanned lashes. "Harry." 

"(Y/N)." 

"Harry, there's no way anything you're thinking can be that bad, that you can't even tell me." 

There was something in the lilt of her voice, the way she so innocently pushed to know more about him in that moment. Harry wasn't sure what exactly it was, but there wasn't much fight left but the time she finished speaking. 

Truly, once again, he'd laid bare each and every of his secrets and most embarrassing moments before her. What was one more? 

For a split second, he thought back into that crowded bar. 

I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. 

He could still feel the fan of her breath tickling across his neck. He saw the way her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him with clear eyes. He saw the sincerity in her irises—both just before in the bar, as well as when she was wrapped up in his sheets. 

All of this because he had the breath taken away from him when he saw her almost kneel in front of him when taking off her shoes. 

"H—" 

"I was thinking about you," he rushed out, unintentionally cutting her off, "And, the—uh—thing y'said at the bar. About... helping me." 

A look of confusion struck her expression before she seemingly caught up. Her eyes brightened, a near imperceptible drop of her gaze down his form before she returned to his face. 

"Oh. Are you... right now?"

 They both knew the answer to her question. The suspicion only confirmed when he didn't offer any response. 

Her socked feet shifted over the carpet, the front door still only mere feet away. A small reminder that he'd not even fully made it into his home before he was taken by the sight of her alone. 

"You want... me?" 

The genuine curiosity in her tone was enough to have Harry's insides beginning to roil. Of course, he wanted her; she was the only person he can remember wanting enough to act this vulnerable. 

"Um, yeah," he answered, tongue fumbling over the words, "By the door, you were... almost on your knees." 

Peeking at her, Harry gauged her reaction to his admission. 

He watched as she blinked, lashes fluttering. Her eyes dropped down from his eyes, skipping to his pelvis. Harry didn't have to follow her gaze to know that she was seeing the slight semi he was sporting through his trousers. 

"Really?" she chirped, looking up at him through her wispy lashes. 

Harry shrugged, only a single corner of his lips daring to give a slight curl. "Back at the bar," he started, "Y'said... y'still wanted to help, so." 

He didn't need to say more, not when a light entered (Y/N)'s gaze. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. A sweet smile bloomed over her lips.

"And you've just been thinking about that?" 

His smile turned sheepish. He didn't think this was the time to really detail just how often she was on his mind.

A sparkling laugh fell from her lips then. "C'mon then, H," she bubbled, taking his hand in hers.

Something akin to a daze fell over his body. Harry didn't feel a single breath of hesitation as he followed (Y/N) from the front door. All he did was follow her steps to their sofa, his eyes unabashedly landing on her backside and the way her skirt hugged her hips. 

"You said you liked me on my knees, right?" 

Harry didn't think before he was humming a confirmation. 

"Then I have an idea for something new tonight." 

It was then that she dragged him to sit down on the sofa. Harry blinked, unsure of what to do with his hands before (Y/N) took her spot before him. On her knees. 

His heart was reeled right up to his throat. She wasn't... 

With her knees cushioned by their plush area rug (one she bought into the equation when she moved in), she scooted towards him. Her skirt rolled up over the smooth skin of her thighs, revealing more and more of her, parts that Harry couldn't help but to imagine gripping and squeezing in the heat of the moment. 

"Is this okay?" she asked, so sweet and kind. Her hands landed on the cuffs of his knees. 

"Um," Harry started, his mouth incredibly dry as it fell into a gape as he gazed down at her, "Yeah—Yes. Really okay." 

The smile on her lips was so pretty. It wasn't fair that she would just look like that, not when she was working her hands up his thighs. 

"You're funny, H." 

He wanted to respond, really. But then she started undoing the fastenings of his trousers. He could do nothing other than watch her manicured fingers unbutton the waist and pull down the zipper. His cock stirred even just from the slight brushes of her hands. 

Goosebumps erupted on his skin when she started pulling down his pants. Harry could feel her eyes on him when he lifted his hips to help her along, the kind of warm feeling that had his spine stringing up straight. 

The warmth was no doubt becoming visible on his skin, a flush creeping up from the base of his throat to the apples of his cheeks. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in quiet puffs as (Y/N)'s deft fingers crept up his thighs. The inky tiger tattooed on the meat of his leg was delicately traced with the tip of her fingernail. His cock jumped. 

"You said you've never done anything before?" she pressed, her voice drawing him in as if he weren't already hooked. 

Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Other than what we've done, yeah." 

"Okay," she sounded, her fingers now creeping under the hem of his briefs, "We'll figure out what you like then. If I do something that feels good, just tell me and I'll keep doing it." 

She said it so simply, as if they weren't talking about what he was going to feel when she put him in her mouth. The feel of her touch under the legs of his briefs was enough to have his toes curling in his shoes, his hands reaching for the fallen throw blanket behind him. 

Had it really only been a week or so since they were holed up in his bedroom? His body reacted to her like he was starved, hungering for even a brush of her hand over his bare skin. Had he really thought that having her once was going to be enough to get her out of his system? Had he thought that just one touch was going to be enough? 

Harry practically sunk into the sofa when she pulled one of her hands from the leg of his underwear and instead brushed over the bulge of his cock. He felt the press of her hand over his length, the ridge of his head pressing into her palm. The catch of her nails over his thigh as she scratched down over his tattoo was felt through his body, his bottom lip being caught between his teeth.

He was only slightly aware of her eyes skipping up to land on his face while his own were trained on her hand palming his length through his boxers. The material began to stretch further as he stiffened against her touch, the cut at the front of his underwear pulling open.

When the first blurt of precum stained the front, Harry felt more of that heat creep up his skin. 

"Sorry," he murmured, already anticipating the mess that he was going to have to clean up tonight. 

"Why?" she asked, so easily with her eyes peeking up at him. 

So badly did Harry want to answer her, but she also decided to hook her fingers underneath the waist of his underwear in that same moment the question was posed. His mind went momentarily blank. All he could process was the catch of her nails over his hip bones, the drag of the material over his sensitized length, the fact that it was (Y/N).

Her question was lost when they both turned to focus on his cock as it bobbed free of the confines of his boxers. The head was already ruddy, veins roping around the length. Thank god he had just trimmed up down there before going out. 

"Okay?"

Blinking back to the world, Harry looked to (Y/N) with a gape to his lips. "Huh?" 

Her smile was too pretty to be fair. Especially not when she was seemingly bracing herself from her spot on her knees between his legs. "You're okay?" 

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, mouth moving faster than his head, "'M so okay—so fucking okay. I've been thinking about this all week." 

Her brows shot up over her eyes, light flitting through her eyes. "Really? Even when you were talking to your girlfriend tonight?" 

He knew, in the back of his mind, that she was teasing him. The way she said the word full of extra sing-song syllables, the same way she would have teased him if he weren't half naked. But there was absolutely no room in his head where he could find any joke to play along. 

"I was thinking about y'the whole time," he confessed, "She—She's not you." 

"Harry," she crooned, her eyes soft and rounded, "You can't talk like that. Not when I'm about to suck you off; you'll make me cry instead. And not in a hot way." 

Unable to hold back any more, Harry let out a flowing moan. The gravel of his voice filled their home, disrupting the hushed tones they had been using before. 

Why would she say that? When he was barely holding everything together, why would she say that?

He couldn't keep his mind from wandering to the idea of her blinking back tears with her lips stretched around his cock. Harry never wanted to see her shed any tears—especially over him—but this idea, full of smudged mascara and glossy eyes, didn't sound so bad at all. 

His composure being something just out of reach, Harry didn't have a chance before he could feel the breath of (Y/N)'s slight laugh fanning across his heated length. Just barely was he able to force himself to peel his eyes open to catch sight of her pressing her lips to the head of his cock. 

It was a gentle kiss, the same kind that she would plant on his cheek when in a particularly touchy mood. Not the kind of thing that should have made the muscles banding his thighs and blocking his abdomen grow exponentially tighter.

Harry tightly clutched the throw blanket at his sides, the material thinning against the force of his fingers. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply something so simple affected him.

(Y/N) continued with only a small crease appearing between her brows. She kissed the crown of his length more than once, dragging the pillows of her pretty lips over the heated skin. As innocent as the act appeared, it was immediately stomach twisting when he saw the way the thin strings of his cum connected her mouth to his head. The gloss she had lost back at the bar, was back in the form of Harry's own pleasure. 

Pinning his bottom lip between his teeth, he watched with clenched hands while (Y/N)'s own moved along the strength of his thighs. One stayed braced over the ink of his tiger, fingertips denting the plush skin in an anchoring touch. The other continued on until her fist was wrapped around the base. 

A swift breath was sucked in through his nose at the touch. Once again, he was reminded that his hand paled in comparison to hers. No one else in the world could be as soft, as gentle, as firm, as perfect as she was. 

Her name fell from his lips in crooning prayers, Harry sinking further into the cushion. 

Though he was sure his lungs stopped only a heartbeat later. Silence fell over the house, Harry's mouth dropped open in a soundless moan as she took her kissing a step further and tucked his head between her lips. 

The heat of her mouth felt scorching over his sensitive skin, her soothing tongue laving over him.  Her hand at the base of his cock worked up and over his length in lingering strokes. 

Why hadn't anyone told him it could feel like this? No wonder there were millions of videos on seedy sites just about this subject alone. After last week, he doubted any pleasure could top that, and yet, here he was. 

Before he had a chance to become accustomed to the feel of her mouth, (Y/N) pulled away with a soft pop of her lips. She kept her hand moving along his length as she gazed up at him, head canted. 

"Do you want me to go deeper? Or do you like that?" she murmured, her voice lingering and warm. 

"Deeper, deeper," he rushed out, lips slicked and swollen. 

She didn't give anything more than a short smile before Harry watched as she dipped her head and took him back between her lips. 

A moan of her name fell from his lips, sandwiched between swears too jumbled to make much sense of. True to her offer, she lingered over his head for only a moment before she surged forward, taking him deeper. Harry felt hypersensitive at that moment.  

He swore he could feel each bud on her tongue pillowing against his sensitive length. The gentle suction of her cheeks hollowing out around him. The coaxing of her throat as she swallowed him down the further she took him. 

Saliva dripped down his length, slicking her hand as she continued the rhythmic pumping. Harry couldn't look away, but could barely keep his eyes open. 

Watching her felt like looking into the sun—like he was going to go blind, like he couldn't watch for longer than a moment before was going to lose it. But, he couldn't look away. He was lucky enough to have had her touch once, let alone twice. He couldn't act like this was ever going to happen a third time. He had to savor each and every moment. 

Even when he felt the tight channel of her throat closing around the very tip of his cock, he forced his eyes to stay open. Even when he saw that moment that had his muscles going taut with (Y/N)'s eyes growing glossy. It should have broken his heart to see her blinking back tears, but he only felt the winding of the pit of his stomach. 

Twice in a row, he was not going to be able to last. Twice in a row was he going to embarrass himself in front of his ultimate dream girl. 

But, god, was it worth it. 

"(Y/N), I—" 

She cut him off with a slight gag closing her throat, enough for her to pull off for a steadying breath. Her mouth was slick and swollen, dropped in a gape as she dragged in breath after breath. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, continuing the strokes of her hand, "Scared myself. I just need a second." 

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry," he muttered, finally giving in and throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. Precum streamed out of his cock, vein throbbing "You're perfect, love. So perfect." 

The breathy laugh she let out was watery. "Thanks, H. You're perfect, too." 

He should have felt silly, having given out such rambling praise right now, when it would no doubt sound like the lusty thoughts of a horny mind. Not like the honesty that slipped out in a vulnerable moment. 

Though, he didn't have any longer than a pair of heartbeats to dwell before (Y/N) wiped any and all thoughts from his head. The glorious, wonderful, perfect heat of her mouth enveloped him once more. She sucked around him, matching the tight grip of her fist around his base.

"Fuck, fuck, (Y/N)," he chattered, surprised he hadn't ripped a hole in the fabric of the throw blanket puddled around him, "'M gonna cum, 'm sorry, 'm sorry. Y'don't hav-have to—" 

Pulling off of him just enough to press her pursed lips to the tip again, (Y/N) shook her head. "I want to. It's okay, honey. Do whatever you want." 

Maybe it was the vibration of her voice echoing around his length, or the sight of her pretty mouth parting for her soft tongue to lick over his head, or the encouragement that she wanted to take his cum—whatever it was, was all he needed. The bunched muscles lining his bones finally gave way, releasing him like a rubber band snapping as his hips lifted from the cushion. 

He unraveled on the sofa, a warning on his lips that didn't make it in time before the first rope spurted out of him. His lungs were stunted as he watched the first dredge released over her mouth, following the line of her nose and dripping to the shape of her lips. (Y/N) closed her eyes, a soft gasp falling from her pretty, swollen, glazed lips. It was only a second before she tucked the head of his cock back between her lips, swallowing the rest of his release. 

She continued the stroke of her hand, working him through the throes without lagging. Every pump of his release was swallowed down by (Y/N), the motion sending aftershocks through him. The grip she held on his thigh, with her nails digging into the skin was the only bite of clarity offered in that moment. 

The world felt so small then, consisting of only he and (Y/N) and the throw blanket he was never going to complain about being balled up on the sofa ever again. There could never be anything else worthy of his attention when (Y/N) looked up at him with glossy eyes, bottom lashes clumping together. All with the traces of his cum having painted over her face. 

"What the fuck?" Harry breathed out, a slight bit of delirious laughter falling from his lungs as he melted against the couch. His head fell back against the cushion, fingers cramping as he unravelled from the throw blanket. 

Pulling away with a pop, (Y/N) allowed him to come down without the distraction of her touch. 

"Good what the fuck? Or bad?" she breathed, letting go of his leg with one final squeeze. 

"Good," Harry cemented with a nod, "So good." 

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his head from where it had lolled against the cushions. Just in time to see her swiping her fingers through the mess on her face, licking his cum from her fingers. 

Maybe his head was still in the clouds, the lack of oxygen having made him delirious and impulsive, but Harry didn't give a second thought before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. 

He could taste something salty and heady on her mouth, but he didn't care. There had been plenty of times before this that Harry wanted to kiss her, but this was the first time he couldn't find a single reason not to. He was convinced that this was the only way he could possibly show her how much he appreciated, and revered, and cared for her after she did such an act for him. 

Her skin was just a touch sticky as he cradled her cheeks between his palms, their swollen lips sealed together. The very tip of his nose grazed the bridge of her own as he tipped his head just enough. 

By the time his head caught up to his body, he realized she had gone stiff, mouth parted as if in the process of gasping. 

A string of curses ran through his head. What was he thinking? Is he stupid? Or just so horny and touch starved, this seemed like a good idea?

Just as he made a move to pull away, (Y/N) pressed forward, kissing back. Matching his movements, she tilted her head and pursed her lips. It was Harry's turn to feel the slight gaze of her nose tracing his skin. The creases in their lips lined up perfectly, fitting together like jigsaw pieces. 

Now was far from the time to confess just how many times he pictured and wondered what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), but suffice to say, the reality was galaxies better than the fantasy. 

It was a short kiss, lasting only long enough for Harry to hear his heartbeat in his ears before he pulled back.  

(Y/N)'s eyes were bright as she gazed up at him. "What was that for?" she whispered, voice croaky. 

Harry shook his head. He could go on, listing for days, though maybe that was for another time. 

"Jus' thank you." 

The smile that bloomed over her mouth was sweet and sticky, glossed by saliva and a mess Harry was going to feel more guilty over once his head was clear. 

 "You're silly, H," she murmured, tipping her chin just enough to peck his lips, "You're welcome." With that, she stood to the full of her height, Harry's hands falling back to his sides. "I'll be right back. I'm going to clean up my face, but maybe we could have a sleepover out here tonight?"

It was the way she looked at him, like this was just another night of bonding with her best friend, that was going to make his heart both bloat and break. 

Harry nodded instinctively. "That sounds like fun, (Y/N)." 

She bounced in her spot with a chattery cheer before starting off to her room, promising to be back in just a moment. 

He watched her bedroom door swing closed behind her, left alone in the quiet of the living room. Harry made an effort to put himself back together, underwear and pants pulled back up though he didn't bother to refasten them before he started towards his own bedroom. He needed to gather a few things for their sleepover, and that was what he was going to focus on and not the buzzing of his lips. Not the way his legs felt like jelly, his lungs rivaling the pounding of his heart. 

How much of a fool was he? He was never going to be able to keep from crossing that flimsy, self-appointed line that reminded him that she was nothing more than his roommate and wasn't going to ever be anything else. That boundary was miles behind him, unable to be seen. Not anymore, at least. 

Not after tonight. 

—————

figs are the roman symbol of Dionysus, god of wine, and priapus, satyr of sexual desire

ahhhhh thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and I cant wait hear what everyone thinks! any fun ideas or requests pleaseeeee send them in!

[hollowdeath]

obsession (hjp)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it's you.

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

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

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

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

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

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

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

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but now, things are different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were just. so. hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and so do a few other guys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

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

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

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

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

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

"help me?" you ask seductively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

perfect, perfect, perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're leaving me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but, now that he has them…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

harry could've died happy at that moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"[y/n]?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

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

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"harry, have you been working out?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was finally your birthday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you're beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

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

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

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

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

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

"just enjoy yourself."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that's all it takes for harry.

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

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

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

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

————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what he finds instead makes him see red.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

harry smiles. no promises.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————

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

[pedroscurls]

his girl (one-shot)

summary: logan didn't think he'd ever get a second chance at making his life matter nor did he think he even deserved it... but then he met you. his girl.

pairing: logan howlett [worst wolverine] x fem!reader content warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), light angst (mentions of death, logan has some insecurities - doesn't believe he deserves you 🥺), all the fluff!, no use of y/n. word count: 1.4k a/n: part of KLLOVEUARY 2025 challenge hosted by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt ♥️. this song and this character just fits so well and i'm so glad that i chose option 2. at first, i didn't know which route i wanted to take, but let's be honest... worst wolverine has to have some bit of angst right? hope y'all enjoy - i had a blast writing this! thank you kiwi and kristen for hosting this challenge <3 song: my girl by the temptations

Logan had met you over about six months ago when you moved in across the hall. He bumped into you on his way out one morning and you had looked at him with the most gentle and inviting eyes that simply radiated warmth. Even when you smiled at him, he couldn’t help but notice the way the corners of your eyes crinkled. Under your gaze, he felt protected, felt safe, felt at peace. You looked at him like he was the only person in the world, like no one else mattered. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he didn’t like feeling this way. How his heart began to race even faster just at the mere sight of your eyes meeting his. Or how he felt this sudden urge to get to know you, to make you his. 

Even though he’s been in this universe for a year now, it still feels so new to him and he’s still battling with himself whether or not he belongs here, but you… You gave him hope. 

Something that he thought he lost a long time ago. 

And even now, you still look at him with the same kind eyes and he still feels that same warmth radiate through his entire body. There’s a sparkle in your eye whenever you gaze at him and even during Wade’s family dinner parties, you always make an effort to make sure that he knows you see him. 

Tonight is no different, though. Wade’s entertaining his guests and Logan's sitting on the couch with a beer in hand while you speak with Vanessa. Even through your conversation with her, your eyes flit over to Logan’s who keeps his gaze on you. It makes you blush, the way his eyes make you feel like you’re the only person in the room. You both give each other a small smile before looking away. 

“How about some music, hm?” Vanessa says, leading you towards the music player and pressing play. She smiles instantly, arms raising up in the air as her body sways to the beat of the song.

I've got sunshine on a cloudy day When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way?

Slowly, you dare to look at Logan who’s already looking at you. You can see the way his hand grips the neck of the beer bottle, unbothered by Wade and Vanessa who begin to dance in the middle of the living room among the other guests he has over. Instead, he’s staring at you as you lean against the wall. 

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

Logan sees the corners of your lips turn upwards, sees the crinkles at the corner of your eyes begin to form, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Everyone else seems to fade in the background until all he can see is you. His girl. 

I've got so much honey, the bees envy me I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees Well, I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way?

You bite your lower lip and turn on your heel, disappearing down the dim-lit hallway. Logan sets his beer on the coffee table before he begins making his way to you. For once, he doesn’t want to hide the way he’s feeling. You give him hope, give him the confidence he never knew he had. He gently reaches out for you and you turn around, eyes gazing up at him. Logan lets out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. You stare up at him, the song filtering down the hallway you both are standing in as he gently reaches up to tuck a few fallen strands of hair behind your ear. His mouth parts when he feels you lean into his touch. 

“Were you gonna stand in that corner all night starin’ at me, bub?” he whispers quietly, loud enough for only you to hear. 

“I’d stand there all night waiting for you, Logan,” you respond. You part your own lips, feeling his thumb shakily brush along your lower lip. “I think we both know that.”

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

“You realize what you do to me?” he asks. “The way you look at me…” Logan steps closer to you when he feels your own hand move to his chest, nimble fingers playing with the buttons. “I’m not a good man, bub. I’m the–”

“Worst Wolverine,” you finish for him. “Yeah, I know. You and Wade like to remind me.” 

“It’s true.” 

“All I see is a man who’s trying to make things better,” you reply. “Trying to make his life better with the second chance he’s been given.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” he sighs, eyes and hand dropping momentarily.

“That your opinion?” 

“Just statin’ facts, sweetheart.” 

Then, he lets out a quiet gasp when he feels your hand come up to rest on his cheek. He looks at you, his eyes searching your own. Logan feels his pulse quicken at your touch—the way your thumb brushes across his jawline, soft and delicate, tender and light, gentle and grounding. 

He shuts his eyes and for a moment, all he can see are the people he failed in his old universe—dead and all because of him. It shakes him to his core; he can’t run away from his past, can’t run away from the terrible things he’s done. 

But then you say his name and it brings him back to reality. It dispels all of the inner demons that always keeps him up at night. He no longer sees his old universe. All he can see, all he can feel is you. 

“Logan,” you repeat quietly. 

When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted with your own. So kind and warm, soft and inviting. You were his peace. You were his second chance. 

You were his girl. 

“Yeah, bub?” he finally answers, voice shaky. 

“You’ve got me,” you whisper. “You’ll always have me.” 

“But–”

You shake your head and click your tongue, interrupting him. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

He lets out a breath and slowly leans forward until his forehead lightly touches your own. He brushes his nose against your own as he hears you inhale sharply. Slowly, Logan’s arm snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against him as your arms wrap around his shoulders. He feels safe—here in your arms, is where he belongs. 

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

The song continues as both you and Logan stare into each other’s eyes, swaying side to side in each other’s arms. His eyes fall shut briefly when he feels your lips press against his cheek and his hold on you tightens even further. Nothing and no one else mattered. All he needed was you. All he ever needed was you.

His girl. 

Logan pulls back to look down at you, lips inches from each other. You lean in slowly, hands playing with the hair at his nape. 

Until Wade turns on the light to the hallway and begins clapping loudly, breaking you and Logan out of the moment.

“Fucking finally!” he exclaims with a grin. “Told y’all it would work. Am I the best cupid or what?”

Logan keeps his arm around you as he looks at Wade from the end of the hallway. He narrows his eyes and then glances down in your direction. You’re smiling, lower lip pulled between your teeth as you bury your face against the side of his neck. His own lips form into a small smile and he gently presses a soft kiss to your temple. 

“Wanna get outta here?” he whispers into your ear. 

“I hear my apartment is not that far from here,” you tease. 

Logan smiles. “Lead the way, baby.” 

You take his hand, lace your fingers with his own immediately, and lead him down the hallway past Wade and towards the front door. Logan looks at Wade and gives him one nod—an unspoken gesture of gratitude that has Wade jumping up and down in excitement. 

When you both finally leave Wade’s apartment to go to your own across the hall, Wade lets out a contented sigh and brings his hands to his chest. “I just love love.” 

And Logan can’t help but keep you close to him, the song playing on repeat in his mind. 

My girl, my girl, my girl Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 1 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.3k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, this chapter is pretty mild so not many tags are necessary ig?

a/n. thank you to everyone who's shown excitement for this series so far! i see you all, and i appreciate each and every one of you ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ and i'd love to hear from you as we go through this process together!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think someone with a time-slowing quirk is manipulating this shoebox of a room they unceremoniously stuffed you in with nothing but this middle-aged, bearded man roughly 30 minutes ago.

If 30 minutes is even an accurate approximation.

The said man is clicking away at his keyboard behind the desk in front of you, humming a non-descript tune, and, having already studied the room that seems to be an abandoned office, you take the opportunity to clock him. Aside from being around his mid-40s and sporting a full-grown beard, there’s something about him that rings the metaphorical alarms in your mind, signaling some sense of familiarity.

And it’s either you need to work on your subtlety or he’s just plain out observant, because he must have noticed your staring, shifting his gaze from his laptop screen toward you, mouth formed in a friendly smile. “Getting antsy?”

“I—” you start, before trailing off. You weigh your options for a second, before settling with: “It’s hard not to be, sir. Would you care to tell me what I’m here for?”

At that, the man merely purses his lips in a thin line. “Unfortunately, it’s not my place to say. I was just assigned to meet you here. At least,” he checks his silver-plated watch, “until further company arrives.”

You feel yourself frown. “And the men who arrived out of nowhere and fetched me from my apartment?”

He nods, “They were simply assigned to get you, yes.”

A burning question bubbles right up your throat, but you tamp it down, thinking better against it. It’s too soon, you think. You have to dig a bit deeper. And so instead, you finally prod at that inkling from a moment ago that’s been vying for your attention.

“Have we met before, sir?”

That must’ve been the right thing to ask, because the man visibly lights up. He swivels on his office chair, turning a bit so that he’s now fully facing you. “Why, yes! I thought you wouldn’t remember.”

You toss him the most genuine smile you can muster back in courtesy, but also to goad him into continuing. You hope that’s enough for now. “From a while back, right?”

“Yes!” he enthusiastically responds, whatever document he was working on now completely forgotten. “I was one of your earliest escorts until the commission relocated me overseas. I just got reassigned to you for this project, you see.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

However, you don’t get to revel in how you successfully coaxed information and confirmation out of him without lifting much of a finger, because he quickly realizes his mistake. He splutters as you watch the blood drain from his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for the man.

“Don’t worry,” you offer with that placating tone you’ve mastered over the years. “I won’t tell them you just said all that.”

He eyes you suspiciously, as if he’s debating whether or not you’re saying the truth, and you’ve half a mind to use it on him just so that the sole person you’re stuck in this jail-like space isn’t looking at you like you’re after his head, but you don’t get past considering that because the only set of doors bursts open and in comes an all-too-familiar face.

The both of you whip away from your stare down to look at the unannounced guest, and you instantly stiffen when you get a good look at the person leading the group.

Clad in a two-piece slate gray suit, the head of the Special Quirks department of Japan’s Hero Commission waltzes in, seemingly decades older than the last time you saw him. It hasn’t even been five years since, you think, yet he’s aged so much. Trailing right behind him is the woman you vaguely remember trailblazing the Missions committee, hair pinned up in a no-nonsense low bun and sporting a navy blazer and skirt combo.

And, perhaps in an effort to ground yourself in the face of impending danger that always came with the two, you’re about to look down at what you’re wearing in comparison, which, you recall is a baggy T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants you never intended for people to see you wear, when it happens.

You lock eyes with the third and last person entering the room, and instantly it’s like you’re doused with a sobering bucket of ice-cold water at the same time someone lights a fire under your ass. One glimpse at his firey gaze has your brain screaming at you to look away—anywhere, anywhere but at him— and pretend that didn’t just happen all the while mentally willing him away from existence, but you find yourself frozen in your seat.

Bakugou, who’s dressed casually in a plain black shirt and loose jeans, stares right back as he follows the two officials. You’re the first one to break eye contact, and words aren’t uttered as the guy from earlier scurries out of his seat, offering it to Asahi, the man in the gray suit, who accepts it thanklessly. Moriyama takes the seat the underling drags next to Asahi, and Bakugou plops himself down on the one around a foot to your left, the both of you now facing them.

“Thank you, Tanaka-san,” Asahi says, finally breaking the silence. The familiar escort who you now remember as Tanaka only bows at him, before standing silently to the side.

At that, Asahi shifts to regard you, the corners of his lips twisting upwards in what you think is an effort to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. With both arms on top of the hardwood desk and hands clasped together, he clears his throat.

He says your name as a start, which sends an eerie tingle down your spine. “Long time no see, huh?”

You don’t know how to reply to that, also acutely aware of the man beside you, so you merely nod.

“We apologize for dragging you here on your day off,” he continues, “It must’ve been quite jarring—having our men be at your doorstep.”

You fight back the urge to ask him how the hell he knows it’s your day off today, deciding in the last second you don’t want to know the answer. Frankly, you wouldn’t be shocked if he said they’d been keeping tabs on you and that they even know what brand of underwear you wear.

“I was surprised, I’m not gonna lie,” you respond, voice small. And just because you’re over this whole suspense factor, you cut to the chase. “What’s this all about, Asahi-san?”

“Skipping the pleasantries, aren’t we?” he chuckles, and you resist the itch to scowl at him. You never liked the guy—although you think it must have to do with all those extreme assessments he made you take growing up. To your relief, though, he relents. “I’ll get straight to it, then. We have an important mission for you.”

And as if you weren’t already stiff enough, you feel yourself tense even more, and the action doesn’t go missed by Bakugou, whose eyes you feel boring into the side of your face.

Asahi takes your stunned silence as a cue for him to go on. His gaze drifts to the pro-hero beside you, a knowing smirk decorating his features. “I trust that you’ve met?”

Despite yourself, you chance a glance at the ash-blonde, only to find him already looking at you. You feel yourself flame as he studies you with mild recognition, as if he’s seen you before but can’t quite figure out where.

Bakugou finally speaks up after a beat, voice gruff and eyes remaining locked on yours. “UA Gen Ed, same batch as me, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply dumbly, surprised he even remembers. “And you’re pro-hero Dynamight.”

To that, he gives you a curt nod, donning a serious expression as he turns back to face Asahi. “Go on and brief her about it already. I ain’t got all day.”

“We’re getting to that, Bakugou,” the old-ish man retorts, seemingly unfazed by the pro-hero’s impatience, before readjusting his focus to you. “As I’ve said, we’re assigning you to a very crucial mission. We got word yesterday that an up-and-rising quirk supremacist group is planning an attack somewhere in the city.”

“A-attack?” you croak, “Who’re they gonna attack?”

“That we’re not sure yet,” Moriyama joins in on the conversation, her countenance stern. “But we’re guessing quirkless individuals or people with weak quirks. We won’t know for sure, though, unless we get people on the inside.”

“And that’s where you two come in,” Asahi finishes, eyes darting back and forth between you and the man beside you. “You’re going undercover.”

You gawk at him, suddenly robbed of all words. From the corner of your vision, you sense Bakugou side-eye you, and that’s all the warning you get for what he’s about to say next.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, prominently exasperated by the entire situation. “‘s like you’re feeding a sheep to the fucking wolves.”

Instantly, you feel a sense of indignation wash over you at the comment, which is immediately followed by the familiar feeling of resignation.

You’ve gone through these motions before. Over and over again, in fact.

And normally, you’d let snide comments about the status of quirk slide, like you’ve been taught to the entirety of your life, but apparently this time that’s not an option.

Because Moriyama gives him a pointed look, as if chastising him on your behalf. You don’t dare to check how Bakugou’s receiving it, but you’re assuming not well.

But before the pro-hero can say something in his defense or provoke the woman, Asahi interjects with a good-natured laugh. “Slow down there, hero. Don’t get too cocky now that you just got named Vogue Japan’s Bachelor of the Year.”

Bakugou doesn’t miss a beat. “Shut the fuck up.”

With a dismissive wave of a hand, Asahi continues. “And no, I am not making a reckless move here,” the middle-aged man peers at you, “This woman right here has a special quirk.”

At that, you steal a glance at Bakugou, and the look on his face betrays the thing he’s evidently trying hard not to say.

‘What’s so special about this girl from Gen Ed?’

He manages not to blurt that out, though, instead going for: “How special?”

“Let’s just say it’s because of her that departments like mine exist in the commission.”

“Quit being fucking cryptic,” Bakugou spits out, just as you say: “It’s really not that special, though.”

That catches his attention, and you feel yourself shrink when his intense, crimson eyes land on you. You, however, fight to maintain his scrutinizing gaze when he pipes up. “What can you do, huh?”

“I—”

“How ‘bout you show him, dear?” Moriyama cuts you off with a knowing smile.

You don’t get to argue because the woman promptly sends Tanaka off to the door, and the four of you watch the guy as he rushes out, leaving you in a few moments of silence, before hurriedly walking back in with a nervous-looking young man in tow.

You decide then and there that you really don’t want to do this.

“An intern, Moriyama-san,” Tanaka announces in front of you with a booming voice, gesturing to the person beside him. “Just as you requested.”

“The hell do we nee—”

“Go on, Y/N,” Asahi encourages with a quiet voice, which you note is in an attempt to not be heard by the poor intern.

The poor intern who’s gaping at #2 pro-hero Dynamight, looking like his soul just left his lean body.

Your gaze shifts between the pro-hero and the young man, and you sit watching the silent exchange unfold before you. You can tell Bakugou is getting annoyed by the unabashed attention of someone who’s likely a fan, and the latter isn’t looking all too hot.

And so with reluctance, you do it.

“Hey,” you call out to the intern, who whips to look at you after another attempt when he doesn’t respond to the first.

“Wha—” he starts, but trails off when you decisively tug on the imaginary strings, and in a split second, it’s like the nerves that were just frying his system a beat ago get washed off his body, his face morphing to that of tranquil calmness in a blink of an eye.

You toss him a tight-lipped smile as he stares right back at you, serene and perhaps a tad bit confused, although you doubt someone not privy to your ability could recognize it on his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

You turn to look at Asahi, who’s now leaning back on the office chair with a proud grin on his face, as if he’s the one who just did the demonstration.

You try to suppress the mild annoyance at the sight of him.

You reason to yourself that he’s the one who made all this possible, after all. He deserves to be proud of the stunt you just pulled, at least to some extent.

And just as quickly as he entered, the intern is promptly ushered out of the area by Tanaka. Once the door clicks closed, you then shift to examine Bakugou, who you quickly find is already staring at you, an inexplicable expression etched across his sharp features.

“You make people calm, is that it?”

“Oh, she can do much more than that, boy,” Asahi boasts. “She has the ability to tamper with any person’s emotions. She can diffuse or exacerbate existing ones or transform them into another affect entirely.”

“But very few people know that, Bakugou,” Moriyama adds with a warning edge to her tone. “It’s why the commission took her under its wing at such a young age. It’s why—”

“You disguised her quirk as something else and made her take the Gen Ed route.” Bakugou finishes with such certainty that catches you off guard, despite being well-versed in the fact that he is insanely perceptive.

You would know. Really, you would.

Because that’s one of the main reasons why you liked—

“It’s so that the wrong people don’t catch wind of her and her quirk, Bakugou,” Asahi supplements. “It’s for that very reason we’ve named her quirk as luck instead of manipulation. Which is what you’re going to do undercover.”

“What’s he gonna do, exactly?” you ask, tilting your head to gesture to the pro-hero beside you.

“He’ll infiltrate the group alongside you, dear,” Moriyama answers. “He’s one of the best heroes we have, and well…”

She glances at Bakugou with such hesitance that juxtaposes the confidence she’s been sporting this entire exchange, before continuing. “…We’ve heard this group has been eyeing to recruit Bakugou, specifically.”

You almost choke on your spit.

Recruit the #2 pro-hero of Japan?

What kind of stupid agenda is that?

To your surprise, Bakugou doesn’t say anything in response to Moriyama’s weighty statement, his usually penetrating gaze fixed on the ground.

“He’ll make sure you’ll be safe, Y/N,” Asahi furthers. “He’ll introduce you to them as a useful tool, what with your ‘luck’, which you’ll tell them works by boosting the chances of success of the people you’re working with. And, given how your quirk actually operates, Bakugou here will emphasize your importance by requesting for their protection of you, so that you can get closer to the people you’ll need to manipulate.”

“How’s he gonna do that without raising suspicion?” you can’t help but ask.

“That’s the thing,” Asahi quips, before heaving a deep sigh. “At this point, there’s no saying for sure, but you’re gonna have to be ready to play the part of a couple if the situation calls for it.”

“A c-couple?” you barely manage to get out.

To that, Asahi and Moriyama only nod at you with such seriousness that you can’t find it in you to protest any further. Still, you try to express your uneasiness.

“I don’t know—if I can pull that off. I—”

“You have your quirk at your disposal, Y/N,” Moriyama assures you, to your chagrin. “You’ve trained hard enough to know when and how to use it.”

Well.

There’s not much left for you to do than nod in resignation, especially with the finality of her tone, so you do just that.

None of you says anything for a brief moment after that, a rather tense silence enveloping the tiny office. And you’re about to ask them one more time if they’re fucking sure about all this, but Asahi beats you to it.

“Do either of you have any more questions?”

You open your mouth to try again but this time Bakugou speaks first. “I do. Let’s say shit goes down and we have to engage this shitty ass group in combat. Does she know how to fight? You know, beyond just playing with emotions?”

You feel yourself bristle, and before your brain can catch up and rein you in, your mouth is already running off. “I’ve had extensive close-combat training, actually. So worry about saving your own ass, hero.”

Bakugou doesn’t get the chance to spew something right back at you, though, because Asahi cuts the tension with a booming laugh. “She actually has, Bakugou. Like I said, we’ve been training her since her quirk manifested.”

“Really?” he asks, a little bit too sarcastically for your taste. “And what’s in it for you, huh, Y/N?” the pro-hero turns to regard you, tone riddled with just enough taunt to make your blood simmer. “Why’re you going along with their whim?”

“They pay well,” you state as simply as you can. “My job as a guidance counselor isn’t exactly the most lucrative.”

“That we do,” Asahi chimes in before Bakugou can drop any borderline degrading remark, which you’re thankful for. You don’t know if you can handle any more backhanded comments from the man you used to fucking dream about way back in high school, who—apparently—also happens to be the man you’re gonna have to pretend you’re dating if things go south.

“If you don’t have any more questions,” Moriyama interjects, “There’s one last thing. We don’t expect them to go lax on either of you despite what you can bring to the table. So anticipate restrictions on your speech and movements—there’s a high probability that they’re gonna place bugs and trackers on you. The same goes for your online footprint.”

At that, you and Bakugou wordlessly nod in unison, the gravity of what you’re about to get yourself into finally sinking in. Shortly after, Moriyama goes through a few more technical details before announcing that they have another meeting to attend, and just like that, and with a promise to get in touch soon albeit clandestinely, she and Asahi exit from the very door they entered what seemed like an eternity ago.

Leaving you and Bakugou.

Alone.

Which is something you’re going to have to get used to for what lies ahead.

But that shit can wait until tomorrow, when the mission officially starts.

And so with much vigor, you quickly gather the purse you barely managed to bring with you when you got dragged out of your apartment earlier this evening, and stand. Bakugou’s head tilts up to look at you when you turn to regard him, an eyebrow raised in question.

“What?”

You force a smile. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Bakugou-san.” Not. “See you tomorrow, then.”

And, before he can say anything in return, you spin on your heel and leave without looking back.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3

[hoe4hotchner]

Zoomies | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader | WC: 1.7k  | CW: fluff, no use of Y/N.| Summary: Reader gets the zoomies while being restless on a case and Hotch is the only one who can calm her down.

A/N: I've been laughing so hard while writing this. It's most probably the stooopidest idea i've ever had, but it's so crazy and I love this fic a lot!!!!

It had been a long case, the air in the precinct felt heavy with tension, thick enough to cut like a knife. Everyone was drained, running on fumes, but you felt it the most. The team had been stuck in the stuffy bullpen for hours, waiting for intel, and the endless waiting always gnawed at you. It clawed at your nerves, picking apart your focus, making the silence unbearable.

At first, the restlessness was small. A tap of your foot under the desk, fingers drumming lightly against your notebook, anything to keep moving. But the energy in you started to grow, buzzing under your skin like a live wire. Sitting still wasn’t an option anymore. Your chair felt too small, the walls too close, and before you knew it, you were up, pacing the room. Your movements were aimless, driven by the jittery need to do something. The more you tried to control it, the worse it got. Anticipation surged through you like a shot of adrenaline, nerves firing on all cylinders.

Soon, you were practically bouncing from one side of the room to the other, your body filled with boundless, chaotic energy. You had the zoomies - no better way to describe it - and nothing was going to stop you.

Emily tried to pull your attention, cracking jokes, attempting to reel you in with her sarcasm, but that only seemed to wind you up further. Spencer suggested deep breathing exercises, but his voice barely registered. You were already off again, moving to another corner, your body refusing to settle. Even Derek, who usually found your hyperactive moments amusing, was starting to watch you with concern.

“She’s like a rabbit on a sugar rush,” Derek muttered, crossing his arms as he watched you dart from the coffee machine to the board plastered with crime scene photos, then back again in a blur of movement.

“I don’t know how she has this much energy,” Emily sighed, shaking her head as you bounced on the balls of your feet, eyes scanning the room for your next destination. “But we’ve got to get her to calm down before she drives us all insane.”

Just then, Penelope popped her head into the room, her eyes wide and flustered. “Okay, so… I love her energy, don’t get me wrong, but she’s one wrong move away from knocking over something very expensive and very important. And I'm trying to run background checks on all the suspects, please get her to stop.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Penelope had a point - you were like a wildfire, buzzing from corner to corner, leaving a trail of chaos in your wake. Every drawer you opened slammed shut a little too hard, every step you took a little too fast.

Morgan chuckled softly, his gaze still following your movements. “I know someone who can get through to her,” he said, his voice low with a smirk.

Emily glanced at him. “You don’t mean - he's gonna be pissed if you pull him out.”

“I do.” He nodded confidently. “If anyone can calm her down, it’s Hotch.”

Without another word, Morgan pushed off the wall and strode out of the room, weaving through the bustling precinct with purpose. He knew exactly where to find Hotch - deep in the middle of an interrogation. He didn’t slow down as he reached the interrogation room door, his hand gripping the handle with determination. Without hesitation, he swung it open, the door creaking slightly as it interrupted the tense atmosphere inside.

Hotch was mid-sentence, leaning forward as he questioned the suspect with his trademark intensity. The sharpness in his voice cut through the silence, but it faltered the moment he noticed Morgan standing in the doorway. His eyes flicked up, brow furrowing in mild irritation at the intrusion.

“Can I help you?” Hotch asked, his voice low and calm, though the edge of annoyance was impossible to miss.

Morgan didn’t flinch. He just nodded toward the main room, the flicker of amusement in his eyes betraying the seriousness of the situation. “We’ve got a situation.”

Hotch’s brow raised a fraction higher. “What kind of situation?”

“It’s uhh..." Morgan said, trying not to laugh. “She’s… uh, bouncing off the walls. Literally. We tried everything, but she’s got a serious case of the zoomies, and it’s getting out of hand.” He gave a helpless shrug, knowing if anyone could handle it, it’d be Hotch.

Hotch blinked once, his expression unreadable as he processed Morgan's words. There was a moment of silence before he straightened up, his posture stiff yet composed. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said coolly to the suspect, rising from his chair with the kind of calm authority that suggested nothing rattled him - not even this.

He followed Morgan out of the interrogation room, his footsteps steady and purposeful as they headed back into the bullpen. The scene that greeted him was one of controlled chaos - or at least, controlled by you. You were darting between desks, fingers trailing across papers, pens, and anything within reach. Your pacing had turned into something close to spinning, an endless loop of movement that seemed unstoppable.

Hotch’s gaze swept over the room, the tension in his jaw barely visible, though his eyes darkened with a hint of resolve. He didn’t need to say a word; his mere presence was enough to shift the atmosphere. But you were so caught up in your own restless energy that you didn’t even notice him at first.

Then, like a sixth sense, you felt it - that solid, commanding presence behind you. There was no mistaking it. That steady, magnetic pull that could only be Hotch. Your steps slowed a tad, just enough to make you aware of the weight of his eyes on you, and suddenly, the energy swirling around you started to settle.

The moment you turned and saw him standing there, hands casually tucked into his pockets, those deep, dark eyes locked on you with that familiar mixture of sternness and calm, everything inside you stilled. Your breath caught in your throat, a ripple of tension releasing as his gaze held yours. He didn’t even need to say a word - his sheer presence was enough to command your attention, to quiet the whirlwind that had been spiraling out of control in your mind.

He took a single step forward, and instinctively, you stopped moving, the restlessness evaporating like steam. His eyes, intense yet soft in a way only he could manage, seemed to weigh on you, grounding you in place. There was a hint of amusement in the subtle curve of his lips, barely noticeable but there all the same, though his voice remained steady, unwavering.

He called your name, just your name, low and authoritative, and it was all it took.

Your pulse slowed, the frantic energy that had been pulsing through your veins fading as if he’d flipped a switch. The world around you quieted, the room narrowing down to just him. You exhaled slowly, blinking up at him, feeling the wildness ebb away.

“Come here,” he said softly, his voice like a calm tide, pulling you in, his eyes never leaving yours.

You obeyed without a second thought, your feet moving toward him as if on autopilot. The restless buzz in your mind began to fade with each step, the chaotic energy that had consumed you moments ago slowly dissipating. It was as if his presence alone acted like an anchor, pulling you back from the whirlwind inside your head. The entire team looked on, wide-eyed and quietly amazed, watching as you came to a stop in front of him. The zoomies that had been running rampant through your system were now completely subdued, tamed by nothing more than his commanding presence.

“Take a breath,” Hotch instructed, his voice firm but gentle, you couldn’t help but follow. Without a second’s hesitation, you inhaled deeply, the weight of his gaze still on you. The tension that had tightened every muscle in your body started to unwind, the frantic energy melting away like snow under the sun. His calmness wrapped around you, a steadying force that made everything seem simpler, quieter. You felt the tightness in your chest loosen, your breathing evening out as you stood there, finally still.

“Good,” Hotch murmured, his deep voice holding a trace of warmth in the otherwise stoic demeanor. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he cast a quick glance at the team - who were still watching in stunned silence - before his eyes returned to you. There was an understanding in his gaze like he knew exactly what you needed without you having to say a word.

“Better?” he asked, his tone carrying just enough reassurance to ease the lingering embarrassment you felt.

You nodded, the flush of heat creeping up your neck as you tried to fight the sheepish smile pulling at your own lips. “Yeah,” you breathed out, feeling a mix of relief and slight self-consciousness at how quickly you’d gone from bouncing off the walls to standing perfectly still in front of him. “Much better.”

He gave a small nod of approval, that familiar flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, before leading you over to one of the chairs positioned around the table. As you sank into the seat, you finally felt a wave of calm wash over you, the whirlwind of energy that had previously consumed you now fully under control.

With a subtle, reassuring pat on your shoulder, Hotch turned and walked back toward the interrogation room, his presence lingering even as he moved away. Morgan watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I don’t know how he does that,” he remarked, still a bit stunned by the transformation he’d just witnessed.

“Whatever it is, I’m just glad it works,” Emily chimed in, a smirk dancing on her lips as she crossed her arms, clearly impressed by Hotch’s effortless ability to handle the chaos.

From her spot in the corner, Penelope giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s like magic,” she teased, playfully throwing her hands up as if conjuring a spell, making the atmosphere feel lighter despite the tension of the case.

But you knew the truth. It wasn’t magic - it was Hotch. Something about him, the quiet authority he carried, had the power to center you like nothing else.

[ihaznoclue]

Hello there friend I am back (The one who did the mirio tying a balloon to readers back) which I loved!

I am here to request something for the sonic 3 movie as I saw it and I am obsessed

Can I get Sonic, Shadow and Knuckles (Shadow can be on sonics teams if that makes sense)

Maybe that you and him are relaxing after a well earned day, maybe relaxing on the couch and you wanted to give him a reward for saving the day once again

So you decided to give him some head pats to which causes him to purr and then fall asleep

I actually searched up that hedgehog and echidna's can purr which I didn't know but now I do!

Pairings -> Sonic, Shadow and Knuckles x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> They deserve a well deserved rest and some head pats | This can be after sonic 3

Genre -> Fluff

Sonic the Hedgehog

It all started with a chill morning, nothing to crazy as you watched form afar while Sonic, Knuckles, Tails and Shadow have a little race between the four of them

Tom and Maddie were simply in the house doing their own things before the others decided to come back inside. You on the other hand didn't mind this at all, looking after the four of them with Tom and Maddie, well duh because you lived with them

Your favourite was sonic, you loved his personality, he was prideful, cheerful, most energetic and cocky hedgehog you've met before you met the others.

Sonic loved to hang out with you, he loved your presence and comfort you brought that keeps him positivity and comfort he liked you

After a day of racing and then suddenly being called out to help defeat someone and than other hero stuff that he needed to do

He just wanted to rest, you decided to watch a movie with him on the couch, Ozzie being next to sonic as he was in the middle

You had a arm resting on the top of the couch behind sonic's head, the brightness of the TV slightly blinding you

You looked down at sonic as he was quite interested in this movie as Ozzie started to walk out of the room to somewhere else

You smiled as you reached your arm that resting on the couch down his head as you started to give him pats and some head scratches behind his ears, trying to be careful of his blue quills

His ear perked a little as looked up at him confused on what you were doing

"What are you doing?" He asked, you chuckled at him as you responded "I'm giving you head pats.. do you want me to stop?" You said as you stop with the head scratches behind the ears

"No, it feels nice actually don't stop" He said as he reached his head up to your hand, which you slightly giggled as you went back to giving him affection

Going back to looking at the TV for a few seconds you started to hear purring, the only other person well hedgehog who was in the same room as you was sonic

You looked down at sonic to notice he was asleep, leaning his head onto your side as he had a smile as you he purred away

A little bit of thumping was also heard by his tail that was slightly wagging onto the couch below

You couldn't resist to carefully get out your phone to take a little photo of this moment

It was to cute!

Shadow the Hedgehog

He hadn't received affection form anyone beside Maria before you know.. Died..

He was cold and mysterious as he only got closer to you as he started to live with the others as he had nowhere else to go, Tom and Maddie knew you were the right option to look after Shadow as they look after the others

Shadow never really talk that much to the others but he seemed to give a liking towards you as he gave you some words out of his mouth

Shadow was powerful and fast, but he was cool looking to you as you felt like you needed to give him some affection and comfort of your own

You wanted to give him as much comfort and love as you knew how much he has suffered and being locked up for 50 years in that God awful tube

Now Shadow came back from a little mission of his own as he teleported by using his chaos control back to the house, slightly scaring you as you were seated on the couch relaxing

"Hmph scaredy cat" He smirked a little as you gave him a little pout "Well you did just appear out of the blue without any warning" You spoke back causing Shadow to look at you with curiosity

"What are you doing?" He asked, you looked at him confused as you looked at what you were doing yourself

"Um.. Relaxing?" You said like a question

Shadow raised an eyebrow as you now thought of an idea, patting the couch beside you "Sit, Relax with me Shadow"

He didn't fight it as he sat next to you with arms cross across his chest fur, he didn't think as he just look straight ahead at the TV that was playing in front of him

"You know, you can release your tension, don't have to act tense in front of me" You spoke but got a gruff in response

So you decided to try something to help him as you reached out a hand to started giving him head scratches which caused him to flinch back

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking a little bit grumpy at you

"Trying to help you relax, trust me it would work. You've been working so hard and I want to help you" You replied as you stilled your head in front of him

He looked at your head and back at you, seeming to think about it as he reached his head to your hand as his ear flattened

You smiled as you started to work through his quill being gently, scratching behind his ears as well which seemed to have a effect on him as he started to purr a little

His head seeming to move a little bit more closer than he was before, which you slightly chuckled a little as you looked back at the tv

Now it's been a couple of minutes, "Shad-ow.." You looked back down at Shadow to only see his peaceful restful face

You gave a little smile as you whispered

"Sleep well Shads"

Knuckles the Echidna

Again hasn't received much affection since he lost his tribe and father the ones he cared for but lost at a very young age

I believe that he would forget the warm touch of comfort that someone gives him, or he would be a little bit worried if he would accidentally hurt them by his strength

But that's when you came around, sweet and kind with a quiet but comforting presence that would make him feel at ease just by you being there with him

After being out for nearly the whole day because of villains and guarding and other stuff that you never know what this echidna does

He finally gets home but.. something wasn't right

He looked furious as if someone pissed him off, which was most likely out of the other possible chances that could of happened

He was also dirty with dirt and grub on his fur and stuck in his quills, dirt smudged on his muzzle cheek

You just stood there trying to not laugh as you covered your mouth with a hand, Knuckles closing his eyes for a second then re-opening them

"What happened?" You asked

"I would not like to talk about it" Knuckles said in a grumbled tone like he was about to punch something or someone

You cleared your throat as you asked him if he wanted a bath to clean himself off

Knuckles just simply followed you the bathroom, you turning on the tap as water ran down into the bathtub

You sat on the edge of the bathtub as you didn't want to question much on what happened to knuckles as he took off his gloves and his shoes

"Want bubbles?" You asked as you took a bottle of bath bubble, lavender scent

"What is bubbles?" He asked which to you excitedly took the cap off and started to pour in the bubbles as you started to swirl the water around causing Knuckles to become interested

After cleaning him off gently and dried him you two were sloughing on the couch watching some TV as you two relaxed

Knuckles needed this and you knew it

Reaching a hand down to gently pet his head caused him to look up at you as he questioned what you were doing

"What are you doing with your hand?"

"Petting you" You paused your hand "I could stop if you like-" You spoke as you pulled back your hand only for it to be grabbed by Knuckles hand

You thought he would crush your hand but he was gentle with grabbing your hand, he pulled your hand back to his head as he looked away

"Do It again" He spoke in a quiet tone, you gave out a little smirk as you continued on what you were doing

After a few minutes of doing what you were doing you hearing thumping, looking down to see that Knuckles fell asleep while his Tail was wagging against the couch

This causes you to snort a little at the adorable moment

Continuing with petting his head as you went back to watching the TV until you fell asleep yourself

-A<3

[jasntodds]

Scars [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason lets you trace over his y scar

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, scars, mentions of death, bruises, cuts, general minor injuries, hurt/comfort

Words: 1,765

A/n: I just wanted something a little soft for once. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Jason carries the weight of every horrible, traumatic, and agonizing event that’s ever happened to him across his body, etched in pale and raised lines across him like a used roadmap. He wears them as cruel reminders that this life is unfair and unjust, even when he tries his hardest to make it so. There are some he pays no mind to, and doesn’t even really notice most days because they are there. That’s that. But, there are others…there are others he looks at as a punishment for everything he’s ever done and everything he never was and could never be. They’re reminders, laughing back at him every day, a sinister echo of his mistakes.

Most days, he tries to pay them no mind, either.

You’re sitting on your knees right beside Jason, his side pressed against the bare skin of your calf. Your eyes are trained on his exposed abdomen, showcasing the scars and cuts and bruises he’s collected over the last few years.

It wasn’t that seeing his body covered in new and old injuries was jarring. That was mostly fine. After the first few weeks of being friends, it stopped being jarring because that's just how it is with Jason. He gets hurt sometimes. It comes with the job and you accept that part of him. The bruises and cuts were very rarely ever jarring. The other scars were never really jarring because of course he has them. That always made sense to you. It's the autopsy scar that is jarring.

With the others, he'd told you it comes with the job and then he'd watch your face contort into a scrunch of worry and paranoia over his well-being, something he doesn't think he deserves most days. When the comment didn't ease your worry, he'd kiss you and give his signature cocky grin, a silent promise that he's fine and the conversation would end. The autopsy scar conversation is never so simple.

You knew he died because he told you not long before you made things official. You knew the story about the Joker and his mom. He told you of the horrid night and bits of pieces of the after. But this is your first time seeing the physical damage of the night that still wakes him up in the middle of the night. Your chest aches for him and it's jarring because he did die and he has to carry that kind of weight forever, something you'll swear until the day you die he doesn't deserve.

With delicate fingers, you trace over the long line of the autopsy scar, Jason’s eyes glancing from your hand to your face. His stomach tenses with the movement and you can’t tell if it’s because your hands are cold, it tickles, or he’s uncomfortable. If you know Jason, you’re kind of figuring it’s the third option. So, you glance back to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“This okay?” You ask softly.

“It’s fine.” Jason answers, his thumb lightly brushing over your thigh furthest away from him. “Bother you?”

Jason has been cautious not to show you because he knows how he feels about it. He knows that you worry. Seeing some sort of proof of death seems like it might send you spiraling into some sort of tornado of worry until you spin too far away from him. He's been cautious because he adores you and he doesn't want to lose you and he doesn't want it scare you.

You look back to the scar, tracing over it again. “No.” You answer quietly. It hurts your chest because it happened to him. It happened to him and nothing in this world could ever justify the torture and pain he's been through. It doesn't bother you because it is a part of him and you adore him with every beat your heart drums. “Bothers you though.”

Jason’s brows pull together. “How’d you figure?” There’s the slightest bit of a bite in his words like a scared puppy, a default reaction to being seen.

“Why wouldn’t it?” The question leaves your lips freely with unfiltered candor.

Seeing it for the first time, yeah it bothered him. It bothered him because what was the point? It wasn’t some mystery how he died. Maybe it was just legal reasons bullshit that Jason doesn’t care about. Though, he does fully understand that maybe if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t care. Or if it had healed, he wouldn’t care. So, that’s something he can’t really blame Bruce for. Instead, it’s that it’s there. Looking back at him in the mirror. Staring up at him when he looks down. It’s always there. It’s as if he was cut open and the weight of death and punishment and regret scattered over his organs and bones, making sure he understands the weight of his own consequences. He just can’t quite shake it and the scar is the reminder.

"I guess." Jason lets out this shaky breath as his stomach tenses below your fingertips.

"It's okay if it bothers you, Jay." You assure him. "I'd bother me if I were you but..." You pause for just a second, pressing an open palm over some of the raised edges of the scar as your eyes are locked on his. "I hope it doesn't bother you too much because you got to live and I don't care what the other bats thought about it at first because I'm glad you got to come back. And you deserve to let the weight off your shoulders for once." Your eyes go back to the scar and trace up the line from the center of his stomach up to the right side of his chest.

Jason's thumb is rubbing lightly against your skin and he wonders why you make it seem so simple. No part of him thinks you believe it's simple but there's something in the way that you say it that almost gives Jason some sort of faith in the idea of it. That maybe there is a day where it won't feel like he's carrying the weight of the world. Maybe there is a day someday where he won't feel the aching and longing of his bones. You offer him tenderness and kindness when the majority of his life has been nothing but skinned knees and broken hearts.

That feels terrifying, too but...maybe he's tired of running away from things because they're good for him. And good to him.

Seeing the autopsy scar for the first time bothered him. Seeing it yesterday bothered him. But, at this exact point in time with your fingers running along the tattered edges, it doesn’t bother him so much.

“Thank you.” Jason holds his words steady with a sort of caution at the edges. "It's not bothering me now." His voice is quiet as his eyes glance to you and then back to your fingers on his skin.

He is entirely exposed to you now. There’s no going back even if that is absolutely terrifying. Jason keeps himself guarded to protect himself and protect everyone else around him. But, you make letting the guard down a little bit easier. You’re tender and delicate with him, two things no one ever is. At no point have you ever thought less of him for the things he’s done and things he’s seen, or the things that rip his body to shreds. You take him as he is and offer him understanding and kindness, two things Jason has been desperate to get from anyone. And he is so thankful for you.

“Good.” Your voice is quiet before your stare goes back to the scar. “I hope it never bothers you again.”

Jason sits up, closing some of the distance between you while you rest your hands in your lap. His eyes run over your face slowly while the corner of his mouth is pinched barely upwards. He looks content. He looks comfortable. His heart is beating a mile a minute as it’s about to run through his ribs. There’s something fluttering against it, something that feels warm and welcoming in the beating of his heart. There’s something that makes his breathing unsteady without ever sucking the air from his lungs. There is something that feels comfortable and like a home he didn’t think he’d ever find.

Jason leans forward, resting his forehead against yours and your entire body relaxes in that instant. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your cheek before he rests his head in the crook of your neck. You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple before your hands come to his cheeks to pick his head up.

His eyes lock on your eyes and you adore him. You adore him for all that he is today. The scars never really bothered you because they hold him together. All of them have a story that has led Jason Todd to who he is today. They are proof that he is alive. They are proof that even when he was hurt, even when he was murdered, he is alive. The air can be pulled into his lungs and oxygen will circulate through his cells again. He is alive. The autopsy scar is just further proof to you because he shouldn’t have been brought back but he was. And that was for a reason. That scar is just another piece of proof he is meant to be here. It is another mark of how he got here today and you, for one, are eternally thankful that he is here today.

Your thumbs are running over his cheeks and Jason swears he has never felt so wanted by anyone. And he doesn’t feel so damn alone in the world anymore. He feels important and he only hopes he makes you feel the same way. He can only hope you understand how much you mean to him and that he is just as important to you.

Your lips come to his and he melts into your touch as he kisses you back. His hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you in closer. And he thinks he might do everything in his power to have more moments like these with you. You can trace his scars and he can tell you about them and you can exist in the bubble where it is only the two of you. You can trace his scars and he can run his fingers along your thigh and you both can feel wanted and important. And loved.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii