#used this to process my own confusion/aggravation

[chaosgremlinmunson]

As inspiration for this douchebaggery in my DMs on Facebook, here's Steve being a bitch to someone who clearly paid zero attention and had no respect for his relationship.

👇 The inspiration is below 👇

Steve opened his laptop while he let his newest niece nap away on the new ottoman. She'd grabbed her tiny stuffed turtle, toddled up to him and said, “night, night” in her adorable munchkin voice, and Steve was done for. His ovaries, though long forgotten, wanted to explode immediately. He wondered if the hormones would affect the possibility of him carrying his own child for he and Eddie.

Speaking of Eddie, Steve looked back to his laptop and saw a notification for Facebook, the one social media he frequently used to keep in touch with his found family after they'd scattered to their colleges and new lives. He opened it curiously thinking maybe one of the kids had messaged him and found a girl he didn't know instead. He clicked her photo looking through her profile to see she was friends with about half the people he knew, so he chose to be friendly.

Eventually the messages veered from asking how he was doing, and how nice it was to meet him to flirtatious messages. He cringed reading it as he'd already mentioned his husband a good twenty times within the beginning of this conversation. To get a message saying, “so..are you single or happily married?” Made him want to reach through the screen and shake this girl. Hell, his profile has a profile picture of him and Eddie making out, his bio stating his infinite love for both his wonderful husband and their fur babies, Roscoe, Angel, and Thresher. How and why did this girl not realize he was happily married? In true mean girl Steve fashion he answered the video call she tried to send, his face that haughty mask he shone in during King Steve's reign in Hawkins high.

“Hello?” He said, sounding annoyed, “Is there a reason you called me?”

“Yeah, I thought it'd be nice to see your handsome face.”

“Look, sweetie,” he started, the absolute disdain clear in his voice and on his face, “If you used the last two brain cells you hadn't fried with all the bleach in your head, and actually, I don't know, read my bio on my profile or even my messages, you'd realize that A) I am happily married. B) I have mentioned my husband literally everywhere. C) My husband is absolutely the one for me, and way hotter than any bleach blond bimbo in my inbox, and D) which is rather appropriate for this, I prefer dick to pussy, so unless you're hiding something under that street walker wear in all your photos I wouldn't consider you even if I was single. Now, have a blessed day and lower your expectations when you speak to people. Or hell, pay attention to the signs around you.”

The girl was staring at him, her jaw dropped as he ended the call and blocked her. Eddie walked in just a moment later to Steve glaring at his laptop like it personally offended him and leaned down kissing his neck as Dustin and Erica followed behind to collect Stefania aptly named for the best big brother the party could ask for.

Once they were alone Steve pushed Eddie down into the couch straddling him, his tiny shorts riding up as he ground down on the sizable bulge beneath him. Eddie grinned up at him, he knew Steve was frustrated about something, but for now he'd take him apart in all the best ways and put him back together. If he wanted to vent about it later Eddie would be all ears.

[imababblekat]

Chase

Anon Request, “Funny ask here! An expert free runner (jumping from building to building) catches the turtles on camera. The boys planned to do the same intimidation act like with April but are shocked when they jet off managing to keep a good distance. Then once they think they have them cornered on a construction site the boys fall through the building roof landing in waist high wet concrete. Looking down at them the runner blows them a kiss before taking off. (P.S. their cool though and just keep the photo as a momento)How do the 4 react to seeing them again when they literally bump into each other on the rooftops?”

 ◌ Part Two ◌

~xXx~

You hadn’t intentionally meant to take a picture of the turtles. If anything it was their fault they ended up in your shot. After finishing a course you’d been aiming at for over a week, you thought it’d be a great moment to capture, but hadn’t expected to catch anyone else in the background of your roof top photo. Much less those anyone’s being four mutant ninja turtles. It was the squak of surprise at the sudden flash of your mini Polaroid that alerted you to them.

Seeing the turtles left you somewhere between an intriguing shock and confused fear, even if seeing one of them rapidly rub at their flashed eyes while over exaggerate about how they burned did indeed give you a little giggle. There wasn’t much time to process the whiplash of emotions however, as one of them, clad in red and quite burly out of the bunch, came marching your way. Not a word had a chance of making its way from their lips, as your body did what it was trained so hard to do, making a mad dash across the old market roof top. Just like that, the four brothers found themselves in a sudden grand chase. “Great job, Raph!”, Leo snapped at said aggravated terrapin, making easy work of hopping over a fenced roof. “I ain’t even do anythin’! It’s your fault!”, Raph retaliated, vaulting over some exterior vents. “Oh, and how is that exactly?!” “You’re the one who gave us the all clear!” Bouncing from wall to wall as the group followed you down into an old parking garage Donnie interjected between the two argumentative brothers. “Guy’s is now really the time?! We kind of have something urgent on our hands.” “Yeah! Like how I can’t see their sick moves because my eyes are still having a disco party!”, Mikey continued to blink rapidly, nearly missing the open edge if not for Donnie giving him aid with his staff. Rolling his own eyes, Leo brushed off the youngest, keeping track of your movements as you scaled your way into a construction building across the way. “Come on, let’s get this over with. There’s no where to go past that building, we’ll catch them there.” All the years of free running across New York, you’d never felt as thrilled as you did now. Sure, it was still terrifying in a way being chased by four giant creatures who were quite nimble despite their enormous size, but you had to be honest in the way their pursuit brought on an adrenaline like no other. They put your skills to the test in a way you could never personally do yourself, and as you swung from a bar into another construction building, you felt elation rush through your body. At least, till you found yourself caught in between a rock and a hard place, staring at a concrete solid wall with no where to escape. Hearing the collective sounds of heavy foot falls, you quickly turned around to find the four beings surrounding the only path you’d have of escape. Seeing the glares upon their faces, your racing heart now beat rapidly for a different reason. Taking a moment to even his breathing, Leonardo stepped forward, watching your reactions carefully. “We’re not going to hurt you. Just. . .don’t scream.”, he spoke as calmly as he could, hands raised to show he had no misleading intentions. You said nothing, just continued to take control of your own breathing as your eyes shifted between him and his brothers. “I’m Leonardo, and these are-“ “I’m Michelangelo, but you can just call me Mikey!”, the orange banded turtle cut in, shoving past his brother and winking at you. “The guy in purple is Donatello, and the one in red who mean mugged you is Raphael! What’s your name angel? I say angel, because there’s no way you could have crossed those alleyways so eloquently without a pair of wings~.” “Mikey!”, all three other brothers shouted in unison. “What?!” With a light groan, Donnie reminded him of their current objective. “We’re here to get the photo. Not you a love interest.” “Oooooh right, the photo!” Your eyes shifted from Raphael, back to Mikey as he moved closer, three fingered hand reaching out. Sifting into your pocket it didn’t take long to pull out the small square picture. Despite it being exposed and grainy in some parts, the tangibility of the photo and the story it now held caused a surprising sorrow in your heart to have to depart with it. Yet, gazing back up to the four mutants before you, you understood why they’d want it. With the way you reacted, who could imagine how others might to their discovery. You met Mikey half way, extending your own hand to give him the small photo, fingers lightly brushing the other. All of a sudden, a loud crack was heard, and all five of you stood frozen. Before anyone could blink, the floor caved in, the four brothers descending down into dust and debris, and you with quick reflexes pressing tight back against the concrete wall. Once the clouded air had settled, you quickly peaked over into the newly established hole, a surge of worry for the ninja quartet. Relief washed through as you caught sight of the brothers who had landed in a mucky puddle, most likely sore from the fall but seemingly fine otherwise. As the boys groaned and started another round of arguing with one another, you suddenly remembered the photo and quickly checked your closed fist to find it still there. Carefully bringing the picture before you to look at once more, a thought had emerged. This was the most fun you had in long time, the most alive you’ve felt in a while. Recalling the kind smile Mikey had given you and Leo’s mindful approach as to not frighten you, you considered the growing idea in your mind even more. Making up your mind, you gently tucked the photo back into your pocket with a gleeful grin. You swore to yourself that night to never show anyone that picture, but as long as you held on to it, you knew you’d eventually wind up seeing the turtles again. With that, you skipped from the tiny ledge along the wall, and whistled to catch the turtles’ attention. “Bye boys! It was nice meeting you!” Loud shouts and scrambling could be heard as each one clambered over the other, slipping back and forth into the deep puddle in an effort to get up and to you, but by the time they’d get themselves straightened out, you’d be long gone with anticipating hope of the next chase.

~xXx~

[yourfatherlucifer]

MDNI - Pirate!Hongjoong

Ft. Seonghwa and Yunho

prince!reader

fucking god… 😩 btw this may seem cnc but its completely consensual, reader is just hesitant, he's not used to the pirate ways, and is in the closet.

please REBLOG

The very aggravated prince was thrown down into the brig, his body practically hogtied together, "You won't get away with this! My father will have your head on a silver platter!" He snarled and thrashed.

With a giggle, the captain of this ship approached the small cell, "That's so cute, but unfortunately for you, you won't be going anywhere, pretty boy. I have more uses for you than some gold for my crew." He grinned.

Hongjoong paced around the brig, his head facing towards the ceiling, "As the pirate king, I need a..how can I say this, a plaything? No..a cocksleeve is more like it. Someone who can entertain myself and my crew." He quickly slammed himself onto the bars with a laugh, which startled the prince greatly.

"Having a royal was the perfect choice." Hongjoong peeled himself away.

"What on earth are you talking about, vile pirate? You couldn't just find some woman, not a man, a crown prince at that?" His eyebrows furrowed in disgust.

"Are you shaming my sexuality, little prince?" Hongjoong's gaze darkened with anger, "I'm a pirate, we don't like women aboard our ships. They're bad luck."

The prince rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not shaming you, but why me?"

"Because. I can."

Hongjoong walked away and whispered in his crewmates ear, "Bring him to my quarters and stand guard outside."

With that Hongjoong left and the other man unlocked the cell, cutting the rope on the prince's legs. He hoisted him up very roughly, "Let's go, pretty boy. You're in for a fun time with my captain, lucky you." He smirked and pulled him up the stairs to bring him up-deck.

Seonghwa shoved the prince into Hongjoong's room and shut the door behind him once he left and stood guard outside. The captain smiled and pulled him to his bed.

Hongjoong pulled a knife out of his boot and sliced off the rope on his wrists, "I need your hands free for what I'm gonna do to you." He smirked as he climbed on top of the confused man.

"Wait, I didn't agree to be your cock-" He cried out as he was interrupted by Hongjoong grabbing on his bulge.

"Are you sure about that? Because I saw the way you were looking at my lackey. Don't tell me the good little prince is hiding in the closet?"

His face flushed red in embarrassment and pushed gently on Hongjoong's chest, "Shut up, pirate!"

"Tell me your name, crown prince."

"It's M/N.."

"Well, M/N, I'm gonna ruin you for any woman and for any chance of you giving heirs to your kingdom. You're mine now."

He whimpered beneath Hongjoong and straightened up his body.

Hongjoong sat up and pulled down his own pants just to pull out his cock, slighty startling M/N in the process.

"Oh my-" He tried to scramble away.

"Calm down, pretty boy. You can handle it."

"How is that going to fit!" He scoffed.

"Really? You think this is far too big to fit inside? Well then, looks like I'll have to introduce you to someone later." He chuckled as he yanked down the prince's trousers and threw them wherever.

Hongjoong's fingers danced around M/N's tight ring and slowly pushed a couple in, receiving a loud moan from the prince in response.

When he deemed he was ready, he pushed his cock in with a grunt. M/N let out a couple tears from the stretch and wrapped his arms around Hongjoong's neck.

Hongjoong watched as his cock sunk repeatedly into M/N's ass, with a crazy grin, "Fuck, you're practically pulling me in. Wanted a cock that bad?" He giggled.

M/N let out several assorted moans and cries each time Hongjoong slammed his hips against his.

Hongjoong pulled his own shirt into his mouth to get a better view of his assault on M/N's hole.

After a few more thrusts, Hongjoong flipped M/N into a doggy style position and called out for best mate, Seonghwa.

"Seonghwa, get your ass in here and get undressed!" He barked out.

The male walked in, slamming the door behind him and stripped himself of his clothes, cock already hard and standing at attention, "Yes, Captain?"

Never stopping his thrusting, he looked back at Seonghwa, "Get underneath him." He growled and turned back to M/N, "You're going to fuck him with me."

"Yes sir." Seonghwa climbed underneath the nearly fucked out prince with a grin, his hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes rolling into the back of his head each time Hongjoong hit that perfect spot.

Seonghwa pressed their cocks together and gave them a couple tugs before letting go and guiding his cock to M/N's already occupied hole. It was a hard stretch, especially with M/N's protesting.

"Wait! I can't take two at once!"

"You can, and you will." Hongjoong growled as he felt Seonghwa's cock slide against his inside of M/N.

Both men were jackhammering into the poor prince as he fell on top of Seonghwa's chest, he felt like he was in heaven, he was very overstimulated but didn't care. Being fucked by two cocks was the best thing in his opinion. Hongjoong was right. He was definitely hiding in the closet and was more than happy to come out if this was the result.

M/N was leaking so much cum from his cock onto Seonghwa and he couldn't help it. Not with the way they were fucking him, like he was a doll and nothing more.

Hongjoong suddenly stopped and grinned mischievously, "Sorry to break your fun early, Seonghwa. But, I need you to go get our biggest, tell him..I have a plaything for him. Then go back to guard duty."

Seonghwa sighed and pulled out, and slipped out from underneath the weak prince, "Fine, but you owe me." He grumbled and threw his clothes back on and left.

Hongjoong also pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants, leaving the limp boy on the bed, "Like I said, I'm gonna introduce you to someone." He walked over to his desk chair and watched as the naked prince laid nearly asleep on his bed, "Don't fall asleep, I'm not done with you, pretty boy."

A few minutes passed and a very big man walked in, "Captain?" He approached Hongjoong's desk.

"My bed. Have fun." He grinned and watched as Yunho slowly turned around to see M/N, "He's all nice and stretched out for you. No need to be fragile with him."

Yunho smiled, "Thank you, captain." He walked over to the prince and took his massive cock out, "Hey there, just lay there. Don't need to do anything. I got it." He pulled M/N's hips to his as he faced down on the bed, too weak to move, he didn't even feel like turning around to see how 'big' this man was.

Yunho roughly pushed his cock in, stretching M/N with his girth and length alone.

M/N groaned and squeezed the blanket beneath him, "So big.." he muttered and squeezed his eyes shut as Yunho fucked into him, his hips angled in such a way that he was doing nothing but slamming against M/N's prostate, repeatedly.

Hongjoong watched with a grin, fisting at his own cock without a sound from his lips.

But by the time Yunho had cum, M/N was already falling asleep, and Yunho was still rock hard.

"Sir, he's passing out, little thing can't keep up with me." Yunho chuckled.

"Then pull out and return later, he can't consent if he's asleep. I'll call for your comeback." Hongjoong sighed in annoyance and waved off Yunho.

"I'll clean him up." He grumbled and watched as Yunho left.

Hongjoong then walked over and leaned into M/N's ear, "I have five other men who will love playing with your hole, pretty boy~"

[rhaenzokla]

Smoke In My Lungs

Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro x F!Reader (separately)

Summary: Stoner Boyfriend head canons and blurb

CW: teasing from Gojo (ofc), sexual innuendo in Toji's blurb.

Suguru Geto

Sweet Suguru would be a wake and baker and a night-time puffer.

As soon as his eyes are open in the morning, he's reaching for his grinder and bong.

His bong is his prized possession of his smoking materials.

It's dark blue with black accents wiping all around the triangular base and long neck.

It has a wide hole as he prefers to stick his lips in the opening instead of over the lip.

He defiantly loves to put on some lo-fi in the background as he smokes.

He will absolutely smoke on his own if he can't find anyone to share his stash with, but he prefers a group setting.

He loves the bond between sharing bud and telling/listening to some vulnerable stories.

He's generous with his stash as well (except for Satoru).

One of his friends, or worse, you, doesn't have anymore stash left?

He's bagging up some from his own stash for you to take with you, but only after he smokes you out, that is.

At night, he's smoking bowl after bowl to get ready for sleep.

He's an insomniac with his work, so smoking before always helps him sleep.

Imagine his shirtless frame waking you up from the bubbling sound of his first pull of the morning, smiling at you as he releases the smoke from his lungs. "Want some, baby? It's gooooood." he asks as he waves the bong lightly in front of you. "It's 7am, Suguru, of course I want some." you playfully bite out as you sit up in the bed, taking the bong from him and slowly taking a hit. His lungs are far more used to being abused so early in the morning than yours so you take your time. His eyes droop lowly as the affects of the drug start to take over, making his heart calm and mind slow. You cuddle up into his side and block his arm in the process. "How am I supposed to hit this when you're laying on my arm baby girl?" he asks with a slight aggravated smirk. "Just light the bowl and I'll pull it for you." You're pretty sure you saw hearts in his eyes at your words and he instantly sparks up the lighter, setting to the bowl. You carefully watch the chamber as to not let it get too opaque, pulpit for him as he takes in the hit. He hums softly as he releases the smoke and kisses your head. "I think I just fell in love with you all over again..." He smiles and goes in for an actual kiss, you can taste the left over residue on his tongue. "Why?" you ask, genuinely confused." "Only stoners will know why you touched my heart just now. You'll get there in no time." He chuckles and hands you the bong.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru would be the smoker who will whip out a joint just about anytime he can, especially after any inconvenience.

As you might've guessed, Gojo's medium is joints.

He loves the classic Raw 1.5s but he also loves splurging on flavoured papers, as well as flower wraps.

He has a light blue Bic lighter that he keeps in the inside pocket of his sorcerer jacket.

He used to carry his joints in an altoids container to try and hide the smell before you, his loving girlfriend decided to gift him joint tubes.

Now its smell proof, and he doesn't have to walk around smelling like spicy baby powder anymore.

He can easily finish a joint by himself in 10 minutes or less.

While he enjoys a group sesh, he'd much rather smoke alone or with his partner.

Will only share his stash with you and Suguru, unless they can pay for their share.

Loves shotgunning with you, no surprise here, he loves teasing you, after all.

What better way to do that than to get your lips impossibly close and get the remnants of smoke he allows you to have.

Satoru had just finished up work for the day and he's making his way down the street, smoking a joint. He was meeting you for dinner at a little shoppe at the corner of this road. it hadn't been long since you had made your way to the dining space either, bumping into him on the way. "Funny seeing you here." He says with a smirk, joint lit and realising a thin line of smoke in its wake. "Were meeting for dinner, literally, right now." You chuckle because you knew he was teasing. "Hmm. I remember now... this shit is pretty good, want some?" His head tilts down towards you to gauge your reaction as he takes a slow drag. When you nodded, he pulled the perfectly burned joint from his lips and placed it against your own, his fingers touching your cupids bow in the process, sending shivers down your neck. He chuckled lightly as he pulled away and a light couch left your lips from the potency of the hit. "Let's eat and then I'll teach you how to hit this properly, maybe ill even teach you to shotgun." he finished off the joint as you both made your way to the restaurant, hand in hand.

Kento Nanami

This man, is in no way, shape or form, a stoner.

HOWEVER, he does enjoy a good edible when work gets rough, and a celebratory bowl from his pipe he has just for the occasion.

Now, normally when I say bowl or pipe, you're probably thinking of a glass blown bowl or a titanium two-hitter, but no.

His father passed his tobacco pipe down to him when he passed and since Nanami liked the taste of tobacco even more than Mary Jane, he uses it exclusively for his celebratory bowls.

What celebrations he might break it out for is an engagement announcement, baby announcement, death of someone, and/or birthdays (under certain circumstances)

His favourite type of edible is gummies. They're easier to eat without leaving a residue in his mouth, and its not overly sweet.

He'll definitely take his edible in whatever way you want to make them, but he doesn't have a big sweet tooth, but he'll eat anything you make for him.

"Hey baby! Welcome home!" You smiled wide as your boyfriend walked into the kitchen. "How was work?" He smiles at you, immediately brightening his day. "Not so bad now, Angel." He pulls you into his chest for a quick hug before he realises what he smells. Marajuana and sugar flood his nose after he realises its there. "What ya making, sweetheart?" you can see his nostrils flare slightly as he takes in the smells. "Just some chocolate chip cookies for you. wanted to try a new recipe and since we have that trip coming up soon, I thought that now would be the best time to try it. They should be ready any min-" you were cut off by the timer on the oven, you pull the cookies out and let them set. Two hours and two cookies, for each of you, later and you are relaxing in each others arms on the couch with a random movie on in the background. Both of your eyes start drooping as you slowly drift off in each others arms. Maybe you only need one cookie next time. This recipe is really good.

Toji Fushiguro

This man right here, is the king of stoners.

Bitch is broke because he spends all his money on upping his stash.

He ONLY smokes blunts and wraps. Mofo will pack that shit tight.

And know that he will be using the stash he dropped on his couch two days ago to fill in the gaps.

He can't afford to let any of it go to waste.

He has a four compartment grinder and he waits until he's done with his oz to open the kief collector and smoke a kief only blunt.

He smokes in the morning, during the day, at night before he sleeps, he'll even wake up in the middle of the night and roll another blunt.

Expects you to have your own stash if you wanna smoke with him, no charity cases with him. Even for you, pookie.

Will smoke in a group setting, but he not sharing, and he's the only one allowed to roll.

Rolls fat dubies that take forever to smoke because he packs those shits hella tight.

Makes sure his shit burns slow to make it last.

Toji grumbles under his breath as you make your way down the street, towards a shoppe you wanted to stop by for some time now. "You don't have to come in, babe. Just stay out here, ill be just a second." You smiled sweetly at the tall, fit figure looming over some poor kid that was sitting at the bench closest to the store. The kid instantly booked it when he realised Toji was going to sit and wait for you. He waits deadass two minutes before he gets impatient and pulls out his smoking case, pulling a pre wrapped blunt from the sleeve, holding it in his mouth like a cigarette as he flicks his lighter, carefully lighting the dark brown blunt. He's half way done with it by the time you return back to him, bags in your hands. "See you couldn't wait for me?" You look at him with a fake pout. He stands, taking your hand in his and walking towards your shared apartment. "This is the blunt with just my stash. We can crack our shared one open at home. Then maybe I can crack something else after with those clothes in your bag." He snickers as he pulls one side of your bag open to see a set of lingerie. "Who said I bought this for you?" you snicker evilly as his eyes darkened and stayed silent the rest of the way home. You knew what you were doing, and he knew it too.

©RhaenZokla

Part 2? Let me know!

Thank you for reading!



[ladytauria]

i read this fic (you want more and you want it fast - runespoor) some time ago and, uh

it would not leave my head <3

eventually i had to write down all the thoughts it gave me & then i cleaned those up into something resembling a not-fic. & then it was just a matter of, ah. convincing myself to share~

anyway!

warnings: unrequited bru/jay

edits: fixed some formatting issues, removed some brackets, and a sentence i had meant to fix before posting, lol

a hunger that grows, and grows

Jason’s feelings for Bruce are… complicated, to say the least. Mentor. Oldest/longest crush. Betrayal. Anger. Grief. Nothing easy or simple to deal with, and so Jason just… doesn’t. He does his own thing up until Bruce gets involved, has knockdown drag-out fights with him that leave him more frustrated than anything, and then usually heads to a bar, working his frustrations out with tall, dark haired, light eyed men before getting up the next day to start the cycle all over again.

It works. Or he does a good enough job pretending it does, anyway.

And then Bruce dies. (“Dies.”)

His usual methods of coping don’t work. He needs something more to scratch the itch; fill up the strange hollowness inside of him. And somehow… he ends up settling on Tim.

Half the reason the pretender is so fucking annoying is all the ways he reminds Jason of Bruce—both the parts he finds attractive and those he finds aggravating. (There’s a lot of overlap between the two, but Jason doesn’t like to think about that.)

So he tracks down Tim.

Jason’s feelings for Bruce are… complicated, to say the least. Mentor. Oldest/longest crush. Betrayal. Anger. Grief. Nothing easy or simple to deal with, and so Jason just… doesn’t. He does his own thing up until Bruce gets involved, has knockdown drag-out fights with him that leave him more frustrated than anything, and then usually heads to a bar, working his frustrations out with tall, dark haired, light eyed men before getting up the next day to start the cycle all over again.

It works. Or he does a good enough job pretending it does, anyway.

And then Bruce dies. (“Dies.”)

His usual methods of coping don’t work. He needs something more to scratch the itch; fill up the strange hollowness inside of him. And somehow… he ends up settling on Tim.

Half the reason the pretender is so fucking annoying is all the ways he reminds Jason of Bruce—both the parts he finds attractive and those he finds aggravating. (There’s a lot of overlap between the two, but Jason doesn’t like to think about that.)

So he tracks down Tim.

It actually takes a hot second—Tim is right on the edge of dropping off radar, which should probably concern Jason a little. But—honestly, whatever Tim is up to is someone else’s problem. He’s booked a ticket overseas, set to leave sometime around when patrol would usually end. Which means Jason has to move quick.

He’s not about to go asking for something for nothing, and since he’s looking to use Tim as a stand-in for Bruce, it only seems fair to offer him a similar opportunity. So. When he comes knocking at Tim’s door, he does it dressed as Nightwing. [Personally picturing the discowing suit bc of the deep vee, but, go with your heart.]

Tim lets him in; the annoyance on his face and in his voice bleeding very quickly into confusion as he processes what Jason is wearing.

Jason’s brand of flirting is a little taunting, a little aggressive, and utterly unsubtle. Tim—short circuits. It’s not necessarily that he isn’t used to being flirted with, or that he doesn’t know how to flirt back. It’s just… This is Jason. He’s had a crush on him since he was still Robin, and… Maybe all the violence and bitterness between them should have changed that, but it didn’t. If anything, it only made him burn hotter. So having all of that directed at him, especially right now? It’s a lot.

But Tim’s made a career out of thinking on his feet, and it’s not long before he reboots. It takes even less time for him to break the situation down.

He knows about Jason’s thing for Bruce. Knows Bruce didn’t reciprocate, or even really notice. Knows about Jason’s habits of seeking out Bruce lookalikes to fuck, especially after a big fight. And—well. Jason’s made enough derogatory remarks about Tim’s similarities to Bruce over the years. It’s not hard to figure out that this time, Tim is the one being used as proxy.

It hurts.

A lot.

But Tim also recognizes an opportunity when he sees one. If this is the only way he can have him… so be it. “I’ve got a plane to catch in the morning,” he warns, even as he slips into his best imitation of Bruce.

“Still got all night,” Jason says, flippant tone belied by the hunger in his eyes.

It’s a night they make very good use of.

Jason doesn’t even stir when Tim slips out before dawn—figuring, this is it. He got his on night, and now it’ll never happen again. He doesn’t end up having to try hard not to think on it; too busy just trying to keep his head above water.

Jason wakes alone and satisfied. And maybe… a little bereft, somewhere deep, deep down and unacknowledged. He lets himself bask for a bit, and then it’s back to business as usual.

The itch builds back up again. Normally, if his path hadn’t crossed with Bruce’s naturally, this is when he’d go looking for reasons to pick a fight. He thinks, idly, about reaching out to Tim again. Maybe even looks him up, just to see what he’s doing, only to learn he’s nowhere to be found. Jason tells himself that’s not concerning at all, and anyway, he wouldn’t want to make a habit of fucking the pretender. Tim’s too crafty for that.

Things go back to something resembling normal.

Of course, then Tim does finally show back up again, and brings with him a shitload of chaos…

…and, eventually, Bruce.

It’s— Jason doesn’t know how to feel about it. Things are—different. Bruce has a new Robin. Tim’s struck out on his own, claiming his own territory in Gotham. Jason doesn’t need to show up for family dinners to see the tension there. Even Jason’s relationship with him is different. They circle each other, almost awkwardly. There’s this… almost-want of a reconciliation; a tentative truce building between them.

Until it blows up in their faces, of course.

Jason leaves the fight angry and frustrated and seething—but also hot under the collar. Before, he would just find a bar and look for someone who could almost, in the right lighting (or lack of), pass for Bruce—or who looked like they could fuck Jason hard enough he wouldn’t care.

But…

Well. It hadn’t been enough when Bruce had first “died,” and ever since his night with Tim… He’s not sure it ever will be again. So he finds himself on Tim’s doorstep again—possibly in the same outfit? Or maybe a different era costume? Or something totally different. He figures, well. Last time Tim had him out of the suit pretty quick, so he must’ve been into it.

Tim’s surprised—but again, doesn’t turn Jason down. He does tell him to ditch the costume next time. Nightwing doesn’t do it for him.

Again, Jason leaves satisfied.

After that, it keeps happening. Jason abandons the costume idea entirely; just shows up at Tim’s door in or climbs through his window. Sometimes he brings food, usually he doesn’t. They fuck. Sometimes they even stay together until its time to get up, becoming—almost friendly, in those small windows of time.

The time between visits starts to decrease, until Jason isn’t really seeking him out because Bruce pissed him off anymore. Tim is still putting on a Bruce-esque persona, though. He’s also never the one to initiate, which Jason notes idly but isn’t concerned about… yet.

And then one day, when Jason seeks him out, Tim is… tired. He’s fighting with Bruce. He’s still got the primary role in the company. He’s pretending to be injured. He’s not on good terms with Dick (though they’re mending). Damian hasn’t tried to kill him in a few weeks but there’s still animosity. Things with Steph are… weird. Strained. Awkward. He’s glad she’s back. He’s angry at her for lying. She’s pissed he’s not talking about his disappearance, and the thing with Pru, and. You know. Everything. The Titans are back but he’s not leaning on them like he used to. He’s still managing everything that happened with the League, the missing spleen, and now Boomerang… 

He’s tired.

He wants.

His persona cracks, and a little more Tim shines through. Jason… likes it. He doesn’t know what’s different; he’s really only encountered fake-Bruce Tim and Red Robin Tim. Everything else has been glancing. Brief.

But by the next time they meet, Tim’s rebuilt his defenses, and… it’s the same as before. Except now, the formerly mind-blowing sex is— Still good, but. There’s something lacking, a missing mysterious thing that Jason has no idea how to ask for. It’s… frustrating. The itch comes back, more fierce than before.

He ends up talking to someone—probably Dick, but maybe Steph, or Babs. He doesn’t mean to turn the subject to Tim, isn’t even intending to ask about him, but. The others have noticed Tim & Jason’s new… closeness, if not the reason for it. Whoever it is he talks to happens to mention that Tim used to really look up to him—idolize him, even. Probably in the context of a warning, but not necessarily.

A few things click into place. He keeps his distance from Tim for a bit; turning thing over in his head. Certain misinterpretations are cleared up, but… Jason also has new questions. Questions he doesn’t intend to just ask outright—he knows Tim wouldn’t answer him. Or, if he did, it wouldn’t be true.

So he decides to do something a little—reckless. Or, maybe not reckless, so much as embarrassing. Painstakingly, he assembles an accurate (well, mostly) Robin costume. The same one he wore, during his tenure. He barely manages to swallow his embarrassment enough to assemble it, let alone put it on, and covers quickly with a long coat.

The trip to the Nest is agony. He finds himself flushing every time he’s reminded of it. And when he gets there— He hasn’t knocked on the door in ages, but this time… He can’t do anything but, and waits anxiously for Tim to show up.

Tim lets him in, eyeing the coat with strong suspicion.

When the door is shut, Tim takes in his appearance with an impressively neutral expression, considering Jason is sure he looks ridiculous, wearing a long overcoat despite the mild weather and his face, ears, and neck blotchy with embarrassment. “I thought we agreed no more costumes,” Tim says, finally. Jason swallows hard. His face grows hotter. He resists the urge to tug at his collar; instead undoing the buttons of his coat with trembling fingers. “I— We did. But…” He takes a breath. He’s too off-kilter to make his words sound seductive, but he continues anyway—“I think you’ll make an exception for this one.” And then, before he can lose his nerve, he shrugs out of the overcoat. The Robin costume—sans cape, and pixie boots. And gloves. But he was wearing the red tunic, and the scaly green panties. And they are panties, unlike the original. But he’d thought a two piece might be more… practical. It’s the closest thing he’s worn to the original suit in… years. Since the Tower, and that had been far less faithful. He feels… ridiculous. Overgrown. Out of place. But… There’s still a little bit of magic, too. He keeps his eyes on Tim despite his nerves. Watches the almost imperceptible way his eyes widen. The way his hands still. The way all of him stills so completely Jason worries, for a moment, that he isn’t even breathing. It stretches long enough Jason feels himself starting still; ice creeping through his veins. This was a bad idea. He fucked up. At best—Tim laughs at him. At worst… At worst he’s dismissed, derided, humiliated, and never to make things right, or see if they can’t, maybe, be something more. Then there’s a short, sharp intake of breath—and Tim moves, so suddenly Jason might wonder about latent speedster genes, if he wasn’t otherwise occupied. Tim kisses him feverishly, licking into Jason’s mouth like he’s starved. One hand tangles in his curls; the other wanders. Over his chest, teasing his nipples through the tunic before tracing the Robin emblem. (Jason isn’t going to examine the way that makes him shiver.) Then down over his rib cage, his stomach. Teasing the hem of the panties before palming him through them. Squeezing, as Jason gasps into his mouth; rocking his hips forward. Tim smiles, smug and satisfied. “Feel good, does it, Robin?” The name— the tone— His moan is torn from his chest, so hard it’s almost painful. He whimpers, after, the heat spreading down his chest. His whole body prickles, skin tight and sensitive. Fuck.

They don’t even make it to the bedroom. Tim, well. He tries, but god, he cannot keep the Bruce-persona going, and Jason watches the mask fall in real time. It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

Later, when they’ve both finished at least once, they lay next to each other, and Tim asks quietly, “What gave me away?” The question is so mild, so innocuous. He could be talking about his thing for the Robin costume, or any number of things. But Jason knows. So he tells him, “Nothing I would have noticed for a long time.” Because it’s true. He prides himself on being observant, but.. he wasn’t looking for it. Didn’t know to, and never would have expected it, from Tim of all people. He feels… guilty. “Dick brought up some stuff, though, and… Well. All the things I’d missed were… obvious.”

Then Jason admits that he’s enjoyed the times they’ve gotten to hang out, and the longer this has been going on, the more he’s been disappointed when they don’t get to. And… the times that Tim has been more himself, less Bruce… they’ve always been his favorite.

He doesn’t want to jump into something before he’s ready, rush it, and end up hurting Tim when it doesn’t work out but— He thinks, if they go slow, that they could have something. If Tim is willing to give him that chance, to know him.

And, well. What does Tim have to lose? His heart is already on the line. So he says yes.

(It happens, bit by bit, so slowly he doesn’t even notice, until, one day, Jason looks at Tim and— He can’t. He can’t picture anyone else at his side, can’t imagine wanting anyone else. He’s happy, here, with Tim, and so, utterly in love.)

-> AO3 <-

[xfindingtrouble]

ϟ for ellis!

The grin that breaks across his features as he leans into her touch is nothing short of excited. He cannot help but revel in her embrace as her knuckles drift down the marred flesh of his face. They had succeeded in weaving another grand tale of the very scar his wife touched so gently & he cannot help but lean in to plant a quick kiss on her forehead. He bounces back, trying to sort through his feelings. The door their guest had left through had closed only moments before & he was still processing the delight that they had just indulged in.

" Did you see his face? I think he believed us." he cups her hand in his own, biting back laughter. He turned his face, nuzzling into the palm of her hand. They had claimed, only minutes before, that the archdemon's claw had graced his face thus resulting in his scar. A confused expression from their guest had only encouraged him. Astoria had joined in on the game & together they wove a tale that was almost believable. Rather, it had been believable enough. It helped that the visiting dignitary had no idea how large the archdemon actually was & by the end the idiot believed them both. Every improvised detail only seemed to engross him. His voice jumps from his tongue & he wrinkles his nose, " As if the archdemon's claws were this small. "

Ellis could not help but delight in it all, it was a good break from the stranger's insufferable voice. He had come in, acting like the most important person that had ever graced Skyhold's halls. Funny, how Ellis could now scarcely remember his name. These days, Astoria's hands were always full. She was always busy trying to appease or aggravate different forces, Ellis couldn't help but think it took a toll on his wife. It was his civic duty to bring a bit of light into her work, wherever possible.

His 'light' often came in the form of antagonizing his wife's rudest guests. Worst case scenario, he looked like a crazy old man. Which was not far from the truth. It was not surprising how few people dared question one of the warden commanders or the Inquisitor herself ( regardless of whether succeded or sounded like raving lunatics.) It was part of the levity, Ellis mused.

"I think next time we ought to come up with something about the deep roads. Maybe a troll, something, incredible feat, something else... we say my face got torn in half? Maybe we say Wynne put it back together, just for the laughs." he turns his face to press another kiss into the palm of her hand. it was a touch he could never tire of, familiar. it feels as though his jaw was built to compliment the curve of her hand. they fit too perfectly together & it is hard not to revel in their shared smiles, " Or maybe we say that you did it. Could you imagine their expressions? "

[nellamente]

Do we believe everything we see?

Through my lens.................. (Sera Barbara 5.1A)

Intro

If you had to count, how many times have people manipulated you into believing something that you are not particularly fond of... how many times would you say it happened? Or maybe someone pulled a joke on you and you were so trusting that you did not even realize that people were actually pulling your leg?

The real question is, are you THAT easy to be messed with.. or are you too oblivious and trustful?

I find myself constantly being pushed into believing a bunch of information that I am being fed daily. In a blog about Over Consumption of Information, Oksana Tunikova mentioned that once you spend a long time consuming information through the web "you realize there’s so much data in your head that you can no longer think clearly." (Oksana 2018) The thing is that, people are receiving information through their screens 24/7. Therefore, if we had to join both of these points together we can conclude that considering that 67.1% of the world population today, are technology users, 5.45 BILLION people around the globe are in this "brain fog" state (Oksana 2018) ALL . THE . TIME.

She deconstructed the definition of the state of "Information Overload" saying that it is "feeling overwhelmed by the volume of information to the point at which one feels more confused than knowledgeable about a particular topic. Information overload can manifest itself as brain fog and difficulty making decisions." (Oksana 2018) Further on she mentions that this also brings anxiety.

Over consumption comes with mental health issues. In Tunikova's blog she mentions the concept of creating anxiety. "information overdose can also aggravate anxiety one is already feeling" (Oksana 2018) and it brings as well as lack of focus "When there is more information in our head than we can effectively process, our brain starts to rush from one idea to another". (Oksana 2018) It sort of feels like we are no longer in control of our emotions and maybe that is the goal through all of this. This makes sense with the artistic image above ^^. The lines going through the human's ears, eyes and mouth is no coincidence, all of these parts of the body work with the brain, "The brain integrates visual and auditory information to better understand its environment"(Drevitch 2024) Therefore everything that we see and hear all go through our brain and affect us in some way.

Does this all lead up to one meaning that we are being controlled by our own screens, the media and our entertainment? But supposedly if our emotions are being "controlled" what about our opinons? According to Incuta on a article called Inception: Social Media’s Influence On Your Opinion "Our digital interactions on social media platforms can sometimes be so immersive that it’s hard for us to differentiate a conscious thought from an unconscious inception" (Iuncta 2023).

Saying this is much easier than admitting that this is actually happening to us and its impact on us. The image below is the perfect example of the way we perceive this.

Conclusion

The way I interpret this is in this scenario. Imagine it; you're scrolling through Instagram and an image of a current ongoing war comes up, the post makes you empathize with the people going through the war and it makes you feel uneasy. You decide you don't want to continue feeling this way and scroll to another post that shows a cute kitten sleeping, making you think "this is so cute! okay, nothing is so bad after all".

What I am trying to say by this; by scrolling to another post it makes us feel as if that everything is fine once you scroll to another thing. But this constant run through, through good and bad news ends up making us accept EVERYTHING...leading up to the 10th word of this blog, MANIPULATION. If we start accepting even these small instances of doing nothing we end up being easy on bigger instances too, to the point that we don't have our own opinion and if we do have opinions they are based on what we see rather than what we think.

And maybe we are being controlled but, what for? Why should these constant scrolling sessions make us more accepting? I feel that there is something more to this than we know. We need to learn more how differentiate between reality and fantasy, lies and truths and most of all, real and fake.

But after all not all control is bad control. Who knows where this would lead us?

This is all based on perspective.

"the question of whether or not the media controls people is a complex one that depends on a variety of factors. While there are certainly examples of media manipulation and the potential for influence exists, it is ultimately up to individuals to critically evaluate the messages that they receive and make informed decisions." (ArtisticMindsHQ 2023)

Reference list

ArtisticMindsHQ (2023). Do We Believe the Media Controls Us? Exploring the Impact of Media on Society. [online] Medium. Available at: https://medium.com/@thedaily-ArtisticMindsHQ/do-we-believe-the-media-controls-us-exploring-the-impact-of-media-on-society-106e2f2d811d.

ArtStation. (2024). Consumption, Miko Maciaszek. [online] Available at: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/0X8VYy.

Drevitch, G. (2024). How Your Eyes Communicate With Your Ears. [online] Psychology Today. Available at: https://www.psychologytoday.com/intl/blog/illusions-delusions-and-reality/202406/how-your-eyes-communicate-with-your-ears.

Iuncta (2023). Forbes EQ BrandVoice: Inception: Social Media’s Influence on Your Opinion. [online] Forbes. Available at: https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbeseq/2023/02/27/inception-social-medias-influence-on-your-opinion/.

Khushpreet Singh Sidhu (2022). Nowadays, people get information through news and papers, but meanwhile are uncertain about the truth of th... [online] Writing9.com. Available at: https://writing9.com/text/628767b19409cb0018088688-nowadays-people-get-information-through-news-and-papers-but-meanwhile.

Marshall, R. (2019). How do Cultures Change? - Video & Lesson Transcript | Study.com. [online] Study.com. Available at: https://study.com/academy/lesson/how-do-cultures-change.html.

Tunikova, O. (2018). Are We Consuming Too Much Information? [online] Medium. Available at: https://medium.com/@tunikova/are-we-consuming-too-much-information-b68f62500089#id_token=eyJhbGciOiJSUzI1NiIsImtpZCI6IjI4YTQyMWNhZmJlM2RkODg5MjcxZGY5MDBmNGJiZjE2ZGI1YzI0ZDQiLCJ0eXAiOiJKV1QifQ.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.zTVfanMP1MFpZs9HgMxsnRdtcRLwNwCxvzoEyAjRDO1vJV8o1rRtAMe6okjWFyLywFrqjsSfGiYR29Klj_v.

[lgcichika]

ᴍʏ ꜰᴏʀᴇɪɢɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇ : 002 ( granny, i'm an idol remember? )

“I’m going to go visit my neighbor. I’m going to need you to feed the animals, dear.” 

Sleep still clung to Ichika’s eyes as she paused for a moment to stare out at the kind old woman seated across the table from her. It had been rather early in the morning when Granny had woken her up. Typically Ichika considered herself a morning person and barely complained when she had to get up early for schedule, but after the events of her first day as the new grandchild of one Granny Lee, it had been hard to remove herself from her covers. Though in the end, she had managed, even if had felt somewhat painful. 

 Cacooned in an oversized sweatsuit, hair piled messily atop her head, the idol could only stare at the old woman for a long, unblinking moment, completely forgetting the bit of grilled fish had intended to eat. 

She had to be kidding.

But she wasn’t. 

After a brief rundown of her chores, Ichika had found herself in the yard, dressed rather artfully in Granny’s clothing. The pants she had been given clashed tragically with the sweatshirt she had been wearing earlier, and the bright green galoshes only seemed to further subtract from her elegant persona. Even after bidding Granny goodbye, Ichika could only stare blankly at the gate and the soft glow of the early morning sky before she truly accepted her fate and shuffled off to do her chores. 

Truthfully, Ichika hardly considered herself incapable of taking on any task, but she was also a city girl in almost every way. She had never truly shopped at anything other than a supermarket and never thought twice about where the produce or meat products she consumed came from as long as their quality was good. And when she came to train in Seoul, it had been much of the same. What need did she have to care for chickens or pick her own vegetables? 

Needless to say, when she had experienced the latter the previous day when being introduced to kimchi making and also the importance of cleaning all the fresh dirt off, Ichika would have been at a loss without the instruction and assistance of Granny. Sure, the old woman had complained in that way old people did and said words and phrases that had left Ichika confused and running through context clues to try to fill in the gaps. She had ended the day in one piece but she had clearly been exhausted by the day's end. 

And something told her she would be in similar sorts when filming ended. 

The chickens had been easy enough, though the rush of the animals to their feed had made her let out a squawk of panic, eyes round with shock. “Wait, don’t eat it all— let your friends…” In her panic, she had unthinkingly dropped all the feed in one general area, and in an attempt to spread it out more, she tried to use her boot. It had worked a little but mostly ended up aggravating what she assumed was the rooster and after one particularly hard peck, Ichika had quickly escaped. 

Moving on, she made to feed Granny’s pigs and goats, and despite almost slipping into the mudd, the process had been a good deal easier. 

“Ah, you’re making friends, dear?”

She’s crouched down, leaning against the animal pens, petting one of the older goats when Granny finally returns, some bags of produce in her hands. “Oh, yes, well—” Ichika doesn’t know why she feel shy about being caught petting the animal, but the old woman doesn’t seem to take much mind before she’s gesturing back to the house. 

“My neighbor grows strawberries. Come, let’s clean them up and have a snack.” 

It’s still odd to be treated so comfortably, but Ichika can only nod and smile, unable to help herself. It doesn’t matter if this is her personal program; it’s hard not to fall for Granny.

[eka-roo]

Making Flower Crowns With Them...

How would they react to you asking/making flower crowns with them?

(Fluff.. So much Fluff)

Various (Xiao, Kazuha,

Notes;.. This was supposed to include way more people, but I got a lil carried away with Xiao and lost inspiration for much else. Soo here ya go. 🙃

°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.-< 🍂 >-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°

-Xiao

"Flower Crowns? You mortals and your strange tendencies... the adepti do not make flower crowns."

Seeing the dejected frown on your face and small pout is all it takes for him to fold.

You have him wrapped around your pinky, whether he knows it or not.

"C'mon Xiao, Pleasee?? Just one and I'll make you all the almond tofu you want!"

"..You'll make me almond tofu..?"

"Yep! Here, I picked some Qingxin earlier. I'll show you how to make them,"

"...Fine."

You can't help the wide grin that crosses your face, sitting criss crossed on the ground. You had settled in the field accompanying wangshu inn. Although you didn't notice, just seeing your delighted expression sent a stake straight through Xiao's heart. Warmth filling his expression and forcing him to turn away.

Looking up at Xiao, you eagerly patted the spot beside you. Oblivious to the emotions coursing through him. All the flowers you picked earlier that day were set in neat piles, ready to be turned into flower crowns. Although still hesitant, he sighed and uncrossed his arms. Joining alongside you, one leg streched out and the other bent at the knee.

It didn't take him long to figure out how to make them hinself. While he had never done it before, or anything close to flower crown making, he was a fast learner. In fact he finished his own crown before you did yours. A simple thing, purely Qingxin flowers. Careful, he kneaded a few crystal cores through the stems. Giving it an almost elegant look. Having completed it, he grew silent. A familiar heaviness filling his chest at the sight of something so delicate. The fact he had made it with his own hands; his own hands that were tainted with eons of sin. He couldn't believe something so... pure, could come from them.

"Xiao? Do you want me to put it on for you?"

Jumping out of his thoughts, he looked at you curiously. Unsure of what you meant at first. You only smilied in response, scooting closer to the adepti.

"Here, let me."

Reaching for his crown, you intended on putting it on for him. But he caught on before you did, protectively pulling it closer and away from your grip. Now you were the one confused, not quite understanding. Still, you patiently waited for him. It was clear there was something on his mind, as he appeared suddenly nervous. Refusing to meet your eyes while he fidgeted with the crown in his lap.

Finally, he did make a move. Seemingly frustrated with the way his eyebrows furrowed and he huffed aggravated. It was all quick, him leaning forward and adjusting the crown on your head. While hurried, he was careful not to rustle you or the delicate petals. Straightening it out. All before you could say a word.

By the time you processed it all, he was gone. A gentle smile gracing your lips. Although he was no longer in your presence, you spoke nonetheless,

"Thank you.. I love it."

🍂

-Kazuha

Immediately delighted by the idea, a soft look of adoration crossing his face.

Was likely the one to teach you how to make them, using the flowers of his homeland: inazuma. There was no doubt the land had plently of beautiful foliage.

"Just like that, you're doing great my love." (😏/j)

Sitting at your back, Kazuha watched your hands carefully. A soft look on his face as he talked you through making the flower crown. While dendrobium was the main focus, you insisted on weaving maple leaves through the stems as well. Stating proudly that they reminded you of Kazuha.

It took a lot to fluster the usually smooth samurai, but the shameless mention sent his heart spinning. Smiling sheepishly and explaining just how to include them into the crown. Watching you so focused on the project reminded him just how much he adored you. Made him want to hold you tight, until the world stopped spinning and the sun set for the final time. How was he so lucky?

The sight was enough to bring on peotic inspiration, a new haiku on Kazuha's tongue as you finished up the flower crown. His arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you toward him, practically melting in your warmth as the sky turned to hues of orange, pink and purple. Getting comfortable in his hold, you reached back and set the flower crown atop his hair. The sight bringing a warm smile to your face. Gently then, Kazuha's hand reached up to cup your cheek. Turning your head just enough to plant a soft kiss to your forehead. He didn't have a poetic way to explain how he felt about you. He simply loved you.

°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.-< 🍂 >-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°

[3raaaachachacha]

8:03 pm

Lee Felix x female reader / 582 words / angst / fluff

Warnings: none

91. “Don’t go on that date.” “Why?” “You know why.” “Say it.”

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

For the past hour, your best friend had been sitting there, listening to you go on about a date tomorrow night, that you low-key knew wouldn't be a date but would turn into a casual hook up. Felix knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you were only doing this so that people wouldn't tease you for being so boring. That's why despite your nervousness about this so-called date, you tried your best not to show it.

As much as he didn't want you to do this to yourself, he also didn't want you to go on a date in general since he was in love with you. It aggravated him to hear you go on about how “excited” you were, when he knew it was all lies. 

"Y/N, I don't fucking need to hear this," Felix cursed, catching you off guard.

"What?" You questioned, taken aback by his sudden change of attitude, "You're my best friend, why can't you listen to me?"

Felix sighed, running his fingers through his messy blonde hair, feeling like it was best to be straight to the point instead of beating around the bush, "Please, don’t go on that date.”

You sat beside Felix, confused as to what was going on with him, yet you couldn't think of the right words to say. This was a side you weren't used to seeing, "Why?"

"You know why," Felix replied abruptly, standing from the couch and pacing around the room.

"Say it," You said sternly, "Say what you want to say, so I can try to understand you."

"Fuck! It's because I'm in love with you, Y/N. I have been for years now and I don't want you going and doing something you'll regret. I don't want you hooking up with a guy you don't even know just to make yourself seem cool to others!" Felix sighed, coming to kneel in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs, "Stop trying to be someone you're not. It's only hurting you."

You sat there in silence, a little taken aback at Felix's confession as well as him seeing right through you. He was right, Felix was always right. He read you like a book and if anyone was to see it, he knew you were trying to get a name for yourself. He absolutely hated it.

"Felix, I don't even know what to say," You mumbled.

"You don't need to say anything right now," Felix encouraged, "But please, cancel the date and we can talk about it later."

You nodded in understanding as Felix’s led you towards your bedroom, knowing how tolling this could have been on you. It was a lot to take in all at once. As you got ready for bed, he turned on a movie, knowing how you loved to watch them before falling asleep. You shyly asked him to stay and watch with you to think of what you needed to say.

"Thank you, Lix," You muttered, "Thank you for making me realize what I was doing. I'm sorry for upsetting you and ignoring your feelings. I did everything I could to ignore my feelings for you, even to the point of believing my own lie. It was selfish of me to even do that and hurt you in the process.”

Felix pressed a soft kiss to your temple before pulling you into his arms to hold you close, "We can talk about this tomorrow. Try and get some rest love.”

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

- Admin 🌶️

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Irresistable*

Azriel x Reader

* = NSFW. EXPLICIT CONTENT.

Summary: Whilst training with Azriel, you make one too many ‘innocent’ mistakes and his resolve wavers with each one until he can’t take it anymore.

Warning: NSFW, forbidden romance, teasing, shitty writing with no sense, out of character azriel, piece of crap - posting anyway aha

Word Count: 2539

"You need to tighten your core" Azriel instructs, voice soft and unjudgemental but aggravating nonetheless.

"I am tightening" I grit from between my teeth, working with all my waning strength on moving along the balance beam.

Azriel and I had been training only for a couple of weeks now after I'd finally decided I wanted to learn how to defend myself or at least be able to hold my own until I could get to safety. However, my insipid mortal reflexes and strength was making it insanely difficult to learn anything.

Considering my being the remaining mortal sister of the Archerons after thankfully being on a short trip to see a friend at the time my other sisters had been kidnapped and turned, it seemed like an even better idea. Especially to my overprotective older sisters. Sometimes, being the only human around definitely sucked and others, like when my sisters got roped into Fae bullshit...it definitely didn't.

It did really suck I wouldn't find a mate, though. That sounded incredibly...convenient.

"You may think you're engaging your core but you're not" Azriel says, moving slightly closer, his shadows surrounding him in the soft dawn light.

"You know what, if this is so easy then-ah!" I squeal as I fall off the beam, stumbling slightly and gripping the beams surface to keep from slipping as my feet land hard on the floor, ground shock reverberating up my legs, "Ugh, this sucks!"

Azriel chuckles softly, "You'll get it."

"It doesn't feel like it" I grumble

Azriel comes up behind me, placing one large hand across my stomach, pushing against it softly, "You need to act as if you're sucking in your stomach, belly button to spine."

I do exactly that, my stomach concaving in, forcing his hand to slip from my stomach and back to his side and Azriel laughs - a big, joyful chuckle, the loudest I'd ever heard from him.

"Was that a laugh?" I smirk, quirking one eyebrow

"I do laugh, you know."

"Not often...and not around me."

"Focus. We're not here to discuss my social habits. Now, I meant internally. It may sound strange but visualise it in your mind and then pull your stomach in and hold it. You'll feel it."

My smirk slips and I nod, focusing. I do as he instructs and though he is right, it does feel strange, I definitely feel it in my stomach, an odd and uncomfortable tightening sensation as if my stomach was benching a weight.

"Ow" I pout, releasing my stomach, "I don't like that"

"You'll get used to it" Azriel smiles, "Now, come on, back up on the beam and try again"

"Will you catch me if I fall?" I tease, my smirk returning. Though he may be over 200 years older than me, strictly off limits because of his being a completely different and dangerous race from me and completely emotionally unavailable, it didn't mean I couldn't flirt.

"Of course" Azriel responds, tone all business. I roll my eyes slightly as I hop back up onto the beam, one foot in front of the other.

Squeezing my eyes slightly against the pressure, I perform my weird suck-in thing to engage my core, taking a tentative step forward...and finding it suddenly way easier. Gaining confidence, I take another step forward, and then another, each one coming faster and faster until...

"I did it!" I giggle, reaching the opposite end of the beam and jumping off, "I actually did it."

"Well done" Azriel commends, his ice-hewn face slightly broken by a small smile, "Next beam"

"Already?" I gulp, looking over my shoulder. The next beam was higher up then the first, the top of it reaching my chest. I turn back to him, gesturing to the lower one, "Can't I just do this one again?"

Azriel says nothing and I sigh, moving over to the other beam and grabbing a couple step blocks to get up to the beam. Heaving myself up and onto the beam, I wobble softly and a small, startled squeak escapes my lips before I regain my balance.

"You really will catch me, right?" I ask nervously. Again, no response omits from his lips, just a short nod of which I couldn't tell was either actually in answer to my question or instruction to get a move on.

"Okay" I breathe, closing my eyes and stilling my body completely, performing the process of engaging my core slowly, each muscle at a time until I felt so tightly wound even a sharp shove couldn't knock me from my feet.

I take a step forward...then another...and then I slip.

My foot hits the side of the beam wrong and in an effort to stay up, I attempt to pull it back on rather than letting it go and placing it behind my other foot, bending at the knees as I was taught to do and had done many times on the lower beam. I scream and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I tip backward, flailing my arms out as my back heads for the ground.

As if in slow motion, I turn my body as I fall, instinctively positioning to catch my fall with my hands - a rookie mistake. A pair of strong hands encircles my waist as I turn and without thinking I grab onto him, securing my body to his in every way possible to stop my fall. I grunt as one of my feet lands hard on the floor, ground shock again erupting through...one of my feet?

I open my eyes and find myself in the strangest position...Azriel's face was before me, his arm hooked underneath the crook of my right knee, holding the one leg up whilst the other was placed upon the floor as normal, my hips pressed against his.

"You really did fall in the most difficult way possible" Azriel says, voice deep and gravelly...as if straining.

It's then I notice Azriel's stance is crooked, his weight tipped to one side slightly as if weighed down...I gasp and almost send myself flying again as I realise what exactly I'd done in my attempt to escape a painful landing.

My knee was grazing his right wing, my left arm tightly wrapped around his neck with my elbow brushing the inside of his left wing and my right hand was placed entirely on the soft membrane of the inside of his right wing, my fingers splayed across the shimmering surface and pressing lightly onto it, the way one would place their hand on a surface to maintain balance.

Points of contact everywhere with Azriel's wings...Azriel's sensitive wings.

"Oh my...I'm so sorry" I gasp, pulling my leg out of his grasp and removing my arm from his neck, my hand from his wing, until I was standing before him. Closer than I'd ever been before, his eyes boring into mine.

"You couldn't have just fallen backward?" Azriel says, his voice still rough and strained, "I would've caught you."

"I know, I-" I stammer, "I didn't think, I just acted on instinct. I don't know what I was thinking. Are your wings okay?"

"They're fine" Azriel frowns softly, "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Feyre's told me before to be careful of your wings, to make sure I keep away from them because they're really sensitive...are they not?" I redirect as his confused frown deepens.

"They are but not in the way you seem to think" Azriel explains, "It doesn't cause me pain, which by the look on your face, I assume is what you think."

"It's not painful?" I breathe a sigh of relief, "Oh thank the forgotten gods...but if it's not a painful sensitivity, why do you seem so tense? Well, tenser."

"While it's not painful, it is still sensitive. The sensation is hard to explain but it just provokes a different...reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"It's too hard to explain. How about I show you the approximation of what it feels like to a non-winged being and then you tell me the reaction you have."

I nod, a little nervous about the slight gleam in Azriel's eyes, a knowing one...

Leaning forward, Azriel breathes softly into the shell of my ear, lips trailing sensually along the outer edge as his large hand ghosts down my spine in soft, light movements, his fingers barely touching the skin but sending shivers all the way through my body. My eyes go heavy lidded and instinctively, I grip his bicep to hold myself steady, neck tipping back slightly to expose more of my neck as his breath gusts over the sensitive skin, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back to keep me from falling on my ass. A small noise escapes from my throat.

In a lighting fast move, Azriel pulls me to rights and releases me completely, stepping a good few paces back. Breathing heavily, my eyes open and meet his and I imagine our expressions to be almost exact. Flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, chests rising and falling so agonisingly slowly as we attempt to keep our breathing even and failing completely.

"Woah" I breathe, "I definitely get it now."

"You can't do that, Y/N, damn it!" Azriel growls and I straighten further, lust filled haze vanishing.

"Do what?" I gape

"Make me-" Azriel says and then stops himself, "Never mind. Today's session is over"

He turns on his heel to leave but I run after him, meaning to grab his shoulder...and accidentally gracing the back of his wing again.

Damn it, dumbass.

Azriel releases a frustrated growl and whirls on me, pushing me back into a nearby wall, his hands on my waist, eyes staring into mine.

"That"

I was still confused. This was the only time I'd ever touched his wings...

Seeing my confused expression, Azriel presses closer, his body pressed to mine, something hard pressing into my-

Oh.

"I...I wasn't aware I" I stumble over my words, "I wasn't aware it was something I'd done more than once."

"That's a lie and you know it" Azriel huffs, "Stop feigning innocence."

"I'm not feigning anything!" I protest. I truly hadn't meant to turn him on. Now or any other time. Feyre and Nesta and Elain had all made it clear I shouldn't get into it with Azriel...Gods, even Rhys had told me to keep away!, "Why does it even matter? We're both adults, we can just move on from-"

"You don't get it, do you?" Azriel growls, "That I've wanted you every moment from when I first saw you, that Feyre and Rhys gave me this lecture about duty and responsibility and the different race bullshit and ordered me to stay away from you. The only reason I was allowed to train you is because I swore it'd be training and nothing more!"

"I'm...I don't know what to say to you except that I didn't know anything about any of that."

"I swear you're my own personal hell on Earth." Azriel sighs, shaking his head, eyes hard and cold as flint.

"Wow, thanks" I scoff sarcastically, offended, "I wasn't doing anything intentionally."

"That may be even worse" Azriel concedes, "Knowing that anything you did wasn't intentional means if you truly tried to make a move...I would fall at your feet and beg you for just a second of your time. For one moment between-I shouldn't be entertaining this idea."

No, please go on.

"It doesn't help that I can smell you every time you enter a room. It's like you specifically-"

"Wow, so now I smell?" I huff, "Perfect."

"Not that kind of smell. I can smell it on you now."

It?

Well, sure, I was sweaty but I'd just been working out. Although I'd cooled a bit now, with all the slow and steady lust-filled contact we'd had-

Oh...again.

I remember Nesta telling me once to be careful with any time I spent...with myself because the males could smell...

Could smell arousal.

"Oh" I say aloud this time, "That."

"I could swear you would touch yourself before each training session just to drive me insane with what I can't have-damn it, stop it!"

"Well I can't really help my body's reactions when you talk like that" I defend, that warm and tight feeling in my stomach building, eyelids fighting not to fall.

"Try" Azriel suggests weakly.

"If the past few weeks of my unintentional seducing you wasn't proof enough, I clearly can't do that."

"What has been with you recently? You're aroused all the time."

"I don't know" I blush, "I just...have been. Besides, it's not like I have someone I can go to here to...relieve myself of the frustration so I'm all I've got."

Azriel's jaw clenches, eyes ablaze with a hungry fire.

"Why can't we...I mean, why am I so forbidden to you?"

"Feyre and Rhys say...well, I don't know. It doesn't matter about their reasons, their my High Lord and Lady. If they order me to do something, I obey."

"Is that something you can't fight?" I ask, eyes trailing up and down his body, "Like a magical side effect stops you?"

"No, it's an honour thing-" Azriel stops short, recognising my intention, "Okay, I know you're doing this on purpose now"

"So what?" I whisper, "It's not like I'll tell them anything...and there's no one out here to witness for at least a few hours."

"Hours?" Azriel chuckles, "What makes you think you can handle that?"

Cocky now, huh?

"I'm almost certain I probably can't...but I'm more than willing to try."

Azriel's erection grows larger, pressing insistently upon my upper thigh, "Y/N...I can't"

"Yes you can" I say, "Something tells me you're just as good at getting in your own way as Feyre and Rhys are. I'm more than capable of making my own decisions and I would be lying if I said this isn't one of the fantasies I've used to help me out when I'm alone."

The sound of Azriel's teeth grinding against each other makes me smile. I don't know where this sudden confidence came from - perhaps from knowing how badly he also wants this. Maybe it was fate's way of making something that was always supposed to happen, happen. By removing my nervousness and forcing Azriel to think his way out of his own mental purgatories.

Azriel, still fighting his own mental battle, pants softly and I lean forward, trailing a long line up his neck and along his jawline with my tongue. My hand drifts up, reaching for the tender inside of his wing-

"Don't. Do. That" Azriel grits out, hand gripping my wrist and pushing it back against the wall, up above my head, the other arm quickly following, "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Who said I wasn't planning to finish?" I smirk

"Gods, you'll be the death of me" Azriel sighs, leaning closer to me. I could already tell the battle was lost, he was just clinging to the last scraps of will he had left.

"What was that you said earlier? That you would 'fall at my feet and beg for just one moment between...' What were you going to say?" I tease

"Shut the fuck up" Azriel growls, his lips pressing to mine.

Masterlist

[typical-simplelove]

Comfort (M. Barzal)

Author's Note: This is based on this photo of Mathew's arms. I know this should probably be a smutty piece, but I don't feel comfortable with that or have the abilities to do that, so here's a fluffy piece instead!

Warnings: mentions of heart disease but only in passing.

Word Count: 1.7k

Comfort. What did that truly mean? By definition, comfort means a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint. When people are asked about where they feel the most comfortable in their lives, many say in the comfort of their own home, their childhood home, or in the comfort of a grandparent’s house. It’s funny; in order to describe where one’s comfort place is, one has to use the word “comfort” in the response.

So, where’s your comfort spot? Sure, you could say you found comfort in a cocoon of blankets and pillows on your bed on a rainy day with your best friend next to you. Or, you found comfort sitting in your childhood home reminiscing about your childhood. Or, sitting on a chair in your grandmother’s house. All these were spots where you found comfort. However, where you found comfort was not a place but someone. It was in the hold of a certain someone. Who was that someone? Mathew Barzal. Your best friend.

For as long as you could remember, you weren’t big on touch or anything of that sort. However, Mathew made you want to be in someone’s embrace. You wanted, no craved, to be held by Mathew. You weren’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the warmth that always seemed to radiate off his body. Or, maybe it was his warm personality that drew you into him. It might be the way that you always felt calm around him. Or, it might have been his arms. His strong, muscular arms would hold you tightly but not make you feel like you’re suffocating. Maybe, it was a mix of it all. When you’d sit on your bed surrounded by pillows and blankets, the warmth you had didn’t come from the blankets or the pillows or the heating system; no, the warmth came from Mathew. His arms holding you against his chest allowed for the warmth to transfer from his body to yours. You could spend hours with Mathew’s arms around you holding you close to his chest.

When you’d have a bad day, the one thing that’d be able to make you feel better and calm you down was Mathew. He knew. You’d call him, and the way you greeted him, Mathew would know that you needed him to hold you. He’d rush over to your apartment, let himself in, and just wrap his arms around you. It didn’t matter if you were standing over the sink washing dishes or standing over the stove cooking dinner, Mathew would gently wrap his arms around you. Mathew would know that his arms around you calmed you down and comforted you when you’d breathe out heavily. You’d lean your back against Mathew’s chest, and all your worries would slip away.

Through finding comfort in your best friend, one constant thought continuously loomed in your head that begged to be addressed: Mathew was holding you and comforting you as a friend; however, you wanted him to hold you and comfort you as more than a friend. You didn’t want Mathew’s comforting to end with just holding you. You wanted Mathew to kiss you on your forehead or on your temple or on your cheek in comfort. You wanted Mathew to hold your hand in public and squeeze it reassuringly. You wanted everything with Mathew. It seemed, though, that Mathew didn’t want to give you that same comfort. You thought that you were being obvious in how you felt, but it seemed that Matthew didn’t catch on to your hints.

It was a particularly rough day at work. Everything happened to go wrong. Your boss was putting more pressure on you, and your coworkers were very officious and aggravating today. You knew that when you got in your car, you needed Mathew. You needed Mathew to comfort you and make you calm. You called him, and he just knew. The fact that he just knew made your heart warm. There wasn’t any way he reciprocated how you felt, right?

You got to your apartment, and Mathew was already sitting outside your door. He looked cute and comfortable wearing sweats and a sweatshirt. Your heart began to beat out of your chest at first sight. He greets you, asks if he can hug you, and wraps you into a hug when you say yes and get closer to him. You breathe in his scent, and suddenly, all of your worries went away. You knew that as long as you were around Mathew, you’d be more than fine. Even if Mathew was in the same room as you, you knew that he’d be able to calm you down and fill you with comfort.

Mathew releases you when you tell him you have to go inside your apartment; however, he wraps an arm around your waist ensuring that he always has an arm on you. You tell him you want to get changed, so you walk into your bedroom and change while Mathew does whatever in the kitchen. When you walk out of your bedroom, Mathew’s sitting on your couch with his arms open for you with a blanket and a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. You grab the mug and settle into Mathew’s side. He wraps the blanket around your legs and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, and you absorb his warmth. You sit there sipping your tea as Mathew holds you and comforts you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mathew asks thinking that you’re feeling a bit better. You shake your head. Suddenly, your bad day didn’t exist anymore. Just being in Mathew’s embrace and hold, your entire day drifted away. You set your empty mug on the coffee table and curl into Mathew’s chest. He turns on a sitcom rerun on TV, and you both watch along. You both watch the show ignoring the reality of your situation. Your head was resting on Mathew’s chest, and you could feel his heart beating quicker than an adult male of Mathew’s health and size. Not only that, your heart rate matched his closely.

At one point, Mathew leads you into your bedroom, and you both fell asleep there. Mathew held you as you slept and didn’t want to leave. Why would he want to leave when he had the best sleep of his life when he was in your bed, holding you, and right next to you? He never wanted to wake up because, in the morning, you would get out of the bed, and the comfort he sought from you would be gone.

Mathew knows that his embrace calms you down; he knows that when he holds you, you reach a feeling of tranquility that no one else is able to make you feel. You, however, don’t know the effect and comfort you bring him. When he holds and embraces you, not only is he comforting you, you’re comforting him. When the nerves and standards of being a hockey player begin to get to his head and get to him, Mathew can always count on holding you and feeling your warmth as comfort and solace. He’d do anything to have you by his side forever. When he holds you, do you notice his heart beating like crazy?

One night, you’re sitting in Mathew’s apartment after a particularly long week for the both of you. Work was hectic and driving you crazy, and the Isles came back from a road trip that didn’t go particularly well and in their favor. You were laying in Mathew’s bed beneath his blankets and nestles into Mathew’s arms. Your face was resting on Mathew’s chest as he strokes your arm softly. Whatever rerun was playing softly on the TV was long forgotten as you’re focusing on listening to Mathew’s heartbeat. It was faster than average; it’s not unnormal for it to sound beat this fast, but you were getting worried that Mathew might have a heart condition.

“Hey, Mathew?” you ask softly, and Mathew hums lowly, and you feel the vibration. “Why is your heart beating so fast? I’m kind of worried that it might be a sign of a heart or blood pressure problem.”

“It’s not a heart problem,” he mumbles. You’re not quite sure if you heard him properly, so you look up at him asking him to repeat himself. He repeats what he says but even less audible.

“Mathew, I couldn’t hear you.”

“It’s not a heart problem,” Mathew says.

“I’m not so sure, Mathew; I think you might need to go to the doctor.”

“No, I’m okay,” Mathew insists.

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“It’s not a heart problem, Yn,” Mathew says and looks down at you. You meet his eyes, and you see a look of contemplation in his eyes. “It’s because of you.”

“Me?” you ask in confusion and crinkle your eyebrows. Why would you cause Mathew’s heart rate to be so fast? Did you scare him so much that he feared for his life?

“It’s not a bad thing, Yn, I promise,” Mathew is quick to say when he sees the confusion laced in your facial features. “Promise you won’t freak out on me?”

You sit up and face Mathew. In the process, you take yourself out of Mathew’s strong, comforting hold. “Maybe.”

Mathew takes a deep breath. “I guess that would work.”

You raise your eyebrows asking Mathew to continue silently.

“I’m in love with you, Yn. I don’t want to hold you and do this with you as just friends anymore. I want to come home to you and love you and kiss you and be with you in every way and more.”

“Oh,” you say softly. You break out into a wide smile. “I feel the same way, Mathew.”

“Really?” Mathew asks excitedly.

You nod.

“That’s amazing; I — can I kiss you?” Mathew asks nervously.

“Yeah,” you nod. You lean closer to him and gently place your lips on his. He cups your cheek and rubs his thumb on your cheek in a circular pattern. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. You found the comfort you always wanted with the one person you loved.

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[scarletwinterxx]

voted most likely to run away with you

Okay but this is probably one of my most fave one? 😂 I do apologize for the slow updates but I’ve been very busy this past few weeks. I hope you like this one!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

It’s always nerve racking on your first day of school. Especially now that you’re the new girl on campus, you can feel the anxious to the tip of your fingers. 

You made sure you got to your first class early so you don’t have to awkwardly enter the room when there’s too many people. Sitting quietly on the side as few more students walk in. 

You were too lost in your own world to notice someone standing by your table, you only looked up when someone cleared their throat

“What do you think you’re doing?” the girl asked

“Uh sitting”

“Was that suppose to be funny?” she sasilly asked, not knowing what to say back you just gapped at her. She was about to say something when someone spoke from the back of the class

“What are you doing?” the guy asked, you looked over to see a very unimpressed but veru good looking guy

“She’s sitting on your seat” she answered, crossing her arms and sending you a glare

“I don’t know there was a sitting arrangement” you mumbled, feeling embarrased. Thankfully someone saved you from your misery, 

“No we don’t, you can seat there sweetheart. Stop bothering girls who come close within Jeno’s radius, will you” he sassily told the other girl, feeling like you’re in the middle of a fight 

“I-”

“Leave her alone”

“Yea Haechan, leave me alone” she smirked but the boy, Haechan, just smirked back at her

“I was talking to you, leave the new girl alone” Jeno, you guess, told the girl. 

You weren’t sure how your first day was going to go but that was definitely not how you imagined it would go.

Jeno took the seat behind you, not sparing anyone in the room a single glance. It was like nothing happened just moments ago,

“Thank you” you mumbled to him, he looked up at you with a blank look on his face

“I don’t like being bothered early this morning”

Oh okay then, you nodded then turned your attention to the front. 

You didn’t see the way Haechan shot Jeno a look, the latter shaking his friend off ignoring him completely. 

That was the first encounter you had with Lee Jeno. 

As the weeks passed by you learned that he’s pretty much the most popular boy on campus, along side his three bestfriends. It’s like something straight out of a movie, whenever you see them walking down the halls, there’s a guarantee that heads will turn their way. 

You’re no exception. but not for the same reason the rest of their fanclubs have. You were just curious about them. 

The first one you met was the mood maker of the group, Lee Haechan. He’s pretty much friends with everyone. He was also the one who stood up for you on your first day. Pretty much since then you’ve considered him to be a friend too. There was something light about him, like you want to be friends with him. The second one was the foreign artsy boy, Huang Renjun, you always see him and Haechan arguing. Jokingly ofcourse, it’s always funny to overhear them argue about something pointless while waiting for your next class. The third one was a bit intimidating, Na Jaemin, He always have his earphones on with a blank expression on his face not really paying attention to his friends or at anything really. But when he’s with friends he can get just as rowdy. In contrast to his resting bitch face, he’s actually quite a sweetheart..

The last one, you aren’t going to lie, caught your eye the most. Lee Jeno. Although his initial appearance looked very intimidating, there was something comforting about him. He feels safe. That doesn’t make any sense since you don’t even know him or any of them, but that’s your initial impression on them.

You’ve mostly kept to yourself, you occasionally hangout with your classmates but most of the time you roam the halls or stay in the library by yourself. You don’t mind. 

It was currently vacant time for you so you decided to go outside and sit on one of the benches. Pulling some of your notes out to study for a bit before your next class. 

Too immersed in your reading, you didn’t notice the looming figure on the side. Totally catching you by surprise, making you jump up your seat

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”

“No, it’s fine” you smiled up at him

“Actually I have something to ask you”

That caught you by surprise, “Uh sure what is it?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to go out with me some time?”

“Uh-”

“What are you doing?” You hear someone ask from behind you, looking over to see Jeno looking straight at Hyunjin

“Nothing that concerns you”

How you always end up in middle was a mystery to you, “He was just asking me something”

“If you think you can even get close to her, get lost” your eyes widened at Jeno’s words. 

Is he angry? at you? at Hyunjin? What is he talking about?”

Hyunjin took his gaze off of Jeno then to you, you feel him stand closer behind you until you’re practically between the two boys

“Uh I think it’s time for one of you to go, or maybe I should” before you could stand up, Jeno’s hand land on your shoulder. Gently. 

“He’ll go, right Hyunjin? Your presence is not needed here anymore” 

The guys exchanged looks before Hyunjin walked away without another word. 

You looked over at Jeno to ask him what just happened but he was already walking away, quickly gathering your stuff you jogged quickly after him. 

When you got close enough, you pulled the back of his jacket making him halt his steps

“What the heck was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it”

“I think I should, since I feel like it concerns me” you told him ,feeling a bit aggravated with the way he was acting. 

Not knowing that the guy across you is thinking just how cute you looked, glaring up at him like you could take him on.

You’d probably win. 

“If he bothers you again, tell me”

“That doesn’t explain anything, Lee Jeno”

“If he bothers you, tell me” he repeated his words, making you nod in agreement

“Okay good, now go study in the library. It’s colder in there anyways” he said then walked away.

Few days have passed since that incident, Hyunjin acted like it never happened. Like you don’t exist. It’s still confusing just what went down that day but what’s more confusing is the boy sitting behind you. 

Lee Jeno changes his mood like the weather, you’re never sure just what it will be the next day. One time while waiting for class you start, you were sitting on your seat skimming through your notes, your hair kept falling on your face so you keep tucking it behind your ear. It went on and on. 

Then suddenly you feel someone tug on your hair, catching you by surprise

“Do you have a hair tie?” Jeno whispered by your ear, at this point you’re pretty sure the whole had their eyes on the two of you but that was not where your attention was. 

Jeno was literally so close to you, you can feel his breath on the side of your face

“Huh?” you dumbly asked making the boy chuckle, “You know those things you use to tie your hair”

It was mistake to look to side and be face to face with him because he was literally right on your face. Your cheeks burning at this point. Not being able to form any words, you just held your wrist up showing him the hair tie. 

He smiled then took it from you before leaning back on his seat. You feel his fingers weave through your hair, “What are you doing?”

“Braiding your hair”

“You know how to?”

“Mhm”

He didn’t say much after that, you didn’t say anything either. Still on the process of trying to calm your raging heart. Meanwhile Haechan was trying to hold back his laughter, Jeno shooting him a quick glare to keep him quiet. 

That’s when the rumors started. 

The new girl got the It Boy. 

You’re never one to mind what other people say about you. That came in handy during these times since you can practically feel the daggers coming from Jeno’s fangirls. 

Planning to talk to him about it, you tracked Jeno down after class one day. Finding him by the parking lot with his friends. Renjun was the first one who spotted you walking towards them, patting Jeno on the arm making the latter look over. 

“Hi, uh can we talk” feeling a bit intimated when all four pair of eyes landed on you, keeping your gaze on Jeno

“That’s our cue to leave” Haechan said, pulling Renjun along with him. Jaemin shooting a smile before following behind the two boys. 

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeno asked when you didn’t speak again

“Uh yea well, can you like tell your fanclub we’re not like dating or anything like that” at this point you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t believe you just asked him that, he probably doesn’t even want to be acquianted with you like that either. 

“And if I don’t”

“Sorry, pardon?” you leaned your ear closer to hear him clearly

“I said, what if I don’t?”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t want to tell them that” he said with an amused look on his face, finding your expression cute. There’s that glare again, looking like you can take him down. 

You already did.

“But we’re not dating. Come on, Jeno please” you exasperatedly said

“I don’t really care what they say, why do you?” it took you a few seconds to answer, gathering your thoughts to give him a coherent one

“And why would you want to be acquainted with me? I’m like-”

“Like what?” he asked like he was challenging you

“I’m me, you’re you”

“That’s not a very solid argument” he laughed, making you sigh out loud

“Please can you just tell them that, I’d very much appreciate it if they don’t glare at like like their ready to jump me every time I walk in the room”

 He walked towards you, crouching down until you were eye to eye

“I don’t know, I kinda like it though”

“Whyyyy” you grumbled, even stomping your feet 

Jeno wanted nothing but to keep you in his pocket, if he could. You were being so adorable, it took every bit of self control not to gather you in his arms and whisk you away. 

“Because maybe I do want to date you”

You looked at him with an unimpressed expression, rolling your eyes at him

See, the cutest. Jeno thought. 

“You’re weird you know that” now that’s not the response Jeno was expecting, but it was so you to say that. 

“I’m weird because I like you?”

“Stop saying that” you’re now a blushing mess, that was the final straw for him. 

He pulled on your arms until you were flush against him, 

“And I don’t?”

“I-”

“You?”

“You’re driving me crazy, Lee Jeno” you grumbled then pushed him away, walking off leaving him behind. 

“You’re driving me crazy, too” Jeno said as he watch you walk across the lot, a small smile playing on his lips. 

From that day one, it seemed like you can’t get the boy off your mind. Much like he can’t keep you off of his. 

But unlike you, he wasn’t afraid to show it. You were shocked when he suddenly sat across from you during lunch, 

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating”

“I can see that but why are here? Your friends are right there” you said while pointing to where the other three guys were sitting, 

“I want to sit here though” he shot you his very adorable eye-smile before he resumed eating

“I have a question” you told him, “Sure, I'll go on a date with you” you just shot him a glare, him showing you another smile

“Remember when you said to tell you if Hyunjin bothers me again?”

“Why? Did he? When?” he asked, his expression and posture completely changed

“No no, he didn’t. He hasn’t since that day, really. I was just wondering what was that about” you told him, watching Jeno relax once again but not missing the way he clenched his jaw when you mentioned that incident

“I overheard him and some other guys betting on you, saying he could make you go out with him then not show up” 

That was what it was about? Why would Jeno care though when he barely knew you back then

“Why did you stop him though?”

He looked over at you, eyes on yours like he was trying to say his answer without actually saying it out loud

“I can’t read minds, you know” you mumbled, breaking the tension. Jeno chuckling at your statement. 

“No one deserves to be treated like that, first of all. And secondly, have you ever thought I meant it when I said I like you?” he asked you

“You’re being weird again” was all you said back to him

“Careful now, next time you call me weird I might have to prove you wrong” he smirked at you. You didn’t how he’ll prove you wrong, worried your pretty little heart might not be able to handle it. 

You just bit your lip and look back down on the table, feeling Jeno’s gaze still on you. Not knowing just how weak you’re making him right now. Just how much power you hold over him. 

“Tell me again why you called me to talk at this time of the night?” You asked Jeno who was walking beside you, 

“Just cause”

“And you happen to bring this bottle of goodness with you?” you asked, holding up the banana milk he just gave you

“Knew you wouldn’t say no if I give it to you”

“Smart”

You really didn’t have any destination in mind, just walking along the streets. You didn’t actually mind that he called you. It was the weekend, you don’t have any  plans beside staying at home and watching some shows. 

“Hey, wait” Jeno said making you halt your steps, then he was crouching down in front of you

“Yah what are you doing?” you asked

“Your laces are untied” he answered as he took your shoelaces and tied them back together. “There” he said when he was done, smiling up at you. 

Just then you swear you felt your heart skip a beat.

Who knew this intimidating, scary, cold looking guy was such a sweetheart?

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re worrying me” he chuckled at you, standing back up so now you’re face to face

“Lee Jeno”

“Mhm, that’s me”

“You’re very weird” you whispered, then his arms were around you. Tangling around your waist until you were flush against his chest. Your heart hammering away in yours. 

“You want to say that again, sweetheart?”

“You’re weird, Lee Jeno” then his lips were on yours. You didn’t expect him to be so gentle, but he was. His lips were as light as feathers on yours, the taste of the sweet drink still on his lips making you smile

When the two of you broke apart you were still smiling at him, 

“What?” he asked

“Okay maybe now I believe you” you told him, “That’s all you needed? I should’ve kissed you back then” that earned him a smack on the arm

“Shut up”

“You like me”

“Unfortunately” you said then started to walk again

“Hey, no running away from me now”

You looked over to him, seeing the smile he had on was enough to convince you. Holding his hand out for you to take,  

“Want to run away with me instead?” 

[midnightsconspiracy]

The Missing Piece

The Missing Piece - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Hank being jealous of your and Jay’s platonic relationship leads to a relationship of his own

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1801

Requested: Yes!!

‘I need some jealous hank pleeease 😩💖🙏🏻’

A/N: This is my least favourite thing I’ve written so far, I just feel like it doesn’t flow well but we move :)

I only have one request at the moment so send in as many as you like, trust me when I say this you are not ‘bothering’ or inconveniencing me at all, I love when people message me or send requests in. So don’t overthink it, just do it!!! :)

Masterlist

Your life always felt incomplete, like something was missing, but you could never put your finger on what the thing was. You had a modest apartment, a positive relationship with your family and a job with co-workers you absolutely adored. So what left did you have yet to find? Every having romantic relationships in the past left you feeling that way still, a void that could only be filled by a specific something, without knowing what it was. It was infuriating, finally feeling happy with your life but still, there was a piece of you missing, a bit that felt empty. But maybe you would find that something was nearer than you thought, and maybe that something was a someone.

The day started off as normal, getting up, making breakfast then heading out to start the day at your job in intelligence. Pulling into the car park you noticed Jay beside you, sitting In his car, reading something on his phone. Looking up as you got out of your car, he smiled, proceeding to also get out of his vehicle, greeting you just like he did each day. You walked into the district together and to the upstairs intelligence unit, talking about some recent gossip while having the same playful conversation, laughing with huge smiles on your faces. Once you had reached the unit’s floor, you both headed to the coffee machine, needing your caffeine fix before you started. Noticing that others already seemed to be deep in work, you closed the door behind you, hoping to keep as much noise in as possible. Drinking your coffee, you continued talking to Jay, putting off work for as long as possible and wanting to know anything new that could get from the man. Any time you conversed with him, it always had an unconsciously flirty undertone, not because you liked him that way, but because it was in both of your natures, not being able to turn it off specifically for each other. After a while, you still hadn't noticed that the coffee had been drunk already, the time having flown by, neither of you realising you should have started working ten minutes ago.

Unaware to you, Voight was in his office, working on some files from a case that had been passed down to him from people higher up, stress levels increasing with each sentence he read. The sound of yours and Jay’s conversation breached the walls, seeping into his office, making him angrier than he already was. ‘Why did you have to flirt with Jay all the time, was he not good enough for you?’ He thought to himself, the attraction he had for you clouding his mind. Clenching his jaw, he went back to reading his document, knowing when he thought about you too much it bought out his emotions, and that’s not what he needed right now. But he couldn’t help it when he heard your laugh, knowing it wasn’t caused by him, but instead Jay. That man was a damn good detective but also a bloody good flirt, and in Hank’s eyes that made him a threat. He wanted you badly, having liked you since you’d first joined the unit, although Jay was not the only thing in the way. The biggest problem was himself. He was so insecure, thinking that if he did eventually have the courage to ask you out, you would say no. It was just you were so much younger than him, and much better looking and just all these other things that made him think you were better suited to someone like Jay. However, that still didn’t stop him from getting angry when Jay was buttering you up. Suddenly, he stood up, not being able to stand hearing you and Jay in the room next door anymore. Swinging the break room door open, he stood in the doorway, a stern expression on his face. As soon as the door had open, you and Jay had turned towards the intrusion. Noticing it was just Voight, you both relaxed, thinking he was going to idly chat with two of his favourite detectives.

“Hey Sarg, there is some coffee leftover if you want some,” Jay started, not thinking anything of Hank’s expression, considering he usually had a scowl on. This set the flames alight as the detective completely overlooked the anger he held in his eyes.

“Both of you should be working by now! You’re ten minutes late to start and I don’t appreciate you spending that time In here having fun and joking when you both know damn well there is a case you could be helping to solve,” he shouted, not only startling you and Jay, but also your fellow detections who had looked up from where they were working away quietly.

“Sorry Voight, guess we didn’t realise that time had gone past so fast,” Jay tried to rationalise, not understanding why Voight was getting so aggravated for something that would usually just result in a slap on the wrist.

“Get to work, both of you. Plus you both know the rules about in house dating, so sort out whatever this is out immediately.” And before either of you could tell him otherwise, he had stomped back to his office, slamming the door shut in the process. Looking at Jay, you gave him a confused look, trying to figure out why your boss had come up with these conclusions as you returned to your desk.

Throughout the day, you noticed multiple strange things happening. Firstly, Jay refused to look at you at all, looking at the wall or ground anytime you would address the room or would look away as quickly as possible if you accidentally made eye contact. It was abnormal, to say the least, considering you at Jay were usually tied at the hip, spending a lot of time together, both inside and outside of work. It had started even before Voight had split you up and assigned everyone in the unit new partners. Maybe you had subconsciously annoyed him? That you didn’t know but you tried your best throughout the day to get him to even acknowledge you, but each time failing completely. The second strange thing was the looks you were getting from both Hank and Alvin as well as the looks they were giving each other. Anytime you would look up from your work, you would spot one of them staring intently at you, then quickly retreating to look at each other. The ones from Olinsky seemed to be those of intrigue as if they were trying to gauge your reaction. But the ones from Voight seemed different. How it was different you couldn’t really pinpoint, but it seemed to be more out of fondness and concern, but you couldn’t really be sure, barely seeing it before he looked away. God, what was it with all these men today? One not wanting to look at you at all, the others wanting to look at you all the time it seemed. Eventually, you and your new partner Olinsky were sent out to talk to some woman. Wanting to know if she was aware of the illegal activity her boyfriend was running. After receiving some useful information, you both got back in the car, settling in for the short car ride ahead. A couple of minutes into the drive you turned to him, adamant about getting answers on why these men had been unnecessarily watching you all day.

“Why do you and Voight keep looking at me?” You ask abruptly, wanting to catch him off guard so he would answer your damn question.

“You should speak to Voight in his office after shift.” He replied, the car falling back into silence for the rest of the journey.

The statement played on your mind for the rest of the day, but finally, you would get some answers as the shift came to a close. Waiting for everyone else to leave, you wrote your statement longhand, knowing it would eat more time up. As the last person left the room, you got up, walking into your boss' office, closing the door behind you. He looked at you as you entered, holding an undistinguishable expression on his face, despite the nervous disposition he held inside.

"Detective Y/LN, what can I do for you," he asked, looking down at his papers as if he didn't care, although his brain was screaming at him to do something!

"You keep looking at me." You bluntly stated, wanting to pull him out of his comfort zone and get the answers Olinsky wouldn't give you.

"You are my agent arent you? Therefore I am entitled to look at you." Gazing up at you, he stared into your pretty eyes, resisting the urge to just get up and kiss you.

"B-but, this is different. You keep glancing at me as if you have some sort of adoration for me," thinking he was going to look up and find a disgusted expression, he was surprised as he found nothing but a small smile upon your face.

"Maybe I do, but that doesn't matter though does it? Considering you are seeing Detective Halstead." Confusion, once again fell on your features, still not understanding why he thought this madness, you are Jay were merely just friends.

"Me and Jay? We're just- Wait what did you say? Y-you, feel for me?" The confused look on your face deepened, never thinking this would happen. You weren't unhappy by any means, thinking very fondly of the handsome Sergeant, but he was your boss so why would he go for someone like you when he could have Burgess or even Platt! Rounding his desk, he walked towards you, stopping at a comfortable distance, not too far, not too close.

"Do you deem that as a bad thing?" Stumbling on your words, you managed to mutter a 'no', as you looked back into his eyes, finding a warmness there that started filling that void inside you. Not thinking, you flung your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, placing your head in the crook of his neck as you inhaled his scent. Maybe he was that missing piece?

"Jay and I are just friends and will always just be friends Hank," you told him, removing an arm from his neck to softly stroke his cheek. He gradually tightened his arms around your waist as you reassured him of the matter.

"So you would mind me doing this?" He asked, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, full of passion, portraying all the things he'd ever want to say to you.

Just as his wish had come true, yours had too, as that missing piece of you started to make its way back to you.

[jawllines]

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

or

Harry still doesn’t like the other camp counsellors but Y/N’s an exception 

part 1

(tw: mentions of suicide) 

ii.

Psst. 

Harry was typically a heavy sleeper. When he was younger his mum used to joke that he could sleep through an earthquake-induced tsunami if someone allowed him to. An alarm would have to be pretty loud to stir him from his slumber, and unless he was on edge, a mere call of his name would not drag him from whatever dreamland he’d submerged himself within.

Psst. 

There had only been two things before that could notably wake him. His mum, who was the sweetest person on this planet yet managed to be the cruelest being on earth when he needed to be up for something, and his childhood cat Molly, who sits on his chest and makes it hard to breathe (which, from what he’s learned, encourages his brain to panic and wake him up so he could fix it). Other than that, he was blissfully unaware of the world for hours at a time. 

Yet, there was something stirring him now.  A low sound that puzzles him as he toes the line between consciousness and his dreams, aware of the blankets that cover him but still dancing on a stage with his limbs thrashing wildly and people shouting his name. 

Psst. 

Was it an insect? Maybe he was performing outside then -- a crowd of thousands in an outdoor field to see him for... .what was it that he did again?

Psst. 

Oh, he’s dreaming, isn’t he? How deep in his dream is he? He thinks this is the first time he’s ever been asleep and realized that he was asleep...he could probably conjure something up, right? Manifest something that he’s always wanted, try his hand in lucid dreaming. If only he could focus apart from the insect zipping past his eardrum. 

Harry, please wake up, we’re being haunted -- or murdered, or something. 

Harry’s eyelids flutter like swallowtail wings, his gaze blurry and unfocused as he comes to. He’s confused, piecing together the puzzle that always presents to him when he’s just woken up and has to readjust to the world around him. The whole process of it took nothing more than 10 seconds, maybe 15 if he’s really out of it, but that’s only because thoughts run through his mind at a hundred miles a minute. 

 What time is it? The room around him his pitch-black apart from a very small amount of light illuminating beneath the curtain covering the window he’s beneath, so it couldn’t be morning. Potentially early morning, but he would say that would be 3-4 AM. Did he need to be up? He didn’t think so, actually, because there’s no alarm buzzing him awake and as far as he’s concerned, he hadn’t signed up for any early morning shifts at the bookstore as of late. The last time he went in at 5 to open up shop while the owner was on vacation and Harry was more or less ran down by a mother raccoon when he’d stumbled upon her babies after getting out of his car -- Harry had been reluctant to go before sunrise since. 

Where was he? He knows he’s not at home, that’s for sure. The sheets smell like him but not him enough to be at his own place -- and the bedding isn’t as soft either. He knows he hasn’t passed out at someone’s house because he only does that if the person is close enough to him that he would recognize their scent, or if he was too drunk to get home, but that was usually accompanied by a wicked headache and a sour stomach. No, where he was smelled like wood and generic fabric softener. There was an air conditioning unit that rattled and rumbled from where it was fixed to the wall, he felt a tension in his neck that he only experienced at one place and, yeah, he was at the camp. 

He was at camp, in a cabin with Y/N, who slept with the lamp on because she hated the dark, was the owner of the voice that had woken him up in the inky black room. 

“Hm?” He hums, brows pinching as he lets his eyes shut again, only to open them a few seconds later, “Wha’s wrong? Why is your light off?” 

“I don’t know,” her voice is still just a bit over a whisper, and Harry wonders why she doesn’t just speak up now that she knows he’s awake, “I woke up a little bit ago and thought maybe there was a storm that knocked the power out or something, but I checked the weather and it’s been clear skies all night. I think our power line was cut which is like -- straight out of a horror film.” 

Harry sighs, a bit of him regretting the number of horror movies they’ve been watching once they finally got to watch Midsommar (in three days, they’d sifted through six different movies -- two movies a night and each one managed to horrify Y/N more than the last). He begins to press himself from the bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark around them, making out slivers of shadows, “I’ll go check --” 

“No! Are you crazy?” He hears her bed frameshift with her as she moves, “That’s just asking for a maniac to come for us. Plus I keep hearing noises and I can’t tell if it’s like...like little raccoon feet or a one-armed hook man.” 

“Alright, then go back to bed.” Harry begins to lower back down to the mattress but a sharp whine leaves her throat, “It’s dark when you close your eyes.” It’s silent for a moment, but then Harry feels a bead of guilt dribble through his body. He sighs, reaching up and wiping his hand down his face, “What do you want to do, yeah? If you don’t want me to go out there. Do you want to stay up?” 

She’s quiet, Harry is straying further and further from the state he would’ve been in to fall right back into his dreams but he tries to wipe away the irritation the best he could. What he reminds himself is that four days prior, Y/N had trekked out in the forest toward a lake despite her unremitting distaste for the woods in the dark and slapped Jack clean across the face because he was being rude to him. And he was going to ignore her? Fall asleep while she’s frightened? Harry could be a prick, but he wasn’t the bleeding antichrist. 

“I...um, well, I don’t want us to stay up, no, we’ll be so cranky tomorrow,” she shuffles in the sheets, “I dunno’, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed, I’ll be okay.” 

Harry isn’t sure what to do but in his half-awake state, the next few words that leave his mouth seem like just the temporary fix necessary for them to get the last few hours of sleep that they can, “Do you want me to read you a story or summat?” 

She giggles quietly, “No, it’s okay, really, go back to sleep, okay?” 

What Harry could have said was I can’t now, knowing that you’re awake and scared, but instead he utters a simple, “No.” He sits back up, patting blindly for his phone in his sheets, slipping his fingers around it, and tapping it awake. His screen blinds him with its brightness, so he lowers it before finding the flashlight. It lights up the floor at his feet and subsequently at its edges, he can make out Y/N’s shadowy figure. She’s sat up, curled in her blanket, wrapped around her head, and giving her a pseudo-nun appearance. She waves at him lamely and he struggles not to roll his eyes, “Maniac be damned, I’m gonna go out there and look for the breaker. Maybe the arseholes broke their vow of integrity.” 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Jack or one of the others came around and switched the breaker off, just to be inconvenient for the morning. They’d left them alone for four days sure, but Harry figures that it’s not so much four days of silent reflection and questioning why they feel the need to be such pricks to him, and more so four days for their anger to fester and brew. If not for the fact that Y/N slapped him then made him find laundry detergent and commanded the others to go get his clothes, then for the way she acted like nothing had happened the day prior. Jack’s cheek was still a stingy, red splotch, Oliver and Brandon were straight-faced looking irritated, and Y/N -- well, Y/N had never been more content with her day. She was having a blast with her kids playing bean bag toss, they did their little dance when one of them got it in the hole of the board, and when they were all getting drinks, Y/N offered to grab Harry his. He watched as she went to the cooler around the same time Jack did, they both reached for the last Dr. Pepper, and Y/N plucked it up and handed it to him before grabbing both her, Harry, and Mitch’s lemonades. 

He thinks it’s the sincerity that she holds, that would aggravate him had he been in their shoes. Y/N was completely unbothered by the night prior and Harry could tell, just like when he doesn’t reciprocate their maleficent tendencies towards them -- it was digging under their skin.

(She makes Harry laugh when she comes back with their lemonades, handing him one and uttering, “I let the prick have the last Dr. Pepper, and I’m regretting it.”) 

And while he’s hoping that they haven’t turned their target to her out of spite, he wouldn’t change what had happened for the world. It had made the two of them that much closer, and in the following day’s Harry had poked and prodded Y/N’s brain a bit more. Especially after what he’d seen on her page, he was intrigued by her. Intrigued by how she saw life, why she came at things the way she did, what built her up to be the person that she was in these very moments that he’s speaking to her. Harry hasn’t asked her about her old college roommate and he doesn’t plan on it either -- he doesn’t feel like he could, or he should. 

Harry has lost people before and he thinks the worst thing someone could do was to bring it up unprompted. He knows that it’s probably always on her mind but even then, maybe it isn’t at the forefront of it. Maybe she’s just trying to have a good few weeks, separate herself from the real world for a while, and he would be cruel to dig up something that she may not be ready to just up and chat about. No matter how curious he is about the whole situation, and no matter how much he wonders if she treats him the way she does because of what happened. If the topic was brought up by her he would openly and freely discuss it as long as she was comfortable, but he wouldn’t give her the third degree. 

So he minds his business and focuses on trying to get to know her better instead. 

He can’t say that it doesn’t change how he treats her a bit though. Harry is much. . .gentler, than he had been. He tries to be less critical of her unwavering optimism and seeks to understand where it was coming from instead. If he’s in the right mood he’ll attempt to match it, which makes for a good day with their groups, who he finds -- despite the small age gap -- have begun to kindle very close friendships. Mrs. Graham had even commented on it one of the days after they had a riveting game of balloon tennis. 

“You two make a good team -- putting all these other counselors to shame. And to think you were pouty about having to share a cabin.” 

It was true, they did make a good team. Harry thinks that them sparking a friendship had made the whole experience much more enjoyable for everyone involved. 

All of this together gives insight into why Harry is willing to stuff on his shoes at 3 AM and go out in the dark, muggy night to check and potentially fix a breaker. And no matter the number of times he assures her she does not have to come out there with him, she keeps hold of her ‘no man left behind’ mentality, pulls on a pair of flip flops, and pads out after him. 

Had they been in any other cabin, finding the breaker would have been much easier. They’re typically on the backside in the upper right corner, surrounded by a little cage with a lock similar to that of an animal crate. The struggle with their cabin was that the backside was basically in the woods, so he had to dodge low hanging branches and tangles of ivy to get even remotely near it. He hands Y/N his phone and she shines the light over the metal box, her hand steady despite how she looks back and forth and all around them like she’s making sure there are no red eyes glowing at them. The world around them is silent apart from the chirp and groan of insects, the scutter of an animal somewhere in the far distance makes Y/N huff a weary sigh but otherwise, nothing comes out to attack them. Harry restarts the breaker, they go back inside, and the lamp on its dimmest setting is switched on how they had fallen asleep with it. 

They both breath out in relief, Y/N dives back into her bed and Harry flops down atop of his covers, giving himself a second to feel the cool air from the conditioner fan over him. 

“Theoretically,” Y/N begins as Harry lets his eyes fall shut, “If there were some creature in the forest --”

“There’s no creature in the forest.” 

“I know, but theoretically --” She continues again, but Harry is quick to cut her off once more. 

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he tells her, “Go to sleep.”  

Once more, Y/N falls silent, but a quiet, “Thank you,” was the only thing to leave her mouth. 

                                                      .                               .                              .

A summer thunderstorm wasn’t abnormal during camp, which is why the recreation center and the art building are beneficial. It keeps everyone preoccupied and entertained with well-insulated walls to mute whatever carnage is taking place outside, which makes for less frightened children and an easier time for everyone involved. Harry liked being active and running around with his campers, sure, but he also really enjoyed a nice, calm, relaxing day trying his hand at DIY projects and abstract paintings. Plus it gave him the chance to wear the camp hoodie that he had spent a pretty penny purchasing, which was made of the softest fabric he’s ever felt and was far more comfortable than the t-shirts that they normally wear.

Y/N had also bought the hoodie, Harry saw as she stepped out in it after her shower this morning, and she seemed to be drowning in it but in the best way. The fabric pools off of her, but she looks cozy, and well-rested despite them waking in the middle of the night. He thinks she looks pretty cute, but he kept the thought to himself and instead asked her if she wanted his extra granola bar for breakfast. 

They alternate throughout the day, between the rec center and art building, and on the schedule, it appears that most the day he would be with Y/N’s group (which he prefers) and a few times he’s even with Mitch as well, which is nice. Mitch doesn’t grow to like many people, but he liked Y/N well enough -- he thought she was oddly entertaining (or so he’s told, Harry) and good for a chat. The only times he and Y/N were not with each other were when the activities were age-specific, but even then, it wasn’t like anyone was in a different room. They were all just at different stations within a big room in the art building and the recreation center was more or less free for all. 

Harry wondered when he started basing whether or not a day was going to be good by whether or not he and Y/N were able to be around each other, but he decided not to think about it too much. Lately, he’d been a little more on edge with whether they were together, simply because of Jack and the others. He didn’t want them fucking with her, and even though she’d proven that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he still worried, especially knowing he would be the cause of it. 

Y/N doesn’t seem the least bit distressed about it, or as far as she was letting on -- she’d not expressed any thoughts or concerns that they would be spiteful towards her. Hell, the only thing she had told him the night after was that she hoped she didn’t make things worse for him. For him. Why was she so willing to defend him? What did she get out of being so kind? 

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

“I especially like how multidimensional it is — purple and pink stars? Beautiful, I love those two colors together,” she places her hand on Oliver’s head, and it’s then that Harry notices he’s holding something, “Harry, Oliver here wanted you to see the flower he drew because I told him how much you like lilies.” As bashful as he always is, he holds out the paper toward Harry. It was cute — a singular, yellow lily and he could tell that Y/N helped him draw it, but the paint and crayon marks all over the page suggested she left the color duties up to him. 

“Oh my goodness,” Harry gasps, looking at the painting, flipping it to Oliver and pointing at it, “You did this?” Oliver nodded excitedly, “It’s gorgeous.” 

“I think our groups are the best artists,” Y/N motions to her table, only a meter away from them all working diligently on their projects, “Charlotte is over there doing an artistic interpretation of the both of us, we are not allowed to see it until she’s finished. Mikey is doing his own rendition of Disney world, I see Maisey is creating a beautiful tree  -- Noah is that a cowboy you’re drawing?” 

Noah barely looks up from his paper, very carefully dragging the tip of the marker in a circle, “Yes.” 

“And Noah is drawing a cowboy! Modern-day Van Gogh’s, all of them.” Harry smiles as Y/N drags a stool up beside him, positioning it in a way so that she could watch both her kids and speak with him, “I heard they’re having one of them party things tonight, I didn’t know if you wanted to go or not.” 

“Hm, I dunno,” his brows knit together as he lightly scratches a mosquito bite on the inside of his forearm, “Do you feel comfortable with going after what happened last time?” 

She suckles her bottom lip into her mouth, gnawing on it as she nods her head, “Mhm,” she looks around them for a second, making sure that none of the kids are paying attention to them before she lowers her voice, “Mitch said that you used to go to all of them last year, and would like -- have a good time. I hope that I’m not ruining that for you.” 

“How would you be ruining it for me?” It’s true, Harry hasn’t gone to any of the parties that they’ve been doing since the very first one he’d escorted Y/N away from. Not for any other reason apart from he was just spending time and hanging out with Y/N, or he’d be too knackered to even think about leaving the nice, cool setting of their cabin to be in the muggy heat with drunk college students. He had much more fun not attending, and other nights Mitch would come around and chill with them too. . .he had all he needed then. Didn’t need the booze for a good time. 

“I don’t know, I just didn’t know if you weren’t going ‘cos of what happened the first time and you felt like you couldn’t leave me out or. . or something like that.” 

Harry shook his head, “No,” he answers, “We can go tonight if you would like, but it’s unnecessary for me. I’m good either way.” 

Although Y/N appears unconvinced, they have little time to go further into the topic because Charlotte is running up to them, a big grin on her face, “I finished!” 

“Well give it here,” Harry holds out his hand, waving her over, “Let’s see it.” 

On the paper are stick figure versions of he and Y/N, with big grins and 12 other little stick figures surrounding them. Above Harry’s stick figure, there’s a pink arrow and a very five-year-old esque writing of HUSBAD (Harry presumes it’s supposed to be husband), and above Y/N’s in the same fashion, she’s written WYFE. It’s then Harry realizes that Y/N’s figure has a veil on and Harry’s has a bowtie, “This is for you twos wedding! So thens when they take pictures you can has this one.” Charlotte chirps brightly and Y/N and Harry both cast each other a disbelieving glance. 

“Whoaaaaa,” Y/N is the first to break their silence, a smile pulling at her lips, “This is really good Charlotte! I didn’t know Harry and I were getting married, though.” 

Charlotte nods quickly, still grinning at them, her bottom canine missing as she gleams, “Me n’ Mikey thinks you should!” 

Y/N turns toward him, nodding toward Charlotte, “Well, the god’s have spoken. Where’s my ring?”

Harry coughs on a laugh as he hands the paper back to Charlotte, “This is really good, Bug. Why don’t you and Oliver go help Josie finish her coloring pages, hm?” 

The both of them head the short way back to their table, hiking up on the small stools and Harry makes sure they’re all settled before he turned back to face Y/N, who was biting down on a grin, “Don’t start --” he began but she’s already started, shaking her head. 

“Listen, it’s okay to be in love with me, but you should really try to tone it down. . .the kids are starting to notice.” 

Harry scoffs before he proceeds to tease her,, “How d’ya know they aren’t basing it off your actions, huh? Giving me love eyes every couple minutes like nobody would see.” 

Y/N mocks offense to his words and he tries to keep up the facade, but his sheer delight for getting in a teasing match with her overcomes him and he can’t help his smile. Harry loved teasing people -- loved making them flustered or reducing them to a bashful mess by his words alone. Y/N, however, was much less into flustered gazes and sheepish tendencies, and more so ready and willing to give him it right back. He’d met his match -- if he teases her she’s teasing right back (if she hadn’t started it in the first place), and both of them found mutual pleasure in it. 

“You can’t use my love eyes against me, I can’t help but give them to everyone I’ve ever met” she tells him, feigning sincerity before an additional anecdote, “You know my college roomie always told me they’d get me in trouble one day, and she had never been more right, ‘cos they did once at a party. She wouldn’t shut up about it weeks after it’d happened.” 

Harry feels his body tense just a bit at the mention of her, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s surprised how she so casually brought her up, “Yeah? What’s the story?” 

“The little ears around us suggest that I tell that story later,” she checks her watch, before looking back up at him, “Oi, we’ve got five minutes until we’re in the rec center. You get to pick what we all do since I picked the last rotation.” 

                                                             .                           .                          .

This time when they’re on their way to the party, Harry lets Y/N walk in front of him as he directs where she was to go. Opposed to when they had first made this journey together, Harry feels far more protective of her than he originally had. Plus, he’d seen how clumsy she could be and after the earlier storm, the softened dirt and broken off tree branches from the billows of wind made for a much harder terrain to navigate, so he felt more comfortable being able to reach out to catch her if need be. 

Harry was wary of going to the party tonight but Y/N had been borderline insistent that they attend, “Mitch says he misses you at these things and Niall told me he could only stand Shaun theorizing about the universe and us not being the only life form so many times before he snaps. I say we’re needed.” Harry never minded free drinks, and a potential fuck at the end of the night, so he wasn’t all too worried that he would be having a good time. He just hoped that the others would allow Y/N to have a good time. And he knows he’s being paranoid, because they hadn’t necessarily targeted her for anything prior to or after the lake incident, but he still worries. . .he can’t help but worry.  

But he wouldn’t hover. Once they got to the clearing, he helped Y/N get her drink and she sought off after Niall while Harry went over to Mitch, the two of them promising to meet up again in a little bit. He didn’t hover, but he did watch semi-closely, eyeballing Jack and the others, making sure they were staying away from her. Apart from a few less than friendly looks thrown in his direction though, they seemed to be keeping to themselves which Harry was ultimately very thankful for. 

The night goes by as these nights usually do -- he and Mitch drank, had a laugh, gabbed about music for a while, some of the drama going on around the camp (Y/N had an ear for gossip and eyes that could make anyone tell her anything, so Harry’s had a door to all the melodramatic events happening throughout the counsellors). It was a bit weird when Stacey -- one of the counsellors he’d only ever briefly spoken to --  had come up to them, and a little weirder when she borderline propositioned him for something more than a chat in the woods, but Harry politely declined. Told her that he was pretty exhausted after a long day and was probably just going to have a few more beers and retreat back to his cabin. 

He passes it off as a fluke. . .maybe he’d been making eyes at her and hadn’t realized it. But then Mia makes her way toward him and Mitch, and this time Harry’s brows furrow when she starts chatting him up. This one he entertains for a little while before eventually ebbs away from the conversation, because he and Mia had a fling once, but Jack convinced her and the free world that he was a prick, so she called it off. He didn’t necessarily understand why she would want to start that up again, or what “little birdie” put a bug in her ear that he still thought about her (as she said one did). 

It was after Cara had finally left after coming around to chat with him, that Mitch began to chuckle lowly at his side, shaking his head slowly, “Jesus Christ,” he tilts the nozzle of his beer against his mouth, and when he pulls it away, his lips are shiny from the liquid, “She really is working hard.” 

“Huh?” Harry feels desperate for an explanation as to why three times he felt as if he were being propositioned for a romp in the woods when he was not actively pursuing one. He had a feeling that it was the others trying to get him alone so they could enact some sort of piss poor attempt at fucking with him without Y/N spotting and tearing them a new one over it, “Are you in on something that I’m not, ‘cos m’feeling pretty fucking lost here, man.” 

Mitch nods his head, and Harry follows his gaze to Y/N, who is speaking with her brows dipped inward to Cara, “A few days ago she’d been asking me and Niall what you were like last year, and we told her just the same, jus’ a lot more ‘fornication’ is how Niall put it,” he smirks softly with a shake of his head, “And she seemed all concerned, asking us if we thought she was holdin’ you back or something. Personally, I told her if you wanted to sleep with someone you would have whether she were around or not but she didn’t seem very convinced.” A snort leaves him as he motions towards her again, still as amused by her ideas as he had been when she’d first explained them,  “Guess she’s trying to set you up.” 

“Oh fuck me,”  he exhales so forcefully, it whips the delicate plumes of smoke from Mitch’s cigarette into a misshapen huff. Why was she so concerned with it? Harry hadn’t once expressed any avidity in needing to spend time with someone in that manner -- he could go without sex for three weeks. . .did she not think he could? Was he exuding nymphomaniac tendencies? He surely hadn’t thought he was -- a few quick handies in his nightly showers typically tide him over just nicely for a bit of a dry spell. And what was her business that he hadn’t slept with anyone since they’ve gotten here? Why was she speaking about him with the others what she could as easily ask him? What she had as easily spoken with him about, albeit leaving out a pretty large portion of it. 

For the first time since they had begun getting along, Harry was irritated with her. He’d never been one to brood, however. He liked things to be up front and honest as soon as possible if the situation allowed for it, to stop his mind from taking an idea and running away with it. He held little interest in playing mind games with people. 

Which is why he hands Mitch the rest of his drink, fixes his heavy cardigan around his shoulder, and sets off in her direction. He dodges many bodies, avoids an empty cup on the ground beside what he could only presume to be a sticky puddle of liquor, and narrowly makes it past a playful fight between Oliver and Brandon who were wrestling one another. Y/N doesn’t realize that he’s making his way to her until he’s just a meter or so away, when Niall catches a glimpse of him and attempts to be inconspicuous in the way he pinches her side. She gasps from the way his nails had accidentally bit into her skin, flinching from the pain before her gaze had settled on him, “Harry!” She cheered but his face doesn’t soften as it usually does when they see one another, which alerts her to his disapproving gaze, “Oh, what’s wrong?” 

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” He inquires, motioning out past the trees. Enough trust had been built into the foundation of their friendship for her to not question him. Instead, she passes her drink off to Niall and follows Harry into the woods -- he wouldn’t go so far that they wouldn’t be able to see one another from beneath the curtain of leaves shielding away the moon, but just far enough that nobody would be eavesdropping. In any other situation he might wait to bring this up until they’ve made it back to the cabin, but Y/N’s intentions had been clear that the person he was taking home tonight wasn't supposed to be her. 

She pauses with him at a particularly thick tree trunk, and places the arch of her foot against one of the jagged roots that carved its way through the earth, “Is everything okay?” She balances herself with a hand against the bark, wincing when it jabs into her skin, “I was keeping an eye on Jack n’ them I thought so they wouldn’t try messing with you, but did they say something?” 

That does melt him some, Harry was strong enough to admit that. Just as he had been concerned with her wellbeing, she was just as much concerned for him, and he appreciated that. And while it does threaten to soften him down to his core, he still had questions that needed answers, and he wouldn’t let up until she responded to them. 

“Why are you sending girls over to me?” 

Her brows raise, but less in shock of learning the information, and more so with wonder how he’d found out she was the one sending them their way. The surprise dissolves into embarrassment quickly, her shoulders slump and she casts her gaze deeper into the forest, “Dammit,” she doesn’t hide her disappointment from being caught, or even feign confusion to try and pass the blame off coincidence that every girl who had come up to him had subsequently talked to her prior, “I was hoping you would be less observant.” 

“Y/N.” He says her name sternly, and her shoulders drop dramatically further as she steps down from the tree root. 

“Listen, in my defense I just felt awful!” She admits, waving her hand toward the party, “Jack had tried telling me a few times about how you just fuck people and leave them, blah, blah, blah, right? And I wasn’t paying any attention to him, but it made me curious to what you were like last year, so I asked Mitch and Niall. You came to these things all the time and you had fun -- then I come ‘round, ruin the first one, and you’ve been hanging out with me since. I just. . . I wanted you to be able to have fun and not feel like you have to worry about me, y’know?” 

A ‘v’ sits between Harry’s brows, “What is it your business what I’m doing, hm?” He fixes his cardigan from where it slumps off his shoulder once more, “If I wanted to sleep with someone then I would. Do you think I can’t set something up myself?” 

“No, of course not, I just thought --” 

“You didn’t think,” he cuts her off, and Y/N’s arms curl over herself instinctively when a cold brush of air rolls past them, “You should have just came to speak with me about it, I could have told you that I didn’t need anything like that, and that would have been that. Don’t go behind my back trying to orchestrate things for me, okay?” 

He wanted to say it -- he needed to say it, because Harry wasn’t some sex driven lecher that everyone at this camp tried to make him out as. He thought Y/N had known that too, but he guesses he was wrong. 

But he wasn’t expecting her to look so fucking defeated by it. A guilt weighs on his being when she nods, tipping her head down, “Okay, yes, I won’t anymore. I’m sorry,” her fingers dig into her bicep, as she breathes out, a shiver rattles through her that she tries to be inconspicuous about it, “I wasn’t thinking -- I wasn’t thinking how it would look.” 

Harry sighs, peeling his cardigan off of his arms, revealing his bare arms to the chill but he ignores it in favor of holding it out to her, “Put this on,” he wiggles it some, “I know you’re cold.” She takes it from him carefully, looking up, brows raised slightly as if to ask if he’s sure, “Go ahead.” 

“I really am sorry,” she tells him, pulling the patchwork cardigan over her arms, it hangs off of her, and Harry swallowed thickly. She’s. . .cute -- Harry had always been able to admit that. Her face is sweet, her eyes exudes nothing but understanding, kindness, and such a soft glow that Harry couldn’t quite explain. He finds that those eyes give him great comfort and warmth, because now when they’re tinged with the contrition she feels and Harry feels cold. 

“I know,” he murmurs, he holds out his hand for her, and very carefully Y/N slides her hand into his own, “Do you want to go get pudding?” 

A small smile pulls at her mouth. 

“Yes please.” 

                                                          .                          .                         .

Niall lets them use the key after a few dozen promises to be careful with it. They trek the familiar way, mindless chatter fills the air around them until they get to the cafeteria and their voices quiet in case the security guard is looping around. Y/N reveals her hand from the shield of his cardigan sleeve, Harry watches as the fabric pools around her arm, toward her elbow, and produces the key (that Niall only trusted her with). They creeped into the kitchen, pulled open the large refrigerator door, and the pudding sat in rows on the bottom shelf. 

They both choose vanilla this time, having tired themselves out on chocolate, and they sit at the spot they had last time, across from one another. He can tell, despite his peace offering, that Y/N still feels upset about what had happened earlier and it sullies his mood. She’s still chatting but not with as much heart as she typically has, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He just wanted her to giggle as she teases him again, without feeling like she’s tip toeing on eggshells around him. 

“Hey,” Harry starts, dragging her attention towards him where it had previously been scooping the sides of her pudding container, “Would you stop being so. . .tense? Is this about earlier?” 

Y/N clears her throat, opening her mouth and furrowing her brows like she was about to deny it, but she relents, shoulders dropping, “A little. I still feel bad about everything,” she shakes her head, dragging the edge of the spoon around the plastic, “About everything, not just that you aren’t able to sleep with someone. I came in late, ruined you having your own cabin, woke you up with my alarm, made you get out of bed ‘cos I’m afraid of the dark and -- I just feel like this massive burden. I feel like this massive burden on everyone.” 

Harry is alarmed by this sudden confession, but his body ultimately rejects the notion that she could ever be a bother, “How are you a burden to anyone?” He inquires, shaking his head, “You’re such a ball of light that just swarms through rooms. The thought of you being a burden is akin to the thought of Satan being a saint. . .it doesn’t sound right.” Harry sets his pudding down, though he keeps his hands fixed around the cup and the spoon, “Don’t know what gave you that idea, but the last thing you are is a burden. Who gave you the impression that you were?” 

She wipes tiredly at her eyes, “Nobody in particular, it's just,” she shakes her head, “Even now, I wanted to make your night good, and then I fucked it, and now you’re here with me instead of having fun at the party. I just feel silly.” 

“Don’t.” Harry tells her simply, “I like to spend time with you, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” 

The tension in her shoulder releases, “Thank you for this, I’m sorry m’just saying the same thing again and again. Back at home it feels like everyone is just. . .so hyper aware of me -- they’re always being so careful, or overly concerned and I always wonder if it feels like a heavy weight on their shoulders, like I’m forcing a piggyback ride.” She shrugs her own, reaching for the second pudding cup, “It’s just shit, so I overthink everything all the time to try not to be a burden, but I keep making it worse. Or at least that’s how it feels.” 

Harry tilts his head to the side some. He’s not usually someone who pries and probes people for information, but he’s never been more curious about Y/N than in this moment. When he thinks of Y/N at home, he thinks of sunshine pooling in the hallways through casement windows, her spinning around the kitchen in a dainty floral dress that billows around her as she stirs homemade jam. Harry imagines her amongst woodland creatures who coax her to the forest with songs, escorting her there as she gambols freely. 

He could not imagine her going home and feeling like a burden. Hell, he would have thought that she considered everyone else a burden -- that maybe it was draining to be the absolute light of everyone’s life. Yet here she stood, seeming worn, and broken. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is everyone hyper aware of you at home? You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable.” He says it delicately -- he means it. . .if she didn’t want to share this with him, then he wouldn’t force her, but he wants to open up the possibility. He wants her to know that he’s an open ear if she so chose to utilize him. 

“Um,” her gaze does shift downward -- she suddenly appears so small, “Are you sure?” 

Harry nods. 

“I just -- it's not that I don’t like bringing it up, I just don’t want you to treat me any differently than you would knowing it, yeah? I think that’s what I hate the most.” She notes, “So do you promise that you won’t -- you won’t start tiptoeing around me?” 

“You’ve got my word.” Harry vows, but he has a feeling he knows what she is to say.

The sleeve of his cardigan covers her hand as she brushes the hair from her face, “In freshman year of UNI, my roommate was Mrs. Graham’s daughter, Penelope.” She straightens out in her seat, “We didn’t like each other much at first but we had grown very close -- um, once she threw away my fruit snacks and so I dunked her toothbrush in the toilet, but I felt guilty and went out to buy her a new toothbrush,” a laugh leaves her at the memory, as she rolls her eyes at herself, “That was what we had going for a while, but a late night heart to heart kind of made us closer. She told me things that. . .she’d been through a lot that nobody should have to go through, you know? She was bullied a lot growing up—in high school it was bad, people used to always gang up on her over stupid shit.” Harry hums, encouraging her to continue, and she stirs the pudding around mindlessly, “And we were just close after that. We had a flat together sophomore year and most of junior year, she’s my best friend,” she swallows thickly, “I didn’t realize how sad she was. . .I didn’t realize what she was still holding onto, and she -- we went home for Christmas break, and she never came back.” 

Harry feels his stomach sour as her eyes bead with unshed tears, “Oh, Y/N,” 

“It’s alright. I’m okay, I’m fine as I can be --  I’ve -- I’m mourning and I miss her, but I’m trying to be strong. Most days I am, but everyone at home just expects me to be this fragile thing, y’know? The days I’m happy, and chatty, they think I’m faking it. And some days I do, yeah, but. . .it’s just disheartening when everyone pretends to know what’s going on in my head.” She plants the pudding directly in the center, leaving it there and retreating her hands to her lap, “Mrs. Graham told me she felt the same. That’s why I came in last minute -- I’ve got all my volunteer hours settled and everything but she said it might be nice to get away.” A slow, easy sigh leaves her lips as she blinks the tears away, not one drop trickled down her cheek, “It is nice, but I still worry that I’m a strain on people around me, even if not for the reason I am at home. And I’m sorry to like, info dump all this on you,” she laughs a little in spite of herself, “You can’t ask me things, unless you want an hour long explanation.”

Harry reaches out his hand for her, for the second time that night, and once again she slowly slips their fingers together, “Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it must have been hard,” he squeezes her hand, “But I understand you a bit more now. I’ll keep my promise, I won’t treat you any differently, but before that --” she blinks at him, waiting, “I think you might just be one of the kindest, strongest, most caring people that I have ever meant. I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or add stress onto my life, so you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to try with me. We can just exist together, yeah? We’ll exist without burdens and without worry.”

The look in her eyes, was one that Harry had never seen before. One that makes him melt in her touch. 

“I would like that.” 

                                                             .                                    .                                  .

 “I can’t swim.” 

Harry was crouched down to Maisey’s height, fixing purple mermaid floaties around her arms. The day was not unusually muggy, but there was an additional itch to jump belly first into the cool watered lake. He had woken with a revitalized need to pry a star from the morning sky as it shifted from an inky purple to an early, dusky morning blue -- and give it to Y/N. He had decided after their conversation last night -- after they’d gone to bed and Y/N fell asleep cuddled in his cardigan -- he had an overwhelming, and an all encompassing want to hold her. 

Which made it hard to part ways this morning, but he managed. And maybe he played out an image in his head where he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before they went to wake their respective cabins, or maybe he didn’t (but if he did that’s his own problem). He is quick to convince himself it was because she’d shared a piece of herself with him that he doesn’t think she lets many people see, and Harry always develops a bit of a platonic crush on his friends at some point or another. He questioned whether or not he was in love with Mitch for a solid four days once. . .sometimes he just let his heart get carried away. 

He had been enmeshed in these thoughts as he got his campers ready for their time in the lake. At first glance, a ton of children in the lake seemed like a horrible, and faulty idea, but they took precautions so that everyone was safe. Every child wore floaties and/or life jackets no matter how proficient their swimming abilities. There was netting about ten meters out so that the children and counsellors couldn’t float out toward the middle, and they worked it so that only three children could be in per counsellor at a time, so that they could keep an eye on everyone. Harry wasn’t so nervous because he was a strong swimmer, and his kids were a little older, but he could tell Y/N had been a little jittery about it. It’s why Harry told her that while she was out in the lake with her little ones to let him know, he would come out with her to bring her some additional comfort that even the floaties could not provide. 

Harry had been pretty sure all of his kids were excited to go to the lake and he was grateful for that, until he looked up to see the nervous, large blue eyes of Jackson, downcast after he had spoken the words. The unprompted admittance confused him as he turned to face him, “That’s okay, buddy, we’ve got floaties for that.” 

Jackson did not seem convinced, shaking his head fiercely, “No, I -- I can’t swim.” 

“J.J. is afraid of the water,” Noah exposes the truth just as easy as he takes a sip from his juice box, equipped with his own blue arm floaties, “He didn’t want to say though ‘cos --” 

“Noah!” Jackson cuts him off, betrayal laced within his features. 

“--’cos he didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but he almost drowned when he was little.” 

Jackson looked as if he could cry, and Harry shook his head quickly, “Hey, hey, hey, c’mere buddy,” he motions him over, and he comes easily, stepping before Harry who had not bothered to leave his already crouched position, “Explain to me what’s going on, yeah?” 

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, a frown prevalent on his mouth, even as he speaks, “When I was little little, my big brother pushed me into the pool and I went under the water and my mom had to come in and get me because I can’t swim good.” 

Harry pulls his lips back, reaching out to squeeze Jackson’s shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that buddy. I won’t force you to get in the water if you don’t want to, but I do want to tell you that if you feel more comfortable, we could try a life jacket instead of the floaties? It’ll keep you more buoyant -- more bouncy in the water.” 

“Aren’t those for little kids?” Jackson inquires, brows pinched, but Harry shakes his head and points toward Y/N, never more glad in that moment that she had the age group she did, along with her views on not making them do, wear, or say anything that she wouldn’t herself. She’s got the life jacket swung around her arm as she clips Oliver into his own. 

“Y/N’s going to wear one too, and she’s not a little kid. I’ll wear one as well if you’d like.” He promised him. Albeit looking reserved, Jackson nods softly with his hands in little fists, worrying his lip between his teeth. The poor thing, Harry thinks -- he used to be afraid of water too. Nobody wants to conquer that fear suddenly, let alone with a group of people that may or may not poke fun because they’re kids and kids are jerks sometimes. 

Harry finds him a life jacket -- a cute one with a shark on it, that he helps him clip on, and fits it to his body with the straps. Next, he needed to find one for himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure where they kept the counsellor life jackets, so he called for Y/N where she’d been a few meters away and she popped her head up from where she was like a meerkat. Her eyes softened when she realized who had called her, and a gentle smile pulled at her mouth, “Hey hubby,” she greets him, much to the delight of Charlotte, who claps giddily, “What d’ya need?” 

“A life jacket, please. Where’d you get yours?” Harry tries to be decent -- tries desperately to keep his eyes to himself, but he finds that this is surprisingly difficult when Y/N is in her swimsuit. It wasn’t obscene in any sense of the word -- in the pamphlet they get when they sign up, it is very clear that speedos and bikinis were not appropriate, and therefore not allowed. If a child couldn’t wear it, then you shouldn’t bring it -- was the apothegm that they chose to live by in reference to dress code. 

This, however, doesn’t mean that Y/N’s swimsuit didn’t suit her well. It was fitted in a way that wasn’t too tight, yet wasn’t too loose -- like it might have just been made with her in mind. A simple one piece of nylon and lycra colored a powder blue, that barely showed off that much more of what she wears to bed, and yet his mind still flutters elsewhere. To unwise places, that he drags himself from before clearing his throat and forcing himself to look around the lake so it appeared his eyes were just scanning everything. 

“You’re in luck,” Y/N jogged the short way from where they stood, back to where her kids were all gathered, playing happily in the sand. Beneath what Harry had assumed was just a cluster of towels, another life jacket was hidden beneath the fabric. She hands it toward him with a triumphant grin, “This was the last one. I grabbed it for you in case you just wanted to float rather than keep your legs kicking -- you had a big lunch, didn’t want you to get a cramp.” 

Harry hates how his heart balloons in his chest. There was no reason to be a melt because she had thought of him -- that she had him in mind, so she snatched the last life jacket, and hid it beneath towels so nobody else could have it. No reason to feel all mushy from the way that she unfolds it for him, a silent prompt that she’s going to help him pull it on. And there was certainly, absolutely no good reason for how stupidly affectionate he feels when she strokes her finger along the heart tattoo on his forearm mindlessly, before murmuring, “You make me wanna get covered in them. Maybe I’ll just go and get all of yours.” She looks down at the ground, “Maybe not the toe, my feet are ticklish -- think I would kick the artist.” 

He recruits Y/N for the process of easing Jackson into the water -- Noah and Elinor are floating and bobbing about happily at their sides, while Charlotte and Mikey playfully kick and float close to their older counterparts (if not practically on top of them). There was a chill bite to the water when they had first stepped in, but as they walked out further and sunk a bit deeper, the cold eases up. The cool air soothes them from the sharp bite of the scorching sun, Jackson holds his hand so tightly Harry thinks his fingers may go numb, and he figures Y/N is feeling the same way, if her soft, “Loosen your grip up a bit, Sweetheart, you’re gonna take off my hand.” 

Eventually, Jackson relaxes. He finally understands that the life jacket will keep him afloat and holding onto Y/N and Harry wasn’t a necessity. Once the idea of this settles in his brain, he is more willing to let go and enjoy himself. It feels wonderful to see that he’s having fun, and even better when he sees the smile on Y/N’s face from this small victory. Last year, he hadn’t felt this parental over the children last summer, but something had changed. . .something that made him feel like he was a bit of a parent. 

It has to be Y/N. There was something about her that just oozes mother figure for these kids, even if she wasn’t intending to do so. She kissed the bandages over their wounds to take away the hurt, she praised the ground they walked on, picked them up if they asked, danced with them, encouraged them, treated every single child as if they were her own. Harry believes she’ll be a beautiful mother one day, if that’s what she’d like, and whoever the father or mother was she had chosen to spend her life with, they were unbelievably lucky. He just hoped they would understand that. 

Y/N floats into his line of sight, “Are you okay? Ellie said you look like Maisey’s aunt again, whatever that means.” 

Harry snorts, before nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit tired.” 

An understanding gleam overtakes her, “Y’know, I did think you seemed a bit snoozy,” she reaches out for him, squeezing his shoulder softly, “D’ya want to have a sneaky nap? I could watch the kids.” 

“But I like having you both,” Jackson whined, shaking his head quickly, finding their hands once more, reassuring that his grip was tight as ever, “Please stay.” 

“Yeah,” Noah splashes over to them, sliding his arms around Harry’s neck, wetting his hair with the water clinging to his life jacket, “You two are fun together! We always have so much fun -- Brittany said her counsellor always yells at them when they ask her to play with them.” 

Elinor was quick to add, “And Ro’s counsellor falls asleep during art days! He doesn’t even help them stay in the lines, and they’re little like Oli, and Charlotte.” 

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in the prettiest little pout -- Harry finds himself wanting to pluck it with the pad of his thumb, “That’s silly, isn’t it? I have so much fun with you guys, I couldn’t imagine not playing. Right Harry?” 

Nodding his assent, he reaches up, settling his hands around Noah’s arms and bring him along with him as he kicks them closer to Y/N and the other three, “It is silly. Some people just aren’t as fun as Y/N and I, Bug, it’s proven fact. They did the scientific method and everything.” 

Oliver gleefully pushes himself up on Y/N’s shoulders, flopping back into the water and bobbing, “I love yous!” He chirped brightly, “Yous guys are my favorites! I love yous.” 

The sight is adorable, especially as Y/N wriggles around and holds her arms out so they could hug, which Oliver happily accepts, “I love yous too, button.” 

They have fun -- for hours, as they switch out which kids are in the water, spend time on the beach with all of them, making sandcastles, burying one another, chatting and playing. It was very freeing; Harry could easily tell that he and the others were having far more fun than any of the other groups were -- Mitch and Niall had gravitated their groups closer to them when Y/N and the kids began to pour sand over the top of him. Even Cassidy came around with her kids after they had heard them all giggling and laughing and wanted to know what was going on. Harry was having fun, and maybe he was just mushy, but he credited it to the joy Y/N was exuding. It was hard not to be in a good mood when he was around her. 

By the time the sun sat a little lower in the sky, casting the shadows of trees over the sand and cooling them to the point of chilling. The kids washed their feet and hands beneath the rush of water from a yard hydrant, wrapped up in towels, and headed toward the dining hall for their dinner. There was a taco bar today, and Harry found that Y/N and he had a mutual love of tacos as a whole. She showed him how she adds feta crumbles, even let him have a bite of hers to see if he would like it so he could decide whether or not to put it on his own (it was delicious, she was right). 

Once dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted. They all gathered around the campfire, one of the counsellors strummed a song on his guitar, they all had s'mores and then they dispersed. Not even the rush of sugar from the chocolate and marshmallow gave any of the children an umph in their step; they were all so sluggish and slow, dragging their feet through the dirt on their way to their cabins. Harry’s group barely kept their eyes open as they stalked to the showers, washing off the lake water and sand that had been clinging to their bodies. After they brushed their teeth, they all but face planted in their beds and snores soon filled the quiet air of the cabin. They only made him realize how exhausted he was from the day spent baking in the sun, floating and kicking in the water. 

He trudges back to his cabin, where he finds Y/N had already showered off. She was face down in her pillow, her back slowly rising and falling with each gentle breath she took. She hadn’t covered in her blankets -- no, instead she used his cardigan as a makeshift cover over her body, and Harry thinks it might just be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The patchwork swallows a good portion of her body, the sleeve flopped limply by her head. . .he could imagine her crawling into bed. Could imagine her putting her knee up first, dragging the cardigan that had been lying limply over the post with her and just letting it drape over her body. She probably wasn’t thinking she would fall asleep. . .probably thought she would just lay there for a minute before gathering the strength to get beneath her covers. 

It’s adorable -- Harry hates how adorable he finds it, actually. If he could crawl in beside her he would, but instead he ambles to the bathroom, starts up the shower, and climbs in. 

The water his hot -- boiling drops pelt his skin, washing away the grime and sweat that felt as if it’d been caked onto his skin. It felt good; to cleanse and scrub himself free of the lake, massage shampoo into his scalp, soften his curls with the conditioner, and just allow himself to revel in the feeling. Showers feel wonderful - a renewal that he deemed necessary by the end of the day. And when he gets the temperature just right, it soothes the aches and soreness in his bones, turning his muscles to softened jello. By the time he slipped out of the shower, he was practically boneless and thought he’d be lucky if he made it to his bed before dropping to the floor and falling asleep. 

He expects Y/N to still be asleep when he leaves the bathroom, but he’s surprised to find her sat up in her bed, his cardigan pooled around her body and a deep frown on her face. 

“Oh!” He’s started some -- he really thought she was out for the night, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

“It’s morning?” Her face further turns to that of distress and Harry bites down hard on a chuckle. 

“No,” he responds, “It’s not morning. Only about 10PM, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest still.” She looks around groggily, rubbing at her cheek with one hand while she fisted his cardigan in the other, pulling it closer around her body, “Why don’t you get beneath the covers, Babe?” He asks her, and she’s quiet for a little while. The only inkling Harry receives that she even heard him was how she tries to shuffle and wriggle the covers down with her still stretched out on the bed, stuffing her legs into the blankets first, then sliding the rest of the way smoothly. All the while she clings to the cardigan, holding it tightly, resting her cheek on it. Harry doesn’t know if Y/N’s just far more affectionate than he had even thought prior, or if she was just half awake and doing things she wouldn’t do if she was fully conscious. Vaguely does he remember her saying something about typically cuddling with a teddy at night -- how she stuffs her face against it because it always smells like her fabric softener. 

He wonders if that’s why she snuggles with it -- he wonders if she likes the smell of him, so she buries her nose in the fabric and breathes it in as she rests. 

Harry hates this. He hates how inconceivably soft he’s been feeling, but he can’t help it. Y/N had found him worthy enough to poke inside her brain -- she opened up to him in a way she expressed she’d not been opening up to many people about.  It made him feel closer to her.

But he told her he wouldn’t treat her any differently after finding out. And if he suddenly started expressing more affection, he fears she would think he was only doing it because of what she told him. He just wants to be. . .he just wants to be gentle with her. Doesn’t want her to ever think that she’s a burden to him, because the anecdote had made him question and second guess how he’d been treating her their entire time here. Of course, he was never intentionally cruel, but some of the situations he thinks about the two of them in, and how he responded, makes him cringe. 

He switches off the overhead light, her dimmed bedside lamp and muscle memory guide him to his bed. Harry climbs in, shivers as he adjusts to the warmth beneath his covers, and breathes a soft sigh of relief to have finished with the day. 

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice startles his eyes open, which he’d not been aware he’d closed. 

“Hm?” He hums -- he had thought she’d fallen back asleep already. 

“You’re okay?” 

A soft smile plays at his mouth -- she asks him every night before bed, he’s noticed. 

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you okay?” 

She nods, “You did really good today,” her voice is muffled from her cheek mushed against his cardigan, “The kids had a lot of fun, they were telling me. I had a lot of fun too.” 

“Yeah? Me too,” he reaches to thumb the hairs of his eyebrow down, “And thank you. You always do really well with the kids.” 

She’s quiet for a minute, and once more, Harry thinks she must have fallen asleep, but the shift of the mattress tells him she’s changing position and Harry notices once more that his eyes have closed, “I’m glad you’re my roomie.” 

Harry utters the words, that two weeks ago he thinks he would have spit at. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re my roomie too.” 

                                                     .                                   .                              .

Harry was drunk. 

Typically, he didn’t allow himself to get very drunk at these little parties. He trusted the others so little, he had no doubt in his mind that any moment he was slightly impaired in some way they would take it upon themselves to prey on his weakness. This means he only ever gets mildly tipsy -- drinks enough to feel good but caps himself when he thinks he might start stumbling. 

But he just didn’t cap himself today. Not for any reason in particular -- their day hadn’t been difficult. They helped their kids through a mildly strenuous obstacle course throughout the morning, cooled down with them drinking juice boxes and eating popsicles and by 2PM they were inside doing little DIY projects. Harry burned his finger with some hot glue, but otherwise it was a pretty easy smooth kind of day that they didn’t get often. He and Y/N hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, which he wouldn’t admit loudly was a disappointment, but he and his kids had all agreed that they missed her. 

(And when they had seen her and her group walking into the art room, the lot of them had erupted in cheers, Noah, Eli, Maisey being the loudest of them.) 

They had a pasta dinner that was surprisingly filling, they told “spooky” campfire stories and ate s’mores, he got his kids ready for bed and he went off to the cabin. He and Y/N were going to one of the parties tonight, not because they had such spectacular luck with a good time before, but because they were coming up on some of their last nights here at camp. It was a bittersweet feeling -- Harry remembered being more than ready to flee last year, counting down each day, each hour dragging on longer than the last. This time, it felt like it was coming too quick. He would miss the kids, he would miss the busy days some. . .and sure, he was happy to go home and take a shower that stays hot longer than five minutes and rest on his soft, cozy bed, but he would miss not having Y/N right across from him. 

That was what he was having the most trouble coming to terms with, he thinks. The idea of them not having to spend every moment of every day with one another after doing it for three weeks almost sounds wrong. It's the same feeling he gets when  he knew he and Mitch wouldn’t have such easy access to one another once they went back home. Being at this camp sort of felt like being stuck in a time loop where the outside world doesn’t exist, so it’s very easy to forget that they all have lives outside of here. They all go to class, go to work, go home, study, eat and sleep. 

He and Y/N live relatively close to one another -- only about a ten minute drive up the street with only one turn and it's into her apartment building -- but he wonders if they’ll utilize it. He wonders if their friendship is tied to this camp and if that’s where it will remain, or if she even wants to be friendly with him after. Harry hadn’t considered that maybe she was only putting up with him because they had to live together and she didn’t want it to be miserable. Had he questioned if he was even enjoyable to be around? How does he ask her that without sounding entirely too desperate or needy?                   

So partially, he drinks to ease some of the worry in his mind. Harry doesn’t think he would “break down” or something like it if they weren’t able to continue being friends -- like a forgotten summer love that he might think about throughout the fall, and message her to see how she was doing -- but he certainly wouldn’t be delighted if that’s how it ended up. Harry thinks there’s so much more to Y/N that he would like to see, and know, and hear. Three weeks isn’t enough time, Harry decided, but in the same breath he wondered if she had thought it was more than enough. 

Harry knows she cares for him, at least a little bit. He knows that he cares for her and her wellbeing; he was fond of her. From what he knew of who she was fundamentally, down to her core, Harry knew she was selfless and kind -- it was hard to find people like that, who were that, without it being cakey or clouded by something else. She was transparent in who she was and her feelings regarding most things, and Harry valued her honesty. 

And she was just so damn fun. Every moment with her he spent, the air filled with laughter; she brought a slice of sun in her pocket wherever she went and Harry was consistently being warmed beneath it. 

The fact of the matter is, Harry doesn’t know how he could meet someone like Y/N, and get used to the idea of her not being in his life after three weeks. If he could refuse it he would, but what was he going to do? Kidnap her and take her home with him? 

He’s sat on the tree root, opposed to standing beside it like he usually is, with his back pressed against the bark of the tree and he ignores the jagged, uneven trunk against his skin. Mitch was beside him, leaning lower than he was with his jacket bundled up and stuffed behind his head, his legs kicked out as far as they would go and because of this, his foot rested against Niall’s lap. Niall was pleasantly gone himself, a bit louder than normal but also zoning out every so often. 

He was a good guy, Niall -- he had good opinions, and he chatted him and Mitch up about guitars often (he was typically the camp’s go to for an acoustic guy if they ever wanted campfire songs). Harry thinks they could probably be really good friends, if not for the fact that Niall was so barefaced in his crush on Y/N. 

It was obvious, Harry thought. He’d thought it was obvious from the first moment he spent a prolonged period of time with both he and Y/N -- his cheeks got rosy when she touched him, he stuttered over his gratitude if she complimented him, and if she went out of her way to do something (like when she’d stuffed her hand into a thorn-bush for his guitar pick that had flung from his fingers, and subsequently got all scratched up), he would look at her how someone might stargaze. 

Harry doesn’t know why he doesn’t just ask her out, if he likes her so much. It almost irritates him how skittish Niall seems to get at the prospect of it; to run away from those warm, nice feelings that she provides is silly. It reminds him entirely too much of himself and he loathes it. 

Tonight had been no different, only Y/N was dancing back and forth between them and a few other counsellors (Harry only recognized one of them , who was called Rosie and had been in his first year maths). Harry watched her most of the night, in the least obnoxious and creepy way he could, just because. . .well, she was nice to look at. He liked how her body animated as she spoke, or how she nodded her head as someone was speaking to her -- it was an encouraging nod, and her eyes locked onto theirs like they might be telling her where the fountain of youth might be located, or the secrets to the universe. 

She was cozy today -- it was cooler out than most of the nights that they had experienced, with a chill breeze that had even stirred goosebumps on Harry’s arms (and he was all but swaddled in his hoodie). Y/N had a light fitted sweater that she sometimes slept in -- not heavy enough to shield her from the icy terrain that winter would provide, but enough to fight past the harsh summer night breeze that threatened to help a storm roll in within the next few hours. Loosely, he let the images of her cuddled close to him invade his brain. What it might feel like, how the knit would brush against his skin, if she would hide her face in his neck or spider around him as the big spoon and burrow against his hair. Y/N struck him as someone who liked to do more of the cuddling than being cuddled herself.

He would miss her when they had to leave. Harry worried who would just exist with her, like they had been doing. He worried about her going back to a place where she felt like a burden -- he would be around, wouldn’t he? If she allowed him to, he could be there for her, but he doesn’t want to seem pushy. By all definitions, they had really just met -- Harry had known Y/N for approximately 17 days, but it felt like so much longer. He wonders if he had known her in a past life, or if it was the fact that they spent almost every day all day with one another for at least 15 of those 17 day -- he finally understands how everyone in the Love Island villa always goes on about how a day in the outside world feels like a week where they are. 

It’s not like he’s professing his love to her, for fuck sake. He just likes her -- whether it be platonic or not, Harry thinks Y/N is just delightful. 

“Your little girlfriend’s not with you?” 

Harry had forgotten how Jack’s voice sounded how grating nails against iron pipes might make someone feel, mostly because they hadn’t spoken in quite a while. After Y/N had slapped him, he had kept to himself, resorting more to disgruntled glares and probably pissy comments he was murmuring to his mates about him. If someone asked Harry, he would say that him and his friends were afraid of Y/N -- she posed a good threat to them. Sure, they hadn’t understood the extent of her words that night (like how and why she knew Miss. Graham), but they were enough to rattle them. No matter being in university, or within the range of 20-23 years old, nobody wanted to be scolded by a woman in her 40s, nor did they want to be kicked out of a camp counsellor position, or to have their volunteer hours revoked. 

So they had left him alone, which Harry thinks may have been such a strain for them he would be surprised if they hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Even if they wanted to, he was always with Y/N -- they never really had the chance, and if they did, they didn’t really take it. 

Which is why he is both surprised and incredibly annoyed with Jack’s sudden appearance. 

“Piss off.” Harry responds, nursing his beer bottle closer to him. 

“You’re always so ill-tempered,” Jack leans up against the tree, “Just wanted to have a chat. Like why Cassidy suddenly wants to break things off after chatting with you and Y/N. Got any ideas?” 

Harry’s brows dipped in confusion, “What? What are you on about?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know,” Jack rolls his eyes, “Cassidy and I are doing just fucking fine for six months, but we come here, she starts chatting with you and now all the sudden she’s ready to break up. What the fuck did you say, hm?” He nudged Harry’s side with his foot, “Fucking Y/N wasn’t enough, you had to fuck Cassidy too?” He kicked him this time, harder than before.

Harry, who did not take too kindly to being kicked, rolled his eyes and pushed himself to a stand, “Dunno why you’re so fucking insecure that you think me being around has anything to do with Cassidy finally seeing what a prick you are, but this needs to stop,” he handed his bottle to Mitch who took it wordlessly, “I’m not fucking Cassidy, I’ve never fucked Cassidy, so if you could just grow the fuck up and recognize that maybe she broke up with you, because you’re awful to be around, that would be great.”            

Jack, which Harry had expected, took more of a physical approach, giving a shove to Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s back slams against the tree behind him, “Fuck you,” he spit, “You all holier than thou ‘cos you’re dipping your dick in Miss. Rainbow Bright? What do you know about me, hm? You’re just a dumb fuck who has to be here because you’re a no good druggy fuck with anger issues. How does it feel knowing you’ll amount to nothing after UNI?” 

There isn’t a lot that could get under Harry’s skin. A lot of people could say a lot of shit that he brushes off and lets go, but there are two things that he really just can’t. One of them is when people try to speak poorly of his mum, and the other, was when someone pretends to know his situation when they don’t have a fucking clue. Who was this trust fund bastard to tell him he was a druggy fuck? That he would amount to nothing after UNI? Harry worked two jobs to set himself through school and keep himself fed, with a roof over his head, just so that he could live the life he wanted to after university. 

Maybe it was silly to punch him, but it felt good to. Harry reared back his fist and it collided with his jaw, making Jack stumble backward, his hand flying to his face, “You fucking --” he swung in return, only he catches Harry’s shoulder because Harry moved out of the way in anticipation. Niall narrowly dodged being caught in the crossfire as he rolled out of the way. 

The fight didn’t get too far, however, because when Jack was gearing up to swing again, Y/N appeared and easily wormed her way in between them, “Are you serious right now?” Her brows were furrowed -- she looked legitimately pissed off, and, well. . .it made Harry take a step back at least, “Thought we had a chat about this, hm? You were going to leave him the fuck alone -- no, look at me, not him,” she grabbed at his collar, giving a sharp tug when his angry gaze had flittered back toward Harry, “I’m not an angry person, Jack, I don’t like being mean, or cruel like you seem to be so fond of, but I can and will be if I need to and I promise you that. Don’t you ever speak to someone like that again, yeah? What you were saying was just awful.” She lets go of his collar, taking a step back and sighing in a sharp huff, “I can’t speak for Cassidy, but if I had to guess she probably cut things off because you’re a jealous bastard who questions every interaction with another person and try this alpha male persona to scare other people away. It must be exhausting.” 

Jack shook his head, “We were fine --”

“You thought you were fine. Things aren’t always what they look like, alright? The sooner you understand that, the easier your life will be.” She nods toward the center of the clearing they were in,  “Go get some ice from the cooler, and go the hell back to your cabin. You’re not a fun drunk.” 

Albeit reluctantly, Jack follows her orders and slinks his way to the cooler. The others around them had grown quiet as they had watched the confrontation unfold, but they soon all lost interest once they realized nothing more would happen. Y/N turned to face Harry, the anger on her face immediately dissolving, as she shakes her head, “What a dick. I’m so sorry he spoke to you like that,” she takes ahold of his wrist, the hand that he had punched Jack with, running her thumbs over his reddened knuckles, “I told him -- after the lake, I told him that he needed to leave you alone or I’d do something about it. Dunno what I was gonna do, but I was going to do something -- I will --” 

“Hey, hey,” he cuts her off, “It’s okay -- it’s okay, come on, let’s. . .let’s go to the cabin, yeah? Should we go back to the cabin?” 

Y/N looks at him like he was batty, “No shit we’re going back to the cabin! I’ve got to give you like a full medical look over. He slammed you into the tree, and honestly, you bruise like a peach.” 

They make the trek back to the cabin, relatively quiet, Harry still attempting to process what had happened and what Y/N had said. Had she really spoken to Jack after the fact and threatened him if he messed with Harry again? The softest, probably sweetest person he knows, had taken Jack off to the side and told him if he didn’t leave Harry alone she was going to do something about it. Not only that, she grabbed him by his collar and told him off in front of everyone. It made his heart race, the thought of it, and his cock twitches in his pants at the moment on repeat in his mind. 

Once they get back to the cabin, Y/N has him take his hoodie off with her in the bathroom so she could visualize his back and shoulder. Jack may be short-tempered and smaller than Harry, but his punches still packed a great deal, so a nice, reddening bruise was forming quickly around his shoulder. On his back there were scrapes from the tree bark, Y/N tells him, and a ton of little bruises that had begun to form as well. She makes him stay still as she retrieves the first aid kit from their medicine cabinet. 

“Y/N,” he started, and she hummed to encourage him to continue, “When did you speak with Jack privately?” 

She clears her throat, plopping the first aid kit down on the sink counter and unclipping it open, “The morning after the lake,” she answers without hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to like, fight your battles or anything, but I needed him to know I wasn’t bluffing when I told them I would rat them out, and worse if the situation allowed it. I hate bullies,” she pulls out a small tube of bacitracin, tutting her tongue as she squeezes it out on the tip of her finger, “And I hate how they treat you. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

“You didn’t at all,” Harry remarks softly, jolting when her fingers very carefully graze over one of the tender areas on his back, “Thank you, actually, for sticking up for me again.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. I think I’m pretty scrappy when I need to be,” she giggles to herself, “Like, if need be, I would take on the Queen for you. Might be an uneven match though, she’s pushing 100.” 

Harry spins around to face her though, “Y/N, I mean it,” he tells her seriously, their gazes locking, “Thank you for everything. For dealing with my attitude, for sticking up for me, for helping with the kids, for making this experience bearable, for being such a positive light,” he sighs, “You’re amazing, you deserve amazing things.” 

Y/N looks taken by his words -- he wonders if she’s as lost in his eyes as he is in hers. Her mouth falls open gently, like she may be searching for what to say back to him but can’t come up with anything. He worries that he’d said too much -- that he freaked her out or something. He wasn’t trying to, he was just so grateful for her, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to express it. 

He is about to apologize for being too forward, when Y/N pushes the short distance and connects their lips together. 

Harry’s confused for a moment as his brain registers what’s happening, but when he feels that she might pull away, his body finally seems to wake up. His hands find her face, cradling her jaw in his hands as he reaffirms the kiss and lets the butterflies in his body take over in hoards. He’d given thought to kissing Y/N, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen. Not only that, he’d never thought it would feel this nice. She tastes like the pineapple wine coolers she’d been sipping on that night, her lips still a bit sticky from the residue of the alcohol on her soft lips.

She’s gentle in how she kisses, like Harry would have guessed -- careful too, and cautious with how her lips parted from him only to fix back together. A pool of heat had formed in Harry’s lower belly and rose to his chest, stirring his heart in flutters when her tongue slid into his mouth and met her own. Harry hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to kiss her until their tongues are sliding against one another, and his hands are slipping down from her jaw,  caressing the delicate skin of her throat, skating down her chest to her hips. He squeezes her sides and pulls her closer to him, feeling the knit of her top rub against his bare torso. It was as soft as he’d imagined it’d be. 

Had she been wanting to kiss him for as long as he wanted to kiss her? Normally, Harry could tell how badly someone wanted to kiss him by the act alone, but with Y/N he was so caught up he couldn’t focus. She was calm and soft, but the longer they kissed, the more ardent she became. It was the tiny moan that had left from her mouth into his own, that made him lightheaded. He had to pull away to breathe but his forehead pressed against hers as he breathed in, “Harry?” Her voice is low, she says his name like a secret, “Was that okay?” 

His response is to press their lips back together, but this time only for a moment, before he withdraws. Harry loops his fingers around her wrist and brings her with him back into the main room, flopping onto her bed since it was the closest and urging her to climb into his lap. She straddles him, and just as soon as she’s within reach, he slides his fingers at the nape of her neck and pulls her back to his mouth. 

It was good -- it felt so fucking good, Harry couldn’t begin to describe it. He held her close, and tried as he might to stave off his cock from ruining the moment, the longer they kissed the harder he got. How she was positioned at first made it so she couldn’t really feel him, but when she tried to get closer to him, she scooted her hips forward and rubbed up right against him. A gasp leaves her as she parts from him, looking down, having lifted her hips, “I’m sorry,” she apologizes and Harry gives a startled laugh. 

“I’ve got a stiffy, and you’re apologizing?” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got a pretty girl in my lap kissing me, s’kind of hard not to get hard. We can stop if you want.” 

“I don’t want to stop,” she answers with no delay nor doubt, as she lowers back down, resting her front on his prick and with this she gives an experimental roll of her hips. Harry hisses in a breath as she does it again, her own little moan slipping from her mouth. She was only in a thin little pair of shorts, and Harry had chosen sweatpants for the night, so there was little fabric truly separating them. Harry was thankful for it as she continued to roll her hips against him, sponging kisses from his mouth, down his jawline, to the curve of his throat. She fixed her lips there, lulling her tongue over the skin before she started suckling at him and Harry’s hands danced along her back, stroking up and down it, feeling her, holding her closer. Each roll of her hips made him harder, and he was desperate to know if she was wet. If he pushed his fingers into her shorts, would they come back slick from her arousal? Would she watch him as he slid them into his mouth to taste her? Would she let him split her thighs and lick straight from the source. 

His mind was overcome with filth, smutty images entangle once innocent thoughts as she brought the blood to the surface of his skin. When one of his hands left where it had latched onto her hip and slowly maneuvered around to her front, she paused, but left her face dipped in his throat, “Are you wet for me?” He asks her quietly and she nods through a little shiver, “Yeah? Bet you soaked through your little panties,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers past the elastic bands of her shorts and underwear, but left his fingers just past them, “Answer me.” 

“Yes,” her voice trembles, she swallows thickly and the muscles in her abdomen contract beneath his fingers. 

Harry hums low, slipping his fingers down further and he dips between her slick folds, “Oh, Sweetheart,” he presses a chaste kiss to the side of her head, “Is this your first time getting wet for me?” She shakes her head, “Hm, really? So you’re like this often? Do you take care of it?” 

“I -- yeah,” she stutters over a moan as the pads of his fingers roll over her swollen clit slowly, feeling it flick beneath them, “At night, sometimes I will in the shower if I can’t. . .if I can’t wait anymore.” 

He feigns a gasp, “Oh my goodness,” he speeds up the slow lull of his fingers, “Your showers are always so fast, doll, you’re really that quick to cum?” 

Harry may not be able to see her face, but he can hear the pout clear in her voice, “It usually isn’t that fast! Just with you, it is -- when I think of you, it’s always quick.” 

He thought it would be impossible for his cock to be harder than it already was, but her words make pre-cum bubble at the tip, and when he dips his fingers back into her slick little hole, he gets even harder. Gliding his fingers from her panties, he draws them up to his mouth and presses them past his lips as he’d wanted to. Y/N has withdrawn from his throat, watching him do it with glassy eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders, digging her fingers into grape sized dents at the muscle. Her mouth falls open as he sucks her juices away, his eyes fluttering and a groan torn from his throat. 

“Get on the bed,” he instructed and Y/N followed without question, crawling from his lap and lying her head on her pillow as Harry stood, and repositioned himself. He takes a hold of shorts and drags them down her legs, wriggling them off her ankle and tossing them elsewhere. His lips finds her ankle first, before he’s peppering and sponging kisses down her leg, the parts that he had tended to throw over his shoulder. When he gets to her thighs, he makes the kisses slower, softer -- he suckles and nips at the supple skin until he’s right before her center, only to switch to her other thigh and push kisses up and down the length of it. 

Y/N’s whole body trembles with each shaky breath she gives. She’d spoken no words until he was positioned right in front of her core, looping his fingers in the waistband of the little cotton pair she had on, pulling them up toward her hips so the fabric stretched out over her. He could see her pussy beneath it, made out the outline of her swollen lips and engorged clit -- it made his mouth water. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” she tells him, and his gaze is pulled back up to her -- she looks apprehensive. 

“What?” 

She shrugs, “I know some guys don’t really like to so --” 

“Do you want me to eat your pussy?” Harry asks her bluntly, and he revels in the way her eyes widen, and how bashful her face turns as she looks away, “It’s a yes or no question, honey, if you don’t want me to, I can come back up and kiss you while I make you feel good with my fingers. If you do want me to, I’m g’na pull those panties to the side and make you cum on my tongue -- either I’m good with.” 

“I -- yes,” she answers, her voice meek, “Yes I want you to.” 

Harry smiles softly, “Poor thing, How many stupid boys were refusing to eat this sweet little peach?” He runs his thumb up and down her slit, visualizing where the wet spot had grown and soaked her panties so that the fabric thinned. Leaning in, he nosed at her clit and she inhales, “God, I’m so excited — you’re okay with this? You’re okay with me eating this little pussy out? Need you to let me know because once I start sweet girl, I’ll be in heaven.”

“Yes, please, please lick me.”

“So polite,” he suckles a kiss at the very innermost part of her thigh, before licking one, long stripe up her center through the fabric. She moans, pushing her hips down toward his mouth as he drags his tongue over it again, and again, and again. He soaks it with his spit, teasing her — he wanted to pull her panties to the side and suckle and slurp between her lips until she came — but he wants her to beg for him. Wants to hear that she wants him just as much as he wants her. 

He smiles against her as he hears her getting impatient, little huffs between each moan. She whines, her hips bucking up against his tongue — he looks up to her, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly. The fingers of one hand are dug into the sheets beside her, while the others rest between her teeth. Her brows were tilted, lips pouted, whimpers come more frequently the longer he suckles and laps on the fabric, drenching it. 

“Harry,” she finally works out, shivering when he pauses just over her clit and flickers his tongue over the top of it, “Oh, please just -- please.”

“Hm?” He hums against her, jolts, inhaling sharply, “What is it, baby? You’ve got to use your words.” 

“Please stop teasing me,” she tells him, “Please take them off.” 

And Harry may love to tease, but he wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t a bloody monster, was he? So he slides his index and middle finger in between the fabric and her core and tugs them over to the side -- he didn’t want to waste any time wiggling them down her legs. No, instead he dips his tongue in between her lips and slides it flat and straight up to her swollen clit. The groan that leaves her is sinful -- it makes his cock twitch in his pants, his heart slamming against his sternum as he suckles and her fingers find his curls. She digs her fingers within the strands, rocking her hips up to meet his mouth, and for a moment, Harry just leaves his tongue out and flat for her to grind against. Harry thinks, if he could spend the day just strapped to Y/N’s bed, willing, ready, and waiting for her to come use his mouth how she pleased -- he would be inconceivable happy. 

Eventually he wiggles his face back into her, sliding his tongue back and forth before he latches his lips back around her silky folds. The swollen little button crying desperately for his attention was where he spent most of his time, lapping, or lulling his tongue in circles around it. She keens, her heel digs into the mattress and begins to slide down but Harry grabs a hold of her thighs and pushes both of them up, so her knees are to her chest. The new position makes her cry out his name raggedly, and Harry was teeming with carnal desire, and so horny he thinks he would barely have to hump against the mattress to cum. 

“I’m close,” she warns him, mewling, “I’m g’na cum, I’m -- oh, please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

Harry doesn’t think he’d stop if he was paid to do it. He doubles his efforts, sucking harder, sliding down to tongue at her hole while his fingers wrapped around and spun little circles into her clit. His other hand he reaches up with and slides his thumb into her mouth and she accepts it graciously, as it muted her moans that grew louder and louder the closer she got. 

When she cums, it’s beautiful -- Harry wishes he would be able to see it on repeat, how her back arched upward and her hips bucked loosely as she pulsated around his tongue. Her mouth hangs open around his thumb, her eyes squeezed shut, the fingers in his hair tighten and her other hand wraps around his wrists and holds him tightly. The initial lurch of it subsides and she melts into the mattress, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving beneath her sweater. 

After he thoroughly cleans her (until she’s twitching and jumping away from his tongue), he crawls up her body, pushing her sweater up over her breasts, “Can I fuck you, Darling?” He asks her, a small smile on his mouth when she leans her chest closer to him so he can reach behind her and unclip her bra. Tugging the cups away, he grabs them carefully, thumbing over her nipple, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, don’t feel bad about it, just let me know.” 

“I want you to,” she rushes to tell him, nodding, “Do you have a condom?” 

He dips his head against her chest, breathing out a sigh, “Fuck me,” he utters, shaking his head, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.” 

He usually does -- Harry always keeps a few on him, but he remembers very vividly he and Y/N had blown his last one up just a few nights prior and drawn a face on it. For a moment he feels hopeless, a sad pit forming in his stomach because the thought of fucking Y/N sounded like paradise and he only brought one bloody condom that he wasted. 

“It’s okay, we’ll do it next time then,” she tells him, and Harry feels a joyful spike in his overall demeanor. Next time -- she wanted there to be a next time? And if she wanted there to be a next time, then they would have to see each other after the camp. . .they would spend time together, Harry could learn what she was like in her normal day to day. He was eager and delighted, and not even just at the prospect of pushing into her (which he was also pretty damn excited for), “I mean, if you wanted to do this again, then, yeah -- right? We’ll hang out after camp is through?”

A smile threatens to split his cheeks, “Of course we will,” he tells her, nosing at her jawline, “And not just ‘cos you promised to let me fuck you. I was hoping we would see each other still but was worried that you might be sick of me.” 

Her brows pinch, “Sick of you? Dummy, I thought you would be sick of me!” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the both of them, “We’re so stupid, we ought’a communicate better.” Y/N presses at his abdomen, “C’mon then, I’ll spin around and you can fuck between my thighs. I did it once with a boy -- I just shaved in the shower last night too so it should be soft.” 

Y/N flips over, scooting her bum in the air for him as she cuddles a pillow to her face, her ankles locked in place and her thighs squeezed together. Harry wiggles out of his pants and boxers before he lets a glob of spit fall onto his stiff cock that had soundly slapped up against his stomach, slicking it up nice and wet so the glide between her thighs wouldn’t be too dry. One hand he lays palm flat to her bum, stroking the skin there with his thumb while the other hand navigates his prick, tipping it down and fitting it between her warm, soft thighs. 

It felt good; Harry groans wantonly as he pulls out and sinks back in, watching himself disappear between them. She wiggles her bum at him and Harry playfully swats it, chuckling when she squeals and giggles, “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos before bending over, stretching himself over her so his chest was pressed to her back as he started steadily fucking in between her thighs. One hand he uses to cup her breast and tweak at her nipple while the other he slides down to her pussy, finding her swollen little button and rubbing it. 

Harry’s skin prickles as she moans, her legs falling open just slightly but he tuts his tongue, “Keep them nice and tight for me, baby,” he murmurs, and she nods, tightening the channel for him once more. He won’t last long, he knows it -- he can feel that pool of heat crackling in his lower belly. His blood buzzes in his ears as he fucks his hips forward, their skin slapping together sound in their little cabin. Her breasts bounce with each thrust he gives, she’s beginning to cum again from the ministration of his fingers, and Harry’s nearing the end of his rope. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he’s just a breath away from her ear, “You’re gonna make me cum.” 

He nibbles at the shell of her ear and lets his eyes flutter closed, his senses on overload. All he can hear, and taste, and smell, and feel is her. Dizzy and overwhelmed, Harry feels as if he may burst at the seams. 

“Cum,” she murmurs, “Please, I want you to feel good -- I want you to cum.” 

That’s all it takes -- the little push of her words has his hips stuttering as he cums, spurting long stripes between her thighs, some catching her skin, some landing on her sheets below them. His world fizzles out, static splinters through his body as warmth rushes through his veins, and his toes curl hard enough to lock up. As he comes back to, he giggles, the last of his orgasm drooling from the tip as he pushes a kiss to the back of Y/N’s head, “Stay still, lemme go get us a rag.” 

His legs feel like jelly when he stands, fleeing arse naked to the bathroom and returning moments later with warm, wet rags. He cleans her first, careful in how he works her underwear down her legs before he pats gently around her thighs and at her center. She’s sensitive, so a few times she twitches and flinches from him but eventually relaxes as she holds tightly to the pillow. He wipes himself off a bit haphazardly, more concerned with getting Y/N somewhere to lie down as he gently tugs on her arms, “C’mere, poor thing, I came all over your bed.” 

“Yeah, you jerk,” she says puckishly, letting him guide her over to his bed, climbing in and immediately snuggling beneath his covers. Harry is not too far behind her, and at first she snuggles up close to him, she hisses and squeals before trying to shuffle away, “Why are your feet like ice?” She asks him, her words accusing, like he’d come in the bed with intent to freeze her. 

Harry shrugs, “I dunno’ I usually wear socks to bed to keep them warm.” 

“Socks? To sleep?” She slowly wiggles her way closer to him, despite the words that follow, “I don’t think we can share a bed, you’re batty.” 

“Guess you’ll have to go sleep on the jizzy bed then.” 

Y/N laughs, and Harry feels it vibrate through his body as he holds her close to his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They’re quiet for a moment, as they both settle, taking deep, slow breaths, allowing themselves to slip towards sleep. 

Before Harry could get there, Y/N murmured his name. 

“Thanks for being my camp ‘husbad’.” 

Harry smiled to himself, and held her a little closer before he teased her. 

“You can say thank you next time with an 18 carat diamond.”  

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

What if sole narrated and did sound effects to everything them and their companions did. They would also be a big drama queen in a goofy way. Like if they went into a spooky place they would say like “ We wandered into the great darkness that swallowed us whole. We jumped at every shadow and noise not knowing what awaits us!!” They then scream and grasp onto their companion for no reason and tearfully explain that them and Nate/Nora used to joke about this all the time. BTW I love your blog!!!

This is an absolutely awesome idea, and if it's all good with you, I might even write a oneshot about this at some point. 🥰 And thank you so much!!!! I'm so glad you love my blog! That means so much to hear 🥺💖

Thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy! 💙💛

Cait - Thinks that F!Sole is being absolutely ridiculous. But she goes along with it and just lets F!Sole do her thing, keeping her own thoughts about it to herself. But it does eventually does grow to be very old. However, when F!Sole tells her that she used to do it with her husband, Cait feels absolutely terrible for being annoyed by F!Sole's little habit. She awkwardly tells F!Sole that she didn't know that. Next time that F!Sole starts narrating events, Cait adds in a few of her own narrations in an attempt to play with F!Sole.

Piper - Actually starts doing it with her a little. If they go somewhere creepy that is unsettling them both, they start narrating it as if it is some sort of great horror novel. It ends up scaring them even more but it makes them feel safe in some weird way. Probably because it gives them both vocal reassurance that they're both still there together. When F!Sole eventually explains that her husband used to do this with her, Piper feels her heart clench a bit in her chest. However, Piper feels extremely honored that her best friend values her so much that she would play this special game with her. From then on, whenever F!Sole starts to play the game, Piper feels warm and happy inside and easily pitches in, adding her own narration.

Curie - Is confused, but she thinks it is quite cute despite how unnecessary. She sometimes giggles at the things that F!Sole says and how she narrates. She ultimately just goes along with it, not really questioning the entire process, and finding it to be a sweet quirk of F!Sole's. However, when F!Sole tells her that she used to do this with her husband, Curie is suddenly struck with the deep meaning behind the game. Soon, Curie tries to throw in a few sound effects here and there and narrate a few things as well. However, she is not very good at it. But she is trying her best!

MacCready - Thinks it's silly at first, but he soon finds himself doing it as well. He starts narrating things like they're in a comic book together, and when F!Sole punches people in the jaw, he's somewhere nearby yelling about the Silver Shroud and of course, offering an emphatic "Pow" to narrate her great takedown. When she tells him that she and her husband did this, he feels a little awkward doing it with her still. However, he knows she must want to do it with him if she's doing it so much around him. Therefore, they both keep narrating their comic book journey.

Deacon - Absolutely loves it, and sometimes even initiates it himself. Especially when they happen to be paired together for missions with Glory. They both team up together to really annoy the poor synth. She is ready to chop off her own ears by the time they are through with the mission because the combination of Deacon and F!Sole is way more irritation than any normal human can handle. When F!Sole finally explains that she and her husband played this game together, he takes it pretty well, somehow managing to turn the entire admission into something much more lighthearted.

Codsworth - Eagerly jumps in with her and narrates as well. He knows the significance of this game already, and she does not even have to tell him about it. However, they end up talking about it together at some point, and he tells her that while he is definitely not at sir's level of mastery, he will do his best to efficiently play the game with her.

Hancock - Usually has to get high to really want to do it with her. However, if he can annoy someone with her, he will eagerly play the game with or without chems in his system. He thinks it's way cuter when she does it, and he sometimes proceeds to narrate what F!Sole is doing while looking at things through a very inappropriate lens making comments about her figure or something. When she eventually tells him that she did this with her husband, he is thrown off. From then on, he tries to pitch in with her game a little more often.

Danse - Finds this game absolutely and completely preposterous and tells her so in somewhat gentler words. It normally aggravates him a little when she starts doing it. However, after he finds out that she did this with her husband, he feels quite bad about telling her to stop. So he starts throwing in his own narrations very, very occasionally and only if it is just the two of them. Of course, he's not too good at it since he sounds like he is reciting events from a history textbook or an encyclopedia.

Preston - Does not really know what to think. It is the strangest thing he's heard anyone do in a while, but he just shrugs it off and decides to enjoy it. Sometimes when she narrates, it legitimately makes him laugh, and she seems very pleased when that occurs. When she tells him that she and her husband did this game, he feels sad for her. After that, as he laughs at her narrations, he always remembers that this game is a way to keep her husband's memory alive.

Valentine - Is confused by it at first, but he soon finds it extremely adorable, and he just happily listens to her narrating. It seems to make her happy, so he does not worry about anything else. If something can bring a little light in her life, then he is perfectly content. When she admits that it was an activity her and her husband did, he feels his heart ache a little. From then on, he takes an even greater enjoyment in hearing her, knowing that she is entrusting him with a valuable piece of her past life.

X6-88 - Is bewildered and at first begins to question if she needs some sort of help. He soon enough asks if she is alright and if she is feeling well. She soon replies that yes, she is feeling well and this was just something that she and her husband did. He immediately feels somewhere between relieved and very awkward. After that, he just lets her do her thing, and he keeps his thoughts to himself. However, at some point afterward, he himself accidentally ends up making a sound effect in that very monotone manner. He is terribly humiliated, but she seems absolutely thrilled with it. So he finds that he is not quite so embarrassed anymore.

Dogmeat - Loves the sound of her voice, so he is absolutely thrilled about her playing this game. He loves to hear her speak to him, and whenever she starts making sound effects or narrating, he sometimes barks to add to the fun. He always is looking at her when she does it, and he doesn't stop keeping his attentions on her. This is a wonderful game as far as he's concerned.

Strong - Is extremely disoriented when she firsts starts it, but he soon grows angry and irritated by it. He tells her that she needs to be quieter and quit saying weird things about what they're doing. He also says she needs to stop making those weird noises. It does not really matter to him that she used to do it with her husband. He just thinks she needs to stop.