#there are quite a few different understandings in the notes. 'a house party is a small festival' well. not always‚

[marsjoram]

'what time do you get to a house party' question pissing me off bc there are are so many different vibes to house parties. in house party A it would be extremely normal and unquestioned to come 45 minutes 'late' in house party B it would be fucking bewildering

[megwritesriddles]

Secret's Safe ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 15 - Blackmail. Reader discovers Riddle's true blood status and divulges this information to him. Riddle assumes she must be here to blackmail him and immediately attempts to seduce her, but things aren't all that simple for him actually going through with it.

Tags: Blackmail, Mildly dubious consent (barely), P in V sex, Biting, Virgin!Tom (implied), Pureblood politics, Sexism, Implied/Referenced death, murder and violence, Unspoken feelings, Feelings realisation, Oddly quite fluffy, Tom is forced to be vulnerable emotionally.

Word count: 5.5k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Lets not discuss how long this is or how late it is, thank you!! This ended up way different than I imagined going in, Tom is a bad guy in this like he's committed murders... but he's also inexperienced and realises he loves you so... This is nowhere near as dark as I thought it would be, the blackmail is barely blackmail!! Hope you like it mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Well, this was certainly interesting. You’d never expected this, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The surname Riddle had never sounded familiar to you, and growing up, at all the Pureblood parties, no one had ever met Tom or any supposed family members. After the first year, he had started attending, but never with any family in tow, usually as a guest of Abraxas or somebody else. Why you hadn’t questioned it before you had no idea, you felt rather foolish now. Hindsight was always 20/20. Of course, there were those few pureblood families, like the Weasleys, who didn’t bother about those sorts of events, but Riddle had never given the impression that he came from such a family, always implying very powerful origins. In a way, he wasn’t wrong, with one discovery came another, that he was the heir of Slytherin. This was peripherally problematic to you, but you couldn’t put your finger on why it bothered you so much. Some distant memory writhing in the back of your mind, not making itself known. But the most glaring discovery for you had been Riddle’s muggle father. You were sure nobody knew about this, or else he certainly wouldn’t be in the circles he was in. 

The way you had discovered it had been rather unlikely, something Riddle surely wouldn’t have been counting on. You and Walburga were partnered on a project for Advanced Charms, it being the final year of Hogwarts, standards for what you came up with were high. After weeks of deliberation and workshopping, you’d settled on a book which could tell you family histories. Initially, the book’s function was for you to write in a plant name, and to see which other plant species it was closely related to and other pieces of information. Certainly interesting, but a little too Herbology for either of your liking, spitting out information neither of you could quite understand. After presenting the book to Professor Beery for a hefty extra credit and house point sum, you went back to workshopping. You’d figured out one evening how to get it to trace family histories, and this was the perfect idea, as all the information that came out was easy to understand, but could also be deeply valuable. You’d spent all evening fine-tuning it with Walburga. She was intimately familiar with her family history, so you used her as a control, making sure the facts remained accurate as you messed with the magic. It was finally done, and you would be presenting it next week. You’d taken the book back to your dorm and messed around with it before bed, taking great amusement in some of the ancient wizard’s names. Naming conventions had been so odd at some points. You traced practically every single one of your friends' histories, before landing on Riddle’s. 

Riddle wasn’t really a friend, as such. You sort of ran in the same circles and you were courteous to one another, but you weren’t close and at times you found him a little irksome. Perhaps it was this mythos that surrounded him, the idea that he had slept with three-quarters of the girls at Hogwarts who were of age. The idea that he could have you undone with one touch and that he did so often. Part of you was almost bitter he hadn’t propositioned you, given how much he allegedly got around, but you always felt he was intimidated by your intelligence. All the other girls, sure they were driven and intelligent, but they seemed to dumb themselves down around him, make themselves smaller. It was probably not even a conscious thing, many of the pureblood girls had been taught growing up never to threaten a man’s ego in any way. You’d always thought this was nonsense, that if you were more intelligent than a man that he ought to know it and needn’t be coddled, but for most of the girls, it just came naturally from a lifetime of training. You never bothered to shrink yourself around Riddle, to giggle and write off your high marks as a fluke if he came asking, you would simply say you did well because you were intelligent, and you guessed he didn’t like this because he avoided you for the most part. Whenever he did speak to you, it was usually to compare grades, or, in a group setting. He always seemed to know just a little too much about what was going on with you, what grades you’d gotten, what teachers you were meeting with. You chalked it up to him being Head Boy, but no one else received quite this much attention. 

You wrote down his name into the book anyway, figuring the surname ‘Riddle’ begat some entertaining first names. What immediately greeted you as the information materialised on the page had been a bit of a shock. His father, whose name was otherwise completely unfamiliar to you, did not have any parents listed, or further back. You sat in confusion for a moment trying to figure out why that could be, but came to no conclusions. You pushed the thought away and studied his mother’s heritage. Merope Gaunt. Gaunt, finally a name you recognised, but not a woman you could ever attest to having met at any pureblood events. You realise she’s listed as dead, that would perhaps explain a thing or two. You feel a hint of sympathy creeping over you at the realisation that both his parents are listed as dead, his father only rather recently. You wondered why he hadn’t mentioned to anyone that his father had died over the previous summer.  You trace his ancestry back all the way to Salazar Slytherin, momentarily impressed, before the realisation of why his father has no listed relatives hits you. The book was made only to track wizarding blood. His father was a muggle. 

The realisation was immediately brushed off. No, there was some other explanation, Riddle was one of the most pompous purebloods you knew, even by your standards, the idea of his father being a muggle was preposterous. You went back over the enchantments on the book, trying to figure out what other reason there might be for his father’s heritage to be blank, but come up empty-handed. He had to be a muggle. 

You keep the information to yourself for the next few days, turning it over in your mind. A muggle, it was very hard to believe, especially with how Riddle acted. He probably noticed your staring, but you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it, seeing him in an entirely new light. Tom Riddle, the orphan, the half-blood. It was confusing, to say the least. Your staring problem must have been worse than you thought because one day he sweeps you aside in the Slytherin common room and smiles charmingly.

“Is there an issue?” he prompts politely, eyes drinking in your face. “Only you keep staring,” you blink at him. You’re almost tempted to tell him ‘I know who you are,’ but you keep it inside for now.

“Shouldn’t you be used to that?” you smile. He chuckles slightly. 

“I don’t get the feeling you’re merely admiring me,” his eyes study yours for a moment and then he takes hold of your arm, leaning a little closer. “Tell me what it really is,” his voice is low and smooth as velvet, and for a moment you understand his mythos a little better. You glance around the busy common room. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t like me to say it here,” you try to subtly warn him, but he clearly understands this to mean something suggestive, his brow raising. 

“I see,”

“If you really must know, then we must go somewhere private,” you insist, knowing how much this could blow up in his face if word spread around the common room. You’re not even sure why you’re shielding him from it, perhaps the revelation of his mother dying in childbirth makes you more gracious toward him. You’re surprised how much he hesitates, given how he’s interpreted the situation. If he’s supposedly slept with most of the girls in the year group, why would it be you who gives him pause? You know you’re not ugly enough for him to be this apprehensive, does he really feel so threatened by you? It all seems odd. Finally, he leads you away, toward his dorm room, private quarters for the Head Boy. You realise how this must all look, to him and to onlookers, but you’re sure he’s in for quite the disappointment when he discovers what this is really about. He gestures for you to sit at his desk and he sits on the edge of his bed. The distance he puts between you intrigues you, what is this about? 

“Well?” he urges, swallowing a little. Why is he so anxious? Does he know somehow already? You’ve never seen him like this before.

“This really isn’t what you think it is,” you begin. His brows furrow. “I uh… know about your father,” Riddle goes unbelievably tense and red in the face, his breaths becoming laboured. You watch him, curious. He glares at you scruntinisngly. There are several things you might be referring to, all of them bad, he doesn’t know from your expression which it is. 

“What?” he croaks, his usual composure hanging on by a thread, you’re worried he’s about to lash out and start smashing up the room and you with it. His body is taut like a bowstring.

“That he’s a muggle,” you respond. You can’t understand why he relaxes slightly at this, but he does, though he still looks tense and mortified. He puffs out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s not arguing, so you know it must be true. “And that he’s dead,” you add. He tenses all over again, his eyes flicking back to you. “Sorry for your loss,” he relaxes once more.

“Right yes… that was… terrible when he… died,” he puffs out, unsure how to interpret this situation. You don’t look angry or scared, so you must be missing a few puzzle pieces here. He should have expected that someone would discover this one day, his surname wasn’t a part of the sacred 28. He hadn’t known about that in the first year, and once he’d already introduced himself as pureblood, he could hardly backtrack or change his name, so he just prayed his confidence would keep him getting by, and surprisingly it had, until now. It wasn’t a surprise it was you who found out, you were always irritatingly observant, it was honestly more of a surprise it had taken this long. He stares at you for a moment and you stare back. “What do you want?” he asks, figuring you’ve come to gloat in his face and demand he do your homework for the rest of the year or something. He would do it, he really couldn’t afford this getting out, especially not to his Knights. The fact you hadn’t already told everyone indicated an intention to blackmail him, you could have easily spread the word already, but you were smarter than that, he knew you were.

“What do I want?” you tilt your head quizically.

“I assume you’re here to blackmail me, so just tell me already,” he sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was furious with himself that he hadn’t prepared in any way for this eventuality. What would he have done if you’d spread the word without coming to him first? His whole plan, everything he’d been working for would have crumbled in minutes. He would have probably killed you, although the thought gives him pause now, it wouldn’t have really fixed things anyway. 

Blackmail hadn’t actually crossed your mind, but you supposed you were in the perfect position to do so. As you watched him, discomposed for seemingly the first time in his life, you realised just how much he needed this information to remain secret with you. You could ask him for anything and he would probably do it. At your silence, Riddle lets out a frustrated howl and collapses back onto his bed, clearly thinking you’re playing some game with him. He runs his hands through his hair, staring up at the canopy above his bed. His hair is messed up, you realise you’ve never seen it like this, free of its immaculate style. The look suits him. His arms thud onto the bed at his sides and he groans again. You stand and come to kneel beside him on the bed without much thought. He looks up at you through his lashes, half angry, half intensely vulnerable. It's odd to be looking down at him like this, but it’s also a little exhilarating.

“Just tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you,” he pleads, staring up at you. “Come on, darling,” he tries his best to be his charming self even in this state, reaching for your hand. “I’ll do anything,” His cold hand on yours stirs something odd in you, he brings the back of your hand to his mouth and kisses it, his eyes locked on yours. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but it’s working, he watches as you blush. He kisses slowly up your arm, eyes locked on yours the whole while. As his lips brush the ticklish skin of the inside of your elbow, you finally withdraw your arm. He frowns, thinking he’d figured you out.

“Why have you never propositioned me?” you ask, your voice a little too serious for how insecure the question sounds leaving your lips. His brows furrow and he moves to sit up in front of you.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve supposedly slept with nearly the entire legal female population of Hogwarts and you’ve never propositioned me?” you hate how insecure you sound, but it’s something that you realise has been bothering you for a long time, as stupid as it is. He stares at you.

“You’re supposed to be smart,” he scoffs, and then changes his approach, figuring offending you is a terrible idea at the moment. “Have you ever actually spoken to any girl who has a story about sleeping with me, or is it all hearsay?” his words make you comb back through all the wild stories you’ve heard. He’s right, none of them have ever come directly from someone, all having started with something to the effect of ‘my friend heard…’. You study his face for a moment and he raises a prompting brow.

“No, I suppose you’re right,” you admit, chewing your lip. There are so many things that you should have been paying more attention to, this was another plainly obvious fact with hindsight. “So… what’s the truth?” he looks away from you, hesitating. “Oh come on, as if I don’t know worse things about you by now,” you tease. He glares for a moment but concedes that you’re right about that. 

“None of it is true, no girl at this school is… good enough for me, I suppose,” he mumbles, sticking his chin up. 

“Good enough for you?” you hum.

“I can’t give myself away to just anyone… it’s…” he hesitates, knowing he sounds completely pathetic despite his attempts to reframe this. 

“You’re waiting for the right person?” you chuckle. “How uncharacteristic of you,” he huffs.

“Oh shut up, will you? It’s just… I don’t trust… very easily… and people underestimate how much trust is involved in an act like sex… you are completely vulnerable, physically and emotionally,” he crosses his arms defensively as he explains himself. “You could hardly defend yourself if the other person were to attack you during it,” you tilt your head at him. “It leaves you weak, in every sense of the word, so I have seen no need to participate,”

“That must have been a big disappointment to many witches,” you tease. He rolls his eyes. 

“I can usually charm my way out of any issues, and the gossip around my ‘conquests’ has persisted, so it can’t have caused that much strife,” he finishes. You hum, supposing he’s right. “None of the girls are intelligent enough for me here,” he asserts. You scoff.

“Awfully sexist of you,”

“Hardly,” he snaps back. “None of the boys are suitable either, but I don’t consider them because I’m not… that way inclined,”

“Anyway, I didn’t think you liked intelligence in a woman,” you add. 

“Why would I not? I love intelligence, I require intelligence, I would never fraternise with somebody lacking intellect, I would be far too bored,” he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“But you don’t seem to like when I assert my intelligence,” you shrug.

“You’re different,”

“Why?” you laugh in disbelief. “I’m too intelligent that it threatens you?”

“No!” he hisses. “For one, you use your brains for the most infuriating of things, such as looking into my family history,” you’re tempted to interrupt him and tell him that the discovery had been an accident but you stay quiet. 

“And for two?” you press. He’s silent for a long moment. 

“Is this what you wanted? Blackmailing me into an argument? Because I’m sure we could have found a reason to argue without all this,” he griped. You sighed. No, you hadn’t particularly wanted to argue, you hadn’t particularly wanted anything, you’d intended to keep this information to yourself really and then when it had come out, you hadn’t considered blackmail until he brought it up. Your mind flashes back to his kisses up your arm, a warm tingle going through you. 

“Were you attempting to seduce me earlier?” he glances at you, his cheeks just slightly pink. “Even though you’re waiting for the right person?” you add with a chuckle. He sighs. 

“I might have been, I figured it was my best bet,” he shrugs it off, feigning nonchalance. 

“What would you have done if I had gone with it?” you tilt your head curiously.

“Gone with it, I suppose,” he looks down, fiddling with his tie pin, feeling more uncomfortable than he was ever used to feeling.

“You’d have slept with me?” you enquire. He nods subtly, puffing out a short breath. “Even though I might have stabbed you in the back or something?” you tease. He glares at you.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he dismisses.

“So you trust me?” you challenge. He immediately opens his mouth to protest but then falters. Does he trust you? He knows you would never attack him physically, and he tries to brush that off as the belief that you are physically weak, but he knows that’s not true. If he were to attack you, he has no doubt you would put up quite a fight, but that you would never initiate. He hadn’t even thought through the fact that despite all his reservations, he really had been trying to seduce you, and not even reluctantly. He would have slept with you, and he wouldn’t have been afraid of what you might do to him. Sure, the emotional vulnerability was still a point of contention, but initially, he hadn’t had the time to consider that. Now that he’s given it some proper consideration, why is he not changing his mind?

“I suppose,” his voice is strained, like this is taking a great deal of effort for him to say. “That in some weird way I do trust you,” his expression is pained and he won’t look at you, but you know those words mean way more than they do on the surface. He’s never admitted to trusting anyone before, at least not truthfully, and to admit it to you… it’s frightening, and yet he did it anyway. You hold out your hand to him to see what he’ll do. He takes your cue despite himself, taking hold of it and kissing the back of your hand a few times. His lips are gentle and you quite like the feeling. Sure, he told you the rumours about him were false, but perhaps he really could make you come undone with just one touch, if you only showed him where to put it. “I’ll sleep with you if that’s what you like,” he admits quietly. “I need you to keep my secret, I’ll do anything,”

“Would you like to sleep with me?” you ask. He looks up at you, lips pressing against your wrist. His look is a little pained again, you’re not sure how to read it.

“I’ll do it,” he grits out.

“But do you want to? I don’t want to force you to sleep with me…” you try again. He gives you that pained look once more. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, to admit to such weaknesses as need and lust, he hopes you understand without words. He kisses all the way up your arm, leaning closer and caging you in as he starts to press kisses to your neck. You exhale shakily, placing your hands on his shoulders as he continues to lavish you with tender kisses. He presses you back, back until you fall onto his pillows and he follows you down, positioning his body over you, his hands on either side of your shoulders. He’s breathing hard as he looks down at you, his pupils dilated. You stare back up at him, still a little unsure. “Riddle… don’t force yourself, I don’t–”

He cuts you off with a deep kiss to your lips, you gasp slightly and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring slowly. This kiss is not forced, this kiss is genuine and furiously wanting and the thought makes you moan. He shivers in return, kissing a little harder. Your hands come to his shoulders again as he comes to rest on his forearms, his neck no longer straining to you. You part your legs so he can settle between them, his hips pressing to yours. You can’t help but gasp again when you feel his erection press against you. He smiles against your lips, his signature cocky smirk returning. 

“You sound amazing when you gasp like that for me,” he taunts. You roll your eyes, kissing him once more. It’s almost impressive how he’s able to maintain that arrogant air throughout all this. You hate it, yet you can’t deny the soft pulsing feeling between your legs. He continues to kiss you, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slowly swirling and caressing, the sound of your lips meeting is both erotic and hypnotic, lulling you further into your aroused state. Your eyes are closed in bliss, but occasionally you open them for a glimpse of him. His lashes flutter as he kisses you, his cheeks are flushed which you didn’t even realise was possible before today, and his hair falls forward, surprisingly curling up a little as it encounters the sweat forming on his forehead. He kisses you like it’s his favourite thing in the world, gentle yet thorough, and you hope it is so that you might get to do this with him again. His kisses get a little needier as you feel him hardening further against you, pressing against you more insistently. Your hand settles on the back of his neck and you hold him in place as he kisses you. He grunts appreciatively, sucking on your bottom lip. He sits up suddenly, disconnecting your lips. You pant as you stare up at him in confusion, wondering if he’s stopping this from going further, but instead, he’s loosening your tie. You lie there and let him do the work, after all, he’s meant to be keeping you sweet. He doesn’t seem to mind. He takes great satisfaction in slowly peeling away your clothes, discarding your tie, and then unbuttoning your shirt. He’s making you vulnerable beneath him and he’s drunk on the feeling, although, he doesn’t intend to hurt or exploit you, he’s never had such pure intentions in anything he’s done before in his life. Which is odd, considering you’re about to sleep together. He traces the lace of your bra with his fingertips. “Been expecting me?” he teases, wondering about how nice the bra is, black and lacy.

“No, just a happy accident,” you chuckle as he runs the lace between his fingers. He’s a little disappointed that you hadn’t had this all planned out all along, but he figures there’s plenty of time for that in the future. It doesn’t occur to him at the moment that he’s just admitted to himself that he intends to do this again with you. He takes hold of your waist and eases you up to sit. He gives you a few gentle kisses on your neck, making you throw your head back and then he reaches around to your back to unclasp your bra. He’s heard horror stories of embarrassment from his peers, so takes a moment to acquaint himself with the mechanism, running his hands back and forth along your back as you rest heavily against his chest, your chin on his shoulder. Once he understands how it works, he uses both hands to unhook it easily. He slides the straps down your arms and bares you to his gaze. You lean back to give him a view, enjoying his wide-eyed look. He cups your breasts in his hands and kisses you once again. He lays you back down, gently kneading your flesh, groaning at the feeling. You’re soft and warm and it feels so good that he wishes you’d found out he was half-blood earlier, or that he’d been less stuck-up this whole time and propositioned you like you seem to have wanted. He moves his hands down to your stomach, stroking for a moment before popping to button on your skirt and sliding down the zip. He then eases the fabric down over your hips.

“Matching set,” he comments upon spying your lacy black underwear. “Sure you weren’t expecting me?” you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, I’m sure,”

“Someone else?” he questions as uninterestedly as possible. You chuckle, sensing the hint of jealousy in his tone.

“No, just wanted to feel good for myself,” he nods at your answer, hoping you don’t spot his relief. He runs his hands up and down your hips and waist, occasionally squeezing the supple flesh. 

“The female body is quite… pleasant under the hands,” he comments, kneading your hips gently. You give him a look. “Well… your body is anyway,” he runs his thumbs over your stomach. You smile up at him and he avoids your gaze, not wanting to confront the way that look just made him feel. He decides to speed things along, desperate to come out of this alive. He moves back enough to remove his own tie and shirt, secretly enjoying the way you’re watching. Then he stands and slowly lowers his trousers, taking his boxers with them. There’s no use delaying the inevitable and he’s hardly ashamed of his body. He steps out of his trousers and sits back down between your legs. He kneads your thighs as he lets you look him over.

“That scar on your chest–” you begin but he cuts you off quickly with a kiss, not wishing to discuss this right now when he’s so close to you, to having you. If you started asking about all his various scars, you’d be here a long time, and you’d run away from him well before he finally got to sink into your cunt for the first time. The thought stirs his cock. No, he can’t let you ask questions until later, he needs to have this at least once, he hasn’t even realised how much he’s been waiting for it. For… you. His cock rests heavily on you through the lace of your underwear, hot to the touch. He kisses you intently, sensual and all-consuming until you forget your line of questioning. He’s smug that he’s able to do that to you, perhaps he should have kissed you the second you started bringing things up you weren't supposed to. Perhaps by the end of this, you’ll have forgotten how it started and only remember the way he’d made you feel. Yes, that would be good. The thought urges him on, he nearly rips off your underwear. You squeak indignantly and he kisses your neck in an effort to placate you. He didn’t really care if he’d ripped them or not, but he couldn’t have you turning your back on him now. Not after he’s bared himself like this. He reaches down and lines himself up with you, ready to plunge in, but one last thought keeps him at bay.

“Are you on the potion?” he grunts, nuzzling into your neck. 

“Yeah,” you swallow, staring down at where the two of you are about to be joined together. He waits for nothing else, easing himself into you, he groans loudly against your neck, the warmth surrounding him feeling euphoric. Your arms settle around his back, holding him close to you and he lets you, leaning against you heavily. He grits his teeth, trying to keep in control, but he can’t. His hips start rutting into you fast, he needs this and he has you now, he can’t stop himself. You grip his shoulders hard, gasping and wailing, the sounds only egging him on. 

“Yeah?” he groans between thrusts as you whine sweetly in his ear. “That feel good..? fuck…” he’s not one to usually swear in this way, part of his charming demeanour, but he can’t help it slipping out with you. You make him all sorts of vulgar that he’s never been before. He pounds into you, glad that you don’t seem to mind his ferocity. He’ll be gentle with you some other time, but right now, all this pent-up energy needs to come out, and you’re receiving it so well. “Taking me so well, darling,” he chokes out, and you moan in response, seemingly touched by his words. He lifts himself up onto his hands, staring down at you, his hips slamming into yours. He watches your beautiful face in fascination as it twists with pleasure. He’s never taken so much enjoyment in making someone feel good before, it reminds him of the feeling he gets when he exerts power over someone, but better, because it’s you and he– 

He can’t finish that thought, he refuses to. It’s too much. He keeps up his relentless pace, closing his eyes because the sight of you is stirring his chest along with the stirring in his stomach. His thrusts slow, but become deeper and more powerful. You moan unabashedly under him and the sound invades his mind, consuming him completely. He leans back down and buries his face in your neck biting down as his hips stutter and he spills deep inside you. The biting is the only thing preventing him from saying something he knows he’ll regret in his dizzy orgasmic state. Three disgusting little words that he’s never thought before in his life, that surely, he can’t mean now, even if they’re fighting their way out of his mouth. When he feels you orgasming around him, he clamps down on your neck harder, tasting a little blood. He finds himself feeling sorry for doing it. He lets go, gasping for breath. He presses a kiss to the bite mark on your neck, reluctantly apologetic. You whimper beneath him and he pulls back to check you’re okay. You are, just overwhelmed, he is too, though he’s not letting it show as blatantly as you are. He withdraws slowly from you, whining in tandem with you at the feeling. He sits back up between your legs, looking down at you. Your eyes are closed as you gather yourself. You trust him enough to lie there with your eyes closed, he could do anything to you right now. Things he has done to others before, and yet there you lie, trusting him like he trusts you. He scoops you up into his arms and rests your head against his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for drawing blood,” he mumbles as if it’s enough of an excuse for him to hold you like this. He kisses the bite mark again, secretly a little thrilled that it’s there, a physical reminder of all this. He soothes your back, rubbing soft circles, an action he’s never performed before. “You’ll keep my secret right?” he asks, and realises suddenly he doesn’t know what he’s referring to. The fact of his blood status? The lie of his mythos? The fact he’s just slept with you, been this vulnerable? Or… the worst one of them all? The unspoken words that he’s sure you’re smart enough to have heard in the silence by now. You don’t know which he’s referring to either, but you answer sincerely nonetheless. 

“Your secret is safe with me, Tom,”

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xoxoxo

thank you to @i-live-in-spite and several anonymous asks whose ideas I pulled from a little to form this plot, lots of love ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[astayinwonderland]

Hot Summer Night | Song Mingi

pairing: mingi x f.reader

summary: mingi tries to think of you as his very good friend, but he can't deny how he truly feels about you

word count: 1.5k

+18 Minors DNI

warnings: fingering (f. receiving), female orgasm, mingi and reader are in a pool, suggestive thoughts and talk -- lmk if I forgot anything

Song Mingi has his eyes on you. He can’t really understand what happened. You are his good friend, that he knows, but in this particular night he wishes you were something more. You were going to be late to the party, something about school came up and you had to tend to that before showing up. Classic you. Such a good student, so responsible, so honest, so…pure. 

It is a hot summer night, and your group of friends was invited to the pool party. The full moon is high in the sky, and the few guests are already drunk, eating, or very into that one rom-com San is making everyone watch. Mingi watches you say hello and slowly scans the room. Could you possibly be looking for him? He takes another sip of his drink, half of his body in the pool, perfect to cool off his steamy thoughts. 

The only person accompanying him is Yeosang, the voice of reason. He sits comfortably on a beach chair as he watches Mingi follow you with his eyes like a predator. You can’t see him but he can see you through the glass doors. 

“You should just tell her you know… how you feel…” Yeosang interrupts Mingi’s thoughts. 

“No, it’s not like that. She just looks different today.” 

“You do this every single time you have to admit you like her,” Yeosang chuckles. 

Mingi rolls his eyes, he hates that Yeosang is right. The first time Mingi realised he liked you was last year when you were stressed about your finals and he agreed to help you study. He stayed up with you all night and when you accidentally fell asleep writing notes, he stayed up and finished the notes for you. Minig’s heart swelled every time he looked at you peacefully asleep. How could he disturb your angelic being? 

After that, he tried to repress it as much as he could. You went out on a date? Mingi would provide encouraging words and wish you luck, however, he would secretly rejoice when things didn’t go as planned. What kind of friend does that? 

Your eyes meet with his and you smile. Mingi feels he has been caught, but now you’re making your way outside. You move the sliding doors and step into the backyard, wearing your bathing suit and a translucent robe over it. 

“Hey, Yeosang, is this man bothering you?” you joke. 

“Not at all,” Yeosang stands to hug you. 

Mingi is speechless. A million thoughts go through his brain and he can only smile at you awkwardly. 

“I'll leave the two of you alone… I bet you have lots to talk about.” Without looking back, Yeosang returns to the house, ensuring he has closed the blinds behind the glass door. 

“What did I miss?” you casually say, sitting at the pool edge while your legs enter the refreshing water. 

“Nothing. Yeosang is just messing around,” Mingi tries to put some distance between the two of you, but you just scoot further down to look at him. 

“Hey what’s up?” you tease, ruffling his hair. 

“Not much… How was school?” a sweet smile. He was trying so hard not to give in, so hard not to jump out of that pool and kiss you. 

“Ughhh… so tiring. I only gathered the energy to come because you told me you were here. I really need to relax,” you lean a little bit closer. “Tell me, big boy, does anything come to mind?” 

Mingi swallows hard. Is this really happening? 

“Uh… the pool is quite nice, actually,” he says, so you take your robe off and get in. 

The water feels amazing, it’s true, but Mingi’s flushed cheeks and shocked face are even more impressive. You swim around a little, enjoying the cool sensation of the water on your skin. The little hairs on your back stand when the wind hits you. Mingi watches you and before his cock can catch up with his thoughts, he decides to move and play along. The two of you make an unspoken deal and decide to race each other. Mingi is fast, you can barely keep up with him, but somehow you beat him.

“Two out of three? The loser has to do what the winner says,” you reply breathlessly. 

“Deal,” and so Mingi is back to himself. These are the interactions he is used to… friendly ones. 

And so he picks up his pace in this second round. His long arms and legs helped him move effortlessly. Water splashed here and there, leaving you significantly behind. You are too late to hit the other side of the pool. 

“Nice try,” he laughs. 

You simply nod, because you know that cockiness is about to get erased from his face. 

This time you inhale deeply. You make sure to focus when you take the impulse to swim, every muscle of your body giving all it has. You swim, fast and hard. As you bring your face out to get air you see Mingi had stopped swimming. You immediately stop. 

“Hey! You okay? Mingi?” 

“You win,” he says, his eyes searching for yours. 

“What? Why? Not yet.”

“You win…” he moves and walks slowly towards you. “What would you want me to do?” 

“Hug me?” 

Mingi goes straight to your hips and not only hugs you but lifts you with him. With the water creating resistance, he spins you around, bringing laughter into the scene. Vibrations of his deep laugh tickled your belly and to be honest, further down south of your body. When he is about to put you down you wrap your legs around him. 

“Is it okay if I do this?” 

His eyebrows raise, his cheeks turn a lovely pink shade and you can’t help but wonder how pretty he would look under you. 

“Yes…” he whispers. “Is it okay if I–” 

His lips hover over yours, almost touching. He needs you to say it or else he will never believe it. Blood already coursing so fiercely on his erection. 

“Kiss me.” 

Your lips meet. He kisses you softly, slowly, taking in every little whimper you let out when your tongues meet. Mingi feels the heavens are rewarding him for some great deed he accomplished in a past life. Your hands go to his hair and you pull him even closer to you, as if that were possible. You feel the urge to be consumed by him, to be his. You kiss him as if his lips were covered in honey. He is sweet, he is addictive. 

“Mmmm… wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Please do…” 

Mingi knows what his priorities are, and that is your pleasure over his own. 

He puts you back in the pool and corners you, shielding your whole body in his in case someone decides to come out through the glass doors. 

His hands palm your throbbing cunt, only the thin layer of your swimsuit forbids direct contact. You kiss him, but this time it’s different. This time, you are hungry for him, for his touch, for his lips, for his deep voice telling you he wants you. Mingi pushes the fabric covering your wanting pussy, rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. The cold water makes you shiver as you continue kissing him, moaning for him. Your lips reach his neck, and you bite. Hard enough to leave a red mark. 

“Shit… I didn’t know this side of you,” and one of his fingers enters you. His thumb circles your clit as the cold water mixes with the sensation of his warm mouth once again on yours. Your hands now make their way to your breasts, playing with them. Nipples already hard from your arousal, you pinch them as Mingi adds a second finger into you. The pressure of the water heightens the sensation of ascending to the highest levels of pleasure you’ve ever known. With a flick of his wrist, he manages to angle his finger higher up your soaking cunt. 

“Aaaahhh… ffff-ffffuuuck,” and you try to keep quiet by biting your bottom lip but it’s too late. 

Broken moans leave your precious lips as Mingi kisses them and bites them. He tries to swallow every single moan until your body starts to tremble and your pussy clenches his fingers. 

“Cum… cum,” he whispers. 

And with one last thrust of his fingers, the knot in your stomach snaps, making your head lighter than air and your legs weak. 

“Fuck.. Mingi,” is all you can say, and he catches you before you slip completely onto the water. 

Mingi holds you with a smile on his face until your breathing comes back to normal. 

“I’m that good, huh?” 

“Shut up,” you smile. “I want to return the favour…” 

“Hey! Are you two done? You better clean up that pool!” Wooyoung yells, his face barely peaking through the glass door. 

You laugh embarrassed, hiding your face on Mingi’s chest. 

“We’ll be out in a second!” Mingi yells back. 

He cups your face in his hands and kisses your forehead. 

“How about we continue the party at my place?”

--------------------------------------------------

a/n: This is pure ✨fiction✨

I uploaded this like a year ago and then it was taken down... idk. I hope you enjoy this. It is always fun to write about Mingi. Comment or dm me if you want to be included in the Ateez taglist.

Masterlist

Ateez taglist: cursedeastern

[lilystyles]

wildest dreams.

part two of style, written by @lilystyles

my masterlist & style masterlist

authors note the very requested part two of style. i got lots of asks & reblogs & comments asking for more of style!H so i decided to write one for y'all. thanks for all the love on it. also there was one ask i got with the idea of y/n going on a blind date and i LOVED it so thank u anon 🩷

brief description y/n and harry start to see each other more and more. but it's a secret, things get complicated when emma sets y/n up on a blind date. harry doesn’t like it one bit.

warnings! slight age gap, SMUT (f!receiving, fingering, daddy kink, missionary, riding, very slight breeding kink, no condom, all the good stuff) sexual tension, mentions of drugs&alcohol abuse. wordcount: (around 15k words)

fratboy!older!bffsbrother!harry x younger!innocent!reader

* * * * *

Harry arrived at Y/n’s massive and buzzing share house almost twenty minutes before eight.

He’d parked his car nearby and quietly realised to himself on the walk up the driveway that he’d never actually been inside the sharehouse before. He had dropped her off a fair few times and picked her up a handful from here but Y/n preferred to come stay at his place. He couldn’t blame her, Niall’s place was similar he lived in one of the frats nearby campus. His room and the house were disgusting and Harry much preferred his clean quiet house with his sister. Even though Harry was in a frat too, he lived out of the house. The only reason those guys had welcomed him into the frat in the first place was because he was on the Uni soccer team and he was really good. His room was turned into a storage room for alcohol, dartboards, and bongs. Harry had hooked up with a few girls in there regardless of the lack of bed.

He felt a funny feeling in his tummy walking up the driveway, since when did he get nervous? He’d been with so many people he didn’t think that existed for him anymore. But this was different, this wasn’t just anyone this was Y/n. His Y/n. The girl from home.

He looked up at the house biting his lip, Y/n’s place certainly wasn’t as trashy as Alpha Chi Sigma, thankfully. Hers was a little ways off campus it was this old run-down brick house with two stories and eight rooms. It was jam-packed with students and actually threw quite a few parties, known on campus for its great big backyard and one of Y/n’s roommate Mike's weed brownies. Y/n didn’t care all that much when parties happened, she’d either invite Emma and they’d have lots of tequila and end up asleep in Y/n’s room, or she might even invite Harry and his mates too just for fun. Otherwise she just locked her room and escaped to the library or the Styles’ place. 

As Harry reached the big red door he knocked loudly and a short girl opened the door before his knuckles had even retracted back to his side. He recognised her from his Economics class, he thought. She was in some pyjamas and looked up very confused.

“You're not the Chinese guy.” She said eyeing him annoyedly, groans escaped the mouths of others inside, and he could understand their disappointment. “Who are you?”

This made Harry feel suddenly rather guilty for not being the Chinese delivery guy and he frowned, “I’m Harry, ‘m a friend of Y/n’s?”

“Upstairs third door to your left.” She said shortly opening the door wide enough to let him in before promptly sitting back down on the couch with a bunch of other students, they were watching what looked like a Japanese horror film. 

Harry shut the door behind him and made his way upstairs quickly, Y/n’s roommates didn’t seem all that friendly, he hoped was going in the right direction. As he reached the top of the stairs he heard music coming from one room that sounded like a rave and knew that definitely wasn’t Y/n’s room, he heard people chatting away in another, and when he was at the third door he saw a small sign on the door that said ‘Y/n’s Room <3’. He smiled at the familiar neat handwriting that was on so many birthday cards in his collection, and knocked on the door, with a few quick taps.

He heard some shuffling behind the door and it wasn’t long before the door swung open. There she was, his Y/n. Even though he’d only seen her a few hours ago it felt like a long time ago now. How did he already miss her?

“You're here early, Styles.” She said surprised checking the time on her phone in her hand. Harry didn’t seem the type to show up early, and normally he didn’t Y/n knew that about him from years of experience. He was even late to his own birthday parties and if you asked a single person who had hooked up with him they’d say he was always late when they invited him over. Just his way. He wasn’t a timely person.

Harry smiled down at her form, she looked much more rested than this morning. She had taken a nap for a good portion of the morning and a long shower cleaning every inch of herself, she felt very rejuvenated now. The warm water had soothed her aching muscles and small bruises that littered her body from last night. She’d washed off all the sweat and alcohol that had sweated out of her this morning, and her hangover had eased, thank god. She had taken some aspirin for her head too and drank lots and lots of water. 

She looked so soft and cosy, the golden light of her room hit her face, showing all the angles of her calm expression. She was wearing this matching tracksuit set that was a blue almost grey colour, and some fuzzy pink socks Emma bought her for Christmas last year. Her hair was freshly washed, dried, and styled in her usual way. Her beautiful face was bare of makeup only some moisturiser that smelt really good, and her lips were covered in a glossy lip balm.

“Wanted to make a good impression, Babe.” He said smirking. 

Y/n let him join her inside shaking her head, it was very unlike him to be on time and she’d expected he would arrive around 8:30 instead of 8. He placed his bag of snacks and DVDs down onto her little bed taking in the space. 

Her room was so her, she had this big mattress on the floor that took up most of her room. Her sheets were mismatched shades of pink, blue, and lavender and she had about a dozen pillows. She had lots of fairy lights strung up, posters, and photos covering her walls. Her mattress and little desk by her window near the back of the room took up most of the small space. But if she had picked a bigger room that meant having a roommate so she didn’t mind all that much.

It was quite neat in here. She had all her desk organised with her laptop and textbooks. Her cupboard had somehow miraculously shut despite the large array of clothes stuffing it. She had a candle burning that smelt like cinnamon cookies, but underneath the candle was the underlying smell of her. Whether that was her laundry detergent or something that was just her, Harry didn’t know, but the smell brought him great comfort.

He shrugged off his big thick coat too, the day had turned into a windy-rainy one and he wanted to stay warm, but Y/n’s room was very warm inside. He was in an ashen grey hoodie with red flannel over the top, some black jeans and sneakers. His hair was unruly as always but he looked extra good today. He made himself comfortable on the bed grabbing a pink bear and cuddling it to his chest playfully. He dwarfed her bed with his tall form, and he looked so funny sitting in her bed. Harry Styles, sex god, player, and party animal, with a rotten attitude, was curled up in her bed. She almost wanted to take a picture to show people, but she knew she wouldn’t be telling a soul about him being with her tonight.

“I’ve known you for years I already have all the impressions needed, Harry.”

He looked over at her from her bed. “Yeah, but you’ve never seen me on a date before, have yeh? I can be wholesome.”

What? This is a date? 

Y/n blushed deeply, if she’d known that this was a date she would have dressed a bit nicer. She was just in some joggers and a hoodie, but to be fair to her they were her nice ones. The ones lacking ice cream stains and holes. Harry had seen her looking like a hungover mess, he’d seen her in the middle of the night at the library, he’d seen her with the flu, and she never looked bad even at her worst.

“This is a date?” She asked looking down at her sock-covered feet.

She’d been dreaming of this day since she was a kid when Harry had helped her when she fell off her bike and scraped her knee. She still remembered the day vividly, it was something she thought of every time they all went home to Holmes Chapel for the holidays or summertime, and they drove passed the playground. She still had the scar their on her right knee, even now. And she remembers Harry putting the bandaid on for her and kissing her knee to ‘take the pain away’. Every time she felt the little bump or saw the lighter patch of skin on her knee she thought of him kissing it. She’d stopped crying after he’d done that and from that day on, her heart belonged to him. 

She thought if they ever did somehow end up together on a date, that’d he would take her for a drive or they’d go to the cinema. Something normal. Maybe even a romantic stroll somewhere or something wild like skinny dipping. But instead here he was in her room making himself at home in her little bed where she’d spent hours thinking of him; before her eyes finally allowed her to sleep.

He laughed at her shy expression, patting a spot on the bed beside him for her to sit. “Wasn’t I obvious about that?”

She sat down beside him, laughing at herself she didn’t know much when it came to dating, she’d only had two or so boyfriends. She’d tried the one-night stand thing once but it wasn’t for her. She didn’t know dating etiquette. So she was all stiff beside him now feeling even more nervous than before he’d arrived. This whole thing with Harry frankly didn’t feel real, she’d liked him for so many years and only now was he starting to show similar feelings toward her, it honestly tripped her out a lot. It would be like your celebrity crush showing up at your door with flowers, a bit of a dream, right?

“Not to me.” She said looking at him. He smelt deliciously good beside her, and she wanted to devour him.

He looked over at her with the same eyes he’d given her in the kitchen when she’d comforted him, all soft and molten like an ice cream on a hot day. As he lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned into his touch, his hand was so warm and smooth against her face. He was so gentle with her and she felt her mind flashback to last night for what felt like the millionth time when his hands were all over her body. Though they’d been a bit wild, he was always gentle with her unless she asked him otherwise.

“Well I’m sorry, but this is a date, is that alright with you?” He asked, nibbling his bottom lip to contain a smile. She was just so cute, sitting there in front of him like a doe-eyed little thing. You’d have thought that she barely knew him with how she was acting.

She nodded. “Fine by me.” 

“Good to hear, Baby.” He sighed at her because she still seemed very nervous. He didn’t know how to comfort her other than touch. “Why are you so far away? You know I don’t bite, not unless you ask me to.”

She looked over at him, “I’m just nervous, I guess. If my fourteen-year-old self could see me now…”

She didn’t finish her sentence.

This made his heart swell. “You're nervous around me? Even after everything we did last night?”

She shrugged like that was an obvious conclusion. “Well, yeah…of course.”

This made him throw his head back laughing, like a little kid. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous too. S’okay to be nervous. But don’t worry it’s just me. Nothing special.”

That made her feel better, she looked up at him, a smile cracking on her face. “You're nervous too?”

He nodded. “Of course I am. I’m on a date with a gorgeous girl, I’d be a fool not to be.”

Y/n pecked his cheek in response, her lips smearing against the tiny stubble on his cheek, as she quickly moved away and opened the bag excitedly to see the things he’d brought. He brought snacks as requested all their favourites (peanut M&Ms, popcorn, and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s) along with a few DVDs. The one he had been raving about was in there and she grabbed it putting it on the very small telly she had by the end of her bed.

Harry explained a story about how he went to three different grocery shops to find the peanut M&Ms because apparently, the world was in a shortage today. This made Y/n want to kiss him because he’d gone to all that effort knowing Y/n’s favourite movie snack was M&Ms. Whenever they went to the cinema she always got them, and the three of them would go a fair amount. They loved going late at night and talking loudly in empty cinemas about how cheesy the films were. 

She looked at him from the edge of the bed. He’d kicked his sneakers off into the corner and he was resting on her bed, head lying on her pillow, a knitted blanket over his lap. He looked very comfy and at ease, and honestly, he was. The smell of her bed was comforting and the soft tone of her voice was soothing. Y/n had a way of driving him crazy, usually when her attention wasn’t on him, but a way of calming him instantly when their eyes met.

“You hungry? I want pizza.” She asked brows pinched in thought.

He nodded grabbing his phone to call them. “Sure. Joeys?”

“I think I want a ha—”

“Hawaiin with no pineapple, I know, you freak. Who doesn’t like pineapple?”

“Me.” She said. She’d never really noticed how observant Harry was until now. He knew her pizza order, he knew she liked peanut M&Ms, he knew her chamomile tea brand, and he knew she liked popcorn extra buttery. Which happens when you have history like they do, but she never thought he cared that much. So what if she knew he liked pepperoni with extra spice? She was obsessed with him for most of her adolescence, that made sense. But why did Harry know that? She was the obsessed one.

“Hey mate, yeah can I get a large Hawaiin no pineapple please, and large pepperoni extra spicy, and a loaf of garlic bread too thanks.” He said into the phone. 

Y/n told Harry her address in a hushed tone and he parroted it to the pizza guy on the phone. The pizza would arrive in 20 minutes from now, so Y/n joined his side happily and hit play on the telly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder so she could rest against his side, and it all felt very domestic. Her cheek was resting against him and she felt her eyes drooping even though she’d already napped today.

Y/n normally cuddled with Emma and watched movies on her shoulder while Harry brooded on the leather recliner and complained when the girls picked a rom-com of some kind. But she saw him cry during The Notebook last month. He always said Spiderman was his favourite movie but she knew it was actually The Notebook.

She felt guilty at the thought of her best friend, and a pang in her tummy. Normally if a guy had even made eye contact with her Y/n was blowing up her phone with every detail, that’s what best friends are for. But she couldn’t tell her about Harry. They’d stop being friends. Emma and Y/n had many friends who had come and gone because of Harry, she didn’t blame any of them for shagging him. He’s always been attractive and shaggable, but she knew better than to get with him then and she didn’t know what had done it but lately, he’d just been irresistible last night and right now. 

Maybe back then she just had more self-control. Y/n remembers a girl named Cami the most. She and Harry hooked up once drunkenly at a party Gemma had thrown while Anne and Robin were away and the next morning Emma and Y/n walked in on her giving him a blowie. Cami was then banned from any other sleepover. Which was a shame because Cami was super nice, it made Y/n wonder if those years of friendship protected her from Emma’s harsh banishment or if that didn’t count. 

“What are you thinkin’ about?” He asked her playing with the strands of loose hair resting against his arm.

She looked up at him away from the telly she’d zoned out on. “I- Em.” She said.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I knew it would be something you’d be thinking about.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I just- she’s gonna hate me, H. I want you, but you know I can’t.”

Harry knew Emma was Y/n’s number one person and they were basically like sisters, Y/n was a part of his family, though he’d never seen her in a particularly brotherly way. She came on holidays overseas with them, she was invited to family dinners, and they’d even had a Christmas Eve together a few times in the past couple of years. And that wasn’t something he would ever try and get in the way of, Y/n being there was what made him want to attend. Because he loved that Y/n was a part of his life in that way and he’d grown up with her, he loved having her around. He cherished those moments and even though he didn’t act like it, he would miss her when she wasn’t there. Last Christmas Eve she was with her Grandparents and he’d hated playing Scrabble without her.

She had no idea of any of his true feelings. Which was his own fault, he knew that, he was purposefully rude to Y/n to keep her at arm's length, and acting like she didn’t exist to try and suffocate his feelings from her. Emma was behind that, ever since he could remember he wasn’t allowed to share Y/n. Emma was always reminding him when his eyes lingered on her longer than they should, that Y/n was Emma’s best friend, off limits. And despite how he felt about her he’d listened to keep Y/n out of the drama of Emma’s wrath. 

But Harry cared for Y/n very deeply and he wished Emma wasn’t so weird about it. Why couldn’t they both just share her? And anyway, it was Y/n’s decision, not Emma’s. She wasn't a toy she was a person, who made her own decisions whether or not Emma approved. Normally Emma’s judgement was the only thing Y/n needed to make a decision, but when it came to Harry she had to disagree.

And anyway, she seemed pretty happy to be wrapped up in his arms right now, despite knowing what trouble it would cause if anyone found out. She knew it was wrong to lie, and hide, but she didn't think it was wrong be around Harry. That's what felt right.

“I know she doesn’t like people getting involved with me.” He began, “But that’s only because they always get hurt by me and it becomes a whole thing. But I would never hurt you.”

His reassuring words made her feel better but she looked up at him, with one more worry. “How is this any different than you and Cami, Lacey, or Tiffany—” She was about to continue her long list of girls but he cut her off.

“Because you're the only one for me.”

Y/n was about to ask him what he meant by that but the doorbell rang. “That’s probably pizza.” 

She sat up and left before he could say anything else. 

She was happy to be with him and she enjoyed his company and his cuddles but this whole thing scared her a lot. There were a lot of risks in going down this path with him and she was painfully aware of all the risks, she knew every single one and the reason she hadn’t gotten with him before now was because she knew it was dangerous for her to get involved with such a gorgeous devilish creature. 

Don’t get her wrong she trusted Harry with her life. But that doesn’t mean she trusted him when it came to his relationships. He’d never had a girlfriend, all the girls thought they were his girlfriends but he never saw any of them as more than a shag. Which is fine, but she knew she couldn’t be satisfied with just a shag. Her heart was too soft for that boy to only want his dick.

When Y/n came back with the warm pizzas burning her hands Harry was sleepily cuddling her bear in bed and she felt her heart melt and let her thoughts melt away too. They ate the pizza in bed and all worries were washed away as they distracted themselves with Y/n’s favourite film. When Harry Met Sally. 

Harry remembered the countless times this movie was on at midnight when he came downstairs to see Y/n asleep on his couch using it to tune out Emma’s snores.

Her eyes stung with sleep as she watched tonight, it comforted her, and the smell of Harry and the gentle sound of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep. She fell asleep quickly into the movie and Harry only noticed when he was getting no replies from her during his complaints about how cheesy and unrealistic this movie was. When he realised she was asleep right there on his chest he stopped talking and moving; wanting to let her sleep there. He grabbed the knitted blanket from the bottom of their legs and brought it to just below her chin. 

Kissing her forehead before focusing back on the movie. He thought Meg Ryan was pretty fit and the gentle breathing of Y/n was calming, it wasn’t long until he fell asleep too holding her very close to him. Not a worry about being caught, or oversleeping, just enjoyed the warmth of her body and the soft breaths that hit his neck.

It was a couple weeks later until Harry saw Y/n again and he hated to admit it to himself that he missed her, more than he’d ever missed anyone and it had just been a few days. She wasn't even his girlfriend, and she was already driving him up the wall.

She’d called him that afternoon and it brought out something in Harry he’d never expected to find within himself.

Harry was not a jealous person. He wasn’t possessive at all. Never had been and he never thought he would be. It just wasn’t who he was. He always thought it was because he just never had those feelings within him, he just didn’t care. He thought jealousy was stupid. What good came from it? Jealousy never accomplished anything.

He didn’t care if the people he’d been with had moved on or gotten with someone else, one time a girl he’d had a bit of a fling with for the Summer ended up hooking up with his best friend and he truly didn’t care. Like at all. They expected him to get angry, shout, or stop talking to them at least. But he didn’t he just shrugged and said something about how he understood. He found someone else to spend the night with quickly after their conversation, and when someone brought it up he completely forgot it had even happened, which shows how little he cared.

He just never got jealous, and it was something he felt was beneath him. Since he saw sex as such a casual and easygoing thing to him, he felt like he belonged to everyone and no one all at once and so he saw people as all the same. It was all just a blur of people and feelings. He was lucky, he never got sad after sex or disgusted he just felt a release, left, and that was that. He didn’t like to chat all that much, he was a fuck and leave kind of guy. If the person really needed a cuddle or some aftercare he wouldn’t just leave right away but he knew cuddling usually meant feelings growing, so he tried to avoid that at all costs too. Which to some was just awful to be around, and he could understand that too. Sometimes people wanted a connection that wasn’t just compatible kinks or sexual chemistry. Something deeper, love, burning lust, tenderness. That’s not to say Harry wasn’t a good lover, he was great no matter the person he could click well with them. He made them feel like they were the only two people in the world, but there was still a bit of a shadow to his love-making that made the people know that’s all it was.

Just a fuck, just a kiss, just an orgasm. Nothing more, nothing less.

He’d heard or read about people having sex that felt like fireworks or magic or something ridiculous and sappy and he’d thought it was all blown out of proportion. Sex was more primal and animalistic to Harry. It wasn’t something otherworldly. It was like eating, sleeping, or breathing. It was just a natural human experience and urge, and people needed it to survive a healthy life. It wasn’t tied to any emotions, just like eating a sandwich at lunch. Wasn’t anything to be ashamed of either.

And it certainly wasn’t ethereal, or at least it wasn’t until Y/n.

He hadn’t felt so connected with someone like that ever. In conversation, in sex, in life. She understood him, she accepted him, and despite their differences, it worked. And god, when they had sex it was just so time-stopping. Touching her was like touching heaven.

His jealousy, his attraction, made him realise he liked her. Like actually liked her, and that if this was what liking someone was that meant he never had before. He’d never liked anyone except her. 

He’d never wanted to date someone, take care of them, and be with them without having to do anything. Just be together, you know?

Harry wanted to date Y/n, take care of her, and just be with her. The unfamiliar feelings rolled through his skin like a tidal wave. All these feelings were new to him, and it meant he didn’t know how to act. It was overwhelming and he didn’t know who to confide in.

Because now all of a sudden he was a jealous person? It just didn’t make sense. None of it did. 

When he found out Emma had set Y/n up on a double date with her and Zayn, Harry was not one bit okay with it. He couldn’t have cared less if someone he’d been with fucked his best friend in front of him, but the idea of someone thinking they could talk to Y/n made his skin crawl. Someone getting to touch her like she’d let him, someone getting to kiss her sweet lips, whisper filth in her ear? He hated it. He hated the thought. 

Jealousy burned his skin like wildfire and he didn’t know what to do. He knew Y/n wasn’t his girlfriend, but they’d been on a date now which meant more to him than any other interaction with any girl he’d ever had. It had been a perfect first date that eventually led to her falling asleep in his arms and him playing with her hair as he memorised every freckle on her face. They both woke up the next morning with a giggle and she walked him to his car her hand in his, and to his surprise kissed him against the hood of his car. It was enough to have him dazed and wanting more, her lips smeared against his excitedly with an innocent giggle. When she pulled away she whispered a breathless goodbye and he hadn’t seen her since.

They’d called a few times and chatted until the early hours of the morning about anything and everything, and he’d seen her at his house a few times. But he wasn’t allowed to act how he wished because Emma was always there, he’d always call Y/n when she was home complaining about how he wished things were different. But since neither of them knew what was going on yet they knew it was best to not tell her.

Y/n didn’t want to go on this double date. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Zayn’s friend Peter was a notorious prick on campus. He was just straight-up horrible and so jarring on the senses. They’d met here and there and Niall hated him too which was enough for Y/n to know everything she needed about the bloke.

Y/n was pretty sure no one liked him, not even Zayn. But Y/n agreed for Emma’s sake. She knew Emma really liked Zayn (or so she said) and this was one of ‘the only ways their date would happen’. But that didn’t make her not want to go any less. She called Harry as soon as Emma left her place to get ready. 

He answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Baby.”

She could practically hear his smile. Things were going well for them. She thought the shift from whatever they once were to this would be awkward but it was easy. They were still teasing, and rude, but the words hardly had any edge anymore. Even when she swore at him it felt like a kiss and now when he stared at her Y/n noticed the softness in his eyes. Had that always been there?

“Hey, Styles.”

He sighed softly sitting down on his couch, “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Y/n?”

“Some bad news.”

He sucked a breath, “What’s wrong?” His voice melted into her spine, and he sounded worried. He was thinking the worst, and though this was pretty shitty it was nothing like he was thinking. He hoped she was okay.

“You know I like you, right?”

He nodded but forgot she couldn’t see. “Yes, I like you too, what is it?”

“I’m sorry, H, but I didn’t know how to say no without blowing our cover…” She said avoiding saying it. She didn’t know how he would react. He’d been so lovely, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Spit it out, Trouble.” He said.

“Emma begged me to go on a double date so she could be with Zayn.” She said pinching her eyes shut and practically wincing on the other line.

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes, I’m sorry,”

Harry felt a pang of jealousy rush into his chest unfamiliarly. But he didn’t want to make her feel bad. He knew she hadn’t meant to hurt him. She sounded so guilty over the line, he was just glad she couldn’t see him. He was embarrassingly jealous. He felt winded as his hand moved up to his chest, squeezing where the pain was. Normally he always knew the right things to say, but he struggled to find the words. He was just pissed.

Emma, totally got in the way time and time again. It’s like she was out to sabotage them. He wanted to tell her off, but he knew better. Y/n would be mad if he did that.

“It’s fine, we only went on one date.” He said, but it didn’t come out like he wanted. He wanted to sound aloof and fine. But his voice came out forced.

Y/n sighed, he was right they had only been on one date. But she felt that it had meant more to her than any other dates she’d been on. And she was sure it would mean way more than this stupid date. “I know. But I wanted to tell you that I don’t like Peter. I hate that guy actually, he’s a fuckin’ prick….” 

Harry despised Peter. Even more now. He got to be with Y/n all pretty in public on a date, Harry knew no one would treat her as well as he could. Harry knew what she wanted. What did Peter know?

“...But Emma asked me. And if I’d have said I was seeing someone else, involved in something serious, she would have drilled me like a Russian spy. You know that it’s very surprising for me to be seeing someone, she wouldn’t have let it go.”

Something serious. His heart swelled despite it all.

Harry let out a small laugh, “It’s okay, Y/n, really.”

“I don’t want to go, but it’s only for a few hours. Can I call you after?”

This made him smile, despite how pissed he was she was so cute. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Okay, good, well I have to get ready, Styles, talk soon.” She said.

“Bye, Trouble” He hung up and his hands itched to do something. But he knew he couldn’t do anything he’d just have to wait for her call. The whole thing made him antsy. 

Just as he hung up Emma walked through the front door. She was holding some shopping bags.

“What are you up to?” He asked. They looked like clothes and shoes.

She looked over with a smile. “Me and Y/n have a double date.”

He acted surprised standing up, “Oh yeah? With who?”

“Zayn and Peter.” She said walking to her room and Harry followed, wanting to know more details he’d been too afraid to ask Y/n.

“When?”

“Tonight, at seven,” Emma replied quickly hands looking through her racks of dresses, eyes far from Harry who had sat himself on her bed.

“Where?” He prodded.

She looked over, “What is this? 21 questions? Why do you care?”

“I’m not allowed to be interested in your life? Gosh, forgive me caring, Em.”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought we’d grown out of the protective thing?”

“I just worry about you two. Boys are pigs.”

Emma sighed. “You would know.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“We’ll be fine. It’s just at Andy’s Burgers. It’s super close to Y/n’s place. And your friends with those guys, you know they aren’t serial killers.”

His lips curled in disgust as his jaw clenched and defended himself. “Zayn is fine. Peter is not my friend at all. I hate him. He’s such a stupid twat. I don’t understand why would Y/n go out with him.”

Emma turned around her hands landing on her hips. “Because he’s hot and he’s supposed to have a big dick.”

This made Harry’s jaw clench hard. Peter better not try anything with Y/n, or he’d rip that dick off. “Why would Y/n care about something like that? Doesn’t she like guys with actual brain cells? Doesn't sound like her.”

Emma squinted, her brows pinching. “Like who, mate? It really is none of your business, Harry, we don’t question your awful taste. Anyway, I don’t see why you care? Y/n can get with whoever she wants.”

This made Harry’s stomach curl. No, she couldn’t. She could only be with him. He wanted her all to himself. No one was worthy of her, not even himself, but at least Y/n wanted him. She didn’t want Peter. She’d just told him he was a prick, she couldn’t want him.

Harry didn’t want anyone else, and he’d turned down a plethora of women and men since that night with Y/n in his bed. He’d avoided telling her that, to avoid upsetting her. He sat up, annoyed and beginning to feel his mind go on a loop of bad thoughts of Y/n with other people. Y/n kissing another boy. God, it made him feral with rage.

He shook himself out of the images pooling in his mind. “Whatever, I’m going to Niall’s. If you need me call me. Don’t let them drive you home if they’re drunk or summat.”

She nodded. “Thanks, H.”

He nodded getting up and leaving. “Bye, Em.”

“Catch ya.” She said. 

Harry grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys and left. He was gonna blow off some steam with Niall. Anything to get his mind off Y/n sitting pretty beside that dickhead ginger Peter. Thoughts of Y/n drifted to the back of his mind as he played Mario Kart with Niall and talked shit about Niall’s new boyfriend Paddy, Niall met his mates last night and they’d been proper twats to him and Paddy tried to gaslight him later on when they got back to his flat. Niall ended up leaving in a fit of rage. Harry tried his best at giving advice, he wanted to confide in Niall about this whole Y/n thing but he knew it could blow up in his face. Not that he didn't trust Niall to keep it hushed.

Y/n’s thoughts however were on only Harry, she would do anything to be on a date with him right now. They could be sharing a milkshake and talking about music or their days, honestly with Harry she would be happy to watch paint dry, his company made anything infinitely better. He was fun, he was cheeky, and she could be herself.

But no, she wasn’t with Harry, she wasn’t having fun at all. And she could hardly be her normal self one bit. She had to be quiet and polite when all she wanted to do was roll her eyes and spit out what a dickhead this boy sitting in front of her was.

She was sat beside the stupid prick Peter sipping down this actually quite delicious peanut butter & chocolate shake that was new on the menu and munching on some fries to keep her lips and hands busy while he talked her ear off. She loved the food here. She and Emma came here all the time to study and eat their body weight in their fries which have this great chicken and spicy salt flavouring on.

She just wanted the date to be over. He was so dull. The only thing he’d talked about the entire date for the past hour was him. His father’s business, how he could’ve had a career in Hockey if he didn’t injure his knee in his final year of school, and then making jokes about his ‘big’ dick and laughing like the complete and utter Tory he was. Which Y/n knew was a load of crap because one time he’d sent it to Emma during their first year of Uni and it wasn’t horrible but it certainly wasn’t some magical penis like he was saying.

Even just by looking at his face, you could tell he had no idea where the clitoris was. (Harry knew where it was blindfolded and you could just by the cocky look on his gorgeous face).

Y/n honestly thought it would’ve been less painful to slam her head between a door repeatedly. Zayn and Emma were hitting it off from the other side of the booth. They were leaning in closer, giggling, flirting. She was happy for Emma, really she was, but she didn’t see why she or Peter had to come. They added nothing to this date.

She was thankful when dinner arrived, it meant the date was almost over. She dove into her burger eating quickly so she could make an excuse to not talk or look at Peter. She hoped if she finished quickly the date could end quickly too.

“Are you girls going to that party on Saturday?” Asked Zayn taking a sip of his strawberry shake.

Emma looked at Y/n swallowing her mouthful of cheesy fries. “That’s the one at Harry’s Frat. Niall’s idea.”

Y/n nodded, she’d only go if Harry did or Emma really wanted her there. “Oh, dunno. Maybe.”

Emma smiled. “It sounds fun. I love costume parties.”

Y/n sipped on her shake and looked down at her lap her phone had a message from Harry on it. She’d check when no one was looking. She thought it was cute that he was checking on her.

“Hate those guys though. So cocky.”

Y/n looked up and without thinking scoffed, staring him down. “Who Harry and Niall?”

Peter looked over. “Yeah. Think their god’s gift because their football team’s the most supported at the Uni. Bunch of twats.”

“Can’t be any worse than you.” She said, and Emma was surprised eyes widening from across the table, Y/n’s words held a bite. But she knew that despite Y/n’s soft timid nature, she did not put up with people saying rude things about people she cared about. She was generally a calm, soft, and kept to herself kind of person. But if someone said something she didn’t agree with she always spoke up. “At least their only point of conversation isn’t about their less-than-thrilling cocks and daddy’s money.” She rolled her eyes.

“Calm down, Babe. It’s a joke. We are all mates here.” Said Peter.

Her brows furrowed as she looked at Emma, why wasn’t she saying anything? If someone had said something about either Y/n or Emma to Harry he probably would have punched them without even thinking. And Niall too, Y/n remembers one time some guy smacked Y/n’s ass at a party and Niall had to be pulled off him by three people.

“Are you dumb? Niall is our best friend and Harry is Em’s brother, you really think we aren’t going to be annoyed if you talk shit about them? Who do you think you are, huh?” She said turning to look at him.

Emma diverted the topic to something else and eventually, when Peter and Zayn were talking about Hockey, she made a signal for Y/n to follow her to the loo. Y/n was still pissed, and very ready to go home, she felt herself stewing in the corner her rage burning up under her skin. She didn’t understand why Emma hadn’t said anything, and that frustrated her more. She really hoped Emma was devising a plan for their escape but when they stepped inside the bathroom Emma stared at herself in the mirror reapplying her lip gloss she said something Y/n very much did not want to hear.

“I know Peter was a dick, but did you really have to have a go at him?”

This made Y/n even more annoyed than before, she’d only come on this fucking date for her and now she was complaining about how she acted when Peter was the one acting like a prick. Y/n didn’t see why she was at fault.

She and Emma never argued, Y/n didn’t like this. Emma was always on her side, even if Y/n had been in the wrong Emma would always be on her side. And anyway, she was protecting Harry and Niall. Not just anyone. She didn’t go out of her way to make the conversation turn into her having a go at him.

“Yes. I did. I only came on this date for you so that you could be with Zayn. Which you could’ve done without me and Peter. He’s awful, and you two could’ve just gone and done something on your own I don’t see why I had to be here.” She said, arms folding and Emma watched her. 

“And you know I don’t like when people are rude about our friends.”

Emma nodded. “I know Babe, sorry. I just didn’t want you to feel left out. You never go out with guys, I didn’t want to make you feel bad if me and Zayn start dating, you know?”

Y/n’s brows pinched, she was acting like that wasn’t Emma’s fault. Every boy she’d ever liked other than Harry, Emma had stolen or taken away. It’s like she wanted Y/n to be all hers. Not that it bothered Y/n much, if she couldn’t have Harry should didn’t want anyone anyway. 

“I don’t care about boys.”

Emma sighed grabbing her hand. “I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to put yourself out there, Babe.”

“Okay, sure, I see your point. But Peter? Really?”

She laughed. “Yeah, your right, he isn’t really your type. But he was the only available one on a Friday night.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, wonder why.”

Emma tucked a strand of Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “Can I ask you one last favour?”

Y/n frowned eyes sharpening. “I’m not shagging him.”

Emma laughed tossing her head back. “No, not that.”

“Then what?”

“Can you get a lift home with Peter instead of me? I invited Zayn over, Harry’s gone to Niall’s for a bit. I need a good shag, and I need it now.”

Y/n sighed, a big groan leaving her lips. “Fine. But please make this date end soon. I don’t want to miss Murder She Wrote which starts at 9.”

Emma laughed. “Okay Grandma, don’t worry you’ll be tucked in bed in 30 minutes I can guarantee it.”

They stepped outside the loos walking back to their table and Y/n sat down on the side with Peter, sitting as close to the edge as possible. While the three were wrapped up in conversation Y/n quickly checked her phone she had a message from Harry still waiting for her reply.

Harry Styles 🍒 

Call me as soon as you're home. Miss your voice.

This made her smile to herself, hearting the message before returning her attention back to the table. The three of them were talking and Y/n felt herself zone out staring out the window. Rain was dripping down against the windows. She was just thinking of Harry, and internally screaming at the fact she wasn’t on a date with him right now. He had become more clingy than she’d expected over the past few weeks, he called her a fair amount and they snuck talks in private when they could but they hadn’t had a chance to go on another date yet. The way he was so kind and clingy to her was honestly shocking, normally he was the best at a fuck and ghost. She assumed he’d do the same, which she knew she’d just pretend to be fine with and then probably lose her shit when she saw him with another girl.

But nothing had been as explosive as she thought it to be, and that was probably because Emma hadn’t the faintest idea. 

By the time everyone finished their meals Zayn and Emma made a dash for it. Leaving their money on the table with the cheque. Zayn paid half and Peter paid the other. Emma kissed her cheek and patted Peter’s shoulder before the two raced away, giggling. Y/n was cranky at the fact Emma had only thought of herself the whole night and sighed leaning back into the seat of the booth. More than ready to leave.

Y/n frowned to herself as Peter seemed totally intent on keeping her there for a bit more of a chat. 

She tried to be polite about needing to head home. Making up some project she needed to do, but Peter’s hand slid onto her knee and she felt disgust crawl up her spine. She felt uncomfortable.

“Maybe we could just pop into the loos then, I bet your into that kinda thing. Can tell."

Y/n’s jaw dropped and she pushed his hand off quickly, she tapped her phone and Harry’s number dialling instantly. He was in her favourites. She needed his help, she knew he would come. She brought the phone to her ear.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She said lips curling in anger.

Harry picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Baby.” He said, raspy. There was lots of noise, he must’ve been in the car driving home.

Peter grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “C’mon, don’t be such a prude. I paid for your dinner. You owe me at least a blowie.”

Harry, spoke over the line into her ear. “Y/n?”

She snatched her wrist out from his rough palm. 

“Get off me!” She shouted and grabbed the last of Emma’s milkshake from the table and threw it onto him. He flinched at the cold milkshake hitting his skin, his Ralph Loren polo was now caked in thick pink liquid, and his ginger hair was now soaked and dripping down over his eyes as he gasped. 

“Bitch!” He shouted, wiping his hand over his eyes.

“Fuck yourself, you pathetic fucking prick.” She shouted pointing her finger at him. Harry had heard the interaction and his fingers curled against the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from his grip. He put his foot on the pedal. He was already turning the car around in her direction.

“Sorry, can you pick me up please, Harry? Peter’s a creep, I need you.”

“Of course, hang tight I’ll be there soon.”

Peter was shouting at her like the pathetic baby he was and some waitresses came over to help clean up the mess she’d made by throwing at him. 

“Sorry,” She whispered to the cherry-haired girl who came over with a cloth and spray. The girl just laughed as Peter rushed over to the manager who had come out at the sound of the ruckus. 

“It’s okay, he seems like he's a bit of a knob.” She said looking over at Y/n. 

“Are you alright?” The blonde waitress asked from the other side of her.

“Yeah, he’s just a handsy asshole,” Y/n explained.

It took only a few minutes before the doorbell rang above the entryway door and Harry entered the restaurant. He looked dishevelled and his eyes were wild as he stepped inside. His hair was wet from having walked from his car to her, the thunderstorm outside had soaked him. The top of his grey hoodie was speckled in rain, and his eyes were all stormy and this dark green that Y/n melted over. He made his way over to her and she felt herself forget for a second why he was here. 

She was just happy to see him.

“You okay?” He asked and she nodded, feeling relief flood her tummy. Harry always made her feel safe. He’d always felt like her protector even growing up. She remembered one time at her school dance some boys were trying to get Emma and Y/n in their car, they were drunk as skunks and she remembered Harry racing over and Y/n’s whose eyes were glassy with worry and he actually rubbed her arm. Then he drove them both to the party and made sure they were okay the whole night. He’d made her feel safe then too.

He rubbed her wrist, almost the same as that night at school. His thumb stroked it softly, as his eyes darted from hers to Peter who was still there. Covered in a milky pink drink, and swearing angrily.

Harry made his way over to him and grabbed him by the collar, in a rush of anger. He was bursting with anger and Y/n watched him surprised in her spot by the waitresses. She watched silently, expecting Harry to just tell him off. But he did more than that, Harry’s fist connected with Peter’s face and it made a slap, and he fell back onto the counter of the register with a bang.

His nose was bleeding upon the impact.

“If you ever touch her again I’ll fucking kill you. You hear me?” The calmness of his tone was actually chilling and Y/n felt herself tense up. Harry pushed him again. She knew if she let him he’d stay and pummel him for the rest of the night.

She walked over quickly and grabbed his arm softly. “C’mon, let’s just go. Can’t beat his awfulness out of him.”

“‘Can try.” He replied but ultimately he listened, pulling her into his side and they both apologised to the staff as they exited the restaurant. Harry’s hand slid into hers and she followed him to his car it was raining bad, big fat droplets hitting their faces as they walked steadily to the car. He opened the door for her and she slid in, he shut it when she was all tucked inside. The rain was coming down heavily and when he plopped in beside her he didn’t start the car, his hair was drenched and his eyelashes were thick with water. His face had turned soft again. He watched her for a beat. “Are you sure you're okay? I can go murder him if you want.”

She was silent for a second before turning to face him, she looked beautiful even with her frown. “Harry’s it’s fine. Can you just take me home?”

He nodded. She looked tired and frustrated, and in turn, this upset him. Y/n was too sweet to be treated like this. He wouldn’t let anything like that happen to her when he was around. He’d take care of his girl. The drive to Y/n’s house from the burger place really wasn’t far and she normally would’ve walked home if not for this heavy downpour of rain, and she had wanted Harry to be the one to comfort her. When Harry’s car pulled up outside the front of the house she looked over at him.

He was waiting for her to say she’d call him later and kiss his cheek but she didn’t. She looked up at him and sighed, bringing her hand up to push a loose curl away from his forehead.

“You wanna come up?” She asked.

He smiled. “You sure?”

She smiled bigger. “Yeah, come on.”

He turned the engine of the car off and just as Y/n went to open the door he said, “Wait.” 

She listened, watching as he bolted out of his side of the car to go to her side and open the door for her. She giggled at the gesture. Harry really wasn’t what people thought. 

He held his hand out for her to grab and she grabbed it as he helped her step down. The rain was heavy but neither of them seemed to care all that much considering they were both already soaking, and walked slowly up to her door. His hand was warm in hers and she shivered into his side. The rain had brought a chill to the air that nipped at her skin.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside pulling him in with her. The house was nice and warm, they’d been lucky enough to have an old fireplace still built in. It warmed the front rooms and meant their heating bill was much less since they only had to take care of a few small rooms. Harry followed her down the hall. 

This was the second time he’d been here, so now he knew where her room was he followed less nervously. The house was practically empty tonight beside from a few people in the living room and kitchen. Everyone must’ve been at one of the frat parties. She opened her bedroom door and they kicked off their shoes and socks that had gotten all soggy. 

Y/n shrugged her small pink coat off and put it over her desk chair. Harry stayed sort of stagnant behind her. Running his fingers through his hair. 

“Are y'cold, H?” She asked gripping the hem of her top, her back was facing him as she lifted it off. Revealing her lacy pink bra and bare back.

He felt his eyes widen and cheeks heat up. She yanked her jeans down and revealed a pink g-string that matched. It had bows on it, and it was all girly and pretty. Suddenly the wholesome urge to take care of her turned back into something a bit less wholesome. His cock twitched as she bent down to take her socks off. He had a great view of her plush perfect body. His hands flexed by his sides, and he looked down at his feet, did she want him to look?

She turned around running a hand through her hair, “Styles? You okay?”

She looked like a fucking dream.

He nodded looking up. “I- Yeah,”

She giggled. “What’s wrong?”

He rolled his eyes sighing, a smile remaining on his face. His cheeks had dusted in a soft pink that was unusual for him and only made Y/n more inclined to tease him. Roles reversed.

“Don’t play all dumb, you know you're fucking gorgeous. And I can’t exactly concentrate when you look at me like that.”

She walked closer to him as her hands slid under his hoodie and thick cotton t-shirt, hands grazing his skin. Her hands were cold, and he hissed slightly but made no movements to step back.  

“Like what?” Her eyelashes fluttered up at him. 

“Like that.” His hands slid around her back and down to cupping her ass in his big hands and bringing her closer to him. Their height difference had him bending down, ready to scoop her up into his arms.

She moved her hands onto his shoulders and pushed herself up on the tips of her toes, lips close to his. “Kiss me.”

He leaned down connecting their lips together. She pulled him closer, whispering against his lips. “‘M cold.” 

He leaned into her touch, she was gripping him tightly against herself. He pulled his arms away from her to lift his jumper off. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled that off too. His tattoos filled her vision and she wanted to bite and suck and lick and touch every single one of them. God, he was just gorgeous. And honestly, being able to kiss him was more pleasurable than any other experience she’d ever had. Kissing him alone was something she could do for hours. When Harry just looked at her that alone was more breathtaking than anything any other boy had done. To have him here in her room, kissing her, holding her, well it was everything she’d ever dreamed of. If her fourteen-year-old self knew she’d probably faint, scream, cry, and go into shock.

Her hands slid to his hips and gripped the button of his jeans, as his hands found her cheeks and kissed her again. She yanked them down a little bit revealing the fern tattoos she loved so much. She remembers him posting on his Instagram when he’d gotten them, Y/n practically choked on her water when she saw them. He was just walking sex. She wasn't any better than him, completely filthy in that head of hers.

He started walking forward and leading her back to her bed. She sat down on the mattress eyes wild looking up at him. His bulge was right in her eye-line and she smiled up at him, and she grabbed him to join her. He slotted in perfectly into her arms and his hips pressed into the thin string that was covering herself. He wasn’t ashamed that his cock was already growing in size in his pants, and he gently pressed it against her in hopes of some relief to his aching balls.

She sighed breathily into his mouth at the weight of him on top of her, she kept pulling him even closer. Their chests pressed into each other, and Harry was so warm, and Y/n was so soft. He could’ve stayed like that all night, in her arms.

He pecked her lips one last time as he pulled away to kiss along her chest. The little necklace she always wore that Emma had bought her was around her neck. It was the first letter of her name. His finger ran along it, stroking her upper chest.

“Should get a H.” He said before nibbling into the plush flesh of her tits. They were so warm and soft against his face. If he wasn’t so needy for her he’d just rest against them and sleep, smelling her delicious scent of that clean soft scent she always smelt of, it was so comforting to him.

She smiled and softly ran her hands through his hair, her legs were still wrapped around his back. “Why?”

He looked up, and suddenly all those emotions of jealousy and protectiveness were back rushing through him and making his hands squeeze her hips tightly. “So people know you're mine.”

This shocked her a bit and Harry was nervous for a second, he had revealed quite a bit of feelings in that moment and distracted himself with her neck. Kissing along her sweet-smelling skin. His lips were so gentle against her like he was afraid she’d break.

“And then what would you wear to show who you belong to Styles?” She said. Her voice was raspy and breathy from his kisses. His head snapped up and he smirked wickedly. 

“Well, why don’t you mark m’back with your nails like last time, and leave some bruises on m’neck until we can come up with a permanent solution?”

She smiled and felt her pussy throb at the thought. After the last time Harry was between her legs she’d ended up with bruises on her thighs, hickeys everywhere, and she was so sore it hurt to sit all day. She’d told him one night on the phone and he’d lost his mind over it. Loved the idea of Y/n being marked up from him, sore from their sex, unable to sit without thinking of him.

"Sound good, Princess?"

“Okay.” She replied content with his answer. Her lips formed in a pouty kissy face and he came up to press his into hers for a long peck, she smiled when he pulled away. How could he be so cocky and rude but also so soft all at once? He moved his way back down her body and kissed her hips sucking a spot into her left hip. His hand rubbed her stretch marks along there and kissed over the now bruised mark he’d made.

He moved further down until his mouth was right against her pussy. His nose brushed against the material as he looked up at her. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiled. “You’re such a good girl f’me. Perfect lil' thing.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He loved when she slipped into that state of submission and obedience because normally, despite her calm presence, she basically never let Harry have anything without being teased. She was a bit of a brat to him, which turned him on an unfathomable about.

He pulled her knickers off and threw them to the side. As he spread her legs even further apart he moved one of her thighs to rest on his shoulder and the other he pushed forward toward her tummy, practically folding her in half. His ring-covered fingers gripped them and he leaned in close to her. The lips of her were like petals of a flower, splayed out and dewy. Her clit was puffy and swollen in arousal like the bud of a flower. He brought his free hand forward and circled her clit softly. Her hips squirmed into his hand and he heard her let out a shaky breath. 

“Ah,” She gasped when he leaned in closer and his breath hit her dripping pussy. It was cool and shiver-inducing and she could practically see his smile, even though her eyes had made their way shut.

He placed a gentle kiss on her clit and her hands moved to his hair quickly. “Please.”

He was teasing her and he loved the reaction it pulled from her. Now that they’d already been together once there was a certain familiarity in this. He knew what she liked and he was ready to explore things that he hadn’t already. Including taking his time and eating her out like he’d been thinking about since he was probably fourteen.

He looked up at her, her lips were in a pout of frustration. “What’s got you pouting, Princess?”

“Want you t’help me, Harry.”

“You can beg better than that, Y/n.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Please what, Baby?”

“Please taste me, Daddy. Need your mouth. Want it.”

He smirked looking up at her. “‘Atta girl.”

She felt her clit throb at his raspy words. He leaned forward and licked a long stripe of her slick up into his mouth. She tasted tangy and sweet just like he’d imagined. His mouth watered at the taste, and he smirked. Once he’d tasted her he knew he wouldn’t be able to tease her any longer. He started moaning and grunting into her and the vibrations of it had her mewling and tugging on his hair.

“Fuck.” She cried out, neck arching into the pillow.

He was acting like a starved man and sucking onto her clit with such a hunger that it startled her. She hadn’t expected him to be so wild and good at it. She knew he was good, but Jesus, she was already feeling so much pleasure within mere minutes. He was suckling into her bud like a bee on a honeysuckle flower, all headily. The sweet nectar spilled onto his tongue as he kissed her lips, and practically devoured her whole. She was already feeling dreamy with the pleasure, floating with lust.

As he began to speed his tongue up and get more sloppy with his languid movements, she gained less control of her body. Her legs tried to shut on him and they were beginning to shake softly, he gripped them tighter and split her open for him.

His tongue lapped up the slick that was leaking out of her hungrily, and as he slipped his tongue near her weeping hole she let out a particularly loud whine and her back arched off the mattress. “Fuckin’ hell, feels good, Daddy.”

He pulled away for a breath looking up at her, rubbing his thumb over her clit in slow hard circles that had her eyes welling with tears of pleasure. “Yeah, sucha’ good girl letting Daddy eat this little pussy.”

She was bucking her hips and squirming under his tight grip. He could tell she was getting close as she ground against his face, her moans were getting louder and more desperate. Her slick was dribbling down his chin and he was moaning every few licks. He’d taken to rubbing his cock against the edge of the mattress for some relief, and Y/n coming on done from his touch was too much for him to stay still. He needed to relieve himself. Or he’d come his boxers, which he thought we be a bit pathetic. He wanted to prove to her how good he could be with her, how he liked to take his time when he could. But his neediness was making him have a little less control than he liked.

He continued eating her pussy with such a raw animalistic frenzy that her orgasm washed over quickly, taking her by complete surprise. Her tummy filled with waves of pleasure that shot all through her body as her muscles tensed and her pussy throbbed, she could feel herself clamping down onto his tongue as he groaned.

When she came it was with a desperate, soft, cry of his name. “Fuck, Harry.” She said, shutting her eyes and gripping his hair. “‘M cumming.”

“Cum for me, angel.”

She did. Hard. She felt like she had no control of her body as Harry talked her through her orgasm encouragingly. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’d slipped his fingers inside with ease and began curling against her. She felt herself fall back limp into the sheets as he continued licking and thrusting his fingers inside of her, and her hands moved to his hair once again pulling on it. Her mouth was loose-lipped and she found it hard to keep herself quiet now.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy,” She said breathlessly, all soft and quiet. It made him smile as he looked up at her, slick coating his lips. 

“Gonna be a good girl and let me make you cum again?”

She nodded biting her lip. “Mhm.” She said before throwing her head back when his fingers hit that soft spot inside her that she couldn’t reach with her own fingers. It made her melt and shake.

Harry noticed her reaction and smirked to himself. “Found it.”

As she watched him from between her thighs, his head bobbed and the muscle of his arms flexed, he was pinning her to the bed so that he could keep going. Her second orgasm found itself much easier, it took Harry a few kisses and rubs against her clit along with his fingers pounding into her until she came. 

Her legs moved to shut around his head and her nails were scratching along his shoulders and back. She kept repeating the words, “Please, Daddy.” Over and over, until.

“Oh, I think you’re gonna make me cum again.”

He kept his steady pace and sloppy kisses going, pulling away only to say. “Cum for Daddy, pretty girl,”

And she did. It was like his words had complete control over her. The ball growing in her tummy snapped and rushed through her. This time her whole body shook as she gripped onto his arms in support, she felt this release like a tidal wave.“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”

The tightness of her muscles flexing and her body shaking had her spent. She had never come so hard, and it for so long. It was a few minutes before she finally felt the pleasure subside to something more easy to take. 

She was mewling and babbling all drunken from her orgasm. “Jesus, H.”

He helped her through her second orgasm, kissing along her hips and thighs to give her swollen clit a chance to rest. When she finally came down from the peak of her orgasm, she went limp again, eyes shut, and for a moment there she couldn’t hear or see anything. She could only feel him. Feel what he’d made come over her.

When she looked down at him he’d pulled his fingers out only a few centimetres away and his mouth was damp. His chin was covered in slick and as she began to take in his appearance. His neck and the top of his chest was dripping. She was confused for a second, it couldn’t be sweat. Despite their intense state, she knew he couldn’t be sweating that much. And then she realised. 

“Oh, I squirted, sorry.” She said embarrassed trying to shut her legs. He looked at her like she was crazy moving back up so that his hips were between her thighs.

“Sorry? What are you on about? You squirted f’me, and you looked beautiful doing it too. Absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

She smiled, still feeling shy and blushy. She’d squirted on his dick before, but certainly not his face. She hadn’t expected it to feel so good. “Thank you for making me cum.”

He smiled, and despite his rotten mouth and dominant cocky rough edges, in that moment he looked all soft and gooey and truthfully the fact he got to see Y/n so soft and vulnerable around him made him eternally soft for her. He wanted to see her like this all the time. Red-faced, pouty lips, eyes glassy in pleasure, and words slurring from complete satisfaction. Something only he got to see.

He wanted to be the only person who got her to squirt all over his face. Wanted to be the only one to taste her sweet little pussy. He wanted to be the only man for her. He felt so possessive over her like a kid not wanting to share his favourite toy. But he knew at the end of the day, it was always going to be her decision who she was with. 

But Y/n thought that over the years it was pretty damn obvious who she wanted. 

Harry was the only one for her. 

She wasn’t in some other boy's bed tonight, she was with him right now, running her nails softly along his arms despite how needy they both were for each other. She was slow with her touches like they had all the time in the world because really they did.

It was raining so heavily outside, the wind was howling wildly rustling all the trees nearby, and the thunder roared above them. The shelter her little room provided them with was perfect, and it felt like all time ceased to exist. The sky had turned dark and so had their eyes, her room was almost pitch black, and they were both so warm and close. Skin to skin.

Y/n was right here, naked, and waiting for him. 

Things weren’t so bad after all.

He placed a soft long kiss on her lips and she could taste herself on his tongue. Things tonight felt different than the first time, although Harry was fueled and fiery with jealousy and he wanted to take her roughly, it all felt more intimate.

His hands moved to her hips squeezing the plush flesh and running his hands over the stretch marks that decorated her skin. Every inch of Y/n was beautiful, and he’d never thought that before about anyone. He’d never seen someone's hands and thought what absolutely beautiful hands they had, or what beautiful teeth they had, or how cute their ears were. There wasn’t a part of her body that he wouldn’t worship. 

To him, she was the picture image of beauty.

The kiss deepened as he rolled them over. His head rested where hers just had, and he could feel the warmth her body had left behind. She sat right up against his cock, and she could feel him throbbing against her. His old thin boxers left little room for him to hide his aching want. He was honestly rock hard, watching her cum twice, feeling her, tasting her. It had him so hard he could’ve cried.

Her tits were right in his eyeline, all soft and full. He took one into his mouth sucking on her sensitive nipple, and enjoying the loud whine she let out. His hands had fallen to her ass now, and she’d taken to grinding against his clothed cock. He could feel the wetness of her leaking down onto his boxers and he wanted to stuff her full. Despite her two orgasms, Y/n was still managing just fine on top of him.

She pulled back just slightly so she could grip the hem of his boxers and tug them off. His cock sprang up against his tummy, and even though she’d seen it before she’d probably never get used to how fucking big and gorgeous his cock was. The pink ruddy tip that glistened in precum, his long veiny shaft, that girthiness he had. God she could stare at it for hours, she thinks he is beautiful in the way those ancient paintings of Greek gods were beautiful. His hair was unruly and curly and fit for a golden wreathe to sit, his body all muscular and tanned, his absolute manliness. Something about how capable he was was just enough to have her squirming her thighs.

If she was to paint him, she’d want him to look something like this. Messy, needy, and staring right at her. She moved her hand to grip his cock giving it some gentle strokes, he was hissing already. Her hands were so warm and soft, and she pursed her lips and spat down onto him, allowing her to stroke him faster.

“Such a pretty cock, Daddy.”

He let out a laugh through his moan, “Pretty?”

She nodded. “Just like the rest of you. Beautiful.”

He felt his cheeks warm in a blush. No one had ever called him that before. She was still stroking him and he felt his eyes begin to squeeze shut in pleasure. His hips rutted up into her hand a few times.

“Want to feel this pretty cock, Daddy, please,” She said, her voice in a gentle begging tone.

He opened his eyes and smiled his hand moving from her hip to her cheek stroking it with his thumb. 

“Come sit on it, all yours to sit on, Princess.”

She smiled up at him, kissing his jaw and letting go of his stiffy so that she could move her legs up the bed. When she was hovering over him she placed her arms by his shoulders ready to slide onto him when he stopped her. 

“Wait, condom?” He asked, kissing her nose. 

She shook her head. “Wanna feel you, s’that okay?”

He felt his cock twitch at that. “Yeah, I’m clean, trust you. Want that too.”

She smiled leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. Her hand grabbed his dick and brought it up between her slick folds, collecting the wetness. She slowly slid down onto it and felt herself stretching for him, her two orgasms allowed more room for him to glide into her easily, but no matter how wet she was his cock was always going to stretch her out.

When she’d made it halfway she looked up at him, “Y'big, sorry,”

He just pushed some hair away from her face, kissing her jaw near her ear. “Take your time.”

Eventually, she made it hilt of him, sitting down on him softly. They both let out heavy sighs at the feeling, she felt so full of him. He was so deep, she could see the bulge of him in her tummy. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and his hands massaged her thighs softly. If not for their burning desire Harry could’ve stayed just like that for hours. His back against the wall, her resting against him, cock all warm inside her. It was perfect.

She eventually lifted her head up and smeared their lips together in a messy gentle kiss. Her arms wrapped around his back in an embrace as she began to lift herself up and then back down slowly. The stretch starting to burn in pleasure now, and the pain subsiding. He moaned into her mouth loudly as she started to pick up a rhythm of deep hard thrusts. The tip of him was hitting that spot that had her eyes rolling back into her skull as she started to find the rhythm that was right for them both. She was going slow yet hard and deep, it had her pussy clamping down against him which was sending him up the wall.

Her pussy was to die for, so tight, and perfect around his cock. Wet and warm. He wanted to bury himself in it all hours of the day. Her lazy bounces started to pick up as she gripped his shoulders for leverage. His hands moved from her hips to her ass, gripping her tightly as he began to pump his cock up meeting her bounces. He was moaning and grunting into her neck and tits at the feel of her tight pussy, he started kissing her all over.

It was a beautiful sight, his pretty girl's tits bouncing right in front of his face, and her moaning against his cock. He couldn't help but smile, a devilish one.

“Daddy, fuck,” She swore. She was getting close again. Her previous orgasms had her so sensitive to his touch.

One of his hands came forward and began to rub messy circles against her puffy clit. She let out a whine and shut her eyes bouncing as if her life depended on it, his other hand squeezed her ass kneading it roughly, as he thrust his cock up into her pussy.

“You’re Daddy’s good girl aren’t you?”

This made her let out a particularly loud whimper.

“What was that, Princess?”

She just let out another noise of pleasure.

His hand moved up to grip her chin so she’d look at him. “Say it, Y/n. Tell me.”

“I’m your good girl, H.”

He frowned. “H?”

Her hips were stuttering on his cock and the hard rubbing against her clit. “I’m your good girl, Daddy.”

He smirked. “Who’s little pussy does this belong to?”

God, he was filthy. She fucking loved it. It’s what she’d imagined him to be liked. Raw, rough, filthy, dominant, and possessive.

She cried out as his thrusts began to speed up. She was dizzy with it all, struggling to speak.

Her voice came out hoarse and breathless. “Yours,”

“What’s mine, Y/n?”

“My pussy, it’s yours. I'm yours.”

He smirked. “Good girl, sucha' good fucking girl.”

His thrusts caused her entire body to jolt forward, as her nails scratched down his arms and she began to scream at the pleasure. 

“That’s it, take Daddy’s cock,”

She gripped his arms for dear life, “Gunna’ come again. Ah, mm, fuck.”

He didn’t stop for a second and it was only a few thrusts until she was squirted all over his cock and shaking wildly. He could tell he’d fucked her hard because she was practically limp on top of him when her orgasm subsided, she was spent. Harry had ruined her. Three orgasms, three mind-blowing orgasms, she didn’t know if she could handle another.

He kissed her lips. “Good job, sweet girl.”

She smiled dazedly. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Want me ta’ take care of ya’ now.” His voice hadn't gotten even slower, slurring from the absolute raw fuck he was having.

She nodded and he helped her off him. She fell back onto her bed, back amongst the mess that was her sheets. Her hair lay above her like a crown and he kissed her lips softly, enjoying this gentle side to her. It seems the more she came the softer she got, more clingy, handsy. He fucking loved it. He was sure his shoulders were covered in scratches from her, and his hair had been tugged about by her. He probably looked just as fucked out as her.

She was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her lips were swollen. She looked up at him fluttering her lashes. Sexiest little thing ever, a total minx. “Want you.” She whispered. She wanted him to cum, fill her up. She'd been thinking about for years, especially lately.

He grabbed her legs spreading them far apart so he could slot in between her. He was sitting up on his knees all tall above her. Her tummy curled in anticipation and desire, he was so fucking hot. His gorgeous veiny hands touched her and those ring-covered fingers of his gripping into her flesh hard. His swirls of ink were still visible under the moonlight. 

He was a sight. A pure filthy sight she wanted to hold onto in her mind forever.

“Want to fill you up, Princess.” He replied. His cock was begging for his orgasm, he’d managed to last through one of her orgasms pulsing against him, but he knew the next one would push him over the edge. He slowly slipped inside of her, and her hands found their way to his arms, gripping them hard.

He started thrusting roughly without much warning, causing her bed to shift and creak under the weight of them both. She moaned loudly, “Oh, fuck,”

With each thrust her body jolted into the bed, as she tried to find a way to control her squirming body.

He let out a hiss as his balls slapped against her ass. “Feel so good around me, sweet girl. Fuckin' perfect. Made for this cock.”

She pulled him closer so that her chest was pressed into his. His face slipped into the side of her neck and shoulder and gently kissed along there. One of her arms wrapped around his back and the other found his hand, he held hers tightly. He continued fucking into her deep, it felt so good it hurt and her hips jutted to meet his.

“‘Wanna cum, Daddy, can I?” She said softly, in a pleading tone that had his balls aching to fill her pussy up with his hot cum. He grunted pounding into her just that bit harder, this final bundle of energy he had was going toward making her finish.

She felt her tummy tightening familiarly with her orgasm. She knew that she couldn’t hold onto it much longer.

“Cum f’me please, Y/n.” He whimpered, “Be a good girl and let me feel you cum on m’cock.”

His hand held hers tightly, and this romantic intimate side of him was all too much for her, this was somehow hotter than his rough side. She loved to see him like this.

She pulled his face to hers, and they kissed as she finished. It was all teeth and tongue, noses brushing into each other, and she cried out into his mouth. He nibbled her lip and felt her clamping against him rapidly.

When he pulled back from the kiss they were breathless, each thrust had her practically crying out.

“Gonna make me cum, Y/n,” He whispered. “Where do you want me cum?”

She wrapped her legs around his hips. “Inside me, please, Daddy.”

When he made eye contact with her that’s when he finally orgasmed. The thrusts of his hips grew sloppy with pleasure as he let out a loud moan of her name and some curses. She was scratching his arm and back softly letting him fuck her full of his cum as his pleasure subsided. He didn’t move out of her, just landed on top of her. His head resting right above her fast-beating heart. He was fucking spent.

She stroked his hair feeling nice and full of him. She could feel his cum inside her, dripping out onto his cock. He was warm and big to cuddle she loved it. He lifted his head up when he caught his breath, placing a kiss on her forehead, then her nose, then her cheeks which made her giggle, then finally her lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered.

“Oh, shut up Styles, I already let you fuck me, no need to butter me up now.” She teased.

He rolled his eyes, still inside her, still holding her hand. “You’ve always been beautiful, most gorgeous girl in the whole world.”

Her face turned soft, cheeks blooming in a soft dusty rose. “You’re beautiful too.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

Eventually, he pulled out of her, she felt empty and whined at the feeling. She was so sensitive now. She honestly wouldn't have minded if he'd stayed inside her for the rest of the night.

She shut her eyes and as he sat back, he watched his cum drip out of her. It made his tummy flutter. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking this far ahead considering Y/n and him weren’t even dating. But if she got pregnant with his baby, that would be the cutest thing in the world. He cut those thoughts from his mind and stood up. 

“Gonna clean y’up.” He said, walking to her bathroom. He found a cloth in there and wet it with some warm water walking over to the bed. 

She opened her eyes which had turned bleary with sleepiness. She smiled tiredly over at him. He smiled back, grabbing her legs and spreading them so he could wipe her down. She whined at the touch of the cloth.

“Sorry, Baby.”

She let out another soft wince. “S’okay, worth it.”

As he stared down at her he noticed how sweaty she looked. “Wanna shower? I’ll help you. We probably should after all that rain and other stuff.”

She nodded, a small laugh leaving her mouth. “Okay, just don’t let me fall asleep and drown in there.”

He laughed. “Course not.”

He helped her up to a sitting position and she looked up at him sluggishly. “Really got me sore, H.”

He frowned. “Sorry, Angel.”

She teasingly sharpened her gaze, “You aren’t sorry, you filthy boy.”

He smirked. “‘M not sorry for taking what’s mine, I am sorry you’ll be sore tomorrow.”

She rolled her eyes. “You will be sorry when I keep complaining.”

"I'll massage you, don't worry."

He picked her up startling her, she always knew he was strong but never expected him to pick her up with such ease, and if she wasn’t totally spent she’d want to test what also he could do with those big muscles. Throw her around maybe? Fuck her standing up? She’d make a note to herself to try that later.

His hands were under bum and as he walked to the bathroom, the shower was surprisingly big and had a tiny little shelve that came out which had all her soaps and shampoos, but there was enough room for her to sit on it.

He turned the water on warm and placed her onto the sink bench. She watched him under the pale light of the bathroom. How was this the same Harry from before?

This was a soft kind man, a gentleman, hardly a frat boy dick. She didn't know where'd he been hiding this side of him. But she liked him just as much as he did the rotten-mouthed boy she knew.

In the shower he took care of her as promised, washing her hair with the lavender-scented shampoo she owned. He used some too, and he helped wash her skin with this fresh-smelling shower oil she had. Softly cleaning her sore parts and he massaged her body with such a gentleness that she melted right into his hands.

She’d never expected Harry to be one to stay and cuddle after, let alone help shower. He was so nurturing to her. It made her feelings bloom and spread through her body like wildflowers.

When they were both clean Harry even helped her dry her hair, and change into some comfy clothes. While she was brushing her teeth and putting some skincare on he fixed up her sheets and tucked himself into them. He'd put his rings in the little dish she had on her bedside table. Checking his phone to see it was late. They'd been going for a while.

When she came out in a baggy shirt that Harry had worn last time he was here, it still smelt of him, and some little black knickers he felt his heart skip a beat. She looked especially good in his clothes.

“C’mere.” He opened the duvet and she slid in beside him tiredly. He pulled her close, right in the crook of his chest, he’d decided to wear nothing to bed. Which bothered neither of them. He ran hot, especially with Y/n snuggling right up against him.

Her window was open letting the heavy downpour of thunder and rain become background noise as they fell asleep. He kissed her temple, rubbing her back underneath his shirt.

“Night, Beautiful.”

She shut her eyes kissing one of the swallows on his chest. “Night, Styles.”

Sleep found them both quickly and Harry held onto her the whole night. He was completely smitten with her, the one girl he couldn’t have was the only one he wanted. Fuck. They were so screwed.

PART THREE???????

[eevees-hobbies]

HIHIHI may I request some Sakura please, your greatness 🧎‍♀️ who despite his tough boi act, absolutely worships the ground his lover walks on and showers them in love (before, during AND after sex) oooou it’s rotting my brain i need him to cuddle me stat

Author’s Note: Ah, so you’ve come to me with a Sakura request, I see. And a cute one like this, too? I get it, anon…I do. I get it because you and I are a lot alike. Sometimes you like the idea of Sakura bending you over and delivering loud, nasty, toe-curling backshots to you as he talks shit in your ear (same, same), but other times you crave a different version of him. You crave a soft Sakura, a comfortable Sakura, a tame Sakura that doesn’t flinch when you touch him but instead leans into your touch and looks at you with absolute devotion, right? Me fucking too. So you want broken-in, house-trained, and domesticated, Sakura? My pleasure. 

Content Warning: Fem!ReaderXHaruka Sakura. Business (fluff) in the front & party (smut) in the back! Smut will be below the last divider. Sweet Sakura, who shows you love through some love-language type things. And then intimate love-making. You make love while half-asleep (mmm). Tame smut. Eve mentions Bridgerton again because there is now continuity in my stories, and I’m not sorry about it (don’t ask me about the show; I’m on season 1, episode 3, but I love the idea of it). Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 2K

Divider by Saradika. Banner by me.

Sakura had watched you all day, and he hated what he was seeing. You two had planned a beach day on a rare day off for him and a light work calendar day for you. But when the universe hears about plans, it often laughs aloud and offers a wrench.

He couldn’t quite understand the intricacies of your work-from-home job beyond that shit was hitting the fan. You sat dutifully in front of your laptop, answering constant pings coming from god-knows-where and from god-knows-who to the point that Sakura felt he could time them perfectly. 

Ping

…

Ping

Yup, perfectly timed. 

And with each call or message you answered, he saw your shoulders rise closer to your neck, the tension making you hunch in a way you’d certainly feel later.

And he couldn’t help you with whatever the fuck KPIs or logic models were, but he could help you in other ways. So, he grabbed his keys and set out for the day.

As your workday concluded, your fingers found the bridge of your nose in an attempt to massage away the tension migraine that was rearing its head. Not only was today stressful, but as you looked around your empty apartment, you found Sakura to be gone. You hoped he wasn’t upset about not going to the beach, but you’d understand if he was.

As you stood out of your ergonomic office chair to stretch, ready to open the refrigerator to cook something up quickly, the door to your tiny abode opened. 

You let out a breathy laugh—Sakura is blocked from your line of vision, and only a few single tufts of black and white hair peek over the various restaurant and grocery bags in his arms. As you croon your neck to watch him struggle his way inside, you also see that he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers with an unmistakable logo tucked firmly under his armpit.

He’s grumbling as he sets the items down on the kitchen island; something about hating living so high up, but you can’t bring yourself to dial in on his ramblings as you read the names of your favorite places on the bags.

“You got us ramen, kitten?”

“Yeah. Miso with extra beansprouts like you like, with some Gyoza on the side. It’s probably cold since it’s like climbing a fuckin’ mountain to get up here, but I can heat everything back up.”

He begins removing food, snacks, face masks, popcorn, and drinks from the bags. Your heart pangs with remorse at even thinking he was upset about your inability to go to the beach. Sakura is complicated, but he’s not childish.

“Also, Umemiya said something about the flowers, but you might have to text him about that. I zone out when he starts talking plant-talk.”

“Same,” your arms find his waist, your cold hands sneaking up his shirt and rubbing at his prominent v-line as you wrap yourself around his whole person. “Thank you for this. I love you so much.”

Sakura blushes, a personal trait he’s tried to stop fighting long ago. “Sure, but go ahead and sit on the couch. New episode of Bridgerton tonight?”

You rub your palms together excitedly, “I’ll get the fuzzy socks, kitten!”

After getting through half an episode of Bridgerton, Sakura noticed you were fighting a losing battle with your sleep needs. Heavy eyelids and your head growing slack on his shoulder were all the signs he needed to turn off the TV and scoop you up in his arms.

“Bath,” you mumble against his chest. 

“Bath,” he offers in return.

“You sure?” he mumbles against your lips, “your eyes are barely open.”

“Mmm, but my legs are open, baby. See?” You wrap your thighs around his midsection, trapping him in and pulling him closer.

The heat radiating from your clothed cunt is undeniable, you’ve probably wanted him all night, and fuck, he felt the same way.

Sakura’s lips trace the curve of your jaw with gentle kisses and flicks of his tongue until his face is nestled in the crook of your neck. Your pulse is calm—so slow that he wonders if you managed to fall asleep until you shift under him and let out a sigh.

“Sakura...need you.”

“Yeah, babe. You got me. I’m right here.”

As he pulls the seat of your underwear aside, the slit of his cock already giving way to shiny droplets of precum, he sinks into you with a sigh escaping his lips at the familiarity of you. He can’t help but think of all the ways he loves you. Moments like this make him feel like the best version of himself—someone worthy of being loved and giving love. 

He briefly presses his forehead into the valley of your breasts, letting your slick walls adjust to his girth. You’re wearing one of his white tee’s and smell so unmistakably like him that he’s positive you put on his deodorant after your bath. The thought of being so connected that you dress and smell like him while still maintaining your own smell makes him want you more.

His cheeks rub against your breasts, soft and heavy even through the pesky fabric, and because even one barrier is a barrier too many, he is now lifting the shirt over your head and tossing it to the corner of the room. 

His cock twitches at the erotic sight of you, fully naked except with your panties shifted ever so slightly to the side, puffy pussy lips wrapped around his cock, and hole stuffed to the brim with him. He’d call it a fantasy if this weren’t his real life. 

His feather-soft touches—reserved only for you—cascade from your stomach down your hip before the idea of not moving and not making love to you becomes too unbearable. His hand grips one of your thighs, and he pulls his hips back slightly, dragging the length of him against your silken walls and then forward, your pussy so wet, so creamy, and welcoming for him.

In his mind, he’s giving thanks, thanks to the shitty universe that finally felt enough pity for him that he was blessed with you. 

He has to steel his resolve, however, because when he begins to think like this—think about how lucky he is to have you, to be buried inside of you—he’s prone to lose himself to you far earlier than he’d like and he wants this tryst to last. 

“Haru, feel so good.” your words are slurred and dripping with the slow drawl that comes with sleep, but your body is deliciously reactive for him. The creamy sounds of his cock mixing with your thick slick fills the room so lewdly and loudly that it makes both your cheeks heat up as your love is audibly personified. 

“You do, too. P-pussy feels amazing.” 

He loves you so much his heart hurts. His other hand finds yours, entangling his long fingers with your own. And the way you rub at his bruised knuckles, fresh from a fight, doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Even in your half-awake state, you still care for him and want to ease his discomfort. 

He slots his lips against yours where they belong, wishing that he could give you a more heated kiss, the kind that you like where he lets you suck on his tongue, but this is perfect, too.

You open your mouth, ready, so willing to accept him. He’d never say no to you, and he’s not going to start tonight. His tongue eagerly slips into your warm cavern and is immediately greeted by yours as he traces and flirts with it. 

God, the taste of you is perfect.

If he could drink every bit of your saliva, thick and minty, he would. 

Sakura pulls back, his chest aching a bit as he does so, but this question is important.

Breathy, soft whispers from a mind and body that is so lost in his lust for you can’t stop him from checking on your well-being. “Is this… you ok?”

“Mmmhmm”

His thrusts are steady and deep, practically slow, as he pulls out until the head of his dick stretches your tight hole to the thickest part of him. He’s then languidly pushing back in, savoring you and how you feel around him. He knows the feeling so well, yet it feels novel every time.

His eyes watch your face as your brows furrow; your tongue darts out past your lips to moisten them, the way your mouth falls open when he grinds the tip of his dick against your g-spot.

You’re so beautiful. 

His hand travels down and finds your clit. His thumb gently pushes the hood back, flattening the pad of his thumb he gently flicks at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re so warm and drooling with want from him that he lets out a whimper.

 “I love you.” 

Your breathing quickens, but you lap up his words like they are a scarcely available resource. When Haruka Sakura tells you he loves you, he means it. 

“Love you too, Kitten.”

“I want to make you cum. You think you can be a good girl for me and cum?” 

“Yes, baby, I’d love that. Almost there, please don’t stop, Haru.”

“No, never.” 

He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, moaning as your fingers rake through his hair. Every part of you is his favorite, but your breasts hold a special place in his heart. He sucks on them maybe a bit too eagerly, but you don’t seem to mind; as he pops each nipple out his mouth, they glisten with saliva and stiffen into needy peaks.

Your pussy is clenching him more now; he can tell that you’re close, and he loves that he can do this for you. 

His thrusts have picked up slightly in speed, but they’re harder—communicating more want—the headboard now bucking against the wall and making consistent banging noises. As your cum splashes out of you with every flick of his hips, your inner thighs and his abs being coated in nothing but your slick, you pull him down flush against your soft body.

You see your orgasm before you feel it like fireworks exploding in your brain and setting off each pleasure sensor as your eyes dilate. You get that wonderful lightheaded feeling that comes with taking too many rapid breaths in a short amount of time.

Sakura moans as you clench around him, your walls gripping the head of his cock and massaging that sensitive spot on the underside of his dick. He can feel hot, white streams of his cum pouring into you, filling up every inch of you until your walls are painted white with his seed. He gives you a few more final, deep thrusts to ensure that his nut is deep and buried in what’s his, his thighs trembling at the idea of you being stuffed to the brim with his love, making him absolutely weak.

“Mmm, pervert. Did you just nut inside of me?”

He pulls away, leaning across the bed to grab a towel that’s settled nearby—first to clean you up, dabbing at your folds and thighs, and then himself.

“Sorry, should have used your face for target practice. Go pee so you don’t get a UTI.”

He helps you up; your eyes are still half-open as he guides you to the bathroom. As he hears the click of the door and the sound of a steady stream hitting sitting water, he turns to continue his routine. 

Sakura grabs the previously discarded white tee, places it on the bed for you, and then heads to the kitchen. He grabs a glass of water and a granola bar, just in case, and places both items on your side of the nightstand. 

He looks down at the sheets and briefly considers changing them; streaky, white, wet stains stand out as evidence of your lovemaking, but he hears the sound of water coming from a faucet, and he doesn’t want to hinder your sleep any longer.

You exit the bathroom, rubbing your eyes and yawning. 

“Here,” he says, getting up with the shirt, pulling it over your head and down your body, and then guiding you back to bed.

You snuggle up next to him, and you drift off. Typically, Sakura might spend this time staring at you, wondering what you’re dreaming about as your face gives way to adorable expressions in your sleep, but this time, he joins you in your slumber instead. 

[adrealucia]

New Beginnings

tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk, definitely slow burn chapter summary: new ideas, a heavy storm, shadow puppets, and a slumber party. a little bit angsty but I balanced it out I promise.

Chapter three

After you and the Diaz Brothers finish up all of your Tamales and wrapped up the conversation, you return to your modest house, a cozy space with a view of the ocean. Settling down at your makeshift desk—a sturdy wooden table with a stack of papers and a laptop—you begin to structure the business plans for Diaz’s Garage. When you woke up this morning you couldn’t have thought that tonight you would be sitting at your desk returning to your role as a business manager especially not for Sean Diaz the local mechanic. 

The sound of waves crashing against the shore outside provides a soothing background as you spread out notes. Ideas for expanding the garage's services and enhancing its appeal to the community fill your mind. You envision new service packages, partnerships with local businesses, and sustainable practices that could set Diaz’s Garage apart. Sean has been talking about expanding the Garage, so that would be the first idea you will be working on. 

“So, regular maintenance packages…” you mutter aloud, jotting down notes and adjusting numbers on your laptop screen. The possibilities seem endless, fueled by Sean's vision and your own growing understanding of the local market. You work for hours and hours on these plans. Honestly, you totally forgot that you are a master in this field and the Diaz Garage, as well as Sean and Daniel, are so different from the workplace you had back home. It all feels so exciting and new and it makes you want to pull an all-nighter, but that wouldn’t be very smart so after a few hours and many good ideas and plans you decide to wrap things up and go to bed. Excitement bubbled within you as you drove through the familiar streets of Puerto Lobos once again, heading towards Diaz’s Garage. Today was the day you planned to present Sean with your refined business ideas, eager to discuss the future of the garage over breakfast. You sent him a text last night, asking if it would be okay to come over in the morning, and the gentleman that he is Sean answered that he would be preparing a nice breakfast and be waiting for you. The morning sun painted the town a golden hue, and the salty breeze from the ocean filled your senses with a sense of anticipation.

Pulling up to the garage, you found Sean already waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall with a charming smile on his face. His hair, tousled by the ocean breeze, only added to his relaxed demeanor.

"Hey there," Sean greeted you with a grin, his eyes lighting up as he approached your car. "You look like you've got big plans brewing today."

You stepped out of the car, returning his smile. "Big plans indeed. Can't wait to hear what you think."

Sean chuckled softly. "I’m all ears. But first, breakfast."

He gestured towards a small table set up with breakfast under a nearby awning. The spread included fresh fruit, pastries, and a pot of steaming coffee. The aroma of the coffee mixed with the salty air, created a perfect backdrop for serious business talk and playful banter.

As you sat down, Sean poured you a cup of coffee and sat across from you. "So, what’s the big idea?"

You took a sip of the coffee, savoring the moment before launching into your plans. "I’ve been thinking about expanding the garage’s services—regular maintenance packages and eco-friendly options. I’ve also found some potential partnerships with local businesses that could really boost our visibility." Daniel, who had just joined you and already started snacking on some of the fruits, perks up at the mention of new ideas. “Do you think we could start doing custom modifications? Like those cars you see in magazines?”

Sean nods, smiling at his younger brother’s enthusiasm. “Absolutely, Daniel. And I think with your creativity, we could really make a name for ourselves.”You glance at Sean, impressed by his vision and determination. “It sounds ambitious, but I think it could work. Especially with the right partnerships and marketing.”

Sean meets your gaze, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “That’s what I like about having you around. You see the potential in things.” You feel a warmth spread through you at his words, grateful for the opportunity to contribute. “I believe in what you’re doing here, Sean. And I’m excited to see where we can take Diaz’s Garage.”

Sean nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you with genuine interest. "Sounds like you’ve been busy. I like where this is going. Sustainability is definitely a selling point around here. And custom mods? That could attract a whole new clientele."

Encouraged by his response, you leaned forward, the playful glint in your eye matching his. "I knew you'd see the potential. With your expertise and my ideas, Diaz’s Garage could become the talk of Puerto Lobos."

Sean chuckled a hint of flirtation in his voice. "Well, we already are the talk of the town, but I’m all for making a bigger splash."

The morning passed in a blur of productive discussion and shared laughter, each idea sparking new possibilities and strengthening the connection between you and Sean. His ability to blend professionalism with playful banter kept the atmosphere lively and engaging. “So, what’s next on our path to world domination?” Sean teased, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

You laughed, enjoying the easy camaraderie. "First, Puerto Lobos. Then, who knows? The world might not be ready for us yet."

Sean leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Well, let’s start with Puerto Lobos then. We’ll take it one custom modification at a time."

As you and Sean continue to brainstorm and outline plans for the future of the garage, the sky outside begins to darken, signaling the approaching storm. “Looks like a storm’s coming,” Daniel says, worry creeping into his voice.

Sean glances out the window and nods. “A big one, by the looks of it. Maybe we should start securing the place.” Well you think to yourself, this took a quick turn. Nonetheless, you quickly get up from your seat and immediately begin to help.

You and Sean quickly begin preparing the garage for the impending storm. You help move the more valuable tools and parts to higher shelves, while Sean checks the drainage around the building. Daniel, sensing the urgency, pitches in without hesitation. For the whole time that you have been living here in Puerto Lobos, the weather has always been nice, of course, there were some rainy days but Daniel and Sean sure seem to be preparing for the end of the world. 

As the wind picks up and the first drops of rain begin to fall, you realize the storm is going to be worse than you all anticipated. The town’s streets quickly become rivers of muddy water, and the power flickers before finally going out. The Garage is pitch Black and you now really have to squint your eyes in order for you to see something. You wish you could at least grab some candles, but there is just not enough time, the rain is already pouring so heavily you are scared it might flood the whole place.

“We need to get the sandbags,” Sean says, his voice steady but urgent. “We keep them in the back for situations like this.”

Together, you and Daniel follow Sean to the back of the garage, where you haul out heavy sandbags and position them around the garage’s entrance to keep the water out. The rain pounds down harder, and the wind howls through the trees, but the three of you work in tandem, your efforts synchronized.

“Grab that side,” Sean instructs, pointing to a particularly heavy bag. You and Daniel lift it together, your muscles straining but your determination unwavering. The storm’s fury outside seems to strengthen your resolve.

As you work, you notice Daniel’s hands shaking slightly, his eyes darting nervously at the storm outside. You exchange a concerned glance with Sean, who gives you a reassuring nod. 

Inside the garage, the three of you take shelter as the storm rages outside. The power outage leaves you in near darkness, save for the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the room. You find a few candles and light them, their warm glow creating a small island of light in the otherwise dark and stormy night.

Daniel huddles close to you and Sean, his fear evident. “I really hate storms,” he admits, his voice small. Poor Daniel you think to yourself. When you were a little kid you also always were scared of these kinds of storms, especially thunder used to give you the heebie-jeebies. 

Sean wraps an arm around his brother, pulling him close. “Hey, we’re safe here. The garage is sturdy, and we’ve done everything we can to keep the water out.”

You reach out, placing a comforting hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Think of it as an adventure, it’s like we’re on a mission to save the garage from the storm! And we’re winning. We’re here together, and we’ll get through this.”

Daniel nods, trying to be brave. “Yeah, like a mission. We’ve got this.”

As the storm rages on, you all sit close, the howling wind and pounding rain a constant backdrop. To lighten the mood, you start sharing stories.

Trying to cheer Daniel up, you say, “I remember one time during a blackout, my friends and I made shadow puppets on the wall. It was silly, but it made us forget the storm outside.”

Daniel manages a small smile. “Maybe we should try that.”

Sean grins. “Why not? It might be fun.” He turns to you, a playful glint in his eye. “Got any good shadow puppet skills to show off?”

You laugh, glad for the distraction. “I might have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

As you and Sean make various shadow puppets on the wall, Daniel’s laughter gradually replaces his fear. The tension eases, and the storm outside becomes a distant worry. The living room feels less like a refuge from the storm and more like a sanctuary of shared strength. Hours pass in a blur of stories, games, and moments of quiet contemplation interrupted only by the storm’s relentless assault outside.

Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you all. Sean looks out the window, the storm still raging with no sign of letting up.

“I can’t let you drive back home in this storm,” he says, his voice carrying genuine concern. “It’s too dangerous out there right now.” You glance outside at the torrential rain and nod in agreement. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild out there. I don’t think I’d make it far.”

Sean nods thoughtfully, then stands up with determination. “I’ll set up the couch for you. It’s not much, but at least you’ll be dry and safe here.”

Grateful for his concern, you offer a faint smile. “Thanks, Sean. I appreciate it.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Of course. We’re all in this together.”

With careful steps to avoid the scattered tools and equipment, Sean clears a path to the couch in the living room. He pulls out a blanket and fluffs the pillows, creating a makeshift but comfortable spot for you to spend the night.

“There,” Sean says, gesturing toward the couch. “It’s not the four seasons, but it should do the job. Get some rest. We’ll figure things out in the morning.” As you settle onto the couch, Daniel stands nearby, looking a bit hesitant. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern.

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, Daniel. Thanks for asking.”

Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair affectionately. “Alright, bud. Time for bed. We’ve all had a long day.” Daniel reluctantly heads to his room, and Sean lingers for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “If you need anything, my room’s just down the hall.”

“Goodnight, Sean. And thanks again.”

Sean gives you a warm smile before heading to his own room, leaving you in the quiet and comfort of the living room. As you drift off to sleep, the storm’s roar outside gradually fades into a distant rumble, replaced by a sense of safety and gratitude for the unexpected refuge found in the midst of the tempest. Hours later, you’re jolted awake by a loud crash of thunder. Disoriented and groggy, you struggle to get your bearings. The room is dim, lit only by the flickering light of a candle. The storm outside is relentless, the wind howling like a wild beast, and the rain pounding against the windows in a chaotic symphony.

Suddenly, you hear the unmistakable sound of Daniel’s voice, filled with fear. “Sean! Sean!” His voice is a high-pitched wail, cutting through the storm’s roar. You sit up, your heart racing, and see Daniel standing in the hallway, his small frame shaking visibly with fear.

Sean, ever vigilant, is instantly alert. He emerges from his room in a rush, his eyes wide with concern. “Daniel, it’s okay. It’s just a storm,” he says, wrapping his arms around Daniel in a protective hug. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

You rise from the couch, feeling a deep sense of empathy for the frightened boy. Moving to stand beside them, you gently place a hand on Daniel’s back. “Hey, Daniel,” you say softly, your voice calm and soothing. “We’re all here, and we’re all safe.”

The three of you move back to the living room, where the flickering candlelight casts long, comforting shadows on the walls. The storm’s rage seems slightly muted within the warm, dim glow. Sean guides Daniel to the couch, his arm still wrapped around his brother’s shoulders. You sit beside them, your presence a steadying force.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel whispers, his voice trembling as he looks up at you both. “I just… I got so scared.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Sean murmurs, pulling him close and ruffling his hair gently. “Storms can be really scary. But we’re together, and that’s what matters.”

You nod in agreement, giving Daniel a reassuring smile. “Yeah, and we’re not going anywhere. We’ll stay right here until it’s over.”

Daniel looks up at you both, his fear slowly subsiding. “Can I stay with you guys?” he asks, his voice small but hopeful.

“Of course,” Sean says immediately, his voice firm and comforting. “We’ll all stay right here.”

The three of you huddle together on the couch, the storm’s fury raging outside but feeling less threatening with each passing minute. You start sharing stories again, trying to lighten the mood and distract Daniel from the storm. Sean tells a funny story about their old neighbor in Seattle who used to garden in his pajamas, making Daniel giggle despite himself.

You join in, sharing a silly memory from your own childhood, and soon the living room is filled with soft laughter. The candlelight dances across your faces, casting a warm glow that contrasts sharply with the storm’s cold, harsh presence outside. The howling wind and the thunder’s roar become background noise as you all focus on the stories and each other’s company.

As the night wears on, Daniel’s eyelids grow heavy, his fear slowly giving way to exhaustion. Sean wraps an arm around his brother, pulling him close, and you find yourself leaning against the armrest, feeling a sense of peace despite the storm outside.

“Remember that time we camped in the backyard, and the tent collapsed?” Sean asks, his voice soft and filled with nostalgia.

Daniel nods sleepily, a small smile on his face. “Yeah… you blamed it on a bear,” he mumbles, snuggling closer to Sean.

Sean chuckles. “It was probably just the wind. But you were so brave.”

You reach out and gently squeeze Daniel’s hand. “You’re brave now, too. Storms can be scary, but you’re handling it really well.”

Daniel looks up at you with sleepy eyes, his fear almost gone. “Thanks,” he whispers. “I feel better with you guys here.”

As the storm continues its relentless assault outside, exhaustion eventually overtakes you all. Sean, Daniel and you nestle together on the couch, finding warmth and safety in your closeness. The candle burns low, its light casting a gentle glow on your faces.

The last thing you hear before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of rain against the windows, the wind’s howl gradually fading into the background. The warmth of the Diaz brothers by your side and the knowledge that you’re all in this together brings a deep sense of comfort and peace.

authors note: hihi i hope you guys liked this chapter, I mean whats a better way to get to know somebody than being locked up because of a huge storm right? anyway even though Daniel is already sixteen in this fic he will always be a little kid deep inside of my heart. I cant wait to continue this fic and I am excited to hear about your opinions.

[babydollmarauders]

YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n spent her high school years changing herself to become what she thought was Jack’s type, but when they meet again a few years later, she learns that she never needed to change in order for him to like her.

warnings: eating disorder mentioned and lightly described, weed mention/use, alcohol mention/use, light profanity, changing yourself for a guy (yes, that is a warning), this is mostly angst.

notes: one of my most relatable Taylor songs to my favorite guy <3 this was proofread but if you see anything insensitive, please let me know so i can change it. for timeline purposes, i should mention that i wrote this with a summer birthday in mind for y/n.

important: THIS FIC IS NOT ROMANTICIZING ED’S. if you’re struggling with an ED, please know that you can message me any time! i understand the pain and frustration and i will always be there to help in any way possible.

14 YEARS OLD

it was in my freshman year of high school that i noticed i was a bit different than other girls my age. with them having middle school relationships under their belt, and most being in sports rather than chorus like me. i didn’t really think much of it, as boys played no part in my life besides as defacto muses for my songs. but i still felt out of place.

16 YEARS OLD

it was in the summer before my junior year that i met Jack Hughes. a USNTDP hockey player and my first official crush. my family had rented a lake house and the Hughes’ ended up being our neighbors for the summer. My parents quickly befriended Ellen and Jim, and when they realized they had children the same age, all four of them tried for weeks to get Jack and i to hang out. but to no avail, because i was shutting myself in my room for some quiet writing time, and Jack was always busy with his brothers. but when i had slipped away from my parents to go for an evening swim one night, apparently Jack had the same idea. we saw each other at the lake and got to talking, becoming friends pretty quickly after that. it was 2 weeks into the friendship that i realized he made me feel things that my other guy friends didn’t.

when we split up at the end of the summer, we promised to text, but a couple weeks later i was pleasantly surprised when i was called into the school office to show him around. with pretty similar schedules, we were seeing each other in school quite a bit, and from that our friendship only grew. i sat with him and his friends at lunch, he would pick me up for school on the mornings that my car wouldn’t start, and he would even walk me to my classes sometimes.

but because of that, my feelings grew too. i did a full one-eighty, changing my entire personality. i stopped spending my weekends at home, instead opting to attend parties, just in hopes of seeing Jack there. and i found any excuse to talk to him, for even just a minute.

**

i’m sitting in my room, struggling with my math homework when my phone starts ringing. i peel my eyes away from the worksheet to glance over at it, and my heart flutters when i see Jack’s name, his picture lighting up the screen. i quickly press the answer button, holding the phone up to my ear.

“hey” i say.

“hey! you texted saying you have a question?” his voice is raspy, words coming out slow and slightly slurred, and i can hear Trevor, Alex, and Cole talking in the background. he’s smoking weed.

“uh, yeah. i had a question about the Algebra 2 homework, but i can just ask you tomorrow when you’re in a better state of mind.” i laugh.

“how’d you know?” i can hear his grin through the phone, and it makes me smile.

“call it best friend’s intuition. i’ll let you get back to the guys.” i tell him. we say our goodbyes and i hang up, taking another second to stare at my phone with a goofy smile before i turn back to my math homework.

**

during the school year, i listened to him talk about each girl he was seeing throughout the year. each of them pretty, skinny, and blonde. and eventually, i wondered if he would like me as more than his annoying best friend, if i looked like those girls. so i would stare in my mirror for hours some nights, pinpointing things i should change about myself. as like most teenage girls, i had always been insecure, wishing to change myself. but now i learned to use Jack as an excuse for it. and from there, things started developing.

i begged my mom for weeks to let me dye my hair, and when she finally caved, i went to the salon and went blonde. but my hair wasn’t the only thing that changed. my eating habits were altered. slowly at first, just cutting out certain foods, and then all at once. i started skipping meals, excusing myself from dinner by saying i had a large lunch, leaving the house quickly in order to avoid breakfast, and only eating at lunch when Jack expressed concern about my lack of food. like now.

“good afternoon, hockey knuckleheads. your favorite person has arrived.” i announce my arrival at the lunch table while dropping my book bag by my seat, interrupting the boys current conversation. they all look at me, quickly saying their hello’s.

“y/n, you’d give me an autograph, right?” Trevor asks, and my face pinches in confusion.

“uh, what?” i ask.

“like, if you knew you were gonna be famous one day. you’d give me an autograph right now, right?” he clarifies.

“ignore him.” Jack laughs, pushing Trevor’s face away from he and i. he turns back to look at me, eyeing the empty tabletop in front of me. his smile drops and he turns to his backpack, pulling out a protein bar. he throws it over on the table in front of me, it landing with a smack, making me flinch.

“eat.” he tells me. my eyes bounce between the snack and him, studying his serious expression.

“i’m fine, Jack. i ate a big breakfast this morning, so i’m not hungry. keep this for when you need it at practice.” i tell him, sliding the snack back towards him. but of course my stomach speaks volumes, deciding right then to grumble loudly. Jack raises an eyebrow at me and slides the bar back over to me. i sigh, opening it up and taking a bite. he smiles at the sight, and it makes my heart skip a beat.

“good girl.”

17 YEARS OLD

it’s the end of senior year now, and i’ve gotten no closer to dating Jack than i was before. i’ve spent countless nights alone in my room, writing songs about him and crying over snapchat stories of him with other girls.

it’s another friday night, and that means another party in hopes of Jack seeing me dressed up. this time, my own party. with my parents out of town for the weekend, i took the chance to throw a party, inviting what felt like my entire grade in a mass text.

i walk around the house, my blonde hair curled and in a half-up-half-down do. i’m decked out in a tight fit black mini dress with black ballet flats to match, and i did a full glam makeup look. i scan the living room for Jack, but when i finally find him, i immediately feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

he’s sat on the couch, a pretty blonde draped across his lap, whispering in his ear as he nods, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady, and a grin on his face. our friends were sat around him, some having their own discussions, and some singing along to the music playing on the surround sound speakers.

i go to spin back around, fully planning on going upstairs to my room for a quick cry, but before i can fully turn, i lock eyes with Jack. he raises his hand in a wave and beckons me over and i offer a weak smile in return. i look around the party once more and feel something snap inside of me.

i feel so stupid. i’ve spent the last almost two years of my life changing myself to try and get his attention and to have him look at me in a new light. spent almost two years overanalyzing his every move and i let my final two years of high school slip by me. instead of living in the moment and enjoying my rapidly declining time with my friends, i was wondering if Jack had seen my snapchat story, or if he did then why didn’t he slide up? amongst various other things to do with him.

i was done revolving my entire life and every decision i make around a guy who obviously doesn’t like me the way i like him.

21 YEARS OLD

it’s been four years since i started living for myself. in that time, i went to a treatment center for my eating disorder, graduated college, moved to New Jersey for a new job, and made new friends. i haven’t talked to Jack in three of those years. not because i didn’t want to, but because after high school, our friendship fizzled out. he went on to play in the NHL, and i went to college. we both lived busy lives, and it became too much to handle. i still talk to the other guys, Trevor the most, but not nearly as much as i used to.

now i’m sat in a club. it’s a saturday night, and my friend Yaz wanted to go do her favorite hobby. seeing how many men she can get to buy her free drinks. currently, she’s chatting up a cute brunette with an accent out on the dance floor, and i’m sat by myself at the bar. drinking an almost gone shirley temple and wondering why i agreed to go out when i would much rather be snuggled on my couch with a blanket and a movie. i’m debating telling Yaz that i’m gonna leave, when a guy sidles up next to me, taking the seat on my right and throwing me a smile.

“hi, i’m Dawson.” he holds his hand out and i slip mine in it, shaking.

“hi, i’m y/n.” he nods before turning back to a table of guys.

“IT’S HER!” he yells over, and my brows furrow, face pinching in confusion. he turns back to me and smiles again. “sorry. my friend said he thought he knew you, but he didn’t wanna come over and then be wrong.”

it’s at that moment that a shadow encases us, and i glance over my shoulder to see the one person i wasn’t expecting.

“hey!” Jack takes a seat on Dawson’s abandoned chair. i didn’t even notice he had slipped away. “it’s been so long!”

i blink a few times, just taking in the man in front of me. he looks good. like, really good. i wasn’t naive enough to think that the love i held for him had been snuffed out, i’m just comfortable with myself enough now, that i know that changing myself for him won’t do anything except hurt me.

“hey.” i breathe out. “wow. uh, i wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“yeah, i wasn’t really expecting to see you either. what are you doing in New Jersey?” he asks. okay, it’s not like i’m stupid. i knew Jack lived in New Jersey. i just also know it’s a big state and the possibility of us running into each other was slim. but apparently the universe likes to laugh in my face.

“i live here.” i tell him. “i moved here a few months ago, for a job.”

“and you didn’t call me? i thought we were friends!” he jokes, and i stiffen at the word. friends. yeah, that’s all we’ve ever been. “can we go somewhere? to talk?”

i nod and he leads me out of the club. i send a quick text to Yaz that i went outside for a few minutes, and she responds with a thumbs up emoji. Jack and i stop outside the entrance. the club stopped letting people in about half an hour ago, so there’s no line, just us and a bouncer standing about fifteen feet away at the entrance.

“well, you look good! you went back to your natural hair color, i like it. it suits you better than the blonde.” Jack starts off, and his words strike a nerve in my heart. he didn’t like me blonde? i knew it didn’t change anything with how he felt about me, but i didn’t know he disliked it in general.

“you look healthier too. that makes me really happy, y/n. my mom told me a couple years ago that your mom said you got treatment for your…disorder. i’m really proud of you.” my heart breaks a little more at his soft tone, he seems genuine. “i saw you earlier, with your friend. you have the spark in your eye back. i’m really glad you seem happy again. i’m just sorry i didn’t do anything before, to help you with anything you were going through. i was a naive kid, i just thought you’d come to me if you were struggling. but looking back, i realize that i should’ve reached out to help you regardless.”

“Jack, you shouldn’t blame yourself. you were a kid. i was a kid too, i didn’t understand the full extent of what i was doing.” i tell him. tears prick at my eyes and i blink them away.

“can i ask you a question?” he asks.

“of course.” i nod.

“why did you do it? was there a reason? i mean, at the time, it felt like you completely just changed overnight. but maybe it was a gradual thing and i just didn’t realize it back then.” i lose hope in keeping my tears at bay, letting one roll freely down my cheek. “you don’t have to tell me. obviously. it’s your business. i just- i’ve been wondering.”

i take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to explain.

“i was a naive kid, Jack. i liked a guy and i thought if i changed myself, maybe he would like me too. but it didn’t work, and instead i realized that i was just harming myself by not eating, doing things i hated, going to parties just to try and get his attention. looking back at it now, it was stupid. but back then, it seemed like the best idea i had ever had.”

“you did all that for a guy?” he asks. but his tone isn’t the usual one i get from people when i tell them about my past. it’s not incredulous, or judgmental, or even pitiful. he just sounds, sad. i just nod my head. “well, whoever he was, he wasn’t worth it. if a guy doesn’t like you for you, then he’s an idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you. i’m really glad you see that now. although, i wish you would’ve known it before.”

if only he knew.

“switching the topic.” i say, and he lets out a small breathy chuckle. “how have you been?”

“i’ve been good. just, trying not to get injured on ice, ya know?” i nod along.

“oh yeah, i remember. i still don’t understand why you would put yourself through that barbaric game.” i joke and he laughs. the sound causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach, and it almost feels no time has gone by at all. i still feel like a lovesick teenager.

before either of us can speak again, my drunk friend stumbles out of the club, an arm looped through Dawson’s.

“hey, i thought i’d bring this one back to you. she kinda seems like she might need to sober up some.” Dawson tells me, and i thank him. Yaz lays her head on my shoulder, and Dawson says his goodbye to me and Yaz before slipping back inside.

“who’s this?” Yaz stage whispers, studying Jack who still stands in front of me. Jack and i laugh at her drunken attempt at being quiet.

“this is Jack.” i tell her. “Jack this is my friend, Yaz.”

“Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack.” Yaz repeats, and it’s like i can see the gears turning in her head. “that name sounds so familiar. Jack.”

“hey, wait! isn’t that the name of that guy you told me about? the one you were madly in love with in high school?” she blurts out, and my eyes turn as wide as saucers. i can feel my face heating up. i turn to look at my friend, who apparently has absolutely no filter when she’s had too much to drink. before any of us can say another word, a blue car pulls up and Yaz’s sister, Cara, steps out. “Yay! my ride!”

Yaz stumbles over to her, only stopping to turn and blow me a kiss before letting her sister help her in the car. Cara throws me a smile and a goodnight before getting in herself and driving away. leaving only me and the guy Yaz just exposed my love for.

i turn back to Jack, finding him wide eyed and repeatedly blinking. i open my mouth, but nothing comes out. i’m not sure what to say. but apparently Jack does.

“it was me?” he asks, pointing to his chest. “i was the guy?”

i feel like i might be sick. i never meant for him to know. i thought i would take that secret to my grave. i manage a weak nod, not able to physically speak.

“why- i mean- why did you think you had to do those things to yourself, y/n? i- i’m just— i’m so confused.”

“you had a type.” i shrug. “you dated all these girls, in high school. and they all had the same things in common. blonde, skinny, pretty, outgoing. you liked all those girls romantically so i thought maybe if i was more like them, you would like me like that too.”

“but i did like you like that!” he exclaims. i furrow my brows and my nose scrunches in confusion.

“what?” i whisper.

“i did like you romantically! i just thought i never had a chance with you. so, i busied myself with other girls. why do you think none of them ever lasted long?” he asks.

“i don’t know, i never really thought about that.” my head swarms with all this new information.

“because, they weren’t you.” he pleads. “i tried to forget those feelings for you by dating other girls, girls that before i met you, were my type. but they weren’t you. none of them were you.”

he steps forward, taking my face in his hands.

“i can’t believe you thought you had to change for me. fuck, i’m so stupid. i should’ve just told you i liked you when i first realized my feelings.” he breathes out.

“you can tell me now if you want?” i offer meekly, my head spinning. i want to kiss him. i’ve waited almost six years for this moment, and dear god i want to kiss him. now quite possibly more than ever.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispers. “i’ve loved you since the summer we were sixteen and you tried to push me off the dock into the lake, and i pulled you in with me. i still remember when you popped back up in front of me in the water. my first thought was ‘she’s so beautiful.’”

i inhale a shaky breath before tilting my head up to cover his lips with mine. kissing him with desperation and need. need to not waste another second that i could spend being with him. Jack is frozen for a second before his lips start moving against mine. his hands trail down my body to grip my hips, pulling me towards him. we fit together like a puzzle piece. my own hands grip the hair at the nape of his neck. we pull away from each other, and i look into his eyes.

“i love you too.” i whisper. “if that wasn’t obvious yet.”

“yeah? i don’t know, i think you might need to show me again.” he smirks and leans back down capturing my lips in a kiss once more.

[bisnes-socks]

kun olin pieni, äiti tiesi; musta tulee herkkusieni. people's champion.

i'm not sure i have a lot to say about this one, because it feels quite straight forward to me but i have a couple of notes about the language and some overall thoughts.

starting with overall thoughts: like i said, i feel like this one is pretty straight forward, i doubt i have anything to say that people haven't already thought of. this song is just the whirlwind of rhe CCC and ESC era condensed into a few minutes, and it's him also finally accepting the title of people's champion and finding a way to be proud of his achievement, even though he clearly wasn't for a bit after it happened.

but i'm very happy that he has accepted it and owned it. he IS the people's champion. and he's allowed to have a complicated relationship to that title, but i'm glad he is owning it.

the song is musically quite punk-esque. the verses having that bass/drop tuned & effect guitar is super interesting and not that typical for his music. the guitar without any distortion at the beginning also something different from him, it's an interesting sound.

it's a nice song to end the album on, a lil thank you song to everyone.

now language stuff.

first of all, is everyone aware of why the theme is mushrooms? champignon being a type of mushroom? i scrolled through wikipedia and it seems quite a few european languages use a version of the word champignon for this specific type of mushroom, so i'm assuming quite a few people would have gotten the connection. in finnish champignon is herkkusieni though. which is a funny word because herkku means delicious and sieni means mushroom. so in finnish they're just called delicious mushrooms. we like to be literal.

(so why use champignon if that word is not used in finnish you ask? well it's printed in big letters on every box of said mushrooms in the shops, so everyone does know the word)

i like the reference to his older songs with "kevät 23 taksit tuli pihaan" meaning (literal translation) spring 23 taxis came to the yard. he uses the line about taxis coming to the yard in a few older songs, usually in connection with partying, so normally in a käärijä song taxis coming is like either taking him and his friends to party or back home. but in this instance, they're there to take him to something completely new, a new adventure, so this time round the line about taxis brings a little bit of nerves with it. it's just clever, to be able to use the same line to create a new kind of tension!

"siit tuli haloo ku tulin taloo" is such a succinct yet accurate way of putting what happened! haloo is literally a finnish translation of the english word hello, but to say something (a situation) is a "haloo" it means it's a bit of a commotion. so "siit tuli haloo ku tulin taloo" means that his arrival to "the house" meaning ESC, turned into full commotion.

in the second verse he says "se oli kaikkee muuta ku divaritasoo" which here refers to divisions in sports like hockey and, as far as i understand, football too. so in finnish hockey terms, the best teams play "liiga" and then there are multiple levels under that level, and the lowest levels are divisions 2-5. division -> divari. so he's saying ESC was anything but division level, meaning of course, that the level there is the highest of high.

now, you might have heard the word divari in the song yhtä vailla as well. "massit palo pipariks, meikäläisen talous uppos niinku titanic. ei oo varaa käydä edes divaris mut tuun silti back niinku Arska ja pistän sikariks." well, in this context divari means a secondhand store, which he cannot afford to visit because all his money is gone. divari is usually a second hand book store or record store, to be specific. in this case divari is short for diverssikauppa, which is a loan word from swedish (diversehandel). note: nobody uses the word diverssikauppa. it's divari, or antikvariaatti.

overall this song feels like he's trying to keep the lyrics super simple too, essentially just explaining what happened. and i feel like it fits this song: anyone who hears it, or even runs it through a translator, can figure out what it's about. and because it's a message to the people, i find it fitting that it's kept quite simple.

it's a pretty cute ending for the album.

[arriansarchive]

HI:D can I request a Will Byers (Season 4?) Like they just came back from Cali to Hawkins and he saw how much change one of his best friend's (the male reader) went through, like taller and deeper voice and stuff. And basically just all fluff cause my boy Will deserves love 😔 thaaanks<3

Will Byers/Tall!Male!Reader

UGH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

I guess since we knew Will that we're part of the party so I just did that

Will does deserve all the fluff I agree heavily

I did basically the entire scene of the time where the pizza van comes to the Wheelers (sorry if it's a different house it's been a second since I've watch season 4)

And okay I didn't remember the exact dialogue and like hell I'm searching up the entire script, so ur gonna have to deal with noncanon dialogue

I'm actually really proud of this sooo happy days yes yes?

OKAY THANK YOU THIS IS SUCH A GOOD PROMPT UR AMAZING

Summary: Look above my little silly notes

Your eyes drooped slightly as the boxes seemed to pile up in front of you. You were beginning to get tired of boxes. Literally.

Steve tried to talk to you a few times, but you didn't really answer with enough worthwhile effort to keep him interested.

You felt a light tap on your shoulder. "Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" You turned around to see Dustin talking to you for what seemed like the millionth time. "You seem a little off."

"I'm just stressed and getting kind of annoyed that no one can see or understand that." You grunted, lifting a particularly heavy box in your arms.

He got a defeated look on his face as he was probably asked to do this by some other idiot trying to snoop, but you brushed it off with a shake of your head.

You wondered who would actually be okay about something like this. You got told Max was in a coma, Eddie's probably dead as well. It seemed stupid to you that everyone was acting like nothing happened.

Karen Wheeler looked over your shoulder and said something nobody was expecting. "Did someone order a pizza?"

Eyebrows were raised and furrowed as people looked back from their boxes. What looked like a pizza van was ripping down the street at a fast pace.

It came to skirting stop, and one of the doors flew open. You were more confused then you liked to admit; did anyone order a pizza?

Your eyes widened from their previously sleepy state whenever you saw Eleven, Will, Jonathan, a random guy you didn't know, and Mike step out of the side door.

The gaze that was originally fixed on the guy you didn't know switched immediately to Will. He's been your best friend for years, and you had missed him very much.

He met your awed stare with a giant, warm grin. A grin that you had longed for ever since he left a year ago. Phonecalls weren't enough to satisfy you.

"Will!" You called out, a smile matching his present on your face.

"Y/N!" He sounded relieved, but his eyes were red and a little puffy.

Will pulled you into a tight hug whenever he got close enough. You felt sparks light up in your stomach, and it felt like they were going to leak over into your mouth and out.

He was warm. It felt like being wrapped in safeness itself.

You had met Will around two years old; your two mother's were good friends throughout highschool and adulthood.

He soon introduced Mike to you, and everyone got along well. Lucas and Dustin came along later. Everything was good for a while.

Will looked up at you, seemingly in surprise. His eyebrows were up high, and his mouth was open wide.

"How did you get so tall in just a year?" He asked with shock.

As if your eyes were deceiving you before you realized that Will was quite a bit shorter than you now. He smiled up at you happily.

"I guess I didn't notice." You mumbled.

He giggled and it made your heart race a little faster. "Your voice is deeper too!"

You smiled widely at him, digging your head down into the crook of his neck. "Damn, I've missed you so much, Will."

"I've missed you too."

You hugged for a while longer before pulling away. He offered to help you with your boxes, and you gladly accepted the help, momentarily forgetting the peril you all were in.

[sanfangirl-cynicalromantic]

The Lady Knight

HTTYD fandom, I am excited to announce my contribution to our fanfic archives! This is my first fic that I've ever posted, so comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Special thanks to @borrassofi, @bi-bi-want-dragon, @triumphantfury, and @macheriemila for all their support and inspiration and letting me tag them!

You can read my fic on AO3 here

Summary: Astrid Hofferson never cared about being a girl, much. But when she overhears her parents' discussion, she decides to become the son they don't have, and train as a knight. After all, how hard could it be? At Training she overcomes grueling exercises, carefully avoids suspicion, and grudgingly makes a friend - the Prince himself. But as she grows and matures, so do her feelings, both guilt and - something else.

She never wanted to be a boy, even though she had wished for it a few times. But a whimsical wish was quite different than devoting oneself to years of careful deception. She had been born into a long and proud lineage of Hoffersons, but this generation, there was no boy. No male to inherit the land and titles and follow in his father’s footsteps to become a legendary knight. To say that her father was disappointed was an understatement, but she took the fact she was female harder than the rest.

She supposed she could qualify as the tomboy of the family. All of the Hofferson girls were beautiful and strong. Their house was one of the most noble in the kingdom, and with only girls, more prone to kidnappings and ransoms; so her father had ensured that all of his daughters knew how to handle a sword when needed. But Astrid’s favorite weapon was her prize axe. She could ride straddle and sidesaddle, and her voice, while still feminine, was rougher than her sisters’.

She had never truly cared much about being a girl, except for the fact that boys got to wear more comfortable clothes and could go to war. She never understood a girl’s limitations until she listened to her father talking to Mother behind the door and realized that being a girl meant you could not inherit the estate, so when Father died, they would be homeless - and her father was nearly eight years older than Mother.

She was creeping down the corridor in her soft cotton nightgown to eavesdrop on her parents. Her fifteenth birthday was coming up soon, and she had caught Mother and Father speaking in hushed voices that would abruptly skid to a stop whenever she entered a room. She had made it a personal goal to find out her party plans or presents before she got them every year; her sisters and sometimes the servants were easy enough to pry the answers from, but it was her parents who she had never been able to best, and this year was her year.

The thick carpet muffled her careful steps and the aged wool scratched between her toes as she made her way to the flickering bar of light creeping out from under Father’s office door. Mother must be pacing inside. She slowly lowered her ear to the crack and closed her eyes to make out the voices better, for Father’s door was thick enough to obscure the words to any spy trying to gather important information. Astrid breathed evenly and ignored the rough pressure of the carpet against her cheek as she carefully tried to shift herself in a better angle. She prided herself on her stealth, knowing not to move too quickly or to try to run if she thought she was found out; those actions only created noise, but Valhalla help her if she was ever found in this embarrassing position!

“. . . what on Midgard are we going to do?” her mother’s voice filtered through - but with a shrill note of panic? Astrid frowned. Was Mother running out of ideas for her party? Surely she wasn’t so spoiled she wouldn’t understand if the celebrations weren't very extravagant? In fact, she was perfectly fine with it just being a quiet affair among the family. And she’d always thought the party ideas were Father’s.

“. . . no need to worry, my dear. I’m in great health; I’m not going anytime soon.” Father’s deep voice soothed Mother’s worry like a balm. What? Was Father not going to be there? He never missed any of his children’s celebrations! Except for that time a couple years back where he had to go help the King in the war, but while it wasn’t won it had calmed, and Berk was well on its way to winning - eventually. But that had nothing to do with his health. Were they even talking about her party?

“There’s no guarantee.” The click of Mother’s heeled shoes was replaced by a thunk and rustling of fabric as she presumably collapsed gracefully onto a chair. “And of course, in a few years we’ll have to find suitable husbands for our daughters while we still have the position to receive good offers-”

“Darling-”

“If only they could inherit! Or if Agor hadn’t-” her voice seemed to crumble at the mention of Astrid’s deceased brother’s name and even the light through the door crack seemed to dim in remembrance. He had passed away when she was very young, so she did not remember him, but he had been the closest to her age and the darling of her parents.

Her mother’s shadow grew bigger as Father joined her on the chair. Astrid could no longer hear what he was saying as he comforted his beloved wife. There was no need to; they clearly weren’t talking about her birthday party. She began to carefully raise herself to make her way back down the hall.

Laying in her soft bed, it was then that she cursed her gender; she hadn’t cared much about it before as she still learned to fight and read and figure like any boy. She enjoyed soft dresses and while her etiquette lessons were boring, she was good at them and had to admit she looked much more graceful from them. But now she wished she could have been a boy. She knew that she could take over her father’s lands easily. She was smart, decisive and strong. If she had been a boy she would have been perfect. But no one other than her servants and family took her orders and ideas seriously. If only she was Agor.

She was the second born of the Hofferson ladies. Her older sister, Astoria, was better accustomed to being a lady than she was; if one compared poise or smiles, they were the same, but her sister had a comfortable ease that Astrid did not possess, but maybe it was just because she was the eldest. She steeled herself and resolutely married into a good family to help the rest of her younger sisters. Astrid was more impressed at her sister’s bravery than she wanted to admit, as it forced her to recognize that she was selfish enough to have not done the same. So, she decided as the next oldest to become the son her father had always wished for, and become a knight. What could go wrong?

A few months after Astoria’s wedding she approached her parents with her brilliant idea. It did not go as well as she hoped. Her mother’s voice reached an ungodly pitch of indignation and disbelief, and her father looked terribly affronted, as if her suggestion had somehow invalidated all of their hard work, but Astrid was nothing if not tenacious and her father rued the day he enrolled her with the debate tutors. She argued that she was the least social of Lord Hofferson’s daughters, so she would raise the least suspicion. Plus, she was the closest in age to the deceased brother she was pretending to be, she continued as she elaborated upon her plan. She was already more skilled at fighting than most other noble boys her age - fifteen - and was confident enough to finally convince a gruff father to give her his honor and her mother to offer to cut her hair. She would be shipped off to training and become a squire that very week, as the annual training that was mandatory for all young aspiring knights was about to begin. The normal practice of squires assisting a knight until they turned eighteen had been done away after none of the said squires were able to pass the test to become a fully fledged knight, and now all squires would be trained together by the same instructor. Father had been very pleased with this announcement when it first came out, but now his enthusiasm for the program had been significantly dimmed.

Her story was that she (meaning Astrid) had a secret twin, Astor. Astor had always been sickly, and after the terrible death of their older brother Agor, Astor had been kept secret from society, as Mother would not be able to bear society’s pity if she lost her other son. She thought the entire idea rather brilliant, and Father sighed and began to mention this secret son of his who had miraculously recovered enough to go to training to anyone whenever business took him outside his castle. A new hair of Mother’s bleached wheat locks shimmered into silver with every passing day, but ultimately Astrid was sure Mother would see that Astrid was doing the best she could for her family. She was sacrificing her whole identity in an effort to create another one to better protect her family. No, it wasn’t marrying a well off lord, but Astrid could only do so much.

.oOo.

The first day of training was terrifying. She had never been so surrounded by warriors, and it thrilled her. All the noble’s sons were staying in the Great Hall, the ancient courtroom Kings used to sit in. Now, the old throne room was a banquet hall, the biggest guest rooms had been converted to classrooms; the smaller ones into separate rooms for noblemen who could afford to pay for their son’s privacy. Father had indulged her and rented one of those rooms so as to not compromise her identity. For if she was ever found out, her virtue and her sister’s by default would be put in terrible jeopardy.

She jumped at anything closer to her than three feet. She was pretty, she knew, what if her face wasn’t masculine enough? She didn’t talk, she was too afraid she wouldn’t sound right. Who on Midgard had said this would be a good idea? Father had left immediately after seeing her trunks deposited in her room, as he did not wish to make it seem he coddled her; fitting in would be hard enough as it was, but now she thought she would have given anything to have him take her back home. She barely slept, certain someone was going to burst through the door and expose her. She nearly cried, something she hadn’t done since she was ten. But if she didn’t cry as a girl, she wouldn’t cry as a boy.

Dawn came with an unbearable clanging. She groaned loudly and sat up as something metal hammered against her door.

“Rise an’ shine, lad!” called a cheerful Scottish voice through the door. Gobber, the retired knight with a peg leg and interchangeable hands. She had been introduced to him the night before, and he’d informed her he’d be in charge of the physical training. She recalled his accent being heavier and more slurred, due to the keg of beer attached to his left stump. How was he so clear headed so early in the morning after that? She emerged from her room a few minutes later, tunic rumpled, short hair mussed, glaring through tired eyes above dark circles. Gobber beamed good-naturedly.

“‘Attaboy,” he grinned. He clapped her on the back, hard, and Astrid stumbled forward a step.

Apparently, Gobber believed that waking up at dawn to learn how to manage heavy wooden practice swords before breakfast was the way to go. “If ye ever haf tuh fight fer yer life, ar’ they gon’ wait til ye finish yer beauty sleep?” He mocked the tired teenagers.

“My manly beauty would be too great for them to handle,” a short, stocky teenager boasted. He wobbled and barely managed to hold his position. The wooden sword shook. “Can’t we have had breakfast, at least?” he whined. Astrid, who had been staring stoically ahead, cast a glance at him. Square face, choppy black hair, whiny, privileged voice; Jorgenson, the Duke’s son.

After a week, Astrid was used to getting up before dawn. After a month, she was waiting outside for Gobber to come get her. He gave her an approving smile and that day he announced that everyone would have to meet him in the Armory on their own, and if anyone was late it would be noted. A chorus of groans followed this declaration, and Astrid resolved to be the first one there every morning.

The Armory was a large room off the side of the Great Hall, and led into the training Arena. The stone walls were rough with hooks and weapons, but the far wall was painted in tar and had a stand for chalk on it. At first Astrid hated how confined the room was, with dangerously sharp or dull weapons crowding everyone (although it did ensure no one cheated and leaned on the walls to catch their breath) and a dozen grumpy boys sweating and stinking up the place. As the days became colder, she was relieved they didn’t have to train outside, but was careful not to show it. If Gobber suspected they were grateful for the Armory, she was sure he’d drag them outside.

There weren’t too many noble boys her age but she managed to play arrogant and aloof well, so no one got close to her and found out her secret. She didn’t want to be friends with the boys, anyway. Did they not take their duty of bringing honor to their families? Her father received letters of glowing praise about his ‘son’ as she quickly rose to the top of the class, being the best at hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, tracking, climbing, everything - well, except riding. That was the only class she was second best in, and it irritated her more than she wanted to confess.

Trying to be a teenage boy was harder than she thought. She had never thought of herself as dainty before, but almost all the boys were tight knit, clapping each other’s backs, roaring loudly with laughter, having food fights, and public baths. She shuddered at the thought. She bathed herself after everyone had gone, and the water was always freezing. She couldn’t wait until she could return home on her yearly visit and soak in a nice, hot, private bath for hours and wear silk robes under no constant fear of what would happen if they found she was a girl - well, young woman.

She had never been very attracted to boys in a romantic sense; she had always been too busy planning and working and practicing, but she feared she would never get married after living with a bunch of male adolescents. They were gross and hairy and sweaty and smelly and vomited after they drank too much. Occasionally one would make a disgusting comment about a lady servant and it was all she could do not to beat them senseless right then and there. The only boy she found herself mildly interested in was a quiet, skinny boy her age.

Everyone in training went by their surnames. She had become Hofferson, the prodigal son. Jorgenson had learned that he only went by ‘Hofferson’ the hard way: she had beat him when he tried to clap her on the back and called her ‘Hoff.’ For some reason, though, this other boy only went by ‘Hiccup.’

She hadn’t even noticed Hiccup in the beginning. At first she had been shocked - was there a noble family by the surname of Hiccup? Then she figured it must be a nickname, as Jorgenson had called him ‘Hiccup’ first. Perhaps he wanted someone with a name just as awful as his (with a name like Snotlout, she could hardly blame him).

Hiccup was scrawny and weak. He could barely hold a sword, much less swing an axe or a mace- which they were going to learn how to use in a few months. Astrid secretly crept out of her rooms every other night with her new axe, made heavier and more masculine looking, to practice. She was frustrated she didn’t see him at night either. She even went every night for a while to see if perhaps they were just missing each other, but no. He didn’t even try to get any extra practice. She didn’t know why the fact irritated her, why she wanted to see him try. It was just because he was exactly what she had been afraid of becoming, she told herself.

Despite his abysmal performance with weapons of any sort, Hiccup made up for it with other things. He was the best rider, and she hated that he just had a natural instinct with the beasts. He was . . . different from everyone else. They made fun of him because of his size, but she noticed that he was quick witted and diplomatic despite being shy. They had vied for the top spot in History and Strategic classes more than once. She knew it wasn’t wise, but she was drawn to him, and knew he was too afraid of her to dare pry or try to make conversation. She knew he was smart, and would have to be on her guard in front of him so he didn’t figure out her secret. Because if anyone was smart enough to find out, it was him. Still, she found herself sitting next to him during Strategy, or standing next to him before they rode their horses.

Winter was reaching its end, and the white, regal snow had turned to muddy slush that was somehow colder and infinitely wetter. Gobber, the wonderful, considerate instructor he was, had them training in the Arena now. Keeping one’s balance was even harder in the slippery sludge, and they were still practicing with wooden weapons, but they had moved on from swords. They were to learn how to handle every weapon, and by the end of the year, they’d be allowed to choose one or two weapons to continue in. Astrid already knew she’d choose her axe, but was enjoying learning to handle all the other weapons as well.

Hiccup was dismally trying to handle a mace. No one really liked the weapon except Thorston, who had declared his weapon’s name ‘Macey.’ Astrid was the nearest to him, executing the eight positions and enjoying the swish of wind the heavy wind made as it swung through the air. He fell, some of the slush splattering on her face. She sputtered, then rounded on him with a glower.

“Watch it!” she growled. Hiccup scrambled up, apologizing profusely. Astrid rolled her eyes.

“What are you even doing with that thing?” she asked sharply. “It’s just like a club, use the momentum and the same eight points of fighting we already know. Did your father teach you nothing?”

Hiccup scowled fiercely at her and picked up his too-heavy mace, gritting his teeth. She frowned. She must have said something wrong. Did he get sullen after she corrected him? Maybe he was just a spoiled noble boy, but no, that didn’t fit him. She resolved to keep an eye on him. She normally didn’t bother apologizing if she accidentally offended someone who wasn’t an instructor, but she felt like maybe this boy could use one.

After the session had finished, she hung up her practice weapon next to him. They were both the shortest of the class, and she had to stretch a little to reach the hook for her wooden mace. Her arms protested but she paid no mind to the ache. She was used to it after five months. Hiccup attempted to do the same, but his footing wasn’t stable and he stumbled, off balance, into the entire wall of practice weapons, the haphazard tumble of metal and wood ringing throughout the stone Armory as they jumped out of the way. Gobber whirled around and groaned in exasperation.

“Hiccup! What’re ye-”

“It was my fault, Sir,” Astrid interrupted quickly. Everyone’s eyes swung to her incredulously. “I lost my balance and knocked into him.” Hiccup blinked his eyes like an idiot. She shot him a look. Play along, it ordered. He blinked again before he caught on and then quickly nodded. Gobber raised one side of his dirty, blonde unibrow.

“Well, Hofferson, seeing as you are so keen to share Hiccup’s punishment, fifteen laps around the Arena. You’ll miss dinner but get a slice of bread before bed.” Astrid nodded stoutly, her stomach tightening in protest. Would word of this reach her parents? Hiccup shot her a glance; he thought she was crazy. That was fine. She thought she might be crazy too. She followed him out the Armory door back into the cold, keeping pace with him as he jogged painfully and slowly around. Her legs and arms were numb and her cheeks chapped red when they finally finished and headed toward the kitchens. Gobber eyed them and handed them a slice of bread each with a slab of butter. They accepted them gratefully and sat by a bench near a stove.

Hiccup frowned at her contemplatively. She didn’t meet his eye as she took a hefty bite of the bread, sighing in relief. He took a shaky breath.

“Thanks for that,” he said quietly. “It did absolutely nothing, taking the blame, but thanks anyway.” A cross between a grimace and a smile crossed her face.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. She met his gaze and he gave her a small, grateful smile.

After that they kept each other company more often than not. They didn’t speak often; she wasn’t inclined to talk much, always wary of her voice, and he didn’t try to pull her into conversation, which she was thankful for. But there was something - comradery, maybe - that was developing as they worked side by side in silence. She wouldn’t say they were friends; it wouldn’t be wise to get close to him. To get close to anyone. You couldn’t make friends if you were keeping things from them, but they cold be friendly, she reasoned with herself.

What she hadn’t known was that he was also keeping things from her.

Training drew to a close. She grew more adept at faking her voice cracking. She learned to laugh in a way that would have made Mother faint. She still refused the alcohol other boys tried to sneak into their barracks, but had figured out plausible excuses. Then the yearly visit to their families came round, and their parents came to collect them. Astrid was curious to see who her ‘friend’s’ parents were. He seemed more nervous and fidgety than normal whenever she mentioned parents. She had guessed he probably didn’t get on too well with them. That was understandable. Her own relationship with her parents had been strained at best throughout the year, as they made it clear they were uneasy with her choice, and Astrid being the stubborn lass she was, never shared her hardships she had to conquer with them, or mentioned how much she dearly missed the rest of her sisters, or the nights she wondered if maybe being a wife was really so awful; surely it wasn’t so bad as her day had been. She’d share only her triumphs with them until they admired the choice she had made.

But despite all this, Astrid was excited to see her parents again. She had never been so close with them before, her interactions and love for them more dutiful than anything, but in her absence, she had received a letter every week and she couldn’t wait to reunite with them again and spend a month in silk gowns and practicing her poise. She would have never thought she would be so excited to be a girl.

The promise of going home soon made her more talkative than usual. Gobber seemed to be glad too, and gave them more time off of practicing weapons handling. After over ten months of handling them, he told them, there wasn’t as much need to practice. Astrid disagreed; she was of the opinion Gobber was tired of stupid boys and desperate for a drink, but she was grateful for the extra time all the same. The days were hot, and most of the boys went swimming, but she couldn’t join them, careful of her female body underneath her boyish clothes. She had stopped wearing long sleeves under her tunic and wrapped her forearms, admiring the toned muscles in her upper arms.

Hiccup still wore long sleeves and didn’t go swimming with the other boys either, so they had sort of mutually agreed to ride together during their free time. She found him in the stables, stroking his black stallion’s glossy coat. “He’s beautiful,” she greeted them, nodding at the horse.

Hiccup acknowledged her with a nod. He patted his horse again - Toothless - before leading him out of his stall. She crossed over to Stormfly, her horse, and led her gently out of her stall so she could begin brushing.

“Toothless?” she had asked incredulously when he had introduced her to his horse.

“Yep,” Hiccup replied, popping the ‘p.’

“Toothless,” she repeated, gesturing at the stallion who was contentedly eating the apple HIccup had just given him - with all his teeth.

“So he won’t bite me,” Hiccup said dryly. Astrid couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“I trained him myself,” Hiccup broke the silence as they began to saddle the animals. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye; she hadn't expected him to elaborate further.

“Where’d you find him?” she asked as she finished brushing out Stormfly’s coat. “I’ve never seen a stallion this fine.”

“He was wild,” Hiccup told her proudly. “We stumbled across each other one day. I was fascinated. He didn’t trust me at first, but I visited him everyday - and, more importantly, brought him snacks.” They snickered and Astrid could’ve sworn the horse rolled its eyes. “Eventually, we became friends, and . . . then I got on his back for the first time.”

“What was it like?” Astrid asked, entranced. She’d never heard Hiccup talk this long, and never so passionately. She realized she had stopped working to look at him, and hastily grabbed her saddle, fastening the straps securely, testing to make sure they were tight enough, but not uncomfortable for her beloved mare.

“He threw me off the first few times,” Hiccup admitted with a small laugh. “But after that . . . it’s like flying.”

“I know the feeling,” Astrid told him quietly. Their gaze caught, the boy’s bright eyes looking at her in understanding and - she felt a weird warm feeling settle in her chest. The hot summer air suddenly made itself known in her flushed cheeks. Had it been this warm a minute ago?

“That sounds amazing,” she said abruptly, wanting to change the subject. “I bet if he hadn’t been wild he would have been fit for royalty,” she joked, part serious. For some reason, Hiccup’s smile seemed to fade at that.

“Haha, yeah. Well, guess it was a good thing he was wild, right,” he scratched the back of his head with a strained smile. Astrid mentally berated herself. She had done something wrong, but she had no idea what.

“My girl’s pretty fast, too,” she challenged him, hoping to lighten the mood again. “Want to race?” She finished with Stormfly’s bridle and swung up easily into the saddle. That brought Hiccup’s smile back.

“Sure,” he agreed enthusiastically. He pulled himself into the saddle with enviable grace and winked at her, before breaking into a lighting-fast gallop. Astrid blamed the foreign fluttery feeling that arose on the thrill of a challenging race as she grinned and followed him.

.oOo.

The day to leave arrived, and she met her parents by the entrance with her luggage. For a second they said nothing, taking in the other’s appearance with wide eyes. Had her father’s hair always had so much gray? She had grown taller, and it was strange for her gaze to settle above her mother’s eyes. She set the luggage down and they embraced. 

She pushed down the sudden tears that threatened and tried her best to keep her personality as ‘Hofferson’ rather than reverting to ‘Astrid’. Time for that later. Her parents chatted amiably with Gobber, the Head trainer, who was ranting about Astrid’ spectacular prowess, and Astrid excused herself to say goodbye to Hiccup. She hadn’t seen him at all that day, which was strange, because she was sure she knew all the spaces he retreated to. Where was he? Did he think they were going to leave before saying goodbye? Why did the thought of that make her feel upset?

She found him surrounded by guards trying to take his baggage for him despite his protests. She frowned as she recognized the livery colors; black and red. And the royal Haddock crest.

“There you are, your Highness,” one of the guards said cheerfully as he secured the last trunk to the back of the carriage and held the door open for Hic - no, Prince Henry. Because of course Astrid was so focussed on maintaining her identity that she forgot the Crown Prince was her age and named Henry. Prince Henry, with the extraordinary green eyes. The Prince who had managed to tame a wild horse. The Prince who looked almost entirely like his slim mother, not the broad king. Her mouth dropped open as everything clicked into place with a rush of confusion, disbelief, and anger. The prince turned to catch sight of her and paled.

“Hofferson-”

Astrid spun on her heel and rushed to her parents, suddenly anxious to be home.

Two months was too long to think, Astrid decided. She would come to a conclusion after hours of pondering in her delightfully hot bath (she had had one every day since she arrived home) but would change her mind in the next one. And she was furious; now she couldn’t even enjoy her hot baths, and it was entirely his fault. 

She knew she was being unfair; how could she be mad at him for not mentioning he was the Crown Prince? It wasn’t like they were friends or anything, and he didn’t even know she wasn’t a boy. So why did a part of her feel betrayed? 

Her options were to deem he was untrustworthy and avoid him, or to confront him about his identity. But he was the Prince; she shouldn't ostracize her future king. But then, none of the other boys in training seemed to have much respect for him. Did they not know who he was either? Why would he not tell anyone? Why hadn’t she ever realized? She was confused and her head was messed up, so after a delightful week of relaxing and regaling tales to her younger sisters, her father had her continue to train to stay in shape and she resumed lady etiquette lessons, trying to learn as much as possible in two months; after all, who knew how long she would stay a squire? Being so busy helped keep her mind off other things, and she decided to forget about Hic - Prince Henry and concentrate on her family. She would deal with him when they saw each other again.

She would never admit it, but he occupied her thoughts far too often. It was because she had nothing better to focus on while at Training, and boring poise made her mind wander. She didn't really find him that interesting.

When she arrived back Gobber allowed one day to settle back in before they went straight into classes. Most people were rusty after a month of lazing about and she silently thanked her father for keeping her in shape. She spied Hic - PrinceHenry making his way over to her a few times, but she always turned around and headed in the opposite direction to avoid him. She wore a fierce scowl, and the boys who had gotten a little more friendly before she left wisely gave her space. 

She hadn’t reached a conclusion about what to do with Hiccup - with The Prince, but she couldn’t let him be the one to confront her. No. That would be cowardly, which was something she refused to be. So, one day after breakfast when they were on their way to another Training session, she walked up behind and punched him. Hard.

Hiccup yelped and jumped to face her, clutching his shoulder. “Wha-? What wa-”

“That’s for lying,” she said sternly as an explanation. He shook his head disbelievingly and glared right back at her, but their sort-of friendship was now closer to a real one. No, they were friends, she realized with a shock. Hiccup was her friend. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but she had a friend now. And her friend should be able to defend himself, she resolved.

She had been back in Training three weeks so far. She was top of the class like last year, but this year she had a different focus than doing well in class. She was looking for Hiccup. Everyone had gone to sleep, even the servants were gone and the kitchens dark and empty. She doubted Hiccup was situated in the barracks with the other boys, since Jorgenson - or Snotlout, as the boy had smarmily insisted - had his own room, surely the Prince would? She crept quietly down the dark corridor, listening through the doors. The door closest to her had no sounds or light coming from it. She knelt down to the door crack to examine further, but had to plug her nose to hold back the sneeze from all that dust. She doubted anyone slept in there.

She turned the corner of the corridor - the corridors were rather small, honestly. Father had at least five sets of rooms per corridor at home, but this was an old building. The next door she listened had a heavy snoring, an awful mix of snorting, choking, and grunting noises. She hoped that wasn’t Hiccup. A small boy like him wouldn’t make sounds like that, would he? Her fingers lightly traced the wood along the door. Ah. Someone had hung an elaborate carved ‘S’ on the door. It was Snotlout’s room. 

She noticed a flicker of light down the corridor, and made her way over to the last door at the end of the hall. A slight glow could be seen if she crouched down and peered under the door, like there was a candle in the next room. She studied the dark wood for a minute. Did the Prince have a set of rooms? She tried the handle. It jangled softly. She let out a huff and cast a look around the shadowy corridor in hopes of finding something to help her. Snotlout’s snores were loud, would he wake up if she knocked on Hiccup’s door? What if Hiccup didn’t hear? She knocked firmly on the door and held her breath to listen. Snotlout’s noise didn’t stutter, but she thought she could make out a shift of a body on sheets.

She knocked again. Then again. She pressed her door against the door and heard a sigh accompanied by a thump. She debated knocking as the flicker of light under the door grew brighter. A key clinked and the door opened a crack. She quickly took a step back.

Hiccup, his brown-red hair longish and a bit tangled, peered out through a crack, a candle’s light illuminating his head’s silhouette.

“Hey,” whispered Astrid. He gave a terrified squeak and jumped back behind the door, another thump sounding and a muffled “ouch.” She pressed her lips together to keep from snorting. He must have tripped.

“You alright?” She asked, not bothering to hide her amusement. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Yep, the Prince had a set of two rooms. The one they were standing  in - well, one standing, the other scrambling to get up - was small, with a tapestry hanging on the wall across the doorway where Astrid guessed his bed and wardrobe lay. There were two comfortable chairs and a desk in this room. The desk was covered in parchment of different sizes and quality and various amounts of ink. She turned her attention away from them despite her curiosity. She had a point being here.

“Hofferson,” Hiccup laughed nervously. “What are- uh, what are you . . . doing here?”

“You weren’t sleeping anyway,” she began. Hiccup looked confused.

“How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?” Astrid’s eyes widened.

“What? I - no, I didn’t know you weren’t sleeping until I came here and saw the light! But it’s good you’re not sleeping. This would be harder if you were tired.”

“What are we doing?” Hiccup asked. Get to the point, Astrid, she told herself. Quit messing around.

“Since you can’t sleep anyway, why don’t you train,” Astrid suggested. He stared at her, nonplussed.

“Yeah, okay, maybe this is just a crazy dream.” He turned towards the doorway, scratching his head. She scowled, and pinched his arm.

“Ow!” he recoiled. “Okay, not asleep. Unfortunately,” he muttered. Astrid raised her eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not good at Training, or anything fighting at all,” he explained patiently.

“Exactly,” Astrid responded with equal patience. “That’s why you would practice, so you’d get better.” Hiccup sighed dramatically.

“C’mon, how’d you think I got so good at fighting?” She prompted.

“I dunno, you were born perfect?” Astrid fought the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“No,” she smirked. “I snuck out every other night to practice.” She saw his jaw drop out of the corner of her eye, impressed. “And that’s what you’re going to do, now.”

“Who says it’ll even work,” he argued, although she didn’t sound as discouraged as he had a moment ago.

“It’ll be worth it,” she promised. “We’ll start with the basics.”

She had noticed during their training that Hiccup struggled with the basic eight positions, causing him to hesitate and lose momentum and focus. 

“Did . . . did your father never teach you this?” she asked quietly after Hiccup flung down his sword upon the Armoury floor in despair for the second time.

“The King is a busy man,” he responded bitterly, “and it’s not like I’m built for fighting anyway.”

“I’m built the same way and I do fine,” Astrid argued, gesturing at her own slim figure. Liar. There were things growing on her in places that were becoming harder to conceal that boys didn’t have, but that was irrelevant. “Now pick up your sword, Your Highness.”

Hiccup scowled and picked up the sword. “No need to call me that,” he said, and struck at her instead of getting back into position two. Astrid’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she blocked his strike easily. He really didn’t like his honorifics.

“Watch your footwork, Your Highness,” Astrid continued, curious as to how he’d react. He adjusted his stance.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I should get to call you something too.”

“Call me what?”

“Something that annoys you . . . like, Hoffy.”

Astrid stopped still. “Hoffy?”

He snickered. “Hoffy it is.”

“Alright, Haddock, I shan’t call you your highness any longer.”

“But I still get to call you Hoffy?”

“No.” She went on the attack, and swiftly disarmed him. His mouth twisted into a displeased grimace.

“Tell you what,” she amended, “If you train with me every day, and every other night, you get to call me Hoffy once a day. And if you miss a day of training, that privilege is revoked, so use each time wisely.” Hiccup sighed dramatically.

“You drive a hard bargain, sir,” he said gravely, “But I accept your terms.” He held out his hand in an over-formal manner. She took it and they shook with straight faces before collapsing into laughter.

Astrid wasn’t the only one to rope her friend into her schemes. It turned out Hiccup enjoyed spending time at the smithy to the point where the blacksmith grudgingly accepted him as his sort-of apprentice. Astrid knew how to sharpen her ax or sword, but enjoyed hearing Hiccup explaining the finer art of smithing. He had his own little back room full of scrap metal and hasty diagrams. It was cramped and humid, and quickly became one of Astrid’ favorite places.

He had many ideas and contraptions he wanted to try out, most of which were unsuccessful, but she cheered her friend on despite the disasters and took to creating elaborate alibis to cover him so they wouldn’t get caught. Later, after narrowly escaping the ire of Gobber or Mildew the head servant or whatever poor soul had been affected, they laughed off their ridiculous cover stories, each one more impossible than the last.

They couldn’t always avoid getting into trouble though. Hiccup’s latest contraption, the Mangler, he called it, had been brought outside for testing. Hiccup wanted to see if it could take down the miniature catapult they had built. If the endeavor was successful, he explained, their army could use it to take out the enemy’s long range missiles. But the testing process was dangerous.

Astrid stood beside him, excitedly watching as he readied the launcher, checked the calibration, and enthused about everyone’s future reactions; he was sure this contraption would work, and they would be hailed geniuses. Personally, Astrid wasn’t so sure. They had never been this naughty before, but she relished it, and figured it would make her posing as a boy more believable; boys did do stupid, dangerous things after all.

“Ready?” he called out.

“Ready,” she confirmed. He bent over the Mangler and took careful aim. He took a breath once, twice. Then on the third exhale he pulled the trigger and the enormous weighted net-slash-bola went flying. She straightened up with a whoop as they watched it soar and plummet.

“Oh no,” cried Hiccup, panicked. She whipped her head toward him in alarm.

“What?”

“I, uh . . . The angle isn’t right; I overshot.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“It’s heading toward the calves.”

She let out a healthy curse and grabbed him, running toward the calves and hollering. The calves scattered at the net came crashing down, wrapping around the fence posts and toppling them with its heavy iron weights. The cows and teenagers stood stock still for a moment, then the animals stampeded over the splintered fence. 

"Well . . . I mean, at least it works."

"We're going to be in so much trouble if someone finds this mess."

Gobber discovered them desperately trying to clear the scene of the Mangler’s evidence, and they were given menial duties and extra exercises for two weeks. It was worth it.

.oOo.

After Snoggletog, Astrid came to a realization. Hiccup was growing.

First he shot upwards, and the developing muscles he was gaining were hard to recognize, as he still looked the same. But then, as they were sparring hand-to-hand one night, she became aware of the fact that he was taller than she remembered, and when he knocked her over, the weight of his body on hers was . . . heavier. And that was all she noticed when she was in that position. She still managed to throw him off and pin him down, but her victories were steadily becoming harder to reach, and their fights were lasting longer.

Hiccup went from being the shortest of the squires in Training to being the tallest. Thankfully, Astrid wasn’t too far behind in terms of height. The roundness of his face dropped off to reveal a razor sharp jaw and pronounced cheekbones. He was still lean, but you could tell he had muscles and shoulders underneath the fabric of his tunics. His pants got tighter (though Astrid would never acknowledge noticing the fact), and with the development of his body the Prince was suddenly more enthusiastic about swimming or sparring with his shirt off. He now looked like a young man, and the only one who called him ‘boy’ was Gobber, and that was just in jest. He was attractive, too, and even the boys who had made fun of him last year were a lot more interested in being friendly with him.

Unfortunately, Astrid was much less happy about her own body’s growth. She was relieved to find she had inherited Father’s height. She was the third tallest among her peers; the only two taller than her were Hiccup and Ingerman. She was not as pleased to discover the growth of her womanly curves, which she had undoubtedly inherited from her mother. She couldn’t allow herself to wear short tunics or too-tight pants (like Hiccup), or her decidedly not masculine hips might be noticed. She had to wrap her chest securely and wore layers to conceal the shapes, but it meant she was often hot. And she couldn’t utilize the baths nearly as often as she’d like. Although she had never put much stock on being pretty, she had always appreciated her fine features. But she had to be careful with how she did her hair and what length she allowed it to grow to. Mother had facial paints to enhance contours and such; Astrid would have to learn how to use them when she returned for the summer.

When summer rolled around and Astrid returned to her family, she found herself writing letters more often to Hiccup than she did to her parents over the entire year. She was the only one who called him Hiccup now. The other boys had taken to calling him ‘Haddock’ when they addressed him - except Snotlout who thought he was entitled to call his second cousin ‘Henry.’

“Why would you like to be called Hiccup if it is the nickname they used to make fun of you?” she had asked him.

“You never called me Hiccup to mock me,” he told her sincerely. His smile turned roguish. “You honestly thought that was my name; you couldn’t recognize your future king.”

She rolled her eyes in chagrin while he laughed. “I was busy with other things!” she defended herself. “And I’m not the only one who can be blind; I bet you couldn’t even recognize a girl if she was under your nose.”

He walked over to her to enhance the height difference between them, looking down at her over his nose. Astrid tamped down the hysterical laugh building in her throat. If only he knew.

“I don’t see you with many girls,” he challenged.

“I don’t bother myself with the ones here; but back at my estate, I’m surrounded by them every day,” she boasted, trying to remember Snotlout’s demeanor when regaling his exploits. What she was saying was true, just not in the way she was portraying it.

“Yes, well, girls have never been interested in me for anything but my position,” he said scathingly. “And I don’t care for simpering maids.”

She had no idea why his answer made her smile.

Back at home, Mother instructed her in the art of makeup, and Astrid practiced diligently until she was satisfied with the almost male face looking back at her in the mirror. She continued her weapons practice in her free time, but Mother insisted on dragging her out to garden parties along with her two unmarried sisters to remind the world that Astrid Hofferson still existed. A wig had been crafted for her to wear over her short hair, and the seamstress had to redo all the sleeves on her dresses, muttering about unladylike muscles. But her parents were pleased to find that Astrid could still conduct herself perfectly among ladies, even if she was a little behind on the latest gossip and scandals. Her curves and pretty features finally came in handy again, and Astrid couldn’t deny the thrill of wearing nice dresses instead of durable tunics, but she quickly grew to miss the freedom of fighting and running off with her friend. She barely knew no one at these parties; they couldn’t risk any of Astrid’s peers recognizing her and blowing her cover, but she felt lonely and out of place.

It was a relief to finally be back in Training. This year, their curriculum would be different; they were old enough to help out in the war - no actual fighting, but helping keep the camp guarded and the odd job that no one had done. Their fighting techniques were good, what they needed now was experience, Gobber had told them when he received his instructions to bring them there. And what better place to gain such experience than the battlefield where everything they had trained for was happening first hand? 

They weren’t allowed to participate in the fighting. They were situated right behind the front lines, on recently conquered land. Injured men were carried on stretchers to the healer’s tent. One of the healers showed them how to bandage and clean a wound. Astrid was a lot better at wrapping than the others, what with her secret monthly bloods and chest bindings.

After they’d been on the battlefield for a week they watched a soldier die. His comrades carried him in, his left arm a stump and his abdomen caked in blood. They watched as his groans faded and the nurses tried to staunch his bleeding, one of his companions sobbing at his bedside. Astrid felt a sense of purpose as she observed the scene; this was what she was fighting for. This was what she was preparing to do for her family. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hiccup quickly exiting the tent and followed him.

He was bent over, heaving. Once he was finished, she knelt beside him, careful to avoid the watery vomit. He didn’t acknowledge her, just closed his eyes and panted. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to break the silence.

“He- he died,” Hiccup said at last, stunned. “He’s dead.”

“He is.” 

He turned pleading eyes to his friend. “But what if - what if there could have been another way? What if he didn’t have to die? Can’t there be another option?”

“People die every day,” she replied carefully. “Maybe, in another world, he would have died today anyway, despite not fighting in a war. Maybe he wouldn’t have. But that man who died today, died for a cause. He fought for something until his last breath; isn’t that the best way to die?”

Hiccup said nothing and raked his hands through his hair.

“You’re going to be King someday,” Astrid continued. She wasn’t sure now was the time for him to hear this, but she wanted to explain her conviction to him, wanted him to understand. “You’re going to be forced to make decisions that get people killed.” Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut. “What's important is that you won’t let those decisions be in vain.”

But despite some of the sobering instances, everything was exciting. Even the tedious waiting behind the lines, doing the dirty jobs the fighters would order them to do and sneaking off to watch the seasoned warriors drink around the campfires and sing songs that made Astrid’s cheeks burn. They had never been to a battlefield before. The cold was biting, the soldiers grim, the landscape gray, and yet, to naive, blood-thirsty teenagers, everything seemed worthy of an epic ballad.

The battle moved further North, yet the knights-in-training stayed, so Astrid and the prince snuck out to practice sparring on an actual battlefield. 

“We haven’t picked up a sword to use it in ages,” she coaxed. “Besides, we don’t want you getting rusty and back to fighting like last year.”

“Ha, ha,” Hiccup said dryly. “I won’t deteriorate that far. I almost beat you last time, remember?”

“Key word being ‘almost’,” Astrid taunted.

Hiccup checked his sword in his scabbard; it was perfectly polished and sharpened. “I’ll beat you one day, Hofferson, just you wait,” he promised.

Their sparring location had been conquered easily and the bodies had been cleaned up and buried or burned for a while, but the echoes of the swords clashing brought to life the recent ghosts of the battle that had just taken place. Before they had taken more than two steps, Astrid struck. Hiccup met her blade with his own with ease as they retreated and met again.

She lost herself in her battle cries and the ringing of the blades. She hit and rolled and twisted and jumped and flicked her blade, but Hiccup’s defense was nigh impenetrable. He struck at her legs and she danced out of the way, unable to get close enough to him to land a blow. Their dirks met again, the hilts so close together their hands were almost touching.

“Call it a draw,” Astrid suggested through a strained grin. Hiccup’s height and weight were an advantage when it was strength against strength.

“Not on your life,” he teased, out of breath, “I got you right where- oh!”

Astrid caught a flash of movement in the darkness off to the side. Without thinking, she leapt forward to knock Hiccup out of the way, taking him by surprise. She gritted her teeth against the sudden slice of fire along her right shoulder.

Henry swiftly rolled on top of her and rose to meet their attacker, gripping the hilt of his sword fiercely. He circled the figure, matching their footwork. They threw a dagger at him, and he moved out of the way at the last second. The blade embedded itself next to Astrid, who flinched but kept quiet. She didn’t need to remind their opponent there was a second person to watch besides the prince. The person drew a sword, and Hiccup attacked.

They were evenly matched, it seemed, and Astrid felt a glimmer of pride until the assailant pushed through Hiccup’s guard. Her friend was driven back, barely able to block each swing. She sat up carefully, breathing through the flare of pain along her shoulder, and grabbed the knife. Hiccup saw her out of the corner of his eye, and his retreats angled until the person’s back was to her. She leapt up and slammed the knife’s hilt upon their head and they crumpled.

She stood across the Prince, panting heavily as he stared down on their aggressor’s form with a savage expression. He blinked and shook his head as if clearing it. His face, usually so cheerful, was grave.

“Are you okay, Hofferson?” he asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine,” she waved him off and walked over to her outer tunic she had shed before the spar, donning it quickly to cover her back. “We should turn him in to Gobber.” Hiccup nodded and they both grabbed an arm, Astrid holding back her wince as her shoulder strained.

Gobber was sitting in his tent when they entered. He shot up in alarm as he took in the figure strung between them. “Holy - are ye okay, lads?” 

“We are. He might not be,” Astrid said as she and the prince dropped the body on the floor. “Caught him trying to sneak into the camp. Tried to kill us.” Gobber’s mouth formed an incredulous O.

“We think he’s from the other side,” Hiccup added.

“Thor’s soiled underpants on his spanked ass,” exhaled Gobber. “Ye could’ve - ye almost got yersel’s killed!!! What were ye thinking, ye daft bams!” He knelt to inspect the intruder’s face and inhaled. “Aye, yer lucky yer still alive.”

“Hiccup fought him,” Astrid said.

“Hofferson knocked him out,” Hiccup added. Gobber cuffed him on his head. He yelped, rubbing his tender scalp with a glare.

“What were ye two even doing outside?” Gobber asked in exasperation. They shuffled their feet and examined the specs on dirt on the tarp floor, dragged in by their boots. When neither of them said anything, Astrid spoke up.

“We were sparring,” she admitted quietly. She didn’t dare look up. Gobber sighed.

“I dinnae ken why ah’m still surprised anymore,” he said, shaking his head. “Ye did good, bringing him in.” Hiccup shifted, a small smile on his face. “But ye fools will be on chamber pot duty for a week!” The smiles fell at record speed. “Were any of ye hurt?” He questioned.

“No, we’re fine,” she interjected quickly. Hiccup shot her a confused glance, but she ignored it.

“Good. Yer dismissed; go! Sneaking off in the middle of the night . . .” Gobber muttered, waving them out of his tent.

Hiccup could clearly see his friend was in pain, but could also tell they didn’t want Gobber to know.

“Hey,” he tugged on Hofferson’s arm. “Let’s go to my tent and get that shoulder cleaned up."

“No need; I’m fine,” they assured him, but he could see the furrow between their brows indicating they were in pain.

“I’m not going to leave you alone until I know you’re okay,” Hiccup threatened. They paused, and rolled their eyes.

“You worrisome idiot,” they huffed. He grinned and pulled them along as they walked to his tent to clean his friend up (it was marginally bigger than everyone else’s). 

Astrid was hesitant to let him treat her. No, she knew she should have just said no; but it had warmed her heart to see him so concerned about her. She was taken with a sudden urge to tell him the truth. She had been feeling these urges for a while, usually after the Prince had told her something personal or after a particularly close escape from trouble, but never as cripplingly strong as now. 

She struggled with herself as Hiccup sat her down on the floor (his tent’s fabric was also thicker than hers) and procured water and some rags. He knelt by her with the supplies, ready for her to take off her shirt. She should tell him. She should do absolutely nothing of the sort. No, she was going to do this; he deserved to know if only to explain why she couldn’t let him treat her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, the words abandoning her at the last second. 

The Prince simply sat there, waiting. He trusted his best friend Hofferson, but he had had his own suspicions that something wasn’t entirely right about him. With his armor off and hair grown longish from their trip, the Prince couldn’t help but think he was remarkably pretty, for a boy. And Hofferson consistently got sick around the same time of month, and he always bathed apart from the rest of them. Hofferson always wore looser clothes than the rest, but no one was immune to sweat, and he had noticed that the tunics never stuck to him quite the same way it did to other boys. Or even sometimes Hofferson’s voice would go high without sounding like it was about to crack. He had a hunch, but had never dared confront him with it; what if his friend were offended?

Astrid braced herself for the plunge. “Hiccup,” she couldn’t meet his eyes. “There's something I need to tell you - Or, well, confess, more like . . .” This was hard. Her nerves built up, screaming for her to abort. There was still time to take it all back. But that would still leave her with an uncomfortable dilemma. She didn’t like lying to her friend - her best friend. She wouldn’t hesitate to throw herself in front of him to protect him, and she didn’t doubt he felt the same. So why should she hold back an important secret? Would he be mad at her for lying and ruin their friendship? Would he order her to be executed? No, that was ridiculous, but she had no idea what to expect. She swallowed and spit it out. “Hiccup. I’m not - I’m not like you guys. Like you boys. I’m a-”

“-girl,” the Prince finished for her. Her mouth dropped open in shock and horror. They were quiet for a moment, the world holding its breath as if waiting to see what happened next. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched the edge of her tunic. She wished he would just say something so she could stop wondering how in the world he had known that.

“It makes sense,” he said carefully, earnestly. Astrid gawked at him in disbelief. 

“You knew?” she accused, outraged. After all that worry, the struggles, the guilt, he had known?

“No, no,” he assured her. “I mean I - I had a hunch - I suspected. B-but it wasn’t obvious. I was too afraid to bring it up for fear you’d kill me for the offense!” he chuckled thinly. "But it - it explains a lot of things."

“Are - Aren’t you going to tell anyone?” she asked shakily. He shook his head vehemently.

“Why would I? You’ve kept all of my secrets; I can keep yours.” She observed him through narrowed eyes, but she had every reason to trust him. And he was, after all, the Prince. If, or maybe she should say when, she was found out, it would only help her case if the Crown Prince supported her, she reasoned. But maybe her parents shouldn’t know she’d told him. That detail could stay between them. She held her hand out, and they firmly shook hands.

“So,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and gestured to her shoulder, suddenly shy in front of a girl. “Do you, um, do you want help or-or should I leave? Since. You know, um, yeah.” Astrid couldn’t contain the girlish giggle at his discomfort and reddening face.

“So eager to get my shirt off without even asking my name; where are your manners?” she teased him. Hiccup’s eyes widened in shocked realization and, if possible, flushed harder.

“N-No!” he stuttered desperately. “I - I would nev- I - not what - so what is your name?” he fumbled as he scrambled to catch his dignity like one fumbled at a falling vase. Astrid was greatly amused; he hadn’t stuttered around her for almost a whole year, and hearing him stutter again made her nostalgic and happy.

“Astrid,” she said quietly, suddenly overcome by shyness. Would he like it? Did he think it suited her? Why did trusting him with such a simple fact feel so . . . intimate?

“Astrid,” he repeated to himself, as if savoring it.

She found herself swallowing hard and trying to calm her heart as it stumbled, unaware of the prince’s guilty stare as she unconsciously wet her lips.

Read Chapter 2 here

[randomvarious]

Today’s mix:

Back to Mine by Danny Tenaglia 1999 Deep House / Downtempo

Well, this was definitely quite something. New York's Danny Tenaglia is chiefly known as a consummate conqueror of the packed house dancefloor, but here, with this third installment in the DMC label's popular Back to Mine series from '99, the DJ delivers a compilation that's wholly unorthodox.

Back to Mine is known for presenting mixes that are of a chillout nature, but this is actually barely a DJ mix or a chillout release. It's basically a jumbled up mess of songs, from the 60s through late 90s, that express Tenaglia's very own eclectic taste in music as it extends past the nightclub.

Guardian Critic Alex Petridis tries to gussy up this CD in the liner notes, showering it with ebullient praise by describing it as both slinky and seamless, but this feels pretty charitable on his part, because there's almost no cohesion between any of these selections and the transitions are almost nonexistent; a carefully crafted DJ mix this most certainly is not.

But that's okay, really, as long as you understand what this release actually is, which is a seemingly random scattershot of some of Danny's personal favorites.

Now, the heading in this post might feel a little bit misleading, because I've only classed this "mix" as being both deep house and downtempo, when in actuality, it's a bit more than that. But when I decide what genres to include in those headings, I only list the genres that have at least two songs to them, unless the release is too short or eclectic to do that, in which case, I list every genre that appears on the release, which is a pretty rare occurrence anyway.

So, while this CD has a few deep house and a couple downtempo cuts on it, it also has some vocal breakbeat-chill from Yello—evidently, that quirky electronic duo from Switzerland that gave us hits in the 80s like "Oh Yeah" from the Ferris Bueller soundtrack and "Bostich" still had plenty left to contribute in the late 90s—delightfully classy mid-90s acid jazz from UK group Outside, an innovative late 90s funky microhouse cut from Isolée, soulful mid-90s garage house from New Jersey's Kimara Lovelace, the second biggest hit of Ce Ce Peniston's career in her 1992 dancy R&B bop, "Keep On Walkin," a late 70s disco-funk classic from Roy Ayers, a mid-90s edit of the debut soul single from Oleta Adams, and a nice and fun piece of bossa from Sérgio Mendes & Brasil '66.

*panting*

See what I mean? A totally discombobulated smorgasbord of music here; like throwing a long playlist of your favorites on shuffle and plucking out the first 74 minutes and then putting some rudimentary effects on it.

So, there's some really wonderful music on this album that spans a bunch of different genres and decades, but don't expect any of it to sequentially make much sense, because there doesn't appear to be any kind of thoughtful narrative here; it's just a bunch of songs that Danny Tenaglia's a personal fan of, from obscure to popular. All in all, it's worth listening to because the songs are good, but if you think you're getting a different type of Danny Tenaglia set here, you're not. because you’re not getting a set at all. He even admits it himself in the CD booklet, but back in '99, you'd only learn that fact after removing the plastic-wrap from the jewel case, which presumably happens only after you've purchased the CD itself 😉. And given that the previous volume in this series from Dave Seaman was an actual chillout DJ mix, from a guy who's not known for chillout mixes, I can see how a bunch of people would end up with buyer's remorse from this release, because of its lack of coherence.

But it's still ultimately a good time once you come to understand it for what it is!

Listen to the full mix here.

Highlights:

Yello - "To the Sea (Original Mix)" Danny Tenaglia - "Loft in Paradise" Outside - "The Plan/Minty" Isolée - "Beau Mot Plage" Bang the Party - "Bang Bang You're Mine (Full Vocal Remix)" Kimara Lovelace - "Only You" Ce Ce Peniston - "Keep On Walkin'" Roy Ayers - "Running Away" Oleta Adams - "Rhythm of Life (Heavenly Edit)" Crescendo - "Cairo (Duke Monster Mix)" Sérgio Mendes & Brasil '66 - "One Note Samba/Spanish Flea"

[spiritualawakening2023]

First Experience with the Magical Charm

Chapter 1: First Experience with the Magical Charm

Back in 2002, when AN was still a college student, he rented a room in the same lodgings with a young Cambodian girl named Hai, who had a roundish shape, akin to a jackfruit seed, and deep tan skin. Her smile exudes warmth, like the blazing summer sun in the central region.

This lodging was on alley 1 * * on B T Street, X X District, H C M City. When he first moved there, some guys from his hometown warned him not to get involved with her but didn’t give a reason. Their warning just made him more curious about her. She didn’t seem to work; she just slept all day. Around 3 p.m. every day, someone would show up to pick her up, always a different young, handsome guy in a nice car or on an SH motorbike.

After a while, curiosity got the better of AN and he decided to chat up the innkeeper about it. She said that Hai was involved in the magical charm and warned him not to get close to her. She wanted to boot Hai, but fear held her back, so she let her stay there. AN was clueless about what magical charm meant at the time, so it was like speaking a foreign language to him. One day, when AN headed out early to hit up Mrs. D's café, he found Hai was hanging out there too. When Hai spotted AN, she broke into a grin and threw out a question:

"Been here a while; you haven't said hi to the neighbor?"

AN thought everything was normal, so he chatted with her casually for a bit. Through their chitchat, he found out that Hai was from A G, an orphan without parents. She had been wandering the streets since she was young, and her nature was quite cheerful, unlike what others had said.

One day, AN's curiosity got the best of him.

"Hey Hai, what do you do for a living? People say you're into magical charm; is that true? What's that all about?"

Hai stared at AN as he dropped from the sky and then burst out laughing. After that incident, AN and Hai started getting closer.

Everything remained normal until Hai disappeared for over a month.

One day, she suddenly emerged from the morning mist and called AN out for coffee. Out of nowhere, she handed AN a 10,000 VND note and said:

"Keep this safe; never spend it."

AN didn't give it much thought and just followed the instructions. However, from that day on, things began to feel strange. AN started to notice changes. At university, girls whom AN used to adore but never spoke to suddenly started approaching him. No matter how hard AN tried to avoid them, it was like they were stuck to him like ticks. Even at the restaurant where he worked part-time, his fellow students started treating him differently. They treated AN as if he were some kind of idol. The peak of this was when N accidentally dropped something, and the restaurant owner didn't scold him or fire him as she did to others. In the boarding house area, he would find a folded note with a heart drawn on it tucked under his door every day.

At first, AN didn’t think much about these changes, but gradually he found them extremely strange. The climax was when AN started having dreams and making predictions about random events. Sometimes he saw odd numbers, and the next day, the lottery results matched his dream. After a few instances like this, he mentioned it to his roommates. One of them tried the numbers and won. From then on, every morning, they all gathered to ask, "What did you dream of last night?" And every few days, they'd hit the lottery. As a result, they bought drinks and treats, hosted parties, and treated AN like an emperor.

AN started to worry and think a lot. Suddenly possessing such peculiar abilities, people say blessings come with misfortunes. Who knows? With all this happening, he might be hit with disasters or bad luck his whole life.

Since childhood, AN didn't understand much about spirituality, and he never really thought about it either. That's why he kept wondering without grasping the reason behind it all.

One day, AN happened to buy some cigarettes, and the VND 10,000 note Hai had given him caught his eye. He paused and began to contemplate. Could all these incidents be connected to that VND 10,000 note?

After a few days of pondering, AN decided to ask Hai directly.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

He called out as he saw Hai opening her room door.

"What's up? Why are you shouting like that, my granddad?"

"Is the VND 10,000 note you gave me some sort of magical charm? I've been feeling strange lately, and I think it might be related. Do you know?"

Hai looked at AN like he had fallen from the sky, then burst into laughter.

"Haha, the magical spell? No, it's the magical charm. Remember when you asked me what that was? Well, now you know, hihi."

"Damn, I don't need it. Can it cause any harm? I'll just burn it."

"If you're brave enough, burn it and find out the consequences. Hold onto it for a while; all incidents will fade away. Whether you believe it or not is up to you."

This marked AN's first encounter with something called magical charm, and its karmic repercussions have continued until now. Things took a different turn after a trip with Hai to the Seven Mountains.

[muchadoabout]

Eugene Onegin at the Zürich Opera House

Music Direction Gianandrea Noseda Producer Barrie Kosky Tatyana Ekaterina Sannikova Onegin Igor Golovatenko Lensky Benjamin Bernheim Gremin Vitalij Kowaljow | 24.02.2023

So, I finally got around to writing about my experience seeing Eugene Onegin at the Zürich Opera House. Let's get into it! 

The show started promptly at 7 pm, but we were allowed to enter the auditorium at 6 pm. Before the performance, there was a 15-minute introduction of the opera. However, since I'm not fluent in German, I could only understand about 80% of it.

The production, directed by Barrie Kosky, was set in an "idyllic forest" and remained more or less the same throughout the entire opera. The stage was a rotating turf surrounded by fake trees. The only time there was an additional set was during the Gremin’s palace scene, but it was dismantled during Onegin’s arioso, creating a distraction for the audience (or at least for me). 

I initially didn't understand the director's creative directions, particularly the symbolism of the jam jar that appeared hold significant meaning, until I read this review that shed some light on it. 

To my untrained ears, the performers were vocally exceptional. The auditorium was relatively small, and their voices reached even the farthest seat. Each performer excelled in their respective arias, but I was particularly impressed by Kowaljow’s rendition of Gremin’s “All men surrender to Love's power” aria, which I specifically wrote on my note as being sung “perfectly”. Sannikova and Golovatenko shared a believable chemistry, which is an crucial element of playing Tatyana and Onegin. Bernheim, who was on his home turf *ba dum tss*, received the loudest and longest cheers from the audience, which was so well-deserved. 

Here are some notable moments of this production: 

The whole scene of Olga/Lesky duet was unfortunately completely blocked from my view. However, there was a cute moment when those two were singing, Onegin and Tatyana were busy flirting with each other.

During the party scene, Onegin was jokingly massaging Lensky’s shoulders when he was being sulky. I assumed this was a character choice made by Golovatenko. It was quite funny. 

The pre-duel scene between Lensky and Onegin was executed with more respect compared to the Komische Oper's version of this production. Onegin was not mockingly laughing at Lensky. At the end of their duet, they were just sitting side-by-side, with Onegin’s arm over Lensky’s shoulders, which made the subsequent duel seem pointless. 

The duel scene in Act 2 was played off-stage. Tatyana’s scream echoed as Onegin returned to the stage with his once white now stained with blood, closing the act with the most dramatic end.

During the introduction session, it was explained that the rain effect used in the final scene was actually warm water to ensure that the performers would not feel cold while singing the most poignant duet. 

Overall, it was a great experience. I did not dislike this production. Neverteless, I did wish that some of the moments were played differently. Despite being a simple opera, Eugene Onegin has a lot of nuances that unfortunately only few productions manage to capture.

[dallasareaopinion]

Let’s talk about next steps.

I am much more conservative than the public policy I offer as an option to what the Democrats and Republicans put forward. I do also have some serious populist tendencies.

I do believe many to most Americans are moderate to moderately conservative. Please note I said most Americans, not all. There are a very significant group that are extremely leftist or “progressive” and then there is MAGA.

There is also a significant group of conservatives that are still hanging onto a Reagan era conservatism that has probably played out it’s usefulness as a political or conservative movement.

So quickly you can see there is going to be a huge vacuum in the conservative ecosphere post Trump. Post Trump may or may not be this election, however there will come a time when Trump loses his shine so to speak. And there is the looming possibility that date maybe November 6, 2024. Maybe not, but if he loses there could be an immediate drop in his grip on the Republican Party. Do not get me wrong, there will still be quite a large MAGA contingent that will be holding on and very involved in his post election loss activities, whatever that might be.

The point I am making is there is going to be a brewing battle to who fills the conservative leadership vacuum post Trump. And I will say this, no one has the inside track to fill that vacuum. No one. It could have been Nikki Haley, but once she acquiesced to Trump she lost some support from the leftover Reagan Republicans. DeSantis just doesn’t have a personality for people to gravitate. Christie maybe, but he won’t be the leader, but a player that garners some attention. The Senate MAGAs such as Haley, Cotton or Cruz will lose luster once Trump is gone. And Cruz has a slight chance of losing his seat this year. McConnell is way past his prime. And there is no one in the House that would generate any National interest due to their incessant madness and internal bickering, plus the few in leadership in the House have no respect from the general population, not just the left wing haters. Hogan from Maryland? Is he a leader? The Lincoln Project? Or are they a one trick horse?

I am calling it now. If Trump loses there is going to be either a complete breakdown of conservative politics in America or the right wing MAGAsphere is going to take over and cause such a blue wave in 2026 that public policy, our deficit, our debt, foreign policy will be in such disarray that the chaos we are predicting for the upcoming post election will only become worse, but in a different way. The leftover MAGA world will blame the resulting chaos they create on the Democrats, and our general populace will have lost complete track on anything our government is doing for them. Subsequent to 2026 too much progressive politics will scare the middle to either complete apathy or back to the MAGAsphere.

Again the majority of our country is more moderate or moderately conservative than this leftward lunge will accept.

So it is imperative a strong moderately conservative party grows quickly from the ashes of Trump’s defeat if that happens on November 05, 2024. So younger members of the Republican Party must quickly coalesce around each other, especially those who support family oriented policies, budget oriented candidates who will need to understand they are going to need to compromise significantly at first to start steering budget conversations rightward, yet all in all between this election and 2026 they will need to move fast with rational ideas all the while fighting the leftover MAGA hatred that will dominate social media. No easy task to say the least.

Now will this fall under the Republican name or will a new party come to fruition I have no idea, yet to recreate a political equilibrium, this party will need to rise quickly or the worst of right wing inclinations will take hold of quite a large section of the populace with leaders of even worse character than Trump.

This new party may not win a majority in 2026, but if they can become viable enough that people see a rational alternative to MAGA and extreme progressiveness then hope glimmers significantly.

Unfortunately we will need this this phoenix to rise from Trump’s political ashes post haste since 2026 will come at us faster than the last off cycle election.

And this rise will be faced with great peril. The MAGAsphere will be fighting it tooth and nail for voters and with no dynamic or charismatic figure to lead it, clawing a foothold onto the general populace political psyche is challenging.

As you know I would support this being a new major party, but helping to find the leaders for this most important endeavor is something I fear not happening. I am not a dynamic personality on social media and I do not know one or probably years ago my thoughts would have gained much more traction. So I can hope that circumstances changes things or a new group of younger dedicated Republicans regain the Party mantle and move forward.

And as always I offer quite a few ideas for public policy if anyone is interested.

Cheers

[jpt3391]

The Magnificent Seven

From the start of the movie, The Magnificent Seven departs from its source material already by giving the farmers more personality in the beginning rather than the middle of the movie, which takes away from the pacing as well as our understanding of the characters. Just from that, the differences are foreshadowed. 

For example, the “lead” farmer talks back to the bandit and the another farmer tries to attack them directly because of the frustration that the bandit is causing the family. Rather than giving the bandits anonymity and lack of character for the audience to easily recognize conflict, in The Magnificent Seven the bandit leader is introduced and given many lines throughout the movie instead. While I didn’t have any major problems with him as a character, I thought that Kurosawa’s stylistic choice (or maybe the screenwriter) of giving the bandits less (basically no lines) time to speak, was a good choice. Another difference from the start was the farmers had money to give to the cowboys which, taken from that, motivates one of the “samurai” (Harry) by money, even though he dies. Even when Harry is dying, Chris chooses to not tell him that there was no money in the contract that they have taken up, it is supposed to be out of their goodwill (and also $20 bucks and some gold), which is another thing that I think takes away from the adaptation. Sturges could have easily gone a different direction in the movie when trying to find a reason that the cowboys help the farmers. In fact, I quite like the intro that the movie did with the character of Chris and Vin. Both of them, out of the goodness of their heart, are escorting a hearse that contains the body of a Native American who was just shot. The concept of racism is brought up because of that, and I was looking forward to how the movie would address racism but unfortunately, it didn’t touch on the topic that much after. The interactions that the cowboys had with the farmers just showed how much of their life was different to them, how the life of white people (at the time) was different to Mexicans as well. 

When Chris was recruiting people to help him, at first I was confused what character Chico was trying to replicate in Seven Samurai. From his mannerisms, I knew it was Kikuchiyo, but at times I felt like he also represented Katsushiro as well, with how much he wanted to be taught by Chris. In addition to that, when Chris was recruiting the others, I felt that Chris already knew a majority of the cowboys which eliminated the altruistic attitudes that the samurai showed in Seven Samurai. On a side note, when Chico was drunk and yelling at Chris in the saloon along with the other people, that reminded me of the scene in Rashomon when the wife was looking at the husband because of the similarities in wanting to be acknowledged and noticed.

Some of the scenes that I liked though were of: Chico and the jumpcut from the deer to him, which I interpreted as a representation of his innocence. 

When Chico was playing with the horse, I was reminded of Kikuchiyo which was very nice.

The absence of a Rikichi character took away from what made me like Seven Samurai so much. Rikichi and the suffering that he went through impacted me a lot when I was watching it, but because he wasn’t there (or at least a similar character) I felt that I couldn’t relate to the farmers as much. Another thing that I noticed was that the old man felt more like comedic relief to me, rather than a stubborn old man. That is supported by the fact that he lives at the end, but to give Sturges a point, there wasn’t really any to destroy the houses because the environment and warfare was different. When they started partying right after they only killed a few, that made me question the validity of the veteran cowboys. I was like, why are they celebrating so soon? And then finally, the return of Chico as a farmer instead of either dying or going with the cowboys to transcend classes. Overall, I felt that the movie focused more on action scenes and romance, as Hollywood movies often do to make it an easy watch, rather than giving you something to think about.

[alonewolfc]

Nora Beckett

FC- Tracy Spiridakos

TW- bipolar, terrorism, death

Sexuality- bisexual

Note- loosely based on carrie mathison 🩷

Background- Elinora 'Nora' Celine Beckett. 26 years old. CIA agent. Daughter of Joan (estate agent)and Simon (deceased, soldier). Middle child, one younger sister and one older brother. PTSD, Bipolar inherited from her mother. Bisexual. Runner. Secretive, stubborn, loyal, ambivert.

Nora had a happy and relatively normal childhood. She always had someone to play with having two siblings. Princess' with her sister and cops and robbers with her brother. Naturally she enjoyed both but there was something about the games that were predominantly for boys. The thrill, the action... Raised by both of her parents until the age of 7 as her father was sent out on tour with the military. Nora missed her father. She understood what it meant and how he might not even return. He was always there at the back of her mind, determined not to forget him. In school she enjoyed learning new things. A high achiever who learnt fast. The whole world was right at her finger tips. Nora had a few close friends but she wasn't necessarily popular. Straight A student, everyone wanted to copy her homework. Too smart for her own good some would say. At the age of 10 she was informed her father wasn't coming home. Her brother stepped up even more becoming man of the house. All Nora could feel was the fear of losing anyone else. That pain she'd already felt wouldn't be the last time. Her mothers illness became more obvious shortly after... till that point Nora was completely oblivious. Her older brother handled it so well Nora barely saw much before then.

Soon Nora became a teenager. She was still a geek, top of her class. With some sense of something like joining the fbi as her dream job. Still not popular but that wasn't anything she cared for. Her mother started dating again. Some of them lasting a year or so before the spark died. Break ups were hard for her mother. Nora made efforts to help her brother to look after her around each one. The more she saw the more she feared she might inherit. Or even that her brother might. After all, he was approaching young adult hood soon to go to college... from her understanding that was a prime age for symptoms to appear. She never told anyone. Not even her best friend she'd known since she was a child. They were inseparable. Often mistaken as cousins by strangers. They did almost everything together. Studying, shopping, partying... all the typical behaviour you'd expect including faires and festivals. They'd grew up together, Nora assumed they'd grow old together. The summer they finished high-school they went to a festival. Music, refreshments and camping. Celebratory for getting into college. The first few days went smoothly. The last day of the festival changed Nora's life forever. An attack which killed her best friend and several others. Nora survived with a minor injury. This motivated her to become a CIA agent.

Her student life was quite eventful. She studied international relationships with a minor in Arabic. All was going as expected. Straight As across the board. She made friends with a hacker, her closest acquaintance since the death of her friend. That all looked positive until she pulled all nighters to do her work only to not feel tired the next day which would be filled with more work. She finished her assignments with A+s and then withdrew herself from everyone. Her family were the ones who demanded someone went to check on her. She was called into the colleges doctors where she was thoroughly assessed and diagnosed with bipolar. The news distraught Nora. Her one want right now was ruined. She'd never join the cia. Not if she was honest with them so she fixed it in her head that all her studying would not be for nothing. Nora learnt to control her bipolar and graduated college.

When joining the CIA Nora had to go under many different tests. One of them being a medical to make sure she was healthy enough. Her hacker friend managed to edit her file in order to replicate it and remove the bipolar then send it to the agency through her brothers email. Nora was accepted, trained and to this day they don't know about her disorder. The PTSD slid through but anything more severe they just didn't want to know. Her brother provides meds to keep her well but how long till someone finds out? Now one if the most trusted agents, can anyone really afford to lose her over a disorder?