#their dynamics are almost exactly the same

[choerypetal]

The Prank / Harry Potter

summary: Being Draco Malfoy’s sister offers significant advantages in Slytherin, with strong platonic ties to Mattheo and Theodore and a protective brother. Consequently, Harry's chance to make an impact might rely on an unfavored prank, providing him an unconventional path to disrupt the existing dynamics.

ps; english ins't my first mother tongue language if any grammar error is seeing through the story, it will be eventually corrected by me. enjoy!

Harry was all too aware of the weight his last name carried. His fame, a double-edged sword, had shaped much of his life and interactions with others. Among his classmates, it was a constant presence, a reminder of his place in their world. But there was one person who had caught his interest in a way no one else had—someone who saw past the fame and into the person behind it. That person was you.

But somehow, just looking at you wasn’t enough for Harry. He had become utterly fascinated by you—by your values, your independence, and, most intriguingly, the stark contrast within your own family name. Being a Malfoy had brought its privileges, but you had carved out your own identity, distinct from the expectations of your lineage. With a fiercely protective brother and a mother who showered you with care, you were surrounded by the trappings of tradition. Yet, you had found a way to stand apart, to be your own person. It was this strength that drew Harry in, making him feel both intrigued and conflicted.

He almost felt ashamed for even entertaining the thought—seeing himself with a Malfoy. It was a notion that seemed impossible, yet it lingered in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore.

It was during a rainy day, early in autumn, when most students sought shelter either in the Astronomy Tower or, like you, found solace in the quiet of the library before lunch. The sound of rain pattering against the windows created a soft background noise as you browsed the shelves, hoping to steal a few moments of peace. Your brother, Draco, and his ever-loyal group of friends had been abuzz with excitement about their latest scheme to alleviate their boredom. 

And, of course, in typical Draco fashion, he was predictably drawn to stirring trouble with Harry Potter. His lack of originality when it came to tormenting the Gryffindor had become almost a routine, a familiar dance between the two. You, however, found yourself growing tired of the same old rivalry, even if it was expected in the Malfoy name. Today, more than ever, you felt disconnected from it all, your mind wandering elsewhere.

As you finally located the book you’d been searching for, Theodore Nott appeared in the hallway, offering you an escort to the cafeteria. It was a small but thoughtful gesture, especially considering that Draco hadn’t even bothered to come get you himself. You smiled at Theo’s presence, appreciating the effort despite your brother’s predictability.

“Theo, you know I can make my way there alone. My brother doesn’t—” you began, but Theo quickly shook his head, cutting you off with a knowing look. His expression suggested that Draco’s insistence had been genuine, or perhaps it was just convenient timing.

“I must indulge you on the matter, Y/N,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But Draco insisted I pick you up. For subtle measures, of course. He wanted to make sure you weren’t... you know.” His words trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant. Draco always had his protective streak, often imagining threats where there were none. Theo’s tone was light, but there was an underlying concern from Draco, no matter how overbearing it might seem.

Theodore didn’t need to sugarcoat it—the truth was clear. Draco didn’t want you crossing paths with Potter, and though you hadn’t, the underlying message was always there. “Fine,” you relented with a playful sigh. “And since you’re already here to escort me,” you added with a mischievous grin, “why don’t we intertwine arms and you can whisk me away to lunch? I can’t bear to hear my stomach rumble in protest again.”

Theo mirrored your grin, clearly amused by your sudden shift in tone. Without missing a beat, he extended his arm. “I shall, My Lady,” he said with exaggerated formality, linking his arm with yours as you both made your way to the cafeteria, the earlier tension dissipating into shared humor.

Harry had already been in the cafeteria for a while, arriving before Draco as he slumped at the Gryffindor table. His disheveled appearance and tired eyes were telltale signs that he hadn’t slept well—likely out on one of his late-night excursions around the school. He had probably lost Gryffindor a few points for his lack of subtlety, but the consequence didn’t seem to bother him much.

Just as he was about to respond to Ron’s incessant complaints, his eyes shifted naturally, almost instinctively, from his untouched plate to where you entered. He didn’t quite understand how or why it happened. Chosen or not, it felt like a curse. The sight of you—so effortlessly poised—gnawed at something deep inside him, making him feel unsettled, even sick to his stomach. You, a Malfoy, represented everything he should stay away from. Yet, somehow, you always drew his gaze, an unwelcome and persistent distraction that pained him more than he cared to admit.

And there you were, moving with effortless grace, your hair catching the cool autumn breeze that slipped in through the slightly open windows. It swept through the room in a comforting way, though it seemed to stir something far less peaceful in Harry. As you made your way toward the Slytherin table, Pansy’s voice called out, greeting you from afar, but Harry’s gaze had already found you—unbidden, magnetic.

Your eyes met his across the room, and for a brief moment, something like understanding passed between you. His heart clenched at the sight of your slight smile. It was nothing more than a fleeting, innocent gesture, but to him, it felt like a wound. Oh, how he longed to just stand up, walk over, and close the distance between you. Like Draco would. Like Theodore, or any of your friends, could without a second thought. But he couldn't. He was Harry Potter, the Gryffindor hero, and you were a Malfoy. The invisible line between you felt impossible to cross, even as every fiber of his being ached to do just that.

“Y/N,” Draco’s voice rang through the air, sharp and authoritative, instantly pulling you—and Harry—back to reality. Harry’s heart sank as he turned, catching the familiar sneer on Draco’s face. Your brother had a talent for making himself impossible to ignore, and judging by the look he shot Harry, it was clear he wasn’t just here to fetch you. He was delivering a warning.

“You look absolutely ridiculous sitting there,” Draco continued, his voice dripping with irritation as he strode up to you, arms crossed. “People will start to think there’s something going on between you and Potter, and you know what Father would say about that.”

His words carried the weight of the Malfoy legacy, a burden you had carried for as long as you could remember. The invisible chains of expectation wrapped around you, tightening as Draco’s cold eyes bore into yours. Harry clenched his fists under the table, resisting the urge to say something, do something. But he knew better—Draco was already spoiling for a fight, and Harry wasn’t about to give him an excuse. Not here. Not now. Even though his chest burned with frustration, he simply sat there, watching, waiting, and silently hoping you'd choose to defy your brother’s words.

“I know,” you murmured quietly, your words barely audible as you approached the table, your sigh lingering in the cold air. The weight of Draco’s presence pressed down on you, but as you sat, your gaze lingered on Harry for a fleeting moment, catching his eyes once more. It wasn’t just his gaze this time—both Ron and Hermione were watching too, their faces clouded with concern. They knew, just as well as you did, the unspoken rules of your world. A love like this, between you and Harry, was forbidden, as if the mere thought was destined for tragedy.

As you settled in, you caught Harry’s lips moving, his quiet whisper to Ron barely reaching you. "There’s no way I can. Just look at her brother. He wants me dead. I’m not worthy of her love.”

The words stabbed at you, even from across the room. You saw the doubt, the resignation in Harry’s eyes, and it mirrored your own inner turmoil. The weight of your family’s name, the constant scrutiny, and Draco’s looming presence—it all made the idea of being with Harry seem impossible. And yet, the connection between you both felt undeniable, as if the universe had pulled you together in defiance of the very forces trying to tear you apart.

"Not worthy." The words repeated in your mind like a slow, haunting echo. Even as your friends chattered loudly about their next cruel prank on Potter, you could barely register their voices. Your fork hovered over the plate, numbing your movements as your thoughts spiraled. You were barely present, your focus lingering on Harry, on his defeated gaze, on the hopelessness you read in his lips. That was until Draco’s voice slithered in, dripping with arrogance and disdain. “Sister,” he muttered as he leaned in beside you, fingers boldly stealing food from your plate. He didn’t care to mask his smugness as he licked the remnants of the sauce from his fingers, his eyes drifting towards Harry’s table, locking in for a brief moment. His gaze then slid back to you, sharp and accusing.

“A little bird told me it was wrong to stare,” Draco said, his voice taunting, as if daring you to deny it. His smirk deepened as though he had caught you in some hidden act of treason.You quickly turned your head, breaking the invisible connection between you and Harry. Your heart raced with the silent understanding that Draco had seen it—the shared glances, the tension neither you nor Harry could fully conceal.

Draco leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, “What’s going on, Y/N? Don’t tell me you've taken a liking to Potter. You know what Father would say. What I’d say.” His tone dripped with malice, a quiet threat laced in every word.

“Especially— when they stare back at us.” 

You rolled your eyes, fixing Draco with your signature glare. His snarky smirk only deepened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. “Don’t fret, Y/N,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. Theo’s voice cut in, carrying a darker edge. He held his glass with an almost possessive grip, his eyes never shifting towards Harry’s table. “It’s not as if it’s not obvious who he’s obsessed with,” Theo said, his voice filled with disdain. “I don’t like it one bit.”

Mattheo joined in, his presence bustling with energy as he, along with Blaise, added their two cents. He leaned in to peck your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin. “Tell me about it,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “He’s been murmuring your name during Snape’s class. Creepy, if you ask me.”

Their words washed over you, adding to the already heavy tension you felt. You could almost feel the weight of their disapproval pressing down on you, mixing with your own swirling emotions. The combined voices of your friends were a harsh reminder of the precarious position you found yourself in—caught between the expectations of your family, the harsh judgments of your peers, and the undeniable pull you felt towards Harry.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself amidst the growing chaos. “I appreciate the concern,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But can we focus on something else for now? I’d rather not have the entire cafeteria knowing my business.” The conversation shifted as your friends begrudgingly complied, their murmurs fading into the background. But the feeling of being scrutinized, of having your every move and emotion laid bare, lingered, reminding you of the impossible choices you faced.

The realization hit you like a jolt, a spark igniting your curiosity despite the swirling chaos around you. The way Harry’s gaze seemed to follow you with a mixture of longing and helplessness, even in the face of Draco’s and your friends’ disdain, piqued your interest further. His eyes, intense and unwavering, betrayed an emotion that went beyond mere admiration. 

The peck on your cheek from Mattheo, once a simple gesture of camaraderie, now felt like a stark contrast to Harry’s silent, persistent gaze. It was a reminder of the stark divide between what was expected and what was truly felt. The starkness of Harry’s unspoken affection contrasted sharply with the superficial gestures you were accustomed to, like Mattheo’s fleeting touch. You found yourself wrestling with conflicting thoughts. Could Harry’s feelings be genuine, despite the walls and barriers that surrounded both of you? Could he truly harbor something deeper than the casual affection you had seen from others, akin to what you had seen with Riddle’s more manipulative displays?

As the cafeteria noise buzzed around you, you forced yourself to refocus on the present. The day’s events had revealed more than you’d anticipated, challenging your assumptions and stirring a storm of emotions you’d rather not face. In the midst of the laughter and conversations, you felt a renewed determination to understand the depth of Harry’s feelings, and why, despite everything, he continued to look at you with such unwavering intensity. The path ahead was murky, filled with shadows and uncertainties, but you were now more resolved than ever to uncover the truth behind those haunted, hopeful eyes.

Hermione’s nudge seemed to snap Ron out of his distasteful reverie, his eyes shifting to her with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What was that for?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation but tinged with curiosity.

Hermione, ever the mediator, shot Ron a look that was both reproachful and sympathetic. “It’s just that,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “Y/N’s been dealing with a lot lately. And,” she hesitated for a moment, glancing over at you, who were now engrossed in a quiet conversation with Theodore and Mattheo, “she might not show it, but it’s clear there’s more going on than meets the eye. Harry’s not the only one with feelings here.”

Ron’s expression softened, though his brow remained furrowed. “You think we should—” “—I think we should be supportive,” Hermione cut him off gently. “We don’t know what’s really going on with Y/N and Harry. And honestly, with everything that’s happened, maybe it’s time we gave them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, the last thing we want is to make things worse by adding to the drama.”

Ron nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Alright, fine. But if things get out of hand—” Hermione cut him off again with a reassuring smile. “We’ll handle it. For now, let’s just be here for Y/N and not add more fuel to the fire.”  The conversation shifted as the two of them turned their attention back to their meal, while Hermione’s words lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of the complexities of emotions and the importance of empathy in a world full of uncertainties.

Hermione’s recollection of the party was like a wave of nostalgia mixed with a hint of envy, and her eyes softened as she continued. “You were stunning that night, Y/N. The way the dress accentuated your every move, it was like you were meant to be the center of attention.”

Ron, still blushing, shifted awkwardly in his seat. “And what’s that got to do with anything?” Hermione gave him an understanding look. “Harry’s been thinking about you a lot, Ron. That night, especially. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was as if he was caught between admiration and frustration, because he couldn’t get close to you the way he wanted.”

Harry, who had been silently listening, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You don’t have to bring up the party, Hermione. It’s... embarrassing.” Hermione smiled gently, her tone soothing. “It’s not about making anyone uncomfortable. It’s about understanding that there’s more going on beneath the surface. Harry’s not just pining away; he’s been genuinely affected by you.”

Ron, still flushed but now a bit more thoughtful, glanced at Harry. “So, you really do care about her, huh?” Harry nodded, his gaze earnest. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know how to make it right, but I do care.” Hermione’s expression softened further, and she patted Ron’s arm reassuringly. “See? It’s not all about giving advice or judging. Sometimes it’s about recognizing when someone’s struggling and just being there for them.”

Ron nodded, a hint of understanding dawning on his face. “Alright, I get it. Maybe we should just let things play out and support Y/N, and Harry too.” Hermione gave him a grateful smile. “Exactly. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to just be there for each other and let things unfold naturally.” As the conversation drifted back to other topics, the air was lighter, and the underlying tension seemed to ease. For now, the focus was on navigating the complexities of emotions with a bit more empathy and understanding.

Hermione’s teasing tone was gentle but persistent. “She mentioned you often, Harry. It wasn’t just idle chatter. That night, she was so taken with you that she couldn’t stop talking about how you caught her attention. Even when she tried to play it cool, it was clear she was struggling with her feelings.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Really? I didn’t realize I made that much of an impression.”Hermione nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “She tried to keep it hidden, but it was obvious. She spoke about how conflicted she felt, especially with Draco hovering around and her own feelings about the Malfoy name. It’s not just about admiration; it’s deeper than that. She was worried about what people would think, especially considering your past with Draco.”

Harry's eyes widened slightly, realizing the depth of your struggle. “So, she’s been dealing with a lot more than just—” Hermione interrupted gently, “Yes. It’s not just about you being ‘handsome’ or whatever. It’s about her own internal battles and the fear of being judged for her feelings. That night, she was quite a mess. And despite her attempts to hide it, her vulnerability was apparent.”

Harry felt a pang of regret and concern. “I wish I had known. Maybe I could have helped her through it.” Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s never too late. Understanding what she’s been through is the first step. She needs to know that someone cares, without judgment. And right now, she needs to see that you’re not just someone she’s worried about but someone who genuinely wants to be there for her.”

Harry nodded, his resolve firming. “I’ll find a way to show her that. I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone in this.” As the conversation wrapped up, the mood shifted to one of mutual understanding and determination. Harry’s newfound clarity about your feelings and struggles gave him the motivation he needed to approach the situation with sensitivity and care.

Draco’s plan was set with his usual confidence, and though you felt a twinge of unease, you knew better than to question him openly. “Tonight at dawn, then,” you agreed, your voice soft but resolute. The instructions were clear, and Draco’s expression was one of satisfaction as he dismissed the others, leaving you with your thoughts and preparations.

As the evening approached, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of apprehension and resolve. Draco’s scheme was typical—using you as bait to catch Harry Potter in a moment of vulnerability. It wasn’t the first time you’d been used in one of Draco’s schemes, but the stakes felt higher this time. There was something more personal about this plan, especially considering how your feelings for Harry had been evolving.

The hours ticked by slowly, and as midnight approached, you found yourself pacing in your room. You had to remind yourself that your role was to lure Harry into a situation where Draco could confront him. It wasn’t about your own feelings or the growing empathy you felt for Harry. It was about following orders, maintaining your loyalty to your brother, and not causing any more trouble than necessary.

When the clock struck midnight, you slipped out of your room, carefully making your way to the library. The corridors were eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint echoes of your footsteps and the distant creak of the castle. As you approached the library, you spotted Harry in the dimly lit space, hunched over a stack of books. He was absorbed in his reading, his focus evident. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task ahead. The plan was simple: engage Harry in conversation, lead him into a situation where Draco could confront him, and hope that everything would go according to plan. As you made your presence known, Harry looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

Harry’s initial surprise quickly turned to curiosity as he looked up from the book he was studying. The dim light of the library cast a soft glow on your face, highlighting the delicate features and the genuine concern in your eyes. As you bumped into him, the contact was fleeting, but it left an impression—one that made Harry's heart race.

He looked at you, taking in the way you seemed genuinely apologetic, a stark contrast to the usual icy demeanor of your family. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice betraying the same mix of surprise and unease that you displayed. He took a step back, his hand lingering a moment longer on yours before he released it. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here this late.”

The library was a place of refuge for him, a sanctuary away from the prying eyes and expectations of the outside world. Seeing you here, and in such an unexpected way, felt like a strange twist of fate. The vulnerability in your voice was palpable, and it drew him in, compelling him to stay longer than he might have otherwise. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was just... getting a few more books before heading back.”

Harry nodded, his gaze not leaving you. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been spending a lot of time here lately. It’s peaceful.” There was a pause, the silence between you filled with the distant hum of the library’s quiet atmosphere. Harry could see the way your eyes darted around, perhaps anxious or simply uncomfortable. The contrast between your nervousness and his own hesitation created a quiet tension, one that seemed to draw them closer.

“So,” Harry began, trying to break the ice, “What are you reading? Or... studying, I guess?” The question was simple, but it opened the door for conversation, allowing both of you to escape the awkwardness of the moment. He hoped that, perhaps, talking about something more neutral might help bridge the gap between you and him.

Harry’s breath hitched as you closed the gap between you, your hand brushing against his chest and your fingers lightly gripping his tie. The proximity was electrifying, and he could feel the warmth of your body against his, a stark contrast to the cool air of the library. His heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through him. Your voice, soft and almost seductive, drew him in further. “You know...” He swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in your demeanor. “What... what do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. The library, once a haven of solitude, now seemed to pulse with a different kind of energy, one that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The space between you was almost nonexistent, and Harry could feel the heat radiating from your body. His mind raced with questions and possibilities, unsure of what to expect but unable to pull away. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, adding to the intensity of the moment. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly at your confession, his mind racing to process your words. The pink flush on your cheeks was unmistakable, adding to the growing intensity between you. He could barely believe what he was hearing, especially considering the way you had approached him.

“I... I stare?” he managed to stammer, his voice cracking slightly with surprise. The vulnerability in your admission made his heart race even faster, and he struggled to find his voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, but also a glimmer of something deeper—a curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of hope. Your fingers, still lightly touching his tie, gently encouraged him to close the distance between you even further.

“Yes,” you said softly, your voice carrying a blend of shyness and determination. “I noticed. And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. About you.” You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to continue. “It’s not just about the way you look at me. It’s more about how you make me feel when you do.” Harry’s gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in your words. The library, with its quiet and secluded atmosphere, seemed to wrap around you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy.

“Y/N, I...” He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pretense. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I’ve always admired you from a distance, but... I didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

The uncertainty in his voice was palpable, but there was also a flicker of hope and longing. Your confession had clearly affected him, and he seemed to be grappling with his own feelings as he looked at you. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, heightening the emotional weight of the moment. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile connection between you. “Because... if you are, then maybe we should... talk about this more. Together.”

Until the sudden noise from the corridor startled both of you. The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed through the library, breaking the intimate moment you were sharing. Harry’s hand froze beneath your chin, his eyes darting toward the source of the noise with a mix of concern and disappointment.

The library’s shadows seemed to dance around you as you both pulled away, the spell of the moment shattered by the intrusion. You exchanged a glance, your heart still racing, and Harry’s face reflected a blend of frustration and urgency. “We have to... we should—” Harry began, his voice hurried as he glanced back at the approaching footsteps. He reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “We can’t be seen here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the interrupted moment but also the lingering excitement of what had almost happened. You quickly gathered yourself, smoothing out your clothes and trying to regain composure. The footsteps grew louder, and you both knew it was time to make a swift exit. With one last meaningful look, Harry gave a small, almost apologetic smile before you both slipped away into the labyrinthine stacks of the library, seeking refuge from the unwelcome interruption.

As you parted ways to avoid detection, the promise of what might have been hung heavily in the air, leaving both of you with a mix of longing and anticipation for what the future might hold.

Harry’s fist collided with Draco’s face in a sudden burst of anger and defiance. The impact sent Draco stumbling backward, his surprise quickly morphing into a mix of pain and fury. The library’s atmosphere shifted from one of tense anticipation to chaotic confrontation.

Draco’s eyes blazed with indignation as he wiped the blood from his split lip. “How dare you!” he spat, his voice laced with rage. “You have no right to touch her!”

Theodore and Mattheo, momentarily stunned, quickly regained their composure. Theodore’s smirk faded as he stepped in front of Draco, his own anger boiling over. “You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?” he sneered.

Mattheo, still holding a mocking grin, was quick to chime in. “Looks like Potter’s got a bit of a temper. How amusing.” You moved to stand between Harry and your brother, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, just let him go. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Draco, rubbing his jaw, shot a venomous glare at Harry. “You think this is over? You’ve just made things worse for yourself.” His voice was low and menacing, filled with the promise of retribution. Harry, breathing heavily, glared back at Draco. “I’m not afraid of you or your threats. Let’s settle this somewhere else, away from here.” You could see the frustration and desperation in Harry’s eyes, a reflection of your own turmoil. “Harry, please. Let’s just go before things get worse.”

The tension in the library was palpable, each of you caught in a complex web of emotions and conflicting loyalties. Draco, Theodore, and Mattheo seemed ready to pounce, but the realization that the situation was spiraling out of control was clear to all. With a final glance at you, Harry reluctantly stepped back, his anger still simmering but controlled. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

As you and Harry made your way out of the library, your brother’s furious eyes followed you. The confrontation left a bitter taste, but it also solidified the resolve between you and Harry. The path forward was uncertain, but the bond between you had been tested and, despite the chaos, had grown stronger.

Outside the library, the cool night air felt like a welcome release, and Harry’s hand found yours again, offering a comforting squeeze. The events of the night had only intensified the feelings between you, leaving both of you with a mixture of relief and anticipation for what lay ahead. But not until Mattheo had the last words in your defense. 

Mattheo’s voice cut through the chaos, his frustration evident as he tried to intervene between Draco and Harry. “You’re such an asshole!” he shouted, his anger palpable. The library’s peaceful ambiance was now a battleground of shouts and clashing spells, and the situation seemed to escalate by the second.

Draco and Harry were locked in a heated struggle, their spells and curses lighting up the library like a chaotic light show. Theodore was trying to separate them, but his efforts were in vain as the two continued their relentless battle. The intensity of their fight was palpable, each movement fueled by a mix of personal vendettas and raw emotions.

Mattheo, seeing that his attempts to break up the fight were futile, resorted to threats. “I’ll tell Father about this!” he roared, his voice filled with menace. “You’ll regret this!”

Despite Mattheo’s threats, Harry and Draco were too caught up in their conflict to heed his warnings. The air crackled with magical energy, and the sounds of spellcasting and grunts of exertion echoed through the library’s aisles.

Amidst the commotion, you felt a mix of panic and determination. You stepped between the combatants, your voice rising above the din. “Enough! This has to stop!” you shouted, trying to grab their attention.

But your words were lost in the chaos. It was clear that neither Draco nor Harry was willing to back down easily. The library’s tranquility was shattered, and the once-serene study space was now a scene of conflict and anger.

Realizing that a more drastic approach was needed, you tried to summon your own magic, casting a powerful barrier between the two fighters. “Stop it now!” you commanded, your voice filled with authority. The barrier shimmered with a protective light, momentarily halting the duel and forcing both Harry and Draco to take a step back. The sudden ceasefire gave everyone a chance to catch their breath, but the tension was far from resolved.

Mattheo, still seething with anger, glared at you. “This isn’t over,” he warned, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ll make sure of it.” With a final, furious look at Draco and Harry, you turned to lead Harry away from the scene. “Come on,” you said urgently. “We need to get out of here before things get worse.”

Harry, still breathing heavily and with a look of determination in his eyes, followed you out of the library. As the two of you exited into the night, the cold air felt like a balm against the heated emotions of the confrontation. The events of the night had left a mark on both of you, but the bond between you had been tested and strengthened in the face of adversity. The path ahead was uncertain, but together you faced it with a renewed sense of resolve and connection.

The scene in the library had reached a fever pitch of chaos and confusion. Despite your desperate attempts to intervene, the fight between Draco and Harry had become almost uncontrollable. Each spell and curse seemed to add fuel to the fire, and even with your friends and Professor Snape now involved, the confrontation continued to spiral out of control.

Professor Snape's authoritative voice cut through the tumult, commanding the situation with a chilling firmness. “Hospital, now,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. His presence brought a semblance of order to the chaotic scene, and he quickly took charge, guiding Draco and Harry toward the hospital wing.

You reached out to Harry, your voice trembling with concern as you tried to hold onto him. “Harry, please, let me help—” His response was strained but resolute. “Don’t,” he said, his voice edged with pain and exhaustion. He pushed your hand away gently but firmly, signaling his desire to deal with the aftermath on his own terms.

Feeling helpless, you watched as Snape and the others escorted Draco and Harry out of the library. The corridor’s dim light cast long shadows, and the tension hung heavy in the air as they moved toward the hospital wing. You were left standing alone, the aftermath of the confrontation weighing heavily on you. Your friends gathered around, their faces reflecting a mix of concern and confusion. Hermione’s hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “We need to make sure they’re okay,” she said softly, her eyes full of empathy.

You nodded, though your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. The fight had revealed deep-seated tensions and unresolved feelings, and now, all you could do was hope that the wounds—both physical and emotional—could be healed.  As you made your way toward the hospital wing, you couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled in your chest. The night had taken a turn that none of you had anticipated, and the road to resolution seemed fraught with challenges.

The hospital wing's door loomed ahead, and you braced yourself for what lay beyond. The events of the evening had left scars that would take time to heal, but you knew that facing them was the only way forward. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself and stepped into the unknown, ready to support those you cared about and navigate the complexities of the relationships that had been strained by the night’s events.

The next morning, you hadn’t slept a wink. Mattheo found you alone in the common room, your sleepless night evident in the dark circles beneath your eyes. “Didn’t sleep?” he asked gently. You didn’t respond, your whole demeanor blank and distant. He sighed, understanding why you were silent and why you hadn't spoken to Theodore, Blaise, or Enzo.

“Look,” he continued, “I tried to tell your brother it was a bad idea. Even Pansy would agree with me. We were all against it—knew how you felt about Potter. And though everyone might think otherwise...” He paused, waiting for you to meet his gaze. When you finally did, your eyes glassy and weary, he added, “I’m genuinely glad to be the first to hear that you and Potter are together.” His smile was warm, sincere, and offered a small beacon of comfort.

“But... what about Draco?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Mattheo raised an eyebrow, immediately understanding who you were referring to. “Draco? Forget him. We’ll figure something out. If we need to keep your relationship a secret, so be it. I just want you to be happy—me, Theodore, everyone else.” His words were sincere, and you hugged him tightly, your face pressed against his chest.

“Finally, the peepsqueak is awake,” Theodore’s voice cut through the moment, a smile on his lips. He looked relieved to see you up. “Where were you?” you asked, feeling a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. “In the hospital wing. Harry’s been given a day off. He wants to see you.” Despite Theodore’s attempts to sound upbeat, you could sense the undercurrent of concern in his tone. A sigh escaped you, unsure if you were ready to face Harry. But Mattheo’s reassuring squeeze and the silent nod of support convinced you to go.

Harry sat on the hospital bed, Hermione at his side while Draco slept nearby, his presence barely acknowledged. “I’m sure she wasn’t…” Hermione whispered, trying to keep her voice low as Draco shifted restlessly in his sleep. “From what you’ve told me, it seems more likely that he set her up. Regardless…”

Harry’s gaze shifted, and he noticed you standing there, looking even more fragile than the night before, a clear sign of the toll it had taken on you. Hermione, who had been speaking, fell silent as Harry’s eyes met yours. 

“If you want to see him, he’s here,” Harry said, his voice carrying a hint of threat. “It would be helpful if you picked him up.” Hermione’s reaction was swift; she slapped Harry gently on his wounded arm, her disapproval evident.  Although you appreciated the offer, you barely acknowledged it. Your focus remained on Harry. “Harry…”

His eyes closed tightly, a clear sign of his struggle to process your words. “Harry… please listen to me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you fought back tears. A choked sob slipped through your lips. “I didn’t know anything about it, not even the prank. My brother mentioned something about you, yes… But never in a thousand years would I have thought it would come to this, especially when I was about to confess my love for you…”

His eyelids softened as he listened, his anger wavering. “And the fight... After you were taken away by Snape, Mattheo—strange as it may seem—is on our side. He trusts you with his life, more than...” Your gaze shifted nervously from him to your brother. With a hint of disgust, you added, “More than him.”

Harry paused, a heavy silence settling between you. Hermione nudged him, silently urging him to speak. His brow arched in questioning, “You meant it?” His voice was filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. 

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Everything.” 

As you approached quietly, Harry flinched slightly at your sudden presence. Hermione took her cue and left, giving you a reassuring smile before exiting. You settled beside his bed, reaching out for his hand. Though he tried to pull away, the connection was too strong to resist. He loved you, despite everything.

"Harry James Potter," you said softly, using his full name as you leaned in, echoing the intimacy of the previous night. "I loved you from the very first moment. Will you accept this kiss?"

Harry's heart swelled with a mix of affection and relief. A gentle chuckle escaped him as he cupped your face, his smile tender and sincere. "You may, Y/N Malfoy." 

With that, he leaned in, meeting your lips with his, sealing the promise of his love.

[ghouldtime]

Hiii it's me again lol

Okayokay, so I just finished reading your rant on the COD fandom's unique choice of pet names, and I'm gonna be straight up and say I'm going completely off topic and INSTEAD veer off to a side thing you pointed out to give my own opinion! This is a kinda hot take so I'm just screaming into the void hoping someone shares my thoughts 🖤

Sooo we all know the Ghost comics released alongside the OG MW2. I personally haven't read it due to the TWs but I've seen enough screenshots and summaries to get the gist of what happens. HOWEVER I believe those comics are only canon to 09 Ghost and doesn't apply to reboot Ghost, and this is what I meant about it being a hot take cuz almost everyone in the fandom agrees the comics happens for both. And I can definitely see why! I mean, we didn't exactly get any concrete backstory regarding reboot Ghost, so anything goes.

Where I stand on the line, I'm a firm believer of reboot Ghost being Just A Guy™️like he had a (relatively) chill childhood but there are some things that stay the same with the comics. Like Tommy scaring him with the skeleton mask when they were children, and Simon enlisting after the 9/11 attack (not sure if those are canon, it's just what I've heard so please correct me if I'm wrong). No abusive father, no Roba, no Christmas trauma. Sure it makes him less interesting but I find it pretty amusing how the person wearing a skull print balaclava has no real reason behind wearing it other than it looking cool lmao

Anyway, yap fest over! Hope you have a wonderful day/night and remember to hydrate! 🖤

- Biscuits 🌺

SALUTATIONS it's good to see you again, I hope you're doing swell as well :D 💚💚💚

Technically, what you're saying is true!

The '09 comics pair with the '09 character and are indeed cannon for only him as far as I'm aware (someone feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). The reboot lacks a true significant backstory. As in, if you search it up, you basically get "he joined the SAS and is super cool and is great at doing cool soldier things and probably can do a sick backflip". What we know about the reboot is basically what we experience in game. And until we get either another game focusing on his earlier life or have confirmed scenes of it, we really don't know.

Personally, how I distinguish "Ghost" as a being is as three versions.

You have '09 Ghost. '09 Ghost is the one we experienced in the OG games and the comics. He's the dead one - and the one with the actual official backstory. Those are both cannon and are tied to him as a character.

You then have Reboot Ghost. Reboot Ghost is, as the name entails, the reboot alone. Basically, what we have of him and know of him is what we experience in game. Technically, we don't know his backstory and the full extent of his life. Is it similar to his '09 counterpart? We don't know. He's kinda the "What you see is what you get". There's some things implied with his dialog but most of his story is up for debate.

And then we have what I'm calling Fandom Ghost who is the most common variant. Fandom Ghost is neither the reboot nor the '09 version - he's a middle ground. He's what everyone is thinking of when you hear 'Ghost'. Usually how I've seen him portrayed is the reboot with the '09 backstory or some semblance of that.

(Side note: I know it's quite typical to specify when you're referring to '09 Ghost specifically because he does, of course, have a very different history and outcome. Not to mention, the dynamics with him and Soap are very different than in the reboot which is another reason why people usually clarify and go "This is who I mean")

I've never actually seen a TRUE reboot Ghost that wasn't fandom based or fanon in writing, now that I think about it. Probably because it's not that easy to write about a character in a limited sense where you don't know much about them and you have to stick to the limited material you're given.

A lot of COD operators lack a significant backstory outside of their military history. That's mainly done because they're videogame characters of a military, shooting focused game and they don't usually have the time to go into depth as to why that character is the way they are. They're primarily soldiers who are saving the world and playing their role. You might see snippets here and there but the focus isn't on their background or the inner workings of their character in a very personal way, aside from what is revealed on missions to add a natural perspective and make them see more human

Because it's not like in the middle of a life or death situation you're going to sit down and explain that you had a dog growing up, you had three sisters, your favorite drink is Baja Blast, and you have a lifelong fear of Burger King.

'09 Ghost, however, we GOT a backstory. We were given something to work with. Clinging to that or melding it with the reboot, who lacks a backstory, is what a lot do because it's trying to make use of the best source material we got until we can maybe get something else too. Personally I was a fan of that backstory because it DID add depth to him, significantly so. I liked it.

Additionally, I think a LOT of people go that route too because it's something that's quite easy to look up so they don't need to make something themselves

(This is an entire theory and me putting on my tinfoil hat: There's a lot of people in the COD fandom who are just here for the big beefy men and don't do their research, haven't played the games - they're just assuming things. And when they see the fandom Ghost, they just assume it's true, and it spreads when they write their own stories. I hope this doesn't read like I'm trying to gatekeep or 'HOW DARE YOU NOT KNOW EVERYTHING' or 'you're not a true fan unless-', cause I really really really do not care. Do what makes you happy, but I'm going to avoid reading what I feel mischaracterizes him for sexual purposes alone hardcore)

I also like to imagine that maybe the team doing the reboots has enough common sense too to not entirely scrap such a backstory as hey, it IS interesting, so there's a strong possibility that reboot might share some origins. Kidding, I'm being fully delusional here and know they won't do that and will likely just ruin it and I'm hoping they don't have a chance. I know any new one they come up with -like the writing in the last campaign -would be utter carbonated hot dog water and I do not trust them at alllllll. I'm refusing to accept reboot Soap's death but that's a rant for another time

That being said though, there's technically no correct backstory yet for Reboot! Ghost aside from what we already know. Anything that adds backstory or melds anything else to him is making him fanon/fandom!Ghost (which is by far the most common iteration and the one people default too)

I love when people give him, and other COD characters, happy or somewhat not dramatic backstories. They already have enough going on with the wars they're thrown in, I live for them having a scrap of happiness and normality. I can't blame people for not wanting to write or deal with heavy backstories and it's nice to see variety and is SO super valid.

But at the same time, I also do like his OG backstory, I love seeing when people dig deeper into the gritty stuff too, exploring that side of characters because not everyone has the best life growing up. And joining the military and when they join can be telling too about their home life

Variety is the variety of life and when there's not exactly a cannon, then I love seeing people make their own reasonings and conclusions and write fanfics with their own theories. It's SO fun to explore what other people think and it really results in some of the sweetest fics that dive more into depth than the official writing team ever could hope to

The Ghost that I write are usually AU Ghosts anyhow so it allows me more flexibility in what I write. BUT if I'm writing for Ghost, I do the blend where it has more of the '09's backstory but his reboot vibes. THAT BEING SAID

I love making him just, A Dude©, still despite that. Having a bad past doesn't make him any less of a person - nor does it make him this ultra mega tough dominant edgy sigma bad boy. He's literally just a GUY. Sure, he has extensive SAS experience and training to boot. Sure, he's easily one of their top soldiers. He's a stone cold killer when he's Ghost. He's there to do the job.

But Simon? Simon's just a dude, like everyone else - they all are at the end of the day. Sure, they have their own personal struggles and do have to go through a lot, but they're still people. He goes to the grocery store and is genuinely confused about all the options of milk now (how the hell did they milk HEMP). He still makes his bed and has to fight the fitted sheet to stay on, using his size and strength to force it in place before it can do 'the thing' that all fitted sheets somehow do. He bought a bird feeder so he could watch the wildlife as he drinks his tea for breakfast. Speaking of tea, he has a whole collection! And the good shit, you know he won't settle for any less.

He's just A DUDE© at the end of the day and I love those mundane things because hell, he needs them to still feel human and to be reminded exactly what he's fighting for

I just find it so silly and ridiculous when he's consistently like "I'M Batman: I AM THE NIGHT" sheer dramatic levels of broody in stories or when he's put in as this mega dommy bad boy who is 6'5", growling constantly, and is like the posterchild for a wattpad biketok fanfic.

Lmaooo be for real, he's out here doing arts and crafts to make his masks. He has a whole paint collection and everything. He went into the craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies and no, I'm not listening to anyone who says otherwise

[around-your-throat]

cringetober day 4: angel x demon

[good-beansdraws]

Fe Aspec Week Day 2: Friendship

An indulgent piece for today!!!! :') It's no secret the trio's friendship has always had a really special place in my heart, and I've been grateful for the taste of acceptance and contentment it brought me during (and long after) I played the game. To see them find the most caring and complete friendship in each other was truly inspiring.

Here's to all of us finding the people that make us "never long for companionship throughout the rest of our days" <3

[libunityfan69]

friendship over with the centricide hamilton au. centricide hazbin hotel au is all i care about now

[fragmentedblade]

I called it, Ruan Mei is deranged and shady as hell

[crowcryptid]

warhammer 40k or halo fan who is a little too into fantasy racism posting can be linked with 99.9% accuracy to actually being racist irl

they just can’t help it

[burquillos]

Help, I didn't know Diluven was a rarepair and when me and my friend were playing yesterday we played as characters that were commonly shipped together and when I mentioned Venti and Diluc she was legitimately surprised that people shipped them. I only thought it was common 'cause you're like the only person I follow that draws genshin ships ;-;

WaIT THIS IS SO FUNNY JSJDMEMEKW 😭😭😭BUT YES Diluven is indeed a rarepair and there are only like 20 people max here :"D

Crazy to think I kinda put up the illusion it was a common ship jdjekdk my bad😂😂

[peculiaritybending]

Don’t know whether or not to be annoyed about or imbued with a new sense of pride regarding my writing because IWTV S02 EP05 included an event that is almost identical to one I had come up with for my own vampire OCs like a year and a half ago.

[cubedmango]

s. something. not saying what but understand my vision nonetheless

[highlifeboat]

Now let's see if I manage to convince you to watch other movies only for Leon >:} (And Rebecca, in case of Vendetta, i guess :p) /hj

Also, told you in this one Jill was giving trans vibes :p Like, even outside your personal headcanon, there's definitely something going on with his gender :p

Pff probably not, I don't like Leon that much.

Maybe Vendetta for Rebecca but that's a big maybe.

I feel like Jill gives trans vibes in the new-gen engine specifically. Like RE3 and Death Island just give him that look.

Well... RE1 Remake Jill has moments too.

Jill's gender is an enigma. I could probably accept any gender headcanon for them at this point.

Transman Jill is more for personal reasons (Although I do still kind of believe in transman Moira too, who might arguably be a better candidate, I just haven't played much of Revelations 2 to latch onto them)

[jewlshardz]

aini as a game makes me SOOOO mad because it was SO CLOSE to being perfect

[stubborn-string-bones]

me: everything is fine and normal, probably, and surely nothing is actually wrong at all

also me: *puts on my dealing with manipulative retaliatory drama queens in positions of power voice* hi! i was just wondering ...

[nevergoesout]

been pretty busy lately actually ! what is new ? went to see my dad in hospital which was a lot, stayed at my nan & grampy’s two weekends in a row (and going back this weekend) (i love the cotswold hills with all my heart) , beer fest weekend (which is our big annual family gathering more so than christmas!) was lovely and jam came for the first year - we had lots of obscure ciders including the whiskey cask one we can never find !! , i GOT A FIRST !! , got some bright yellow crocs like i had when i was small very cheap in a sale , got a table for our house and feels very much like a real home now ! living with friends is still everything i dreamed of so far, it’s so lovely , had my first ever tick bite , still don’t have a job , am very happy

[llycaons]

got reminded of tma again and what a goddamn disappointment on a writing level it was as well as hugely irritating on a personal level (JS stop talking challenge. rember when he said something he thought was clever but was actually very silly on a post-season recording and his cohost didnt acknowledge it so he SAID IT AGAIN ugh its already recorded ppl will hear it). and then of course you have the blatant sinophobia and the writing of cops who are rly easily read as (butch) lesbians. what a mess. I'm glad it ended so shittily honestly I don't want to remember it fondly anyway

[teamred]

after midnight

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x mutant!reader | smut | 1.8k

SUMMARY | logan hates that you never listen to him and you can't stand how he still treats you like a kid. but tonight's your chance to change each other's minds.

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (male receiving), piv s*x, power dynamics

RATING | explicit

NOTES | this is more dialogue and tension than smut, but i hope y'all still enjoy!

The X-Mansion at night is eerily quiet, a peaceful respite compared to the bustling energy during the day with the swarm of students walking around. Despite the stillness, some nights, like tonight, make sleep hard to come by. 

You carefully tread down the stairs, through the halls, and towards the communal kitchen to grab a drink. 

With the flick of your hand, you open the fridge, its bright light illuminating you amidst the darkness, and glance at what’s available.

Times like these, you wish there was something stronger than soda available, but you settle on a bottle of ginger ale and levitate it towards your hand. You will the fridge to close behind you as you make your way to a high stool by the kitchen island.  

“Shouldn't be walkin’ around in that outfit, bub.” 

Startled, you whip your body around, clutching the bottle to your chest and holding your hand out, an instinctive fighting stance. You relax at the sight of him leaning against the doorframe. 

“Jesus Christ, Logan…” you exhale, shaking your head.

He turns on the low lights above the kitchen counters. His hair is tousled from sleep, and his usual scowl is plastered on his face.

Your eyes sweep over his sleep wear—a simple fitted white tee and grey sweats. Then you glance down at yourself—black booty shorts and a loose crop top. Sure, what you wear to bed is a little risqué, but it’s comfortable. 

“What are you—my dad?” you shoot back, sipping your drink and leaning against the counter.

Logan rolls his eyes, crossing the room to grab a Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

“You should put on a robe or somethin’,” he grumbles. “The kids could see you.” 

He reaches to untwist the cap, but you beat him to it, using your powers to unscrew it with a swish of your fingers. The cap clatters onto the island, a bit louder than you intended. 

“You know, kids aren’t exactly wandering around the mansion at 3AM,” you mutter.

He downs half the bottle in one go and you can’t help it, but you’re enticed by how his Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp. Your eyes sweep over him again, noticing how the shirt stretches perfectly over his body and the outline of his length underneath his sweats.

Logan may be an asshole, but at least he’s an attractive asshole.

When he finishes, he tilts the bottle towards you with a sneer. 

“Yeah? Look who's talking.”

In a flash, you swipe his drink into your hand and shove him against the edge of the counter. He stumbles, almost falling to the floor, and snarls a curse.  

Your nostrils flare as you close the distance between you, fists clenched. “When are you gonna take me seriously, Logan? I’m about to become a professor soon.”

He stands up straight, towering over you and matching your intensity.

He grits out, “When you finally start listenin’ to me.”

You scoff, the bitterness rising in your chest. “Oh, so that's what this is all about.” 

You shake your head, finding it all too familiar. Coincidentally, this was why you couldn’t sleep tonight. 

Logan jabs a finger towards you. “You never listen to a goddamn thing I say during training, always throwin’ yourself into the danger and I’m the one always pullin’ you out.” 

“It's just the Danger Room!” you whisper-shout back, not wanting to wake others. “And you do the same shit all the time, Mr. Hypocrite.”

“Because I can handle the risk."

“And what? I can't?” 

“Don't get cocky with me."

You step closer, merely inches away from his face, and raise a brow, meeting his glare with a defiant smirk. 

“What are you gonna do, Logan? Bend me over your knee and teach me a lesson?”

The words are meant to taunt, to push his buttons, but they come out with an edge you didn’t expect. 

Something daring.

Something that challenges Logan. 

His gaze darkens, and the room fills with a charged silence. His breathing turns heavy, his eyes fixed on you like he’s ready to pounce. 

“I just might.” 

The tension snaps. 

You’re unsure who moves first, but it doesn’t matter because you’re on each other, the kiss raw, messy, and all-consuming.

It’s a clash of hunger and fury. Lips crashing, teeth nearly clashing. His hands seize your bare thighs hard. Likewise, your nails dig into his muscled arms and shoulders. His groan turns into a guttural growl at the bite of your touch. 

Effortlessly, he hoists you up, and you wrap your legs around him before he sets you down onto the cold tiled countertop. His hand snakes its way up your shirt, calloused fingers finding your nipples, rolling and pinching them ruthlessly.

One gasp escapes you, then another as he thrusts his thigh between your legs; the friction is delicious against your aching core. 

“Tell me you'll listen to me,” he rasps the demand, his mouth now sucking and biting down your neck. 

Initially, you shake your head, but he twists your nipple hard, dragging a sharp moan from your throat.

“Yes,” you moan. 

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Logan,” you seethe, detesting how weak you are under his touch, but you can’t control yourself. 

He chuckles irritatingly, brushing your neck upwards with the tip of his nose, until he presses his mouth against your ear. “You gonna do as I say?”

You nod. A desperate whine escapes your lips as he presses his thigh harder into you. Your body’s inflamed, craving more than just this from him. 

“Then get on your knees,” he commands. “Show me what you got.”

As if under possession, you jump off the counter and fall to your knees as Logan switches spots with you. He drops his sweatpants towards his ankles and holds his cock in front of you, stroking it. 

You almost salivate at the sight. Not that you’ve ever imagined fucking Logan, but it’s unsurprising how long and thick it is. 

You start off with chaste kisses and darts of your tongue. A touch here and there to torment him. Minutes pass, and when he's had enough, he's about to say something until you suddenly take him in as much as you can.

You channel all your desire and frustration onto him in the form of crude pleasure to prove yourself.

Your tongue swirls. Licks up the precum leaking from his slit. Mouth sucks on his tip so hard, Logan's gripping your head roughly, groaning a plea for you to slow down. You disobey and relax your throat, allowing him to hit the back of your throat.

He practically has to rip you away to avoid an early end to all of this. His mouth is back on yours again with his drenched cock pressed up against your thigh.

Logan leads you to be on the counter once again. Impatiently, or perhaps it's laziness, his fingers deftly drag the fabric of your shorts and underwear towards one side to prepare for his entry.  

And he doesn't even ease into it, knowing how wet you are from just a whiff of the air.

He's not gentle, and you don't want him to be. You yearn for each deep thrust, letting his fullness fill you to the brim.

“Is this what you wanted?" he growls. "Me fucking some sense into you?” 

“If that’s what it takes to prove to you I’m not a fucking kid anymore, then—fuck—yes…” 

He answers every moan you make with a deeper plunge. However, the moans rise to cries. Logan puts a hand over your mouth, drowning them out.

In turn, the suppression of it only accelerates your climax and somehow draws out your powers. Utensils shake, along with the cupboards. 

“Sweetheart,” he warns with a low chuckle, still keeping a steady pace, “you’re gonna wake everybody up.”

“Don’t care,” you say, words muffled behind his hand. “Just keep fucking me. Don’t stop, don’t stop—” 

Everything shakes in unison with your body’s trembling. You whimper Logan’s name, eyes fluttering, until you come undone around his length. 

The kitchen slows its shaking as you come down from your high, and he pulls out, jolting his thick release onto your inner thigh with a sharp moan. 

Both of you are still, listening for any sign of footsteps or voices of anyone that is coming to investigate the noises. But the mansion is still quiet as a mouse, save for your rigorous panting and the hum of the fridge. 

Logan draws his pants back up and reaches for the paper towels. He holds them out in your direction, and, without ever touching it, you rip one off, wipe away the mess, and toss it into the garbage. 

Jumping off the counter, you adjust your clothes, but not much is needed since nothing ever came off. 

“So,” he says after catching his breath, reaching for his Dr. Pepper behind you. His body presses slightly against you, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours. “You gonna listen to me from now on?” 

“That depends.” You drag your ginger ale towards you with a tilt of your head. In sync, you chug your drinks. “Are you gonna treat me like an adult from now on?” 

“I’ll try, kid,” he says, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You shove him playfully at the label and he chuckles. “Sorry, it’s outta habit.” 

“But seriously,” he continues, his expression hardening into his usual tough one. “You know that I only say those things to look out for you.” 

That catches you off-guard. You search his eyes, revelling in the sincerity of his words. 

“I know, Logan,” you smile and nod. Leaning in, you kiss him tenderly on his cheek and begin to walk away. “Try to get some sleep.” 

When you’re about to leave, he calls out your name softly, causing you to turn around. 

“If you ever have another sleepless night, come find me.” He closes the distance and pins you down with an intense stare and a smug arch of his eyebrow. “I still have to properly teach you a lesson over my knee, y’know.” 

“Is that so?” you challenge. “Even after everything that happened tonight?” 

“Tonight was just a preview,” he whispers. He lifts his hand to palm your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. “I need to keep you in check so you won’t forget.”

You're drawn to him, wanting to close the gap with a kiss.

But you decide against it, not wanting to let him win this round.

“I’ll think about it."

Turning on your heel, you saunter away. His eyes track every move, every sway of your hips in those tight shorts, drinking in the sight of you until you disappear from view. 

Despite your tentativeness, Logan’s determined he’ll have another taste of you soon enough.