#I do in fact have a friend in mine. she’s quite good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry-titz · 6 months

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HI GUYS @cherryjuiceblues here ! oof, this took me longer than i anticipated to finish, and for that i am sorry, friends! this is my installment to mine and @1800titz first collab :D if you haven't already read part one, written by titz herself, then you can do so here !!

some warnings before you read! following on from part one, this is dark harry. some very dark themes going on. and once again, as miss titz previously stated, harry is simply a faceclaim here. there is absolutely no intention to associate the real harry with this fictitious one !!

content warnings include: dom/sub themes, exhibitionism, light spanking/impact play, choking, name-calling, degradation, praise, threats of intending to cause harm (hitchhikerry is not a good man at all). generally, he's a bit meaner in this one!

word count is just under 11k (both of us had aimed to write a short and snappy 6-7k each but here we are LMAO) !! ENJOY :D

This bathroom is filthy. The slanted mirror swirls a little, in a thick, hypnotic puddle, as Y/N stares at the smeared reflection before her.

A new low, perhaps—this night, for Y/N (only competing with one other evening that springs to mind). In an unloved bar, in a dingy bathroom, fingers digging into grimy porcelain that no amount of suds from the muddy bar of soap could clean. (And, really—whose idea was it to have bars of soap in a public place?) Clenching digits in an attempt to wake up some from the wave of paranoia that skittered across her skin in the public eye of the bar.

Y/N swears her pupils fluctuate as she grounds herself in them. Recollects herself in this pigsty of an establishment. Forces some of the alcohol to evaporate off of her in waves as she sobers up to the thought of piss-stained tiles and sticky toilet seats.

Y/N doesn’t drink alone.

But she didn’t do hitchhikers either and look where that got her.

In a shithole—that’s where. In a shithole, on her lonesome, on a Monday night of all nights. Argued to be the worst day of the week to wake up, go to school, work—and most relevantly—get drunk. But she’d considered it important to force herself out—to maintain control over her actions whether they be sensible or not. It was rather unimportant to Y/N what day of the week it was. They’d sort of all merged into one since receiving the phone call—every day reduced to the same thoughts tick, tick, ticking inside of her head. Hours spent ping-ponging back and forth over every moment in which her life could have ended inside of that car.

She’d tried since; to phone him back. Each time met with the denying wall of a payphone. Y/N almost grew comforted by that failure—that safety of knowing no one would ever answer—until rationality kicked in and she blocked the number. A small, tiny ounce of power to hold.

And there’s a part of her, still, that doesn’t quite believe it. That surely friendly Harry—adorned in his soft sweatshirt, with his dimpled cheeks and yellow nails—could have only been laughing with his friends, all huddled around his phone that blasted on speaker, at the successful spooking of an unassuming girl. Despite the fact of all the evidence stacking up against him—that she’d heard only his breaths, only his voice, and the undeniable dead of night surrounding him. She needn’t even ponder over the possibility to accept it—lone stranger on the side of the road, in the dead of night, sleeping at a motel, so eager to manhandle and encourage Y/N’s struggle—

The door clatters, and then a body pushes it open, the heavy wood resisting some and disguising Y/N’s flinch at the sudden intrusion. She clears her throat, turning the tap on and pretending to wash her hands as she meets the eyes of a woman in the mirror, a small weak smile upturning Y/N’s lips, before she disappears inside a cubicle.

She’s retraced every single moment of that night. Looking back with shame and humiliation. Because (and it’s pointless to waste even a second on it now but) how silly—how stupid—does someone have to be; how lacking in common sense or respect for one’s self, to pick up a stranger on the side of the road. Harry was right to scold her over the phone, no matter the irony of it all. She might as well have served herself up on a platter for him to take. So easy, he’d said.

So easy it hadn’t been fun, is all Y/N can assume.

The broken seal of the door reminds her of the outside world, shaking her head—an attempt to rattle her thoughts into submission, to collect herself and focus on the surface level image of her reflection. To remember the facts. That she looks pretty. Pretty and put-together—and ready to drown more of her sorrows in another cocktail mixed with her chosen spirit.

It’s as quiet as it was before Y/N slipped into the bathroom, a handful of lonely men scattered on opposite ends of the bar—the occasional group huddled around a table—or a couple sprawled against a sofa. The wall-mounted television has been switched on, subtitles an obnoxious fluorescent yellow as the news captures the attention of few desolate drinkers. Y/N doesn’t notice the extra body occupying a high-top table nearest to the bar, her back turned towards them, as she makes herself (comfortable would be an exaggeration) settled once again on a rickety, wooden stool.

She doesn’t notice. Not until she orders a Cosmopolitan and twists her clutch onto her lap, opening the zipper’s teeth, fingers pinching the familiar edge of her card just enough for it to peek past the confines, and is hastily denied by the bartender. He shakes his head, hands busy as he mixes her drink, nodding in some direction behind her as he says, “Gentleman over there paid for it.”

And that… that can’t be right. Gentle and man are two respected words in their own right but together? Y/N’s spine straightens and her muscles tighten. There’s no way she could know, but somehow she does—shutting her eyes, expelling a breath in preparation—as she twists around on her stool to see the man who she invited into her sedan all those days ago. There was nothing gentle about that night.

Or so she found out.

And he looks… the same. Of course he does.

Same chocolate-swirled curls brushing against the unperturbed smoothness of his forehead. Same strong line of his nose, same hard clench of his jaw dusted in scruff that she’d let him brush against her face as they’d kissed. Same plush lips that purse around the rim of a tumbler, cheekbones sharp as he tips his head back enough to allow the cool liquid to slick down his throat. Same rough, sinewy fingers—the subdued yellow of his nails (so far along the spectrum from the blinding fluorescence of the television subtitles) now chipped in a way that suggests it’s fashionable as opposed to scruffy.

All the same features and yet Y/N can’t help but picture them in a new, scathing light—those soft tendrils matted with thick, dark blood, splatters dripping down his temple and beading at his chin. Blush-tinted lips curled up in a sinister, satisfied smile—chilling enough to slow the blood in Y/N’s veins—and those hands; his fingers that had previously delivered so much pleasure, wrapping around the handle of a sharpened blade with the intent to inflict more than she could have bargained for—no sunshine yellow in sight.

And the morbid image is hardly helped by the baggy garments that swallow his limbs, grey sweats and black hoodie selling one of two different visuals. Either that of a cosy boyfriend or a looming presence on a dimly lit street, late at night. Y/N’s brain opts for the latter.

Harry meets Y/N’s gaze with confidence—if he is surprised, or displeased, or worried by her presence then it shows none on his face. She watches the tick of his throat as he swallows the remainder of what looks like whiskey, before carelessly sliding the glass across the table in which he is slouching away from with arrogance, to meet its other empty friend as they clink together. His posture suggests complete ease—the sort of position you would take on a deep-set sofa—an ankle slung across a knee, an elbow propped behind you. Perhaps the type of arrogance only the person who had admitted their desire to murder you could have.

She blinks at him, unable to startle back around in fear. Not in order to preserve any sort of upper hand—but from a complete lack of said immediate panic; that fight or flight response. She blinks as she sees the screen of her phone behind her eyelids; as she sees every unanswered call she dialled to that payphone. The ringing in her ear as she waited, and waited, and waited.

The reminiscence, the amusement in his tone—that switched as though controlled by one—to disappointment and disdain, to deliver a warning with such severity that only left Y/N with more questions. Why wait an entire week to call? Why tell her about his intention? How many times had he killed before? Why didn’t he kill her?

“—Police have found what they believe to be the body of twenty-five-year-old Ruby Wilcox…” Y/N doesn’t know why this specific statement is deemed salient enough to shove it’s way past all the other droning noise and embed itself deep within her head—but it is. As though Ruby Wilcox is her own name, Y/N feels a pit of dread churning around inside of her stomach, twisting and turning in a true derivation of discomfort, as she peers around to acknowledge that she’s heard correctly, skimming the subtitles with grave trepidation. The journalist goes on, “...reported missing six days ago…” but Y/N already feels as though she’s heard the story.

She turns back towards Harry, unsure as to why it feels necessary to do so—the moment their eyes met the first time, she should have bolted. Harry’s already looking at her, as though his eyes have never trailed away, and it’s telling—the quirk of his lips. The way his tongue darts out to wet them and he can’t contain the small bracket that they form into.

His left eye flutters closed in a wink as new droning voices of monotonous news presenters burrow deeper and deeper into Y/N’s skin. The fear is undeniable. It aches deep inside the marrow of her bones; a lingering, languishing throbbing that can only be attributed to embedded dread. But if Y/N can’t deny that she hasn’t run for the hills then she also can’t deny the way the fear dances atop her skin like little bolts of lightning. Displacing the panic with a desperate flush of rage—a desire for violence to be met with violence—in a less than chaste way.

The danger—it… excites her, it challenges her. To know why, and how, to learn the extent of what spared her life. To take more. It feels reckless; almost demanding of death. It feels belittling, and demeaning, and like everything every girl is ever taught not to do. Could Y/N really justify endangering her life for the perversity of something as insignificant as body-slumping sex? Could she ever look herself in the eye again?

…Did it matter?

It doesn’t seem to when Harry suddenly stretches his arms out above his head, cracking the bones from his strenuous period of sitting down, and pushes himself up from the creaking, groaning chair. It seems as though the decision is made for Y/N when she bolts to follow him without a second thought. Or she bolts in her mind—her body delivers a much more convincing performance of nonchalance—seemingly casual as she sifts through her clutch in a faux check of inventory.

And then, when Harry’s broad back faces her for long enough, weaving his way towards the steel door of the back entrance—that’s when Y/N jumps down from her stool, downs the entirety of her drink and relishes in the warmth that blossoms in her chest, and leaves the bar.

The heavy door screams on its hinges, slamming shut with a reverberating bang. Y/N peers left down the alleyway, dim light from a distant streetlamp casting shadows across gravel—

“Sneaky little thing.”

Y/N startles, whipping around to see her stranger (surprised but not understandably by logic) as he mutters, “No self-preservation.” Effortlessly cool, leaning against the exterior of the bar—rough brick undoubtedly frigid and scratchy. His jaw works incessantly, clearly nursing a flavour of gum that he can only just have popped into his mouth—and disgust gurgles in Y/N’s stomach at the sight of his demeanour—unsettling yet titillating, all the same.

“Y’following me?” he pushes forward off of the wall, height suddenly looming as his lip curls into a simper much less pleasant than that of the man she’d met last week. Though it fails to feel threatening, her mouth still runs dry, now faced with the opportunity to say… anything—to ask, demand, accuse to her heart’s content—but she… she can’t, too inundated by the possibilities as her brain splutters and jolts like an empty engine.

When Y/N doesn’t answer, Harry’s mouth crooks up, pulling back to reveal a deceptively pretty smile—before he purses his lips to blow a cool stream of breath directly into Y/N’s face. Her nose crinkles as the conspicuous scent of peppermint forces its way, no doubt into her brain—to associate peppermint with him for the rest of her life—may it be long or considerably shorter after tonight. “Minty fresh,” Harry smiles around a chew, impishly delighted by Y/N’s scowl. “Wha’s the matter? Don’t like peppermint?”

Sure—yes, sure, she likes peppermint but what level of absurdity— A humourless bark of a laugh fizzles between them, Y/N unable and unwilling to ignore the fatuity of the situation. Y/N could say so much, but it seems she chooses, “I prefer bubblegum,” clearing her throat to ignore the waver in her voice.

Harry nods earnestly—as though her taste in confectionery holds the same gravity as that of an embarrassing truth or a confession of crisis—jaw flexing on its hinges, “Mm, makes sense. Little—” his arm reaches out, finger uncurling to brush a knuckle against a loose strand of her hair, “bubblegum princess,” and Y/N wonders if he might be a little insane, body tight as the distance between them lessens. Distance that could only be described as valuable in such a situation, with such a person.

It strikes Y/N now, the difference in his temperament—gone is the charm of a man brimming with polite conversation to show his gratitude towards her—in his place stands the one who spewed filth inside the confines of her sedan. Shameless, smug, awash with a handful of complexes, she’s now sure.

Despite the blast of fresh air and biting peppermint encouraging sobriety, dregs of intoxication still prevalently linger in Y/N’s bloodstream. That boost of liquid courage she needs to say what she does, to be reminded of that vehement anger, and to ignore the pounding of her heart—the way it begs and pleads with her to go back inside—as her foot takes her a step forward. Her voice drops to a whisper as she tilts her head up, now intimately close, “Do you still think my eyes are pretty?”

And Harry laughs—the sound forced from his lungs as he fails to conceal amusement. “Christ, no shame…” he pauses, eyes darting back and forth between Y/N’s falsely confident ones, “‘f course I do, I meant everything I said... Everything.”

It’s those words that drive home the reality of the situation; a clear confession, a clear joy to remember—“I was going to kill you that night. Thought about draining the life from those pretty eyes the second you rolled your window down.”

Y/N’s tether to sanity unravels, hanging on by a mere thread as she throws her hands in front of her wildly. “I let you inside my fucking car!” The fury finally weaponised, despite the whiny defiance of her tone, that is only further fuelled by Harry’s wry smile, growing and growing. It sets something alight in Y/N; the defeating realisation of a true psychopath before her. Nothing she could say would allow sympathy to seep into his bones.

Not that she demanded sympathy. What good would an apology do? An apology for what… scaring her? Disturbing her so deeply to her core that life felt bathed—drowned—in danger? The only real, tangible thing Harry had done to her was have sex with her and that— That was nothing to apologise for, no matter the embarrassment to admit as such.

So why… bother… Why bother to fight when he smells so inviting and the warmth of his body yearns to take the chill off of hers?

Harry dips down—peppermint again, mixed with the same pleasant cologne from the night he tainted her backseats, that had blotted itself in her memory unknowingly—eyes boring into her own. “You did more than that, pet,” an effort to get the words out without scoffing, “You let me fuck you inside your car. Begged me—”

She shoves demurely at his chest, coils of heat tightening at the memory, causing only the slightest of stumbles as Harry grips her hand to his chest and tugs her with him “—pleaded me—for it, in fact.” His breath fans across her face; close enough to still be warm and pebble her cheeks with goosebumps. Her lashes flutter innocuously—the perfect picture of doe-eyed and yet she has no intention behind it.

Y/N’s face is warm with the alcohol coursing underneath her skin and the tingling of Harry’s air dusted across it, that jacket of heat the only thing bracing her against the whipping breeze against her bare legs. Naturally, if it wasn’t for the existence of Harry, Y/N would feel perfectly content right now. Tipsy but not detrimentally so—surfing along the wave of intoxication with only an occasional plunge beneath the bracing waters. She feels good like this, most of the time. She feels confident, and sexy, and free of all of life’s burdens.

But now one of life’s more recent burdens is standing in front of her, simmering smile surely on the verge of snapping. Y/N wonders what she might do in order to make that happen—so be it, if that puts herself at risk. There's no such thing as risk when you’re a drink or two down. The anger feels subdued, the fear feels subdued—something in the back of her mind convincing Y/N of some faux sense of safety—however real or fake it may be.

“Didn’t you?” Harry nudges, sly fingertips catching her off guard as they tap sequentially against the curve of her waist, gently—subtly—manoeuvring Y/N’s body to rest against the harsh stone. She hardly realises she’s moving, too honed in on the whispering taunt of Harry’s voice.

Yes. She did.

But she doesn’t care to focus on that anymore—she doesn’t care to play the regretful part. Y/N has moved onto bigger and better things. She tilts her chin up, defiant in nature, as her tone takes on that of a snarky assertion, “How—how were you g’na do it? Tell me.”

It doesn’t seem as though Harry needs a reminder; he knows what she’s referring to. He knows and he shows zero interest in humouring it—her perverse request. Tapping fingers trail their way up, up, up until they’re cradling her collarbones, vast palm spread out across her chest.

He plays gentle, unknowing, as he shushes her, “It doesn’t matter…” he murmurs, hand slipping higher still until his long fingers can curl and wrap around her throat, the first indication of the whiskey having its desired effect clear when his eyelids flutter and syllables threaten to merge.

He doesn’t squeeze and it’s disturbingly unforeseen—the hold in which he keeps her in without pressure. But it’s not enough, and Y/N’s not satisfied with such an answer. No matter the desperation to surge forward and kiss him messily, or the eagerness to find out whether he’ll explore her mouth again or degrade her for his pleasure, Y/N doesn’t budge.

“Tell me,” she insists, voice teetering on the edge of too loud in the soulless alleyway. Her fist comes up in a weak thud against his chest, unable to display any other sort of physicality. “How were you gonna kill me, Harry—?” Her breath catches as he digs his fingers into the side of her throat—finally satisfied to see the edge of that smirk wiped off of his face. Piercing green holds her in place, sneer dominating her vision.

“Shut up—”

“When you were cumming inside me—?”

“—Shut the fuck up.”

Y/N wheezes when he squeezes even harder, mouth dropping open in a masochistic smile—eyes half-lidded as the blood fights its way to her brain. The warmth of Harry’s palm against the column of her neck presses just as hard, taunting and tormenting her airways—daring her to breathe.

“What—did you—” a second of respite in which he loosens his grip, as Y/N inhales as much as her little lungs can take, “do to that—woman?”

He scoffs at her—almost annoyed that she would care enough to ask—that he even has to waste his energy thinking about it. “I didn’t fuck her if that’s what you’re worried about,” serrated ice in his tone, freezing over when he spits out, “sweetheart.” No attempt at denial, no reassurance of his innocence—just. I didn’t fuck her.

It comes barrelling out; the provocation, “Had to get your fix somewhere else, then,” Y/N accuses, swallowing underneath the weight of his hand. “Didn’t kill me so you had to hurt poor Ruby Wilcox, didn’t you?”

“—Don’t play detective, pet,” he expertly deflects, squeezing harder—disguising any sort of discomfort with the quirk of his lips, “it doesn’t suit you. Much preferred it when you were dumb around my fingers, barking f’me like a good girl. D’you remember that?”

Very well. Too well. Even still after learning the truth, Y/N had remembered it in great detail. “Why didn’t you kill me?” she whispers, numb now to the pads of his digits and the way they demand bruising against the delicate skin of her neck. Pointed indentations to aggravate with her own pressing fingers (assuming she lives long enough for them to form).

“Maybe I just wanted another taste,” Harry admits, eyes clear—surprisingly sincere despite the vulnerability of such a claim. “Maybe I wanted to hear about more of your bad dates—”

“—It wasn’t a date—”

“Maybe…” and Y/N starts to doubt that earnest expression, “maybe I got off on the idea of ruining something—of leaving this kind, sweet, generous girl… with something real to cry about.”

Something real? Something real?

“Why me?” She’s not kidding herself; there’s nothing special or unique that might have altered years and years of Harry’s personal psychology—but maybe, just maybe—Y/N might be given something to help her sleep a little better at night. A reason; valid or not, just something to roll around in the palm of her hands until she could make sense of it.

She’s granted no such thing.

“You stopped the car, Y/N,” he drawls in such a casual tone, sounding the same as the man who had told her his name, debated the importance of the rules of Uno, and breathed a sincere wish that she got home safe. “You let me in. I had nothing to do with it,” Harry promises. But it’s not a friendly promise, nor a reassuring one. It’s an assertion that leaves no room for interpretation, a cold, hard fact that can never be dissected. And unfortunately for Y/N, the fact of the matter remains that this is all her fault.

Cold fingers curl into the front of his hoodie, material scrunching between her digits. Harry tuts, “Hands off,” but Y/N only grips him tighter—knuckles tensing as she urges him closer towards her body by the baggy fabric. (When she’s sober she might berate herself for pushing him the wrong way.)

It’s discernible; Harry’s distaste—eyes sharpening as they slice into her own. He takes matters into his own hands, forcibly removing hers from his front and squeezing the delicate bones of her wrists as he presses them, less than gently, into the harsh bricks.

“Not so obedient today, are we?” Their hips dare to meet, twitches and nudges teasing the inevitable. Y/N can’t disguise the way she bucks a little, thin dress waiting to be bunched and moulded by bigger hands. She knows what he feels like—and it’s impossible not to yearn for it.

Her words are airy—breathless from no exertion—heartbeat drumming in her chest with anticipation. “I assumed you…liked a struggle.”

“I do,” Harry hums, a smile edging back onto his face, as he dips down enough for his breath to kiss her ear, “...but where’s my easy little stray gone?” he pouts, leaning back to tilt his head in a way that suggests simple curiosity. “Girl I met two weeks ago was already open wide f’me by now… Wanna show me your tongue again, pet?”

And it’s juvenile—but Y/N isn’t sober and neither is Harry—when she sticks it out in a way similar to that of a snotty toddler as opposed to the languid reveal she gave him in her car. She pokes it out and scrunches her nose, almost amusing herself in the process. In what is a ridiculous display of immaturity that far from pleases Harry.

He grunts, “Yeah, that’s funny,” patting the side of her face. Hard. Not a slap but something that makes her cheek tingle and her jaw loosen. Even more so when Harry’s fingers squeeze either side and manhandle her face left and right—moving her as he pleases and reveling in the dipping of her eyebrows and the rounding of her eyes. It’s pathetic, really, how quickly she can be reduced to insignificance with just a little pawing.

But he underestimates her ever so slightly. She’s not quite finished it seems, when—through the mush of her mouth—she gurgles, “Are y’gonna kill me this time?”

The amusement that dances so often in Harry’s eyes fizzles out once more. “Shut up, Y/N,” he shoves closer, the blushing tip of his nose daring to brush against her bridge. “Don’t make me say it again.”

She practically preens, rocking up onto the tips of her toes, forcing their chill-bitten skin to brush. “Or what? You’ll make me?” The question floats between them like a perilous snowflake, not for long enough before she jeers, “How you g’na do it? You’ll finally get to watch th—”

Harry’s had enough of her voice, surging forward, desperately capturing the end of Y/N’s exhalation and coalescing it with his own. It’s rough, and it’s dirty—his fingers still controlling every purse of Y/N’s lips—hips finally clashing in a grinding of bones. He lets go of her face, encompassing hands tugging through her hair as he holds the back of her head. The only gesture of comfort he grants her away from the wall; not for long before those same fingers roam and dishevel—nails pinching just on the side of too hard.

Every subconscious twitch of her own fingers has Harry alert—any attempt of Y/N’s made to touch him in exchange meets her swift return of each wrist pinned to either side of her head—knuckles brushing sharp bumps of brick. A small noise seeps out of her mouth and into his own, vibrating against his lips and reducing Harry to a deep, acknowledging sigh.

They’re uncoordinated; desperation dominating precision and finesse. Laboured exhalations blanket their cheeks, noses squished and lips swollen. Harry’s hands float back up to her face, pressing coolly against the sides, spanning the entirety as his thumbs bracket their mouths. He holds her like he wants to consume her—crawl inside her skin, swallow her down—tongue boldly stroking against her own in contrastingly lazy flicks. A dizzying enmeshment of fast and slow, hard and soft.

Y/N’s neck aches from the angle in which she’s forced to meet Harry’s mouth, strong palms nearly pulling her off of her toes as he cups her cheeks with almost too much chivalry, too much romance. It would be all too easy to forget his confession, encompassed in his warmth, his scent—too easy to pretend it didn’t matter.

She sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, pulling back as they clamp and opening her eyes just enough to watch the flesh snap back into place. There’s no time to smile with sadistic glee before Y/N’s head is yanked back by the roots of her hair, slender fingers wrapped in tendrils and tugging. Hard. A gasp is ripped from the back of her throat, cold and sharp against her tonsils. And Harry gets to experience the twitch of his lips and the amusement of winning as Y/N’s back bends to accommodate the sudden stretch of her neck.

He peers down at her parted lips, the slight tension in her brows from the strain, and her heavy arms that slowly droop down against the wall. Small clouds of mist pass between them—the cold air kissing their recycled breaths—soaking in the chill the longer they stay outdoors. The stray street light bounces off of one side of Harry's back, casting a glowing outline around his body as he blocks Y/N in against the wall. The irony of such an image. She shuffles her feet atop the gravel, aching from lack of movement—twitching when a thick thigh nudges its way between her own—soft sweatpants stroking her naked skin.

“Bite me again, sweetheart…” Harry taunts, voice scarily steady, “see what happens.”

A choked laugh escapes from Y/N’s chest, forced through her open mouth. A delightful invitation. She pushes as far up on her toes as she can manage, pulling against the force of Harry’s hand—reaching as far as his chin before she eases the tension. He smirks down at her, wandering fingers teasing the hem of her dress as his thigh warms between hers.

“Pity I don’t get to rip another pair of little tights,” he tuts, trailing a digit up the inside of her knee. “Trying to make the old men happy tonight, were we?” tugging at the material, tight against the tops of her thighs. “Hoping one of them might take you to the bathroom and let you call him Daddy.” He tuts again, “How sad.”

“Would you have?” she pouts, eyes bright with mirth. “Let me call you Daddy?”

“Would I have let you? Would I have given you permission? I don’t think so, pet.” He squishes her cheeks together again—demeaning, degrading—leaning back down to ghost his mouth across her puckered lips. “I don’t think you deserve to call me anything at all.”

Her lungs are tight; desperate for more than just a shallow inhale through her nose, borrowed from another. He’d slowly, ever so slowly, meshed their mouths together once more—stopping her from replying with anything other than a scalding kiss, tongues overlapping in an erotic embrace.

But Y/N finds herself impatient—and Y/N falls short in the realm of manners, greedy hands sneaking down when she gets the chance—palming at the thick outline through Harry’s sweatpants.

“Ah—ah, hands off,” he echoes, fingers tugging at her scalp again, forcibly expelling the breath from her lungs. “Ask nicely. I know you know better than that.”

“I do,” she pants, lips tingling with the imprint of Harry’s own. “I don’t think psychos…deserve nicely.” A dangerous blow. One he doesn’t take lightly—one that makes Y/N think she’s hit a nerve when he grits out his next command, jaw tight and eyes stormy.

“Turn around. You’re pissing me off,” not granting her the option to do so herself before his spanning hands are forcing her waist in a squirming prod until her front meets the wall. She wants to push back but Harry is consuming all the space behind her, chest expanding against her shoulder blades. The heat against her ass is dizzying, tunnelling all of her thoughts to places dissolute.

Harry spits his next words, anger palpable, “Fuckin’ brat,” pulling her against his crotch by the small of her waist. Y/N gasps, ears momentarily filled with nothing but white noise. “I let you go and the universe brought us back together, isn’t that something?” A pause; clearly waiting for her snarky response but he gets nothing. She’s too overtaken by the buzzing between her thighs. “I thought so,” he sighs, “but you’re being such a little bitch tonight.”

A pathetic whine crawls its way out of her downturned lips, wisping between them like a sad trail of smoke. Her head feels thick, like she wants to let it fall back and rest upon Harry’s shoulder. What was she annoyed about again? It feels futile.

The harsh emphasis of ‘bitch’ echoes in her ears about five beats after he’s gritted it out. And it burns deep within her abdomen, a searing coalescence of shame and arousal. “...Not a bitch,” she mumbles, eyes fluttering closed as her hands brace against the wall—willing herself to stay upright; to focus on anything but the heavy bump against her backside. But it is futile, because the insult doesn’t land the way it’s supposed to—it doesn’t upset or offend—and that’s when it becomes clear to Harry that the wall is crumbling. That his charm remains absolute.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, voice lathering her skin like thick globules of honey, “still so easy,” lips kissing the shell of her ear as his breath seeps into her hair, coating and warming. “My little bitch, how about that? Do you like the sound of that?”

She wants to shake her head but it’s too heavy, clogged with the fog of Harry’s voice—every nerve tingling as he glides his palms over her hips and down… across her pelvis and curling around the edge of her dress, teasing it, bunching it up just enough to dance his digits over her mound. Y/N’s hips twitch in anticipation, giving away what her words don’t say.

“Y’want my fingers…” an electrifying brush over her clothed clit, “here?” She exhales a shaky breath, trying to push back into him—it’s the only thing she can do, with her fingernails threatening to dig into stone and her forehead sure to come away with its imprint. Her heartbeat throbs between her thighs and a swallowed whimper seeps out of her mouth. “Got to hear you say it, pet. Say you want me to play with your hot, little cunt.”

“Mhm,” is all Y/N can manage, hoping—praying—that for once it might be good enough.

It’s not.

“Mhm,” Harry echoes, the pressure on her clit disappearing and the bulge nudging against her ass harder. Y/N pushes back—Harry pushes forward. A cant of his hips and a teasing reveal of more and more of her skin, the skirt of her dress manipulated high enough to brush across the small of her back and reveal the breadth of her underwear; less salacious than the purple thong Harry had admired previously. A soft white cotton and frilly pink decorating the hem.

“These are sweet, pet,” he mumbles. But it doesn’t fill her chest with warmth; it fills her with trepidation—waiting for the other shoe to drop—for Harry to tear them or rip them, defile them or taint them. But he never does. He doesn’t do anything aside from stroke his thumb across the hem of her panties, up and along the seam. Y/N exhales, trying to sway her hips in order to sway him but it seems he needs no persuasion.

“I’m waiting,” he scorns—much to Y/N’s distaste. Because waiting is not a luxury that either of them can afford right now. Time… Privacy… Two valuable assets that are not provided by the dimly lit alleyways between dingy bars and the rest of the population. The steel door barely a metre beside Y/N could swing open at any point—revealing a disgruntled worker tired after a long shift—or an impatient pedestrian could decide to try their luck exploring a shortcut and happen upon their preoccupied bodies. And surely there must be a view from a window somewhere, anywhere.

So Y/N says what she knows he wants to hear. “Please,” a whisper—unpossessing of the desperation Harry often desires. But she’s not finished. “Please. Please play with my— my…” his fingers drag down across the gusset, prodding at her fluttering hole through the thin material that’s far from dry. A motivating caress that wobbles Y/N’s voice, “—M-my hot, little cunt.”

Shame bathes in her skin, cheeks blooming with an imprudent heat. But Harry laughs at her compliance, no matter how pathetic or meek. He thuds the width of his fingers over her clit suddenly, Y/N’s knees buckling with the unforeseen impact but Harry grips onto her waist, holding her against the warm wall of his body as his fingers push at her underwear.

The wetness is embarrassing, thick and glossy through the cotton. Harry seems to take pride in it, spending too long nudging his fingers over the slick at her hole instead of focusing where they both know Y/N wants. And then a slip to the side, fingertips prodding at the flimsy hem—manoeuvring it over and out of the way, just enough for the shame to coat his skin.

They’re cold against the radiating heat from between her thighs, pulsing and rolling in waves throughout her insides. A jolt; a twitch, the width of Harry’s chest against her back.

“Hold them—fuck, you’re sopping—hold them f’me,” he instructs, Y/N’s shaking fingers obliging before they even know what for, slinking down the front of her body and shucking the gusset of her panties aside enough for Harry’s liking, “Y’always get this wet or is it just f’me?”

And Harry must know the answer—well acquainted with her pussy once before—asking the questions he knows will satisfy him most. “Jus’ you.” A pathetic admission—even more so when Y/N realises it’s not even a lie.

She’s never been more sure of something. Not by her own hand, not by another cock; never has she been so ruined. “No wonder everyone you fuck bores you.”

Yeah… she had insinuated that—she’d yearned for it to hurt, for it to be interesting—inadvertently matching Harry’s sick sense of pleasure. Because here she was, wetting his fingers—the same fingers he’d taken so much away with—and yet they felt so good.

“You need a bit of danger, baby?” Harry cups over her tightly. “Yeah?”

“—Mhm—”

He smiles, leaning forward into the back of her hair. “Need to pick strange men off of the side of the road? Need to fuck them in alleyways?” His palm grinds along her clit in slow, torturous circles, the tips of his fingers daring to dip inside of her but never breaching. “You gonna let me fuck you, pet? Gonna squeeze that cunt over me again like a good—” he retracts slightly, heavy hand slapping over her pussy and rendering Y/N immobilised, “—fucking—girl?” Each smack jolts her body, knees buckling, crumpled mouth whimpering.

“Ye-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please,” her tone borders on watery, thick with overwhelming urgency—coaxing him to warm his fingers inside of her—pleading with her grabbing hand as it reaches behind her and palms at the front of his sweats. And he’s told her no once… twice before already… so it’s only fair that he slaps down on her again. Harder. Louder. The sound of Y/N’s cry echoing out, just teetering over the edge of too pitchy. He doesn’t bother to smother it.

He’s terse, words forced through the gaps of his teeth as he grits, “Stop fucking touching me. Just…” he sighs, warm breath tickling the shell of her ear, “Jus’ be a… good… little hole, yeah?”

Yeah. Yeah. She can do that, she can— “Okay,” the breath trails out of her lips, wispy and frail, body tightening up when she feels… feels his middle finger circling the outside of her cunt—silently pleading for his touch—“O-okay,” she mewls again, dumbstruck as he pushes in—up to the first knuckle, and then the second, and the third.

“There you go,” it’s gentle, almost nurturing; far too soft for the stolen secrecy of an alleyway. Y/N keens, knuckles tightening around the gusset she’s still holding onto for dear life—empty hand flying down to cover Harry’s own. Delicacy coalescing with rigidity. She begs for his finger to sink deeper, to curl and to soothe—to be cajoled by another—to carve its path inside of her.

Harry wiggles it tauntingly, chest puffing out with a frustrated exhalation. “Give me your hand—come on—” he’s rough as he twists it behind her back, away from his skin and exposed to the cold air, “keep it there, stop—bothering me.” She’s not even rewarded with his bruising grasp around her wrist, just the aching chore of correcting each slip down her back as her arm tires.

His ring finger squeezes beside his middle, tip teasing Y/N’s achy hole, soft pads pressing into the spongy front of her walls. He scissors his fingers inside of her slowly, rubbing with virility as the backs of his index and pinky slap into the plush flesh either side of her wet cunt. And then he gets faster, grunting senselessly through every twitch and clench of her pussy. He finds that spot—and then he abuses it—Y/N unable to support her own weight when her knees start buckling and her tired bicep suffers behind her back.

“Can’t handle it, pet?” the cadence of his tone matches each punch of his fingers inside of her—the pit in Y/N’s stomach edged and taunted with every curl against her gummy walls. “S’it too good? Got you shaking all over th’place with just m’fingers.”

She thinks she garbles something unintelligent but it’s impossible to be sure when all the blood is rushing between her legs.

Harry murmurs, lips catching the shell of her ear, “I think you’re a little slut, baby,” biting down on her lobe with contrasting care. “Letting me ruin you in a dirty alleyway… Outside where anyone could see you—see your drippy pussy soaking m’hand.”

“Yes,” a sigh slips—agreeing to nothing in particular—an expression of pleasure, a plea for more.

A dark laugh stretches taut between them, powerful as his fingers speed up, palm slapping against her clit with each thrust. It vibrates and buzzes, twitches and pulsates. “You’re g’na cum for me, pet. Right now.”

It’s a simple demand. One that manhandles Y/N to the very edge—it dangles her over as the drop below taunts her. It beckons her like a siren call. Harry nudges her spot again, and again, and again—coaxing it, consoling it. Every curl of his fingers, every thud of his palm. It fills her up, breath catching, head falling back on her neck. And then she falls, plummets, cascades down—jaw dropped in a silent cry as her cunt convulses seismically around Harry’s fingers—clamping near violently. He rubs her through it, stroking her walls in heavy thrusts as he slows and forces her to feel it all.

“There you go, good girl. Filthy girl.” His hand glistens with her slick, pulling strings away with it. Y/N mourns his fingers, his warmth when he pulls away. Her hole flutters and her body suddenly feels cold—isolated and alone.

He exhales, “Fuck—put your hands on the wall, bend over a bit—that’s it,” crouching down, perverse in the way he inspects the glistening between her thighs. At least, that’s what Y/N assumes he’s doing as he nestles in closer to her cunt, close enough for his breaths to wash over her shaking form.

One heavy forearm pins the skirt of her dress over the rounds of her arse, his free hand coming up to spread her open with the precision of a man who has much more time than either of them currently do. Y/N doesn’t see the way her slick creates ribbons between his fingers after he nudges at her opening and pulls away to scrutinise them. She doesn’t see the way his throat bobs as he tucks his digits past his blushing lips and laves his tongue around them salaciously. She only hears the muffled hum, and the harsh breath leave his nose as the man beneath her drools around himself.

“Sweet little thing,” he pants, voice gruff—gravelly—when he finally brings his fingers back to her centre. He pets at her, thudding the thick of them against her quivering cunt unnecessarily; from a want to render her even less stable on her aching legs. “Absolutely drenched f’me, aren’t you. Does that scare you, sweetheart?”

A whimper climbs out from Y/N’s throat, delayed in her response. Answering of the wrong question—the one she would lie about if she were sober. She needs more—she needs something more… something all-consuming.

“Fuck—fuck me—now,” she pleads, hips pushing back as her neck cranes to catch a glimpse of the man below her.

He rises to his full height. “That’s not how you ask.”

“Please. Or I’ll… I’ll—”

“You’ll what, pet?”

“—I’ll tell everyone…” she whines, trailing off when her words reach no conclusion.

“Yeah? You’ll tell everyone. You’ll go to the police?” She’s nodding mindlessly, head weighing her down. “And what will you say?” tone turning petulant and shrieky, “‘I let him defile me, officer. I let him stretch me out on his big cock, officer. I let him do whatever he wanted, officer—’”

“Please,” her voice is thick, full with a sob—and a wave of panic washes over her at the possibility of not having him at all.

“Don’t know if you deserve it now,” drumming his fingers across the small of her back. “Threatening me, huh? Silly girl.”

No reasoning comes to mind—nothing smart or clever to wield as a rebuttal. Just a slew of pathetic sounds; only possibly attractive to someone yearning for power—someone like Harry. Her body answers for her, still desperately twitching and searching for his own and being rewarded with nothing. He stays stoic, mild palm smoothing along the expanses of her chill-bitten backside.

“Tell you what…” he starts, a sly smile morphing the sound of his voice. “You be quiet f’me, yeah? You be quiet and I’ll give you what you want. Don’t w’na hear a single fucking thing else from this bratty, little mouth, you understand?”

A trick—an attempt for her to slip up before they’ve even begun. She nods frantically, teeth clamped together, lips equally as shut. She’s ready to offer more than is wise, for him to fuck her—ready to give herself up completely just so he’ll quell that ache. The nerves of their exposition are really starting to buzz along the surface of her skin.

“There you go, not so hard, is it?” She shakes her head no, enthralled by the soft sound of skin rubbing against thick cotton, fingers slipping underneath elasticated waistbands. “Good,” Harry murmurs, so quiet that Y/N wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for her heightened senses. And then again, even softer, swallowed around a gruff exhale that she can only assume is in response to curling his fingers around himself. “Good girl.”

She feels him tug at the gusset of her panties—haphazardly skewed across her centre, unable to conform without the curl of Y/N’s prying joints keeping them astray. Harry stretches the stitches easily, forcing the fabric to adhere to his perversion, as his thumb strokes the skin adjacent to where she would really feel it.

The corner of a condom wrapper flutters to the floor out of Y/N’s periphery, landing by her achy feet, as the image of Harry tearing it with his teeth flashes behind her eyelids. He rolls it on silently—and for a moment she wishes she could see—picture the length, the girth that had scripted her deepest desires so dominantly.

He smooths his hand up, underneath her dress, shuffling in closer behind her as he nudges the head of his cock against her slick cunt. Y/N’s jaw drops open in a silent whimper—catching the noise, suffocating it in her throat before it ripples out around them. Sweat gathers in the palms of her hands, irritated against the rough brick wall when they’d much rather be buried in his hair. Her forehead dips down, willing Harry to do something… anything.

He strokes up and down her clit, smiling at every overstimulated twitch, dipping down to smear arousal. He teases her, letting the thick of his tip stretch her entrance before he pulls back. Once, twice, three times… And then he sinks in, fingertips creating divots in her hips, holding harder with each inch that he carves out inside of her. When his pelvis cushions against her ass, he sighs—a long exhale of breath—followed by a rumbling from within his chest, “Perfect little pussy.”

Y/N can’t help the little whimper that falls from her lips, brows scrunched, dipping towards the centre of her face. Either Harry has a change of heart or he doesn’t hear her—too enraptured in the feeling of every vein and ridge perfectly filling the space surrounding him; as though created just for him, his cock.

He doesn’t move, perfectly still—embedded deep inside of her convulsing pussy—feeling her out. Mentally (though physically too). Waiting and waiting, regarding her presence with a slight jerk of his hips that already press demandingly into her backside. Waiting for those words to fall off of the tip of her tongue, with a protesting or begging cadence, and redirect his little game. A game Harry doesn’t even know the rules to—the only importance serving in his right to manhandle Y/N every which way; however he may please. A single plea, or a frustrated curse… that’s all he needs.

But she holds on. She stays silent and her hands stay slipping down the bricks. Enough so to have the opposite effect; to rile Harry up, to have his digits curl tighter into her skin and pull out all the way—feel her clench around him in an effort to keep him inside—and then rock back into her. Harder. The thud of their flesh meeting rippling out around them.

Y/N doesn’t think that’s very fair; physically forcing the sounds from her larynx—punching the air from her lungs in such a way that makes it impossible for her silence to remain. She cries out, quiet enough to suggest a desire for modesty but loud enough for Harry’s lips to curl up nefariously.

“What did I say?” His hand clamps around her mouth, fingers brushing her eyelashes if he stretches them out far enough. The grip forces Y/N’s neck to stretch, trembling body elongating as Harry straightens her out and melds her into the wall. Her forearms squish into her biceps and her chest flattens indelicately. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was trying to cast her into the bricks, grout and all.

His hips snap back into her.

“Fuck,” Harry moans wantonly—exaggerated as he amuses himself with the pleasure of her newfound silence—“that’s sexy,” teeth grazing her ear. “So much hotter with your mouth shut, you know that?” She opens it just to spite him, tongue laving over his palm. His hips slap harder against her in return, eager to manoeuvre and curl his digits along the flesh of her tongue—eliciting a harsh gag from her unprepared throat.

It perturbs him none when she presses her teeth into his skin, clamping gently at first but losing the capacity to be anything when Harry slinks his other hand around her neck. The blood fights for its strength, struggling and forcing its way through to her brain as the periphery of Y/N’s vision darkens. There’s nothing scary about it—and if they weren’t outside she might feel a semblance of peace.

“You prefer it like this, don’t you?” Harry gruffs against the side of her face, lashes threatening to kiss over her temple. “Jus’ w’na be treated like a silly—little—slut.” His thrusts punctuate each word, short cries forcing their way between his fingers. Drool gathers in the well of his palm, shameful rivulets smearing against Y/N’s chin.

“Don’t you?”

“Mhm—Mhmn—” she garbles something thick, tongue heavy in her mouth—battling against the extra weight of Harry’s intrusive digits. She swallows around them.

He’s everywhere—soft clothes baggy on him and swamping her frame as he swallows her up—sure that if someone were to simply glance down their alleyway she would not be seen. Heat plagues her, rolling out of her pores in thick, murky waves—the kind of heat she suddenly fears she will always be cold without. The presence against her back, the stoicity of his figure.

Her noises topple out.

Sad, desperate, pathetic little whines—snappy with the way Harry pummels into her. No one would have to ponder for long to dissect the cause of such sounds. Flesh smacking, fabric chafing, laboured breathing.

“Yeah. Yeah. I know,” fingers tighten around her throat. “Shrieky thing, you are. Can’t stay quiet to save your life.”

The insinuation is not lost on her, no matter the delirium that she’s submerged under. And Harry relishes in it; of course he does.

He slurs, “Would you die happy? Right now? Right now, baby?”

And Y/N knows she’s deeply flawed when his words scratch a spot. When she doesn’t recoil in disgust, attempt to pull away and run—but instead melts even further into his grasp. Nodding in jerky nudges of her head. She’s not giving him permission to stop the beating of her heart but she supposes it doesn’t matter either way.

Harry rips his hand from her mouth, trailing saliva down the front of her dress, squeezing his thick forearm between her abdomen and the wall as he searches cruelly to overstimulate her. She’s been so easy thus far, soft and pliable no matter Harry’s propensity for writhing. But when he skims over her clit, that…—that’s when she starts to struggle. To will her body away from the torturous pads of his fingers.

This only encourages her tormentor, deft digits pulling up the hood, allowing no room to hide as he applies direct pressure and tightens the barrier of his arm as her body spasms out of control. A sob rips from Y/N’s chest, loud enough to be deemed inappropriate—and no matter how much pleasure he might find in those sounds, she’s teetering on the brink of becoming dangerous. The grasp around her neck loosens, fingers slipping up to push past her lips again; the only effective method of muffling her at all.

Y/N keens with the weight in her mouth, relishes in the way her lips have to wrap around his big, masculine fingers. “Fucking tight, pet,” Harry grunts, ministrations messy and uncoordinated as he rubs over her clit, bumping into his shaft with every thrust. And she is—clamping down so hard her muscles yearn to loosen. They yearn to melt into a softness, into a safety, into a slumber. But her brain is running away, and Harry’s not slowing down, the tip of his cock abusing the spot he already petted at so perfectly with his fingers.

And he knows she’s nearly there, smiles into the crook of her neck and lets his teeth bite into her flesh for just a second.

But just as her orgasm starts to topple over the edge, he stops. He leans back, pulling her hips so her bum juts out and her back arches again.

“Come on, I’m tired, baby,” he teases, a slither of playfulness lost to the tightness in his voice, hips dragging to a still. “Long day of slaughtering.” Y/N is too far gone to find the joke inappropriate. To even register anymore that this whole affair is inappropriate. “Work for it a little,” Harry leans back, eyeing up the place in which they meet, shining in the glow of the streetlight. She’s still for too long, trying to process where his movements have gone—confused pants turning the ends of Harry’s lips.

“S’feel good?” Hands aid hips slightly—just enough to gain momentum, as Y/N fails to question why she’s suddenly the one fucking him—only chasing the return of the blissful prodding of her insides. Harry’s eyes are glued to her pussy, stretched deliciously around the thick of his cock, dragging back and forth with each nudge of her over him. The soft of her ass meets his pelvis and he delivers a squeeze in return, fingers destined to leave their presence known as he manhandles the flesh. Pulling and indenting, the other hand hanging heavily by his side as his gaze trails over Y/N’s bending body.

He deigns to let the saliva in his mouth pool in the hollow of his tongue, lips pursing as a line of drool drips down onto her puckered hole—the sudden sensation making Y/N convulse around him—twitch and gasp, stutter her hips and still for a moment. Harry thumbs over her carelessly, moving his thumb down to the stretch of her cunt around his prick; an unnecessary wetness. Somewhat possessed by the image below him, removed of all purpose except this one.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Y/N shakes her head, a squeak ripped from her throat when Harry’s palm comes down on her ass, the sound reverberating through the silence of the alleyway. “N-no,” she cries. No, he didn’t. He never told her to stop.

“So keep fucking moving, sweetheart.” She nods mindlessly, head shaking up and down as her hips pick back up—thighs burning quicker with the exertion of it all. Her forehead scrapes against the wall, eyes squeezing shut with concentration as she focuses on the in and out, back and forth—every stretch against her walls dizzying—every nudge inside of her rendering more and more of her body to jelly.

She wants that feeling back; the one where she’s constantly on the verge of cumming. But there’s too much to focus on—her hands digging into the bricks, her thighs shaking, her clit untouched and overstimulated at the same time.

“I don’t have all fucking day—” Y/N would scoff if she could but the frustration spikes, “—come on. Fuck’s sake—”

Harry loses his patience, pulling out completely in a jarring sequence of motion, leaving Y/N panting—struggling to stay afloat if she were treading water. He physically turns her around and hoists her up as though she is made of nothing—slinging her thighs around the bumps of his hips.

And this is the first time she’s seen his face in… a while. The first time since he’d started dismantling her with his fingers, his cock. Y/N’s heart jumps, the stoicity in which he displays; unsettling and erotic simultaneously. She lifts her heavy hands, moving with the weight of a thousand tonnes, but Harry is quick to catch them. He yanks them overhead, grazing the stone, incarcerated within the circumference of his hand.

It hurts. The wall scratches up the delicate skin of her back, through the flimsy material of her dress. It hurts but it’s grounding—Y/N only thinks about the way her flesh will serve as a reminder of Harry, of this bar, and of this alleyway.

“Gonna make me do everything myself, hm?” gripping around his shaft, painting it across her slit with a harshness that makes Y/N shudder. He’s disrespectful, sliding in indelicately, rough palm yanking down the front of her chest to smooth over her neglected tits, squeezing and moulding between his fingers.

Y/N’s already there, she’s sure. The pit at the bottom of her stomach tightening, her eyes clenching shut, head falling back unceremoniously despite the view she has below her. Harry’s grunting, low, gravelly sounds that enmesh with her own whimpery exhalations.

“Fucking look at me—look at me,” pinching digits squish her cheeks together. A smirk tugs at the corners of Harry’s mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lips when Y/N stares at them. “Let me see that pretty, slutty face.” Her brows quirk when he rocks in particularly deep, eyes flitting around—unsure of what to look at first. Harry’s own face is flushed; perhaps the only indicator he can even feel her at all. That and the size of his pupils—the shortness of his breaths as they wash across her face.

She holds his gaze, mouth ajar with soundless cries.

“You’ll always be my filthy—plaything,” pressing in so close their noses touch. “Even after I’m… long gone—and… you’ve got some other man’s cock inside you,” his breathing shallows, “you’ll always have been mine.” Y/N doesn’t doubt him, she doesn’t even try. Not when he punctuates every word with a thrust so deep it lingers and blossoms inside of her, spreading through each limb and tingling in her fingertips.

Harry’s hand manhandles her face from side to side, grip immovable.

“When you go running back to—Cody… and he can’t fuck you properly… and all you’ll wish for is me—but you’ll hate yourself for it, won’t you, pet?” He pouts, eyes rounding out in a faux sense of sympathy. “For wanting a cold-blooded killer to make you feel good.”

He hammers the final nail into the coffin, lips brushing her own in a sadistic contradiction, voice only a whisper when he says, “You’ll never feel this good again.”

Y/N sobs audibly this time, cunt clenching from his words alone. She thinks he could talk her over the finish line entirely. The promise is dreadful, and it weighs heavy despite how perfectly it nuzzles against her sweet spot. But then he drops her cheeks and snakes those same fingers down, circling easily over her swollen clit. She convulses, weak wrists tugging against the constraints of his hand.

Harry’s close, desperate now to reach his peak. He sinks his teeth into her bottom lip. “Go on. Cum. Cum on your stranger’s cock.”

It’s a wonder Y/N doesn’t crumple to the floor as she cums—but somehow her thighs stay gripped around Harry’s hips. If anything they tighten, squeezing up to his waist, yearning to crush him between her as he pushes her over the edge again and joins her himself as he releases rope after rope into the condom, hips rocking all the way through. He’s moaning a slew of real pretty noises, and Y/N can’t help but pulse at every single one—orgasm begging to last forever—forcing her eyes open no matter the struggle, so that she can really see what he looks like.

It’s devastating—when he smiles. Pleasure written all over his face as his thrusts slow down, cock still dragging through her but no longer with a purpose. And Y/N finds it disorienting; the happiness in which she could be convinced he is feeling. As if it were all a joke—some twisted roleplay—that they were simply playing a fun, little sex game, of all things.

He pats her hip when he slides out, too gentle for Y/N’s post-orgasmic haze. She’s tired now. Too tired to be out at a bar, alone.

Harry encourages her legs from around his waist. “That’s it, down you get, good girl.” Her legs wobble as her feet meet the ground, the centre of her thighs vibrating and pulsating. She only somewhat sees him tying the condom and tucking it back into the wrapper.

“Do you need some help getting home?” Y/N feels like crying. Of course she does. But not from him, never from him—that would be even sillier than letting him fuck her. And then fuck her again.

“N-no,” her voice dry and scratchy.

He’s not convinced but he doesn’t ask again. He simply crouches down and searches for the hem of her underwear under her dress. Y/N thinks he might fix the gusset back over the mess of her pussy but he doesn’t. No, he wiggles them down her thighs and lifts up each shaky leg to retrieve the fabric and twirl it around a slender finger.

“Let me have these, yeah, pet? A little trophy, hm?” Something screams from within Y/N to be scared. But she’s tired now. “It’s only fair… don’t y’think?—if I can’t have what I truly want.” She wishes to wonder why he can’t, but the thought doesn’t form fully. Perhaps he’ll kill her now, after all. She’s fulfilled her brief, performed her duties.

But he’s already taking a few steps back; a distance that feels gargantuan in her current state. She blinks, and then blinks again, mindless fingers fixing clothes and brushing hair from her face. The cold suddenly hits her like a freight train, bare legs littered in goosebumps.

Harry sighs, like he’s considering something in his head before shucking his hoodie from his body and letting it hang between them. An offer. “Keep it warm f’me,” he murmurs, eyes insistent. She takes it with a shaky hand, and hurries to drown herself in his second-hand heat.

He’s already beginning to walk away by the time her head emerges from the fabric, eyes flitting in a panic as they focus back on his shrinking frame. Y/N is offered one final glimpse when he angles his head back to see her, a small smile upturning his mouth. His words fill no hole, quell no worries, heal no wounds. They add insult to injury, smirk morphing his tone.

“Why don’t you… go back inside, yeah? Have another drink for me.”

Y/N’s feet feel stuck—glued to the gravel, too scared to take her eyes off of him for even a moment. But he nods his head towards the door, silently repeating his assertion. “Go on.”

Slowly, she heads back into the bar, the heavy door squealing on its rusty hinges. She sits back down on her previously claimed stool.

She waits.

The stranger never follows her inside. Y/N never notes his silhouette in her peripherals on the other end of the bar, yellow-polished fingertips stroking over a rocks glass as the two pretend not to know one another.

He never comes in and… maybe it’s for the better.

Y/N never sees him again.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfiction #dark harry styles #dom!harry #dom!harry styles x sub!reader #dark harry #harry styles writing #harry styles imagines

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yeeterthek33per · 3 days

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Bound (to happen) (Steph Catley x Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Content/Warning(s): SMUT 18+ MDNI, restraints, r being tied down, bottom r, top Steph and Caitlin, strap use, oral r giving and receiving etc.

(This took a much more different and dirty turn than I initially planned this to go but the request said make it spicy.... so, anyway :) Have fun...? )

The fact you hadn't counted on them doing this really put a wrench in your plans.

The initial plan was to go out, party a little and then go home and get a good nights sleep before the game against Brighton tomorrow.

However, your girlfriends had other ideas.

After a rather surprise appearance by one of your childhood best friends, Anna, you'd ended up a little inebriated dancing with her, laughing and drinking.

Caitlin and Steph themselves don't drink much or if at all knowing they'll be starting tomorrow, and also know one of them will be driving home after this.

Of course, that's the plan until they see you practically grinding on someone.

They weren't an overtly jealous pair, knowing more often than not that you were affectionate with most if not all of your teammates and close friends.

However, they had no idea who this woman was, only that you'd jumped into her arms the moment she tapped you on the shoulder.

Quite literally.

It goes on for an hour before they've had enough of the touchiness coming from both of you.

You're about to head over to the bar for more drinks when a hand grabbing yours pulls you away from Anna, who looks a little confused and then slight anger at the sudden strangers she didn't know, grabbing you and pulling you into them.

It sobers you up a little but you recognise the warm body you're pulled into and immediately turn around grinning, completely oblivious to the possessive grip you're now being held in.

"Oh! Hi Baby! You guys haven't met yet. This is Anna, she's a childhood best friend of mine!"

You turn back to Anna who's eyeing them both up closely.

"Anna, these two are my girlfriends! I love them both so much, we play football together!"

It's a little slurred and almost drowned out by the blasting music just ten feet from the group of you.

At that, she relaxes and, still eyeing them up, extends a hand out to the two brooding brunettes, noting the tight grips they have on your waist and arm.

Steph steps forward first, gripping the woman's hand tightly and shaking rather stiffly and she has to nudge Caitlin to repeat her actions.

"Nice meeting you, Anna. We really have to be going though, we've got a game tomorrow and we don't want this one too hungover before a match."

You pout at them, looking between them and Anna, before allowing them to tug you away.

But not before offering up your number to catch up later, which Caitlin and Steph both tense up at, which of course, your oblivious self doesn't notice.

In fact, you don't even question them until you're halfway home and sobering up with a water bottle shoved into your hand and a late night sandwich just about forced down your throat.

Noticing their unusually quiet demeanour, you poke Steph's shoulder from the backseat.

"Yes, Y/n?"

Oh.

You're in trouble.

"Did uh... You two okay?"

"Perfect."

The clipped reply makes you shrink a little into your seat and you catch her eye in the rear view mirror. There's a glimmer of something there you don't recognise at first other than mild annoyance.

Caitlin doesn't respond to your question only glancing Steph's way.

Slowly, you put two and two together when you're just about back to your shared home.

"Is this about Anna?"

"We'll talk when we get home."

Sighing softly, you settle back into your seat.

Only, you don't get the chance to say much when you're just about dragged inside and pushed against the entryway wall, two pairs of hands and legs keeping you pinned to the wall.

Suddenly, this night is going much differently than you expected.

"Anna wasn't-"

A hand gripping your jaw makes you close your mouth.

"Say her name again and you won't cum for a month."

Whimpering under their fiery gazes, Steph moves to slip two fingers past your lips while Caitlin tugs at the hemline of the top you're wearing.

Sucking on the intruding digits, not wanting to push their buttons any further, you lift your arms to allow the piece of clothing to be discarded, and then your pants following that.

Now, pressed down onto the bed, stripped bare, one body sitting pinning your hands above you, the other moving about the closet, you're feeling a little nervous.

"You wanted to be little slut at the club with that woman, you can be a little slut for us instead and take what we give you. Can you be a good girl for us?"

Steph's words make you shiver under her, breathing already hitching, finger tips pressing down on the back of your tongue almost forcing a gag out of you and making your eyes water.

She then removes them for a moment.

When you don't answer straight away, you're met with the same fingers gripping your chin tightly to look back up at her.

"Answer me."

"Yes, Steph."

"Good."

She nods, satisfied and gestures to your other girlfriend sitting on the edge of the bed holding a pair of... cuffs?

The younger of the two releases Steph's grip on your wrists only to click them into place above your head.

"Since you can't be good for us lately, we figured a little assistance might be in order. If you're good, we might let you touch later."

The fur covered metal only digs into your wrists enough to provide resistance against any movement outside of their upright position attached together above you, her hands holding the cuffs in place.

Satisfied with your level of restriction, Steph moves to rest between your legs rather than on them.

You're so focused on Steph's movements that you're surprised by Caitlin's sudden presence on the bed once again, this time stripped down to just a sports bra and dildo strapped to her hips.

"You're gonna be a good girl and give us a show, like the good little slut you are."

The tone sends shivers down your spine and you're nodding without even processing too much what was said, though it does leave heat pooling ridiculously fast between your legs.

They'd been like this before but never this dominating and it was making your head spin.

Caitlin manoeuvres so the tip of the strap is pressed against your lips, your head turned accordingly to line up with it.

Slowly, she presses her hips forward, lips parting to accommodate the silicone head.

"That's a good girl."

You have to suppress a keening whine as you start breathing through your nose the deeper she pushes the fake cock.

"Go on then, pretty thing, give us a show."

Doing the best you can with the little leverage you have, you start bobbing up and down (more like back and forth with the way you're currently stuck).

With encouraging hand in your hair, you're being met with an occasional impatient thrust from the forward.

At a particularly rough point, she thrusts and hits the back of your throat harshly and forces another gag from you, at one point even holding your head down on the full length long enough to spring tears to your eyes.

Finally, she let's go and eases off on your head, letting you pull off her with a gasp of air.

"There's a good little slut. Being so good for us."

Steph's words of praise in your ear bring you back to the present.

She'd shifted to a better view point beside you and her hand now has settled on your collarbone, pushing you back flush with the mattress once more.

"Such a pretty little mouth, would hate to see it unoccupied."

Steph gestures to your other girlfriend to shift behind her, between your legs, and you're distracted by the woman stripping down completely, internally groaning at the revealed sight of bare skin and muscle.

Moving your arms so they're relaxed resting on your hips instead of above you, she moves to straddle either side of your head looking down at you with a small smirk.

You whine softly, anticipating getting your mouth on her.

"Ah ah."

She tuts softly when you lean up.

"Beg."

Shivering softly, you lean back to make full eye contact.

"Please Steph, let me taste you."

She raises a brow.

"Please, I need you. I need to taste you. Let me show how good I am."

You whine the last part and she pretends to think for a moment before nodding down at you.

"Go on, baby, you know what to do."

Meeting her halfway down, your tongue dips straight into her and lips wrap around her clit, finally getting a taste of the brunette.

Steph moans above you, hand tangling in your hair with an encouraging tug.

"Fuck, that's it."

Just as you slip your tongue into her, you feel your legs being pushed fully apart and a pair of arms wrap around your thighs, holding them in place.

A mouth on you has your hips canting up against the woman's face and a moan reverberating into the woman above you.

"You make her cum first and you get to cum."

You almost don't hear it with Steph's thighs clamped around your head but as soon as it's out of her mouth and she's returned to sucking your clit, you know she isn't gonna play fair about this.

Moving your tongue, you drag it over her several times, swiftly shaping over her clit and sucking best you can with the little room you have to move your head.

Using every trick you have to make your long time girlfriend cum on your tongue, you can hear her getting more vocal above you.

Curses and praises mixed together angled towards you as she rocks against your mouth, forcing your ministrations to be faster and more harsh on her clit, though you can't find it in you to complain.

You'd gladly spend the rest of your life buried between her thighs, taste exploding on your tongue.

Meanwhile, Caitlin's doubled down on you, her hand slipping beneath her to slide two fingers inside you and to start pumping against your g-spot, angling perfectly while she suctions on your clit.

You can feel yourself soaked on her digits and you realise just how close you are already.

Definitely not playing fair but you don't go down without a hard fight.

Steph's legs just start to shake around you as your stomach starts to clench and you fight off cumming for as long as it takes to ravish the woman sitting on your face.

Surprising yourself, you only let go when you hear Steph's moans peak above you and her thighs clench tightly around you, stomach tightening as she releases onto your tongue, and moan loudly, vibrations pushing her fully over the edge.

Caitlin's movements slow inside you, making small massaging motions to bring you down and your stomach unclenches as well as your legs.

"God baby, so good for us. So good for me, making me cum so well."

She slips off your head leaning down to capture your now very swollen, sex mussed lips with her own, tasting herself on you instantly.

With a small whine as Caitlin runs her thumb over your still sensitive clit, you shift in the cuffs but don't move to touch either of them at all.

Steph notes it with a knowing smirk and more praise spilling from her lips.

"Well done, baby. Trying so hard to be good for us and not move."

When you gasp suddenly, arching your back, Steph looks back and up at the striker now sitting on her haunches between your legs with a raised brow.

"You couldn't wait, could you?"

She's got the strap head pressed into you, hips fighting not to completely bottom out in you just yet.

The head alone has you stretched out deliciously and you can barely stop writhing onto the strap.

Steph moves your wrists to back above your head, hand falling to splay across your bare stomach.

"That's it pretty girl, be still for her. It'll fit easier."

Caitlin slowly pushes into your cunt, the shaft stretching you much like the head and when she bottoms out, you can't help the whimper you let out, your eyes rolling back at the feeling.

Steph's other hand leaves your wrists, finding your throat instead, giving a little squeeze as Caitlin pulls slowly out again.

The lack of air makes it a little harder to pace yourself on the stretch when she pushes back in but you find yourself loving every second of it.

Giving a small go ahead nod, followed by a squeaked moan as she starts finding a pace, leaning forward to rest her hands either side of your head as she starts thrusting faster, leaving you keening into the air of the bedroom, head falling back as moans start to fall from your lips louder than before.

"How's she feel, Cait?"

"Fuck so tight, babe."

Caitlin's panting between thrusts, abs clenching with effort as she pushes the strap into you with vigour.

"Taking her cock so well, baby girl."

Her lips latch onto your neck, teeth grazing the skin as she tries to avoid disturbing the other woman's rhythm too much.

You're a whining, whimpering, keening mess underneath them, now straining to avoid moving your hands anywhere other than where Steph left them.

"You gonna be a good girl for us? Stay nice and still while she fucks you? Makes you cum?"

Her fingers tighten around your throat.

"Wanna be so good for you!"

You're moaning in time with the harsh thrusts into you, Caitlin fully pistoning her hips forwards, hands coming to wrap around your thighs, pulling you down onto her with every thrust forward.

"Fuck, pretty girl, taking me so well."

Her eyes train over your sweat sheened form, hands gripping and nails digging into the flesh of your legs, which you're sure will leave bruises later.

Not that you can find it in you to mind all that much.

"Please! I'm so close!"

Looking to Steph for permission, when she receives a nod, she plants herself again, putting a final effort into her hips slapping against yours, the strap massaging your insides perfectly.

You can barely keep up with the feeling her of rutting into you, and the coil in your stomach tightens and then finally snaps when her thumb moves to rub your clit hastily.

Steph watches on, mesmerised with the way your body reacts to Caitlin absolutely destroying you.

Watches the way your mouth drops open in one final silent scream, legs quivering, stomach clenching and unclenching as the woman slows to a mild thrust after chasing her own high.

You're whimpering softly with your eyes squeezed shut after a moment, the sensitivity getting to be a lot.

"That's it pretty girl. So good for us."

Steph mutters the words into your ear, teeth grazing and tugging on your earlobe, before pressing soft kisses across the skin.

Caitlin slides out slowly, careful not to budge you too much as your breathing calms.

Tossing the strap off to the side, your arms are finally able to come to rest on your stomach again still cuffed together, Steph moving to the bathroom to grab a cloth and then downstairs for water.

Steph returns, undoing the water to let you drink while waiting for Caitlin to come back, running the damp cloth over you, soft praises uttered in your ear.

"That's our sweet girl, did so well."

After a brief moment of shuffling around, you hear the younger of the two yell out from the closet.

"Babe, where's the keys?"

"I thought you had them."

"...."

"Cait.."

"....Uh?"

Steph's head whips to the open closet doorway.

"They should've been in the packaging, check in there."

"..."

Another moment of some shuffling.

"We threw out the packing yesterday, didn't we?"

"CAITLIN JADE FOORD."

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#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #steph catley imagine #steph catley imagines #steph catley x reader #caitlin foord x reader #caitlin foord imagines #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord x steph catley x reader

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love-belle · 6 months

Text

you were my summer love !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them missing each other while their friends go crazy over their relationship.

for when you know they'll be your love for all eternal summers. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // pierre gasly x fem!reader

prequel - i want sweet revenge and i want him again ⋆·˚ ༘

warnings - language, mention of vodka once.

author's note - i am in fact not dead :) i hope u all like this <3 i will be back with a new post 4 months later jk I LOVE U THANK U

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paddock.club pierre gasly and celine d'souza have called it quits on their relationship after almost three months of dating, sources close to the pair reported. the pair started dating back in august after gasly broke up with his "summer love", y/n y/l/n, affectionately named as augustine by gasly and his fans. although their break up was kept hush for a long time and so was their relationship, pierre wasted no time in moving on and with none other than social media influencer, celine d'souza. "there is no bad blood between them," sources claimed, "they just didn't fit well and it was no good trying to make it work." for more details about their short-lived relationship and the driver's summer romance with the singer, click on the link in our bio.

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yourusername yeah i miss the way he kisses and the way he grabbed my ass but i can't do anything about it so idk i cry

14,782 comments

username GIRL WHERE IS UR FILTER

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charles_leclerc go stand in the corner and THINK

-> yourusername SHUT UP UR LITERALLY NOT VALID HERE

username every day i wake up and every day im amazed that she has managed to attain unattainable levels of delusion

-> username no bc im TIRED

username PLS BABE LET HIM GO.

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username the lyric change gawd dayum

username is it bad i kinda want her to do something about it ????? like do it for US im off school for weeks and i need entertainment

-> yourusername thank u for supporting my delusions 🙁

-> username GIRLYPOP NO

landonorris i say we start treating y/n like a bad kitten every time she makes a bad decision

-> landonorris that came out wrong

-> danielricciardo i see your vision here

-> charles_leclerc spray her with water DRENCH THAT DEMON

-> yourusername OFF MY PAGE U UNFORTUNATE MUTATIONS THAT ARE UNEMPLOYED FOR THE FIRST FEW MONTHS EVERY YEAR

-> username OH MY GOD

username i genuinely do not know what to do with this information

username THE WAY HE GRABBED MY ASS OMG

lewishamilton i would genuinely appreciate it if you gave me back my son

-> yourusername he's mine now move along

-> lewishamilton i will never forget that you called me weird

-> yourusername omg i apologised??? and made u sandwiches??? and took roscoe for walks THREE CONSECUTIVE DAYS???

-> username they're FRIENDS

-> username no bc their conversations must be WILD and so RANDOM

-> username im eating up every second of this

username now i js need max and nando to be besties 🤞🤞🤞🤞 with y/n and my life will be complete

-> yourusername i don't want them they're annoying

-> fernandoalo_official this is why pierre chose the other girl

-> yourusername SO LOW

-> maxverstappen1 the reason i like you is because you were drinking pure vodka out of a sippy cup at 8 am without blinking

-> yourusername this is why charles doesn't follow u x

-> maxverstappen1 THAT'S A LOW FUCKING BLOW

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pierregasly do something about it

15,729 comments

username SCREECHING WHAT THE FUCK

username i have never ever been this invested in someone else's life THIS BETTER BE WORTH IT

username oh he's BOLD bold

username i know my girlie is panicking rn she did not MEAN for this to happen

username mf say this to HER

username bitches wouldn't be in this situation if they js TALKED FFS

username no bc i KNEW that something was gonna happen when he posted that song on his story

-> username fr like "when i touch her i feel like im cheating on u" BABE????

username cheating on u by charlie puth is actually so y/n and pierre coded it's INSANE

-> username the way my jaw dropped

charles_leclerc i should confiscate your phone for this

-> pierregasly you were the one who held an intervention for me so that i would "get my shit together"

-> charles_leclerc you don't HAVE to get your shit together if it means that i wouldn't be seeing her everyday

-> pierregasly just say that you're scared of her and MOVE

-> username charles is so valid bc she scares ME

-> username u never know what she's gonna do next and that's the scariest part

username im BEGGING y'all pls get back together

username the sigh that left me when i heard that pierre and celine broke up like 😭

username i live in fear that y/n and pierre will get back together and we won't be getting any more angry petty bitchy songs

username motherfucker MAKE A MOVE

username i know the grid is conspiring to get them together like they're MY menacea

-> username yeah and their most effective method (according to them) is locking them in a room

-> username do u think they know that one of them will not be making it out of the room and it'll probably be pierre 🧍

username i am a child of divorce this is christmas of '07 all over again 😔

landonorris i did NOT see you post this and then throw your phone up at the sky and screech as if someone just turned your ribs inside down to make you feel like a fairy

-> pierregasly stay away from me

-> oscarpiastri oh my god that was you??? i thought one of the cars ran over a cat on the track 😭

-> pierregasly okay mctwinks let's get you back in your playpens

-> landonorris unprovoked ☹️

-> oscarpiastri i would say watch your back but you're in the BACK so ☺️

-> pierregasly I WILL RUN YOU OFF

-> pierregasly i'm sorry my team told me i can't say that

username my head is wrapping itself around all this information like a shawl im going INSANE

username i know pierre is on all fours trying to get y/n to take him back

-> username as he should be idgaf

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yourusername yeah i really missed the way he kisses and the way he grabbed my ass so i did something about it

tagged pierregasly

18,628 comments

username IDK WHETHER TO BE MAD OR HAPPY BUT HELLO???

username im gonna scream bc wtf

username NO WARNING WHAT THE FUCK

username sigh ARE U SURE

username are we SURE it's gonna STICK this time

-> yourusername im 182729291% sure charles is gonna murder him if he acts a bit silly again so i'd say it's looking pretty good!!!!

-> charles_leclerc alex hates it when y/n is sad and they both make it MY problem so i'm sorry if i wanna make pasta in a peaceful and tranquil environment instead of bitching about my best mate

-> alexandrasaintmleux you were the one who came up with the most creative insults every time don't LIE like a LIAR

-> pierregasly charles???

-> charles_leclerc they're LYING they LIE they're LIARS

username why am i js figuring it out that y/n is AUGUSTINE like from august by taylor swift

-> username BABE 😭😭😭😭 HOW DID U NOT KNOW

username something about pierre going from her summer love to love love (we don't talk abt what happened in the middle ☺️)

username someone sedate me they're BACK

username i just KNOW charles is pulling at his hair rn bc i know my man has so much dirt on pierre but they reconciled a bit too quickly

-> charles_leclerc I DIDN'T GET TO TELL HER ABOUT THE DUCK INCIDENT

-> pierregasly ONE WORD AND I WILL ERASE YOU FROM THIS EARTH

-> yourusername charles ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ don't be shy ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ i always liked u the most out of ALL his friends ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ please elaborate ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

-> yukitsunoda0511 death would've been kinder than this ☹️

-> yourusername STOPPP U KNOW UR MY FAVOURITE I HATE THAT CHARLES MF HE TRIPS ME EVERY TIME I SEE HIM

-> charles_leclerc for the last time, i REALLY did not see the puddle exactly in front of you and i'm really really really really really sorry that you fell in that puddle. and ruined your dress. and made me pay for it. and then pushed me into a fountain.

-> alexandrasaintmleux say away from my gf charles_leclerc 😡😡😡😡😡😡

-> username i have a migraine

username the lore slowly coming to the surface

-> username NAH BC UR TELLING ME THAT YUKI AND Y/N ARE BESTIES???? ALEX AND Y/N ARE LIKE ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️???? CHARLES AND Y/N HAVE BEEF???? HE PUSHED HER INTO A PUDDLE AND SHE PUSHED HIM INTO A FOUNTAIN????

-> username they kept us in the dark for so long we could've had it all 💔💔💔

username time to go on a vacation and make it a mission to hate the dude i meet and then fall in love with him

-> username HATE????

-> username pierre and y/n HATED each other when they first met but then long story short y/n saved him from a jellyfish and then it was lovers part of enemies to lovers ❤️

-> username oh the lore is WILD

username don't be a coward and record get him back with these lyrics 😡😡😡😡😡

-> yourusername i would but pierre would cry if i sang that song again now that he's back in my good books 😔💔

-> landonorris this is why you need to break up again x

-> pierregasly don't make me break check you next weekend

username is it a good time to mention that i saw u at lax and u looked WRECKED so im really glad ur both back together so that he can grab ur ass again

-> yourusername 😭😭😭😭 thank u my love

-> username tears

pierregasly thank you for doing something about it because i could NEVER

-> yourusername someone has to go to the counter and say "he asked for no pickles" in this relationship babe ❤️

-> charles_leclerc i have seen you both TREMBLING at the prospect of human interaction

-> yourusername why are u friends with him pierregasly

-> charles_leclerc not just him now 🥰

-> yourusername i am ready to break up with pierre if it means that i can get rid of this annoying parasite

-> charles_leclerc i go, alex goes

-> alexandrasaintmleux no you go away, i go to yourusername

-> yourusername DEVOURED AND BY HIS OWN GF

pierregasly all jokes (charles included) aside, i love you ❤️ thank you for hearing me out instead of pushing me down the stairs of instant death like charles told me you'd do

-> yourusername i love you 🫶🏼 i could never push u down the stairs, stair (singular) maybe but no ☺️

-> username why r u like this 🧍

username everyone cheer her crisis is GONE

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pierregasly you were my summer love and now you'll be my forever love

tagged yourusername

17,629 comments

username STOP TEARS ARE LEAKING

username can't believe this is the guy u told y/n she was trippin (she was btw ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️)

-> username character development and threats from f1 drivers does wonders to ur personality

username can't believe we're not gonna get anymore petty and bitchy songs anymore 💔💔💔

-> username maybe the petty and bitchy songs were all the comments from this group we collected along the way

username y'all cannot convince me that charles didn't at least TRY to tell y/n to let pierre GO simply bc he's a little shit

-> yourusername can confirm, the reason it didn't work was because then i'd have to AGREE with 🤮 charles 🤮

-> charles_leclerc you act as if i'm not actively gagging while talking to you

-> pierregasly so good to know that the reason i have a LOVING girlfriend is that she just hates my best friend

username pierre will forever be catching strays as long as y/n and charles remain friends 💔

username everyday i wake up and thank the lord that i exist in a world where pierre and y/n are together and that a dying jellyfish was the cause of it all ❤️❤️❤️

username real talk!!!!! how did mama gasly react when y/n told her that her son sucks

-> yourusername i didn't have to, she called me and told me that herself

-> username iconic

-> pierregasly i'm leaving the country and shaving my hair

username "forever love" i will be on the highway don't test me

username god i have seen and noted what u did for the others

username i love it when men are unapologetically in love with their gfs

lewishamilton happy for you both. please tell y/n to return my dog.

-> pierregasly she's currently cuddling roscoe and asking me to tell you to fuck right off

-> lewishamilton godmother privileges PROVOKED

username i will never be able to wrap my head around the fact that lewis hamilton and y/n y/l/n are FRIENDS like how'd THAT happen

-> username do u think they exchange fashion tips and pointers

-> username they deffo talk shit abt charles' fashion choices

-> username they should add him in the gc and TALK to him bc those choices are HORRENDOUS

username y/n 🎤🎤🎤 did u really key his car 🎤🎤🎤

-> yourusername my lawyer advises me to deny this false allegation

-> pierregasly she did something worse.

-> yourusername OKAAYYYYYYY U R NOT ALLOWED TO TALK HERE

-> pierregasly she put glitter ALL over the interiors

-> username WOAHAHSHSKSKSKD

-> username u deserved it 🗣️‼️

username i need a step by step walkthrough of exactly HOW these two got together and i need it NOW

username so when y/n hates publicly on a dude, she manages to make him her bf but when i do it, i make him my mortal enemy??? make it make sense 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

username it is so sexy of me to continue life even when life (instagram) throws obstacles (y/n and pierre being cute and shit) at me

username i will lay in my grave and dream of a love like theirs

-> username aahh haha didn't mean to get so philosophical mb

-> yourusername that was crazy babe

-> username it's true 😔💔

username me patiently waiting for a summer love that will have me ripping my hair off my scalp 🧍

username YOU WERE MYYYYY SUMMER LOOOVEEEEEEE

-> username one direction 🔛🔝

yourusername 4ever is not so bad after all ❤️

-> pierregasly with you it won't ever be enough ❤️

-> yourusername stop making me cry i have a reputation on here 🙁🙁🙁

-> username she says as if her personality isn't js crying over things all day long and being a Hater

-> yourusername OH FUCK OFF

yourusername i love you 🪤

-> pierregasly je t'aime mon cœur but the emoji? (i love you my heart)

-> yourusername it was the closest thing i could find to a tripod

-> landonorris 🔭 this is right here and also GROSS

-> username why are u all like this

yourusername off topic but i accidentally set off the fire alarm and now im locked in the bathroom bc the lock broke and im kinda Panicking

-> pierregasly why are you a fire hazard

-> yourusername THAT'S WHAT UR CONCERNED ABOUT

username i love it when bitches are chaotic like yessss!!!!!!! go and show us that unhinged energy!!!!!!!

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly au #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x ex!reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you

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recklesssturniolo · 6 months

Note

pleaseeee write where Chris and y/n sit in the back for a car video (they’re just friends at this point) and she keep grazing and touching him knowing exactly what she’s doing. Matt and Nick have to run in target after filming and Chris takes the opportunity and gives her a little punishment in the car 😇😇😇 (lots of dirty talkkk)

Car Video - C.S

As requested !! Dom!Chris

Hope you enjoyyyy🫶🏻

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

After being convinced by Nick to join them filming a car video, I had now just sat down in the back and greeted all 3 boys.

“Alright now how did you end up in the back? What happened to passenger princess Chris?” I laugh looking over at Chris.

“Oh do not even get him started on being in the back, bro lost a bet with me and hasn’t stopped crying about not having the front seat since we got in the van” Nick says turning around to face me.

“Oh you poor baby” I say to Chris as I place my hand on his thigh and faking a pout.

“Yeah yeah whatever let’s just get the video filmed” Chris mumbles out.

Nick starts the video off and not surprisingly is now on a rant about god knows what. I glance over at Chris and can’t help but notice how good he looks. He was only in grey sweats and a white tank top, but him manspreading with his arms crossed against his chest and head thrown back was doing things to me.

I lean over and whisper in his ear, being aware that the angle I was at he could see my cleavage, “Look any more miserable?”

“If Nick keeps talking I promise I will” He quietly laughs back, but I notice his eyes drop down to my chest for a moment after he speaks.

“Holy fuck Nick okay we get it enough” Matt exclaims.

Thanks to Matt the topic is switched. Chris now talking about his preferred superhero and why, then Matt giving his opinion. Without looking at him I place my hand on his thigh, purposely close to his dick. I feel his eyes flick over to me. I slightly move my hand up and down his thigh as I continuing debating with the 3 of them. Noticing out of the corner of my eye his hands move to seemingly cover his dick.

“Something wrong?” I ask him quietly.

“Nope, just getting comfortable” He responds back with a smile.

I took that as a note that I wasn’t teasing him well enough. I purposely lean over the console, knowing all Chris could see was my ass and pretend to be reading something off Nick’s phone. Sitting back down I hear a slight groan come from Chris as I place my hand now directly on his dick which I could immediately tell was hard. Thankfully, the angle the camera was at it wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Feels like you’re a bit worked up eh?” I smirk at Chris, obviously referring to the fact that he was hard.

“You know exactly what you’re doing Y/N” He says back, his eyes narrowed.

“Do I?” I reply, moving my hand slightly to apply pressure to his dick. At that he thrusts his hips up ever so lightly, only causing me to continue to palm him through his sweats.

“Y/N! Chris! Were either of you even listening to me?” Nick shouts. Causing both of us to flinch slightly and me to remove my hand from his dick - obviously not wanting Nick to see it there.

“Uh” I mumble.

Nick rolls his eyes and repeats himself, “I said, Matt and I are running into target for a few things, do you guys just want to wait in here?”

“Oh yeah that’s fine we’ll just wait here” Chris immediately responds, not even giving me a chance to.

“Alright we won’t be long, text us anything you guys want” Nick replies before both him and Matt get out of the van.

Knowing I had just teased Chris for about 30 minutes, I got a bit nervous, not quite knowing what to say.

“All quiet now?” Chris asks me with his head slightly tilted, moving himself closer to me.

“What?” I respond.

“You think you get to tease me like that and then just sit there all innocent afterwards?” He questions, his lips now inches away from mine.

“I - uh no I was just waiting?” I say but it comes out more as a question.

“Yeah? Waiting for what? To be treated like the slut you are?” He smirks and then connects our lips. His hand around my throat as our tongues fight for dominance. The kiss filled with passion and need, both of us acknowledging how long we’ve wanted this for.

As he begins kissing down my neck, Chris’ hands make their way down my thighs before coming up and brushing against the waistband of my shorts, his fingers slipping under and pulling slightly.

“Gonna let me take these off and fuck you pretty girl?” He asks.

“Yes, fuck please” I moan out, knowing how needy it sounded but not caring.

As he takes off my shorts, I see a smirk come onto his face before he says, “Look at you, so fucking wet. Such a little whore” His fingers slightly rubbing my pussy.

“Chris” I whine out, “We don’t have much time”

“I know baby” He nods, taking off his sweats and boxers.

Pulling my legs gently so I lay on my back on the seats, he opens my legs wider and runs his tip between my folds, using my arousal to slick himself up. Quickly, he lines himself up with my entrance, and pushes himself in.

I immediately cry out his name, my hands pulling at his hair as I did so.

“Fuck you’re so tight” Chris groans out.

Without warning, he picks up his pace and begins slamming himself into me.

“Oh my god oh my god” I moan out, my nails digging into his back in response to the increase in pleasure.

“Such a pretty slut taking me so well. Is this what you wanted?” He questions, his dick still pounding into me.

“Yes my god, just what I wanted” I stutter out, feeling my climax creeping up. “Chris don’t stop I’m gonna come”

“Good, come on my dick baby” He groans out, grabbing my legs and wrapping them around his waist. Dipping his head down after and kissing my chest.

“Fuck fuck Chris I’m coming oh my god” I whimper out. My legs barely able to stay wrapped around his waist as I clenched around him, and he continued to thrust himself in and out of me.

“Such a good girl coming for me” Chris says, earning a moan in response from me. Moments after his dick beginning to twitch inside of me.

“Chris, come in my mouth” I tell him, it coming out as almost a whisper.

“Of course you want that, fucking whore” He grunts out, but nonetheless after a few more thrusts he moves his dick to my mouth, not even giving me a moment to adjust before it’s hitting the back of my throat and his come fills my mouth.

“Swallow all of it, I know you can” Chris moans out, his hand on the back of my head.

He pulls out of my mouth shortly after, my hand wiping the come on my chin that had dripped out as Chris watched, “Fuck I never want that image to ever leave my head”

“Chris that was so good” I state, out of breath but now in a small state of shock that we actually just fucked.

“Yeah it was, I always knew you wanted me” He smirked back. Causing me to smack his chest in response. “Oh don’t worry I’ve always wanted you too”

“Wait shit Chris get dressed I can see Nick and Matt” I practically yell.

We both get dressed again and attempt to look as casual as possible before his brothers got back in.

“Why the fuck does is smell like that?” Matt asks almost immediately.

“Like what?” Chris retorts.

“It smells like fucking sex” Matt tells him.

“Oh my god, there is no way you two just had sex while we were inside” Nick interrupts.

Chris and I both flushed red and unfortunately both struggled to come up with a response fast enough.

“You did! You dirty freaks! I’m the one that almost always sits back there, I’m going to be sick” Nick gags.

“I agree it’s sickening but on a good note for me, Nick you owe me $20” Matt smiles.

“You BET on us having sex?” Chris and I yell out.

“I mean yeah, no one’s that stupid. We’ve seen the way you both look at each other. Nick and I have had this bet going for 2 weeks now” Matt laughed.

“Yeah and you stupid fucks couldn’t wait just one more week and have me win the bet” Nick grumbles out.

“This is so embarrassing Jesus Christ, Matt drive home” I mumble out, my face in my hands.

“Yeah and once we are home, you’re both cleaning those fucking seats” Nick yells.

Chris assures him we will and laughs a bit as he throws his arm around my shoulders.

TAGLIST: @devsturniolo @strniolosworld

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matthew sturniolo #matt x fem reader #matt x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #dom!chris

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chervbs · 2 years

Text

you and i — s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

synopsis: you’re in love with your best friend, steve. steve is in love with you. you would think it’s simple, right? well, according to steve, you would be wrong.

warnings: im shit at summaries, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, idiots in love, mentions of underage drinking and smoking, mentions of st*ncy, season 3 tings, nancy and robin are good friends, bit of angst, bit of fluff, canon violence, blood, injuries, mentions of vomit, cursing?, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: this fic is completely inspired by the events that lead up to my first relationship. yes, I’m completely projecting to deal with my own experiences and heartbreak, but don’t you worry, this has a much happier ending than my relationship did. also the title is from the one direction song as it was the “our song” of said relationship. pls don’t let this one flop that would be embarrassing. gif isn’t mine.

You weren’t quite sure when you feelings for Steve Harrington transitioned from platonic to romantic.

It seemed like one minute he was as your best friend–an unlikely one, but after all you’d seen together in the last year, your best friend nonetheless–and the next he was consuming your every waking thought.

At first you assumed the timing couldn’t have been better, his relationship with Nancy having just ended. Until you realized just how heartbroken he was, and the fact that Nancy was also one of your best friends. How would it look for you to swoop in right after her and Steve broke up?

Eventually you realized that it clearly wouldn’t have been so bad, as Nancy had quickly moved on to a relationship with Jonathan not long after.

Not that you judged her for it, but you didn’t understand how she could dismiss her relationship with Steve so easily, not when you were the one pining for his love and he was the one sulking and staring longingly at her and Jonathan’s intertwined hands.

It didn’t seem fair that she held his attention even after breaking his heart when she didn’t even love him like you did.

But then his attention seemed to fall on you, most of your time being spent in each other’s presence and your bond growing even stronger during the summer of ‘84.

So strong that you’d even began to silently suspect that maybe, just maybe, he’d began to like you back. You’d thought it was all in your head, your imagination running wild in order to cope with what you thought were unrequited feelings. But then Nancy made a comment during one of your sleepovers that you couldn’t seem to get out of your head.

“I see the way he looks at you.” Nancy had spoken out of the blue, completely off topic from your previous conversation about this years summer reading.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you blinked in confusion. “What?”

The brunette smirked, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Steve. He likes you.”

Your mouth fell open, breath hitching in your throat as you searched for something to say. “You’re crazy.” Was all you managed to scoff out, face burning and hoping that she didn’t notice how flustered you’d become by her words.

She noticed. The grin she wore softened, realizing how deeply the idea affected you. “Am I? You’re all he ever talks about. Every conversation we have have he seems to always find a way to bring you up. The two of you are always together, always touching, and like I said–I see the way he looks at you. He can’t take his eyes off you.”

You mouth became so dry you had to reach for the water bottle on Nancy’s nightstand, taking down swigs of water in an attempt to calm down your racing heart and increasing body temperature. When did Nancy’s room get so hot?

Nancy just watched you with poorly concealed amusement. “You okay?”

You screwed the plastic cap of the water bottle back on with shaky hands, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She gave you a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe because you also have feelings for Steve?” You’re internally grateful you weren’t still gulping down water, because you’re sure you would have choked if you were.

“Okay, it was a joke before but now I’m definitely questioning your sanity, Nance.” You avoided her eyes as you spoke, occupying yourself with a bottle of red nail polish, suddenly feeling like your fingers needed a pop of color. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas from but I can promise you they’re not true. I’m fairly certain Steve still has a thing for you. Not that it would matter because I definitely don’t have feelings for him and even if I did that would be completely breaking girl code and I would never do that to you–“

Nancy said your name, pulling your eyes away from your now red thumbnail to her face instead, taking in her comforting smile.

“It’s okay,” You released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Nancy sighed. “Look, I didn’t want to meddle because it honestly not my business, but it’s borderline painful how oblivious the two of you are.” She paused to take your hands into hers. “No matter what me and Steve had before, it’s nothing like what you two have now. As great as he was, I know now that I never really loved him, not like I know you do. And definitely not like he loves you.”

You didn’t know what to say, and Nancy seemed to realize this. She squeezed your hands gently. “Just think about it, okay? And talk to Steve.”

After your talk, you couldn’t help but take notice of the things Nancy mentioned. You two did spend a lot of time together, and you realized that he did indeed always seem to have an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your lower back or his leg pressed up against yours. A few quick questions to your group of friends, who were all aware of your feelings and apparently of Steve’s as well, confirmed Nancy’s observation of him constantly talking about you. And when you stole quick glances at him from your peripherals, he was always focused on you.

The more you sat on the thought, the more it seemed to good to be true. But between Nancy and the rest of your friends contributing to the idea, it was hard not to get your hopes up.

You really should’ve known better.

It took a while for you to work up the courage to talk to Steve about your feelings, but as it turns out, it would happen in a much more casual way than you’d anticipated.

“I had a really interesting conversation with Nancy the other day.” He had blurted. It was late in the night on a Friday, the two of you lounging by his pool, bodies relaxed by the combination of the soft blue light from the water and the alcohol running through your system from the couple of beers you’d consumed.

Your head was a bit too hazy for you to realize what he could’ve been talking about, so you twisted your neck to lazily look over at him. “‘Bout what?”

“About how we our feelings for each other.”

For a moment you’d thought you were imagining the words. Either that or you were heaving a dream-no, a nightmare. You silently pinched your arm. Definitely still awake.

Realizing you hadn’t replied, you cleared your throat awkwardly. “Oh.”

You resisted the urge to facepalm at your answer.

Steve’s lips lifted at the corners, gazing at you with a fondness in his eyes that you missed, your own gaze focused on the swaying pool water.

“Yup. Told me all about how oblivious we’ve both been. Really opened my eyes.” He spoke softly.

You’re lips rolled into your mouth, hoping Steve couldn’t hear the way your heart pounded against your rib cage. “Did it?”

He nodded, expression becoming slightly pained as he spoke his next words. “It did. Because I realized two things after. One, that I do have feelings for you.”

Your head slowly lifted to meet his eyes, the depth of his gaze knocking the breath out of your chest. “You do?” The slight eagerness in your tone told him well enough that you felt the same way, which both filled him with joy and with guilt.

He seemed hesitant to answer, but when he did he sounded sure. “I do.”

You tried not to show the fear you felt on your face. “It sounds like there’s a but in there.” You forced a small laugh, hoping it sounded genuine and not as pained as it felt.

“Yeah, um…that was the second thing.” Your eyes raked over his form, his hand that wasn’t holding his bottle was trembling and you could tell that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously. “I did realize that I have feelings for you, that’s for sure. And I wish this was simple enough for that to be it, but…” His hands fell into his face, seemingly unable to spit out the words.

“Steve?” You called quietly. You waited for his eyes to meet yours. “It’s okay. Whatever you need to say, you can tell me. You know that.”

By some miracle, your words seemed to bring him enough comfort and confidence to say what he needed to. Though, once he did, you really wished they wouldn’t have.

“But I still have feelings for Nancy too.”

You really thought that pining after Steve and thinking he didn’t feel the same was the worst pain you’d felt. Turns out, you were very wrong.

“Oh.”

Steve sighed, his left hand raking through his hair, unable to meet your eyes. “I know how I feel about you, and I know how you feel about me. But I don’t want to start anything with you knowing that I won’t be able to give all of myself to you. Not yet. It’s not fair to you and I would never forgive myself if I put you through the same thing I went through.”

You could only bring yourself to nod slowly,

attempting to process the information while ignoring the ache in your chest.

Steve spoke your name softly, “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

When you met his eyes, it was easy to see the guilt and the pain behind them. It brought you a little bit of comfort, knowing that he wasn’t just saying this to avoid being with you and he genuinely wanted to do what was best for both of you.

Still, the hurt greatly outweighed the comfort.

“Yeah.” You breathed after a few seconds. “Yeah, I get it. It’s for the best.”

You should have known better

If your friends noticed anything different between you and Steve, they didn’t say anything about it.

You’d made the conscious decision to distance yourself from Steve, for the sake of your sanity and your hearts. It wasn’t enough for a divide to have been created, but it was enough to be able to pretend like you were never in love with your best friend in the first place.

Steve had definitely taken notice to your distance, but other than a small frown that appeared on his face, he didn’t utter a word. He knew why, you knew he knew, and he couldn’t blame you.

Life after that got kind of crazy. Not any crazier than the Demogorgan or the alternate dimension that sat under Hawkins, but it allowed you to somewhat forget about your situation.

You and Steve both graduated during the Spring of 1985, taking jobs at the newly built Starcourt Mall that summer. He’d began working at the Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream shop, while you worked at the Merry-Go-Round just outside of the food court. They weren’t the cushiest of jobs, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy your employee discount.

Steve seemed to be enjoying his job for the most part. Sure he had to wear a cheesy sailor costume and deal with Erica Sinclair coming in nearly every day and pestering them for enough free samples to make a regular cup of ice cream, but he did get to encounter a lot of cute girls that came in during the boiling Indiana summer heat.

He never verbalized this perk, but by the score board made by his lovely coworker, Robin, who had come to be a great friend to you, he was very enthusiastic about his flirting.

At first you’d felt almost betrayed by his advances towards other girls. Had the two of you not confessed you feelings to each other a year before? But then you rationalized that you had been the one to put a stop to anything that even remotely crossed the line between platonic and romantic. Maybe he’d figured you’d lost feelings for him?

Either way it was painful to watch, but also slightly satisfying whenever a pretty girl would reject him. Not that you’d ever admit it.

Robin was quick to pick up on the tension between the two of you, and you surprised yourself when you found it startlingly easy to open up to her. You suppose that the only other person you could ever really talk about your Steve problem with was Nancy, and that wasn’t necessarily an option anymore.

Nancy was none the wiser of the reason you and Steve never pursued a relationship. You didn’t want her to feel guilty for essentially being the reason why, although it was completely out of her control.

All she was told was that you had both agreed that your lives were too hectic for relationships at the moment and you’d decided that it was for the best to stay friends.

Something told you she didn’t quite believe you, but she never pried, which you were thankful for.

Robin became a great outlet for your feelings for Steve, along with becoming one of your best friends. You were also sure to reciprocate her support which led to her heartfelt confession about her sexuality.

For the first time in a while, you’re life seemed to be falling back into equilibrium. Steve was still your best friend, you were making a decent amount of money that would soon start going to your tuition to the community college in the fall, and there was nothing supernatural occurring in Hawkins.

Apparently, you hadn’t learned your lesson about not getting your hopes up.

If you had only agreed to take the bus home instead of accepting Steve’s offer for a ride, which you had to wait around for him and Robin to close at Scoops, an hour after your shift had ended, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up stranded in a Russian elevator beneath the mall. But life just never seemed to work in your favor, did it?

Honestly, you were surprised it had taken as long as it did for the five of you to get caught. After the Russian guard that Steve had–shockingly–been able to knock out recovered and alerted reinforcements, you’d all been chased throughout the base as an alarm sounded. If your circumstances weren’t already shitty enough, you’d also come face to face with yet another interdimensional gate that the Russians had opened, welcoming a new set of concerns for your group of friends you hadn’t seen in almost twenty four hours.

The guards chased you all into a room that conveniently contained an air duct in the floor that served as an escape. Steve was the last to enter, slamming the door and calling for both you and Robin to help him defend it against the group of guards that were, admittedly, much stronger than the three of you.

Dustin and Erica were lucky enough to escape before they were able to knock down the door, and as you stared at the barrels of multiple guns, you could only hope they’d be able to find some help before it was too late.

They’d separated you, Steve and Robin at first. You’d taken to wailing on the door as much as you could, hoping that if you annoyed them enough maybe you could get to answers as to where your friends were.

You were sure that you’d heard shouts in the distance, some sounding like Robin, some like Steve. The only difference we’re that Robins were like yours, begging for help and to be let out of your temporary prisons, but Steve’s weren’t intelligible words, only pained yells.

It only made you more persistent, and eventually your wish was granted.

The door flew open so fast that you stumbled back, chest rising and falling in time with your quick breaths, heart pounding with fear at the sight of the Russian general that entered the room.

He was flanked by two other guards, smirking at you with malice.

“We’ve received some noise complaints.” He joked, his words being followed by an accent.

You scowled, “Where are my friends?”

The man chuckled, ignoring your question and turning his head to look at the men behind him. He muttered something in Russian you couldn’t understand and suddenly the men were bounding towards you. They’d each taken a hold of your upper arms, forcing you down onto a chair that previously sat in the corner of the room and bounding your upper body to the back of it.

“I am going to ask you the same as i’ve asked your friends.” He leaned down towards you. “Who do you work for?”

Your face remained unchanged as you debated your next move. You could be honest and hope they’d believe you, though you weren’t sure that would work, so you went with your second option.

You leaned towards the man in the same manor he had, a small grin growing on your face. “Suck. My. Dick.”

Part of you regretted your actions, but part of you was too satisfied with the anger you caused. The satisfaction was quickly overshadowed by the pain that began to spread across your face as his palm made contact with your cheek.

The following few minutes would always be a blur, as the pain the men inflicted upon you began to mess with your senses. You didn’t know how much time had had passed, but a blow to your head was the last straw your body could take, the last thing you remember being the straps around your body loosen, and you were pulled from the chair.

When you’d finally came to you weren’t sure how much time had passed. You felt your body being shook before anything. Then came the sound of a screeching siren, and then you were able to pry your eyes open.

There were two blurry figures hovering above you, and when your vision cleared, you realized it was Dustin and Erica, looking extremely concerned as they repeated your name.

“…you okay? Y/N, can you hear me?” Dustin asked, waving his hand in front of your face.

You squinted at the sudden intrusion of light from the room, looking around confused. “Dustin? Erica? What’s going on? What happened?” Your voice came out in a mess of mumbles as you struggled to sit up, realizing you’d been laying on the floor.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Erica said, her large eyes trailing over the multiple bruises and cuts that were visible at first glance.

There was a pause as you winced from the pounding in your head. “Um..I remember you guys leaving to get help, but not much after.” You admitted, gratefully accepting Dustin’s hand to help you stand.

“Well, the good news is that you’re fairly caught up, meaning you’re possible concussion isn’t life threatening.” He offered, speaking hurriedly. “Think you’re good enough to run?” He asked, already halfway out the door.

With a silent nod, you followed him and Erica out the room you’d been kept it. The lead you just down the hall and it wasn’t until then that you noticed Dustin had one of the guards tasers in his hand.

“Where did you get that?” You yelled frantically. Lord save you from Claudia Henderson should something happen to her baby.

Dustin ignored your question and burst through another door, letting out a war cry and shoving the taser directly into the chest of the man stood in the room.

You watched in both horror and amazement as the man shouted in pain before collapsing. The was a pause as Dustin looked back at you with an open mouth, like he was also surprised. “Never mind,” You panted, “I don’t wanna know.”

“Hey! Henderson!” Steve grinned as Dustin freed him from his restraints. “That’s crazy I was just talking about you.

“Oh, my god!” Robin laughed, kissing your cheek affectionately after you untied her. “I’m so happy to see you.”

You chuckled breathlessly, head still throbbing in pain. “Happy to see you too, Robbie, but we gotta run.”

“Y/N…” Steve said breathily, looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above. “You’re here.”

You could tell immediately that something was wrong, but the still sounding siren reminded you of your hasty circumstances. “Hey Stevie,” You grinned. Grasping your hand with his, you began to pull him out just behind Dustin and Erica who were doing the same to a stumbling Robin.

“Did the Russians hurt you?” Steve’s voice was slurred in a way you hadn’t heard since the last time you’d stayed at his house, smoking the weed he’d gotten from a dealer that went to Hawkins High. Some metal head who was a repeat senior.

You glanced back, catching a glimpse of worried expression in his hazy eyes. “No, I’m fine, Steve.” You weren’t fine, not even close, but he didn’t need to know that. You doubted he’d remember anything you said once he sobered up from whatever drugs they had put into him and Robin.

Steve and Robin found themselves in the movie theater restrooms, finally back above ground. You and Dustin had left Erica to keep watch of them after sticking them in a showing of Back to the Future.

They’d been able to sneak out without alerting their caretaker, but had to quickly run to the restroom after the drugs had reached their stomachs.

Steve wanted to test if the drugs had left their system along with their lunch from the day before. He asked Robin when the last time she peed her pants was. She said it was earlier with the Russians, when the doctor pulled out the bone saw. The she asked him a question.

“Have you...ever been in love?”

He feels like his first thought should have been Nancy, what with her being his first love. And yet, he couldn’t help but picture you.

Steve realized a second later that he was silent for a bit too long. “Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.”

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolled her eyes. “She's such a priss.” Part of her resisted the urge to mention you, because that’s who she assumed he was going to say. Unlike you, Steve had been quiet about his feelings to Robin, figuring that with how close the two of you had gotten, she’d be the first to blab about his feelings for you. And he couldn’t have that happening, especially when it had been so long since that night he broke your heart. You’d always been so closed off about your emotions, worse after that night, and he wasn’t sure you even liked him anymore.

Who was he too assume you’d wait around for him to lose feelings for Nancy?

But Robin wasn’t dumb. Sure she had a poor grasp of socials cues, but she also had two eyes and a very clever brain. It wasn’t difficult to see the pining stares the two of you gave each other when the other wasn’t looking and put to and two together.

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Turns out, not really.

Robin scoffed a little. If she was gonna get Steve to confess his feelings for you willingly, she was gonna have to play this smart. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

“No.” Steve answered, honestly and without hesitation.

“Why not?”

He could see his reflection in the black seat of the toilet, his swollen eye and busted lip serving as a reminder of what they had just been through. What you had been through. Though the events before him and Robin had fled to the bathroom to puke up the contents of their stomachs were hazy, he remembers your face when Dustin broke you all free–the dark print on your face that looked almost like a hand and the blood that dried under your nose.

“I think it's because I found someone who's a little bit better for me.” He finally managed to say. “It's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, you know, you gotta find your Suzie, you gotta find your Suzie–"

“Wait, who's Suzie?” Robin asked.

Steve shrugged, “It's some girl from camp. I guess his girlfriend? To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real.” He let out a little chuckle. “But that's not...that's not really the point. That doesn't matter. The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like…it's somebody that I didn't even talk to in school. Not until I met Nancy.”

“And I don't even know why. Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me or...I wouldn't be...prom king.” Steve shook his head at this own words. Everyday he regretted how he let himself act in high school. He knows that it was all for validation, compensating for what he didn’t receive as he grew up with an asshole for a father and a pushover for a mother. Still, it didn’t excuse any of his actions and not a day went by that he wished he had been better.

“It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because, when I think about it, I should've been hanging out

with this girl the whole time. First of all, she's hilarious. She's so funny. I feel like, these couple years i’ve known her, I have laughed harder than I have laughed...in a really long time.”

You and Steve hadn’t grown close until after his breakup with Nancy. He can remember the night you two hung out for the first time. He’d been driving around town to clear his mind not long after Eleven had closed the gate to the Upside Down and Hawkins Lab had been exposed. During this drive is when he passed by the local play ground and spotted you, swinging all by yourself on the swing set. As he parked his car and approached you, he could see your head go back for a second and when he got closer, he could see a silver flask hidden under your jacket. To say he was worried was an understatement so he silently sat next you to, asking if you were okay.

With the alcohol fogging your better judgement, you were quick to spill your thoughts to Steve. The nightmares you’d been having, the worry you felt for those poor kids you’d been babysitting for years and how they’d be able to handle this kind of trauma, the loneliness you felt now that Nancy had found a comfort in Jonathan and you had no one. In turn, Steve shared his own worries, his own heartbreak after Nancy and the pressures he received from his parents. After that night, you were inseparable.

“And she's smart. Way smarter than me. And she’s such a badass. She always puts people in their place, including me, and she handles all the bullshit we’ve been through like it just another Tuesday for her…you know? She's honestly unlike anyone

I've ever even met before.”

Robin couldn’t keep the grin off her face. God, she couldn’t wait to tell you that Steve was still head over heels for you.

She never knew for sure, though she had her suspicions, that he still had feelings for you. But now she did know. And if Steve didn’t say something soon, she was gonna.

“Robin?” He called after a long pause. “Robin, did you just OD in there?”

The blonde girl sighed, attempting to rein in the giddiness. The boy her best friend was in love with just admitted his feelings for said best friend, okay? Give her a break. “No. I...am still alive.”

Steve let his curiosity win and slid his body under the stall to sit across from Robin. “The floor's disgusting.” She told him.

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood

and puke on my shirt,” He reminded her. “So…What do you think?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too anxious. He knew better than to think that Robin didn’t how you felt about him. She probably knew even better than Nancy, who had been your best friend for years.

“About?” She replied coyly.

Steve huffed. “This girl.”

Robin smirked back at him. “She sounds awesome.” By now Steve could tell she had gotten the hint. What was she messing with him for?

“She is awesome.” He agreed. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he's finally come to senses. And he needs to tell the girl how he feels because I know, for a fact, that she feels the same way.”

Steve’s face felt like it was on fire. More-so than it already did with the the fresh wounds. “Really? 'Cause I think he should too. This time without screwing up their friendship because he was too scared to get his heart broken again.” He sighed, head falling back to rest again the open door of the bathroom stall.

Robin cocked her head, asking him in a softer voice. “Is that why? Why you rejected her?”

“I didn’t–“ Steve groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I didn’t want to hurt her. I knew I wasn’t completely over Nancy yet and I know what it’s like to be with someone whose heart isn’t fully yours. I couldn’t put her through that…but yeah. I guess I was also just worried the same thing would happen and I think that if it did…it would’ve been so much worse than the first time.”

Steve knew in the back of his mind that, although he had loved Nancy, it didn’t even come close to how he felt for you. His love for you was all consuming. Not a day went by that you weren’t on his mind. It’s a wonder how he never noticed you before he got with Nancy, and even then you were just his girlfriends best friend. In hindsight, he should’ve known by the way you never took shit from Tommy and Carol, and him, that you were nothing like anyone he’d met before. If he had to have gone through the same situation of you falling out of love with him like with Nancy, he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to survive that.

It was then that Robin knew. In the most vulnerable state she’d ever seen Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in. She knew there was now a bond between them that wasn’t there before the summer–hell, before even that day. She knew it was safe to make her own confession.

“Do you remember what I said

about Click's class?”

The Battle of Starcourt would go on to be known as The Fire, to the general public. To you and to Steve and to your group of friends that had been there to defeat the Mindflayer, it would be a day to add to your list of traumatic, other-dimensional, bullshit that’s gonna plague you’re nightmares for the rest of your lives.

But it was finally over. The Fire and Police departments had shown up to “rescue” all of you. They didn’t know why you’d all been the in the mall so late anyways, or what had started the fire. But there were plenty of government officials there that were aware of the dangers that occurred in Hawkins and were able to answer their questions with something believable.

After being check by paramedics, you were all driven home in police cars. You tried not to linger on the fact that none of the drivers were Hopper. You didn’t think you could take thinking about that for too long. Not yet.

Steve had insisted you and Robin stay at his. The deputy that drove you was hesitant, but after admitting that none of you wanted to be alone, he relented, dropping the three of you off at the Harrington household.

“You can take the first shower, Robbie.” There was more than one shower in the house, but Robin didn’t argue. She didn’t need you to convince to leave the two of you alone for a bit, knowing that there were plenty of unspoken words between you that needed to be said. “I’m gonna help clean up his face a little.”

Robin nodded silently, giving you a lingering hug that poured out the mutual appreciation you had for each other before heading upstairs.

You wordlessly pulled Steve into the guest bathroom on the first floor, grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet and sitting yourself on the counter to be at eye level with him.

There was a silence that was only broken by the soft breathing from you can the occasional hisses of pain from Steve as you dabbed his eye with hydrogen peroxide.

“Sorry.” You whispered after a slightly too harsh wipe. The pad of your thumb ran lightly over the swollen skin, your other fingers resting over his cheek.

Steve relaxed under your touch. He couldn’t remember the last time you two were this close. Most likely it was before that night. Before he hurt you and caused you to distance yourself. What an idiot, he thought.

“It’s okay.” He replied. Taking a chance, Steve let his hands come up, softly, almost cautiously, letting them find your hips. He could feel you stiffen, and he almost ripped his hands away, until you settled, scooting a little closer to his body.

“Can I ask you something?” He said after a minute. The warmth of his palms had momentarily distracted you and it took a second to realize he’d said something.

You blinked dumbly, “Yeah, go ahead.” You let out breathily, resuming your cleaning and hoping he didn’t notice how flustered his touch had made you.

Steve could feel his heart pounding and he prayed you couldn’t feel it against his skin.

“Do you…still have feelings for me?”

You were immediately brought back to that fateful night. Really, you tried to best to forget it, but you’d never been able to succeed in that. It never left your mind, actually. How could you, when he flirted with other girls in front of you, or you felt the awkwardness when he was near Nancy and Jonathan. Nothing could make you forget the day Steve broke your heart.

“Y/N?” He whispered.

The lump in your throat went down with a struggle. You pulled away from him slightly, occupying yourself with throwing away the bloody cotton ball you’d been using to clean his eye and soaking another one in more hydrogen peroxide. “Does it matter?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Yes, of course, it matters.” He insisted, voice raising a bit. “More than anything?”

You couldn’t help the defeated sigh that left your body. “Why, Steve? Why does it matter. Why do you need to know? I thought we’d been through this already and I’m sorry but I really don’t wanna go through it again-“

“It matters because I love you!”

Your breath hitched, wide eyes gazing back at his. Finally Steve had uttered the words you’d been longing to hear for months now, and yet you didn’t know what to say.

“Are you sure?”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to hear your own heart shatter, but in that moment he was convinced he did. To think that he finally gathered the courage to pour his heart out, and here you were, not sure if to believe him. He did that to you. This was his own doing.

His hands left your sides to reach your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I’m promise you, with every fiber of my being, that i’ve never been more sure if anything in my life.” He admitted, thumb soothing the fading hand mark on your face, just as you had to go moments before.

“But Nancy–“

Steve shook his head. “There is no Nancy.” He smiled at you fondly. “Yes I was worried at first about still feeling something for her because I didn’t want to let myself be with you if I didn’t know for sure. But I know now that nothing i’ve ever felt for her compares to how much I’m in love with you.”

Unshed tears gathered in your eyes. It was overwhelming, hearing what you’d always wanted to hear and not knowing what it is that suddenly opened his eyes.

You placed your hands atop of his, sniffling. “Where’s this coming from.”

Steve let his head hang, trying to find the right words to express how he felt. “Today. When the Russians got us and they took you from Robin and I. I’ve never been more terrified in my life.” His hands slid from your face but never strayed from your own, allowing you to intertwine your fingers with his and rest them on your lap. “Not knowing where you were or what they were doing to you. You should’ve heard me before they shot us up with whatever drugs those were. I wouldn’t stop asking about you ‘till they started beating me up.”

The soft skin of your hands was a comfort to him and he leant his forehead up against your own. “I couldn’t stop thinking about if I was gonna see you again. If one or both of us didn’t make it out and I never would’ve gotten the chance to tell you how much I love you. All because I was too scared to confront my own feelings.”

You let go of one of his hands and ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly to lift his face. After a moment of analyzing the busted and bruised skin on his face, you pressed a feather light kiss against his eye. Steve let a breath out of his body, as if that kiss lifted all the weight from his shoulders.

“I could kill every single one of those Russians for hurting you.“ You whispered, a couple treacherous tears escaping your eyes. “I was worried about you too. I always worry about you.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, smiling painfully. “Yeah. Even when you’re just at home. Cause I know your parents aren’t home and I hate the thought of you in this big house all alone when I know how you feel about it. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately, I just couldn’t after….”

Steve gave you and understanding smile, guilt shining in those beautiful brown doe eyes that you adored. “I know. And I’m sorry too. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, and in doing what I thought was best, I did just that.“

You slid your hands to the back of his neck, messing with the hairs at the nape. “How about…we forget that night ever happened? I don’t know that you love me,” Your gaze met his, sipping your chin to look at him through your lashes. “And you don’t know that I love you.”

Steve’s face lit up as if you’d just told him he won the lottery. He knew not even that feeling would compare to what he was feeling in this moment after hearing you say those three words.

“Okay,” He grinned. “Y/N, I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m in love with you.”

You couldn’t contain your giggles, feeling his own breaths of laughter hit your face as you moved closer to him.

“Oh really? Well, Steve, I didn’t know that, actually. But I think you should know, that I’m in love with you too.”

Steve gasped like you’d said something profound and you both collapsed into laughter. “You know what I also think?” You hummed in response. “I think you should kiss me.”

You head leaned to the side and you tapped your chin twice in consideration. “Hmm. I think that’s a great idea.”

And you also think that you could die happy, finally knowing what Steve Harrington’s lips felt like against yours.

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amara-scott · 7 months

Text

One more step.

pairing: mattheo riddle x slytherin/reader themes: angsttt, fluff summary: Mattheo Riddle was known to be impulsive, doing everything he wanted and not caring about the outcome of his shenanigans. But what if he actually took it a little too far?

𓆙𓆙𓆙

How can it be that I've never, until now, noticed the beauty of a silent autumn evening? I know being a Slytherin comes with loads of bias. Not all Slytherins are ready to party at all times, and not every one of us seeks trouble.

Well, except that one group of boys, maybe. And even more precisely, Mattheo Riddle.

I sigh, shaking my head to myself and re-read the paragraph of my history of magic chapter. My once steaming hot cup of green tea is nearly empty and my fingers get tired of scribbling down notes as I try to remember all that I read. I really don't mind tests and exams- it's just that I would rather go out with Pansy and Cassandra. The only reason I am not is that I actually care about every grade I receive. Maybe a little too ambitious for my own good.

I shut the book with a mark in place and collect my belongings while taking a look around. The library is rather empty. Some gather around the fireplace, having their eyes glued to their books. I know, a fireplace in a library? Doesn't seem too smart. But good god, we're not muggles.

I stop in my tracks, on my way to the exit, as I made out a certain head of brown curls close by a nearing bookshelf. He disappears behind it, his eyes searching intensely for a specific book.

I took that as a sign to quickly make my way past the isles. I hurry, my robe flowing behind me and my hair bouncing with every step.

"(Y/N)?"

I freeze in place, inhaling for the first time since I walked. I carefully turn to the side, Mattheo smirking at me from head to toe.

"Mattheo." I get out and want to keep moving, but he steps outside the isle and right in front of me. My eyes glued to him, not daring to miss what could be a meaningful move.

"You know, it's quite early to be studying for the test on monday." He tilts his head slightly to the side glancing down at the book I am holding onto. He is wearing a smug expression, obviously aware of how intimidating he can be. And that really bothers me. A lot, actually. Maybe also the fact that he's using that to constantly bully my friends, Harry and Hermione. She is the smartest witch in Hogwarts, besides me. If not beyond.

"Move aside, Mattheo, I want to get dinner before it's too late." I got out, harsher than I thought. Good.

I step to the side and want to walk around him, but he blocks my way once more. I glance up at him and frown, pressing my teeth together. "What is it?" I ask rudely.

Mattheo steps forward, making me take a step back to not bump into him. "What's gotten you in such a sour mood, huh? You should be glad you're in Slytherin - otherwise I would -"

"- you would what? Constantly pick on me because I'm only a half-blood? Make me feel uncomfortable or embarrass me any chance given? Well, news flash, Riddle, you do that to many friends of mine and I despise you for that." I spit out and am surprised at my sudden burst. I quickly regain composure and push his frame slightly to the side to get around him.

His eyes were wider than usual and his mouth unusually closed. I don't hear any comebacks, so I don't bother turning around and briefly hurry out, to get to dinner.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The pumpkin soup filled my nostrils long before turning into the Great Hall. I spot Pansy, Draco and a few others sitting at the Slytherin table. I hurry over, setting my books below the bench before sitting down next to Cassandra. She sends me a smile and I return it.

"Hey."

"- She was so stunned, quite like stone."

"Did she leave you alone then?" Draco asks Pansy and she continues a story I didn‘t bother to get into. Besides, Draco wants her all for himself anyway.

More people join the table now and I feel someone sit right next to me on my right. I glance up and see Theodore taking a seat, winking at me. I roll my eyes and turn back to my bowl, filling it with soup from the cauldron in the middle.

"Would you mind?" Theodore holds up his bowl and I take it, filling his too. "Thanks, love." I nod and begin eating. I stop before I can take a bite of toast when Mattheo joins, sitting opposite of Theodore.

I sigh internally, placing my spoon down in my bowl as our eyes meet briefly. The awkward tension in his eyes made me feel a little bad for my words earlier. But I don't regret them. He looks away and focuses on Pansy and her story, throwing in a few sarcastic remarks here and there. Acting like nothing happened.

"Hey, are you good?" Cassandra asks me, a little hushed. I stop stirring the soup, glancing up and noticing more eyes on me that have caught onto Cassandras question.

"Yeah, you look a little pale?" Pansy adds, her observation sounding more like a question.

Draco chuckles, "Nothing new there" earning a kick to the leg from Pansy, followed by a glare. The rest of the boys looking at me now too, trying to figure out if it's true.

"Uh- nothing? I think I'm just tired, it was a long week." I grab my book from below me and stand up. Not able to hold their stares as I feel judged.

"- where are you going? You haven't even finished the soup?" Theodore tries and I wave him off.

"I'm just exhausted, I'll see you later." I quickly turn around, ignoring Pansy calling my name and only stop walking once I'm outside the big doors and around the corner.

I really couldn't stand sitting there across from him, while he is who he is. I've finally had enough. I tried to ignore him being absolutely rude to countless people. But I can't pretend anymore.

The others weren't innocent either, don't get me wrong. But he was far from that.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking. Actually thinking about nothing. More so just staring.

"Can you tell me what's with you?" I hear Pansy as she sits down on my bed and looks down at me, frowning. I haven't even heard her come into our room. "Is it Riddle? What did he do this time?"

My eyes dart to her and I come up, leaning on my elbow. "No, that's not it-"

"- if it's not Riddle, then why have you bolted as soon as he sat down at dinner?" She raises an eyebrow at me and I fall back onto my pillow, holding back a groan. "I'm not stupid."

"He is ridiculous, truly infuriating." I tell her and she smirks at me.

"What?"

"Well, you sound like you think about him quite a lot."

*It's not like that Pansy, I swear." She sighs, standing up and shrugging her shoulders.

"If you don't trust me enough to tell me, so be it. Just don't come running to me when he breaks your heart." She's out the room before I can reply. I sit up in bed and look at the door.

Breaking my heart? I wouldn't let him get that close to me. Never.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

"(Y/N)!" I look behind me to see Hermione running up to me, falling into my step.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask and she shakes her head, giving me a worried look.

"How bad?" I ask and she stops, I copy her and turn around to look at her.

"He's in the Hospital Wing. They were already done once I saw them." I shake my head in disbelieve, not sure how to respond. I just had that talk with Mattheo and he still goes around, fighting and bullying others.

We both make our way to Harry. He sits on a bed, Madam Pomfrey smiling at us as we enter. "Hello there, you two." I smile at her and leave Hermione to talk to her while I check on Harry.

"Hey you." I say, sitting next to him as he rubs his bandaged arm. As he looks up at me, I see a deep purple bruise forming on his right cheek bone. Dried blood still sticking to the skin below his nose and upper lip.

"Don't look at me like that." I take his arm and look back up at him.

"How, Harry?"

"Like I lost the fight." I raise a brow and he tries to smile but hisses, touching his cheek bone. "He looks worse, I promise."

That oddly doesn't make me happy and I look down, letting go of his arm as Hermione joins us, sitting next to Harry's other side.

"You're an idiot, trying to win against him in a fight!" She taunts and I agree with her, Harry only rolling his eyes.

"What, you want me to run away? Tell him to please stop? Whatever I do or say doesn't matter. Our parents did that for us. We're only fighting their fight now." He mutters the last bit, his eyes fixed on the tiled ground.

"That's enough." I stand up with one goal only. Making this stop. This has to stop.

"(Y/N), don't-"

"- I have to."

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Walking down the cold stone stairs, I spot them around the corner in the open common room area by the fireplace. Talking and laughing. Pansy smiling, Blaise shaking his head with a smirk and Mattheo- grinning. He hasn't even bothered to change his shirt or clean his face, which is still bloody. Wearing it like a trophy.

"Hey!" I shout, all their eyes on me now as I storm up to the group. My eyes boring daggers into his brown ones.

"Who the actual fuck do you think you are!" I stop behind the couch where Pansy, Draco and Blaise sit on. My eyes not once missing him.

"What?"

"You heard me, jerk. How dare you-"

"Whoa, whoa, (Y/N)-" Theodore stands up from the floor with raised hands and Mattheo follows suit, his stare could kill me.

"Theo, don't." I warn him and step around the couch, walking up to Mattheo, not afraid of him. His breathing quick and his eyes dark.

"Answer my fucking question, Riddle. Who do you think you are?" I stab my finger into his chest a couple of times, feeling my cheeks warming up and eyes glossing over.

"I am his worst fucking nightmare. And don't you ever make the mistake of believing you could stop me from being just that." My mouth is agape as I feel a warm tear running down my cheek, stunned at his cold heart.

"But -"

"- No! You don't get to come in here and question me about something that doesn't concern you in any fucking way!" He yells, throwing his arms up and huffing, almost smiling at me with a crazy glint in his eyes.

"Harry is my concern, he is my friend - and so is Hermione! I can't believe that you can't see past that."

"Then why don't you go, leave! Run to your precious Gryffindor friends if you love them so much! No one will fucking miss you here. Not a single minute."

"Guys, maybe we shouldn't talk about that here." Theodore says, coming closer to us both, holding Mattheo's shoulder now.

Mattheo pushes his hand from him, his cold stare now turned onto him, allowing me to take a breath.

"Pathetic half-blood." Riddle mutters, only for me to hear.

Pansy now pulling at my hand quickly from behind me, "come on" and I slowly take a few steps backward, glancing at Theo and Riddle one last time.

"- you think I would hurt her?" I hear before Pansy takes me to our chambers. I don't remember how long I've been sitting here on my bed, tears running down my cheeks. Her hand runs up and down my back.

"What happened?"

I look at her and I feel my head throbbing now. "He went too far with Harry. I can't just sit back and watch."

"You know, if that sorting hat had asked me, I would have placed you in Gryffindor anyway. How bravely you protect your friends." She smiles at me and I huff, chuckling.

"You're forgetting how stubborn I am, I wouldn't survive a day there. Plus, green is more my color." It's her turn to laugh and she nods, agreeing with me. Her smile leaves her lips and I know what's coming next.

"Jokes aside. This can't keep going on. You both have quite a lot to say to each other, despite claiming to hate each other. What happened to two years ago? You both were on such a good way to becoming wonderful friends."

Honestly? I don't know myself. After the winter break, when we came back to Hogwarts two years ago, something had changed. I noticed it right away but didn't want to talk to Mattheo.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Mattheo POV:

"Really now, what's gotten into you? I know Harry isn't the greatest but why pick a fight with him so often, especially while knowing it will get a rise out of her?"

I shrug, picking at the dried crimson blood on my knuckles. It's turning brown now.

He sighs as he scratches at his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at me once more. "Matt, please tell me you're not doing anything stupid anytime soon, yeah? Give us all a break."

Theo stands up, walking out and I stay on my bed, biting at my split lip, chewing my skin. She is all I can think about. Good or bad- but those teary eyes were torture. I wanted her attention, yes. But not like this. Not if her heart is already with someone else anyway.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(Y/N)‘s POV:

I skipped classes for the whole next day and only ate what Pansy brought me. I don't know what I'm more afraid to face. Mattheo's angry gaze or Harry's disappointed one, once he figures out I failed to stop the bullying.

I crumble up the tissue and toss it across the bed, it lands with some others near my feet. With closed eyes, I can't make out who entered the room but I'm guessing it's Pansy by the way she sits on my bed and sighs.

"I'm not hungry -"

"- you haven't eaten all day."

"Yes, I have -"

"- the dry toast I brought you eight hours ago surprisingly doesn't count." I open my eyes and glance at her sideways. She frowns, her brows being pulled together and she seems to wince at my sight.

"Seriously, come with me and get some dinner, you can go right back to bed, okay?" I shake my head and look back up at the ceiling.

"Alright, that was the last time I asked nicely." She stands up and pulls me by the leg.

"Hey!" I try to hold myself on the bed but she janks once, hard enough for me to fall off the bed.

"Get up now and let's go!" She helps me stand up and I hiss, holding my bum.

"That was mean." I mumble and she shrugs, not seeming fazed in the slightest.

"I don't care, now come on." She throws me one of my sweaters and pulls my hand. I sigh, giving up, not ready for another fight.

I decide then I would sit at the Gryffindor table, not daring to sit close to him. I couldn't face him now. Not with what happend and what was said.

"I'll see you later Pans-" I walk right to Harry and Ron as I spot them, leaving Pansy by the entrance. Walking down the isle of benches I take a seat next to Ron, facing Harry.

"Hey." I greet them and they share a worried glance.

"You look worse than Harry- no offence." Ron states and makes a face, pushing his mug of tea over. "Here."

I take it and gulp it down, thanking him.

"What happened?" Harry asks, his broken glasses fixed once more probably by Hermione. Who isn't here yet, I notice.

"Nothing really, just trying to keep him off your back." I try sending a weak smile but it's probably more a grimace.

"(Y/N), don't. That's a thing between me and him- I don't want you to get hurt-"

I tune out his speech and glance toward the Great Hall doors as he enters. An unreadable expression on his face. His eyes go toward the Slytherin table but he frowns, his eyes trailing along until they meet mine.

In the gloomy light the shadows dance across his face. His lips slightly ajar as I try to peel my gaze from him, unsuccessfully.

"(Y/N) -" A waving hand forces me to blink. I glance over to their owner, Harry. Hermione sitting now next to him.

"Have you heard a single thing I just said?" I shake my head, not in the mood to lie. She sighs and glances behind her at the Slytherin table where Mattheo sits down next to Theo. Him patting his back. His eyes finding mine once more. I can't help the tears coming back and quickly stand up, running toward the big doors.

"(Y/N)!" I block out Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's calls, just running out.

I don't stop in the hallway and follow the path to the courtyard. The cold air slowing down my movement and I take a few deep breaths. I sit down on a bench near the tree and pull my knees up. No one's around. Even if- I don't care anymore. I start sobbing, my face hidden.

I fully realize the impact his words have on me now, the strength he has over me. The feelings he hurt. My heart he broke.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Pansy lies with me now. The covers warming me up from the cold air. She found me outside, not knowing she would find me where she did. But she did. She really is the greatest friend I have.

"You know, he probably feels terrible having hurt you so bad." I wipe away the dry path of my past tears and shake my head.

"He doesn't have feelings. He is a shell of nothingness." I mumble and feel my eyes getting heavier.

The knock on our door pulls me back out of my soon overtaking sleep and I sit up with Pansy, sharing a quick glance. It's nearly midnight.

"Can I come in?" Theo asks and carefully pulls open the door, his right eye blinking through the crack.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy asks, getting out of bed and opening the door. Theodore seems uneasy, stepping left and right, scratching the back of his head. Stumbling along his words.

"Well, I know it might not be a good idea, but we didn't know if -"

"- get to it, Nott." Pansy says, sighing with a hand on her hip.

"It's Mattheo -"

"- no, not a chance." She wants to push the door in his face but he holds it open, placing a foot in the door.

"Wait, listen, please."

She sighs and I stand up now, walking forward and stopping next to Pansy. Theo's eyes on me now. He gulps and stutters.

"He- he's down the hall in the dungeons, picking a fight with Harry -"

I don't need to hear anymore, grabbing my wand and pushing past them, running up the stairs in the common room to get out. I hear them hot on my tail but don't turn around.

"- you shouldn't pick a fight with someone like me, Potter!" I make out Mattheo's voice and pick up my speed even more.

"- And you shouldn't even be alive, Riddle!" I intake a sharp breath of air as those words leave Harry's lips, neither of them noticing me and start casting spells at each other.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"Stupefy!"

I step up and hold my wand out, pointing it at Mattheo. A hand on my shoulder stops me from talking. "(Y/N), don't-"

"Accio!" I yell and a wand flies through the air and straight into my palm. I look up and Mattheo's eyes find mine as he tucks away his own wand before walking over to a wandless Harry.

"No, Mattheo-" I run over as they start throwing fists, pushing each other to the ground. I look back at Theo, who comes to my aid, trying to get ahold of Harry's shoulder who sits atop of Mattheo, throwing a fist in his face. I hold my hands in front of my opened mouth, gasping.

Theo pulls Harry from him as he struggles to get out of his grip.

Mattheo quickly gets to his feet but another arm holds him back. Draco. "It's not worth it, trust me."

"You're just like your father!" Harry yells and I watch as Mattheo's eyes loose all light, his hands hanging by his sides. He stopped struggling against Draco's restrain.

My feet carry me quicker than my brain can register and soon I place my arms around his shoulders, holding him, hugging his frame. His chin laying on my shoulder.

"Get lost, Potter, before we call for Snape." I hear Theo say but don't turn to look. My heart swells with anger and regret. Mattheo's arms soon find their way around me, pulling me even closer, clawing at me shirt. I feel my neck soaking with his - tears.

I glance over his shoulder, the others gone, leaving us two.

"He's wrong, you know?" I whisper, scared of him leaving this position. He doesn't answer at first but his silent crying turns into sniffling.

He pulls away a bit, looking at me. "You don't have to pretend to feel bad for me." He gets out.

"I don't, Matt. I just know the whole truth now." He frowns, his pretty brown eyes sparkling with the remaining tears.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know why you pick so many fights. And I know why you hated Harry particularly much." His eyes leave mine and glue themselves to the floor between us. He pulls away from the embrace. My hands falling to my sides.

"I don't know what you-"

"-Matt, you don't have to pretend to be a big, bad boy all the time. I'm sorry I made you feel invalid."

"What happened to calling me Riddle, huh?" I sigh, shaking my head to myself. Of course that didn't make it any better.

"I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm the one who's supposed to be sorry. I was the biggest dickhead to you, even when I rather should have just asked you to Hogsmeade."

"Matt, I-" I stop myself once I understood the whole sentence. "-Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, since two years actually."

Two years. Two goddamn years in which I tried to figure out what went wrong between us. Nothing.

"You idiot." I say.

"I know. I know, I am. And I won't blame you if you say no-"

"-You, Mattheo Thomas Riddle, are the absolute worst dickhead to ever have walked these halls." I stab my finger into his chest and look up at him, his lips curling into a small smirk, showing his teeth. One of his hands takes my finger down and holds my hand there.

"Nothing new, love." He states, raising his brows and biting the inside of his cheek.

"First- you terrorize my friends. Then you actually fist fight one of them- until you're both ready for the Hospital Wing. Just for me to end your duell in the dungeons before one gets the other killed. And now you're asking me to Hogsmeade?" I can't help but my stunned expression is probably quite visible on my face.

"Uh- is that a yes?"

"Well, of course I'm going with you! But only if you, for the love of Merlin, stop fighting with Harry. That's not getting you anywhere except maybe Azkaban once you finally killed each other."

He stops for a moment, coming even closer and I freeze in place, not knowing if what's about to happen is really the start of something good. But right now, right here, it feels truly amazing.

„You‘re cute when you’re angry.“

#imagine #imagines #harry potter #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #harry potter imagine

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harrypotterandthefandomaccount · 1 year

Text

worthy of trust

pairing: sebastian sallow x fem!reader

warnings: sebastian being a jerk & calling you ignorant, angst, feeling like you lost a friend but he makes it up to you with a lil kiss

note: i've been obsessed with hogwarts legacy and the gameplay itself is just phenomenal. 39 hours into the game lol and still so much to do, so enjoy this sebastian oneshot. based on his questline, in the shadow of the mine i think?

important note: i do NOT support hate towards the transgender or LGBTQ+ community. JKR has made her stance very clear and i could not disagree and be disgusted with her more. this fic and future ones merely pertain to the character(s) in hogwarts legacy and to my knowledge, JKR had no part in the game. if you are still mad i play the game/write fics for hogwarts legacy, you can scroll past this. thank you!

you had no qualms about trusting lodgok since sirona ryan had known him for years, along with miriam. while the both of you had been albeit hesitant at first towards one another, he had proven his loyalty to stopping ranrok and was actively trying to be one step ahead of him - which is exactly what you, sebastian, and the others wanted.

however, when the opportunity arose to tell sebastian about lodgok, it all came flooding back to you - anne.

you and sebastian had just finished clearing out a cavern of arachnids, which quite honestly, was pretty exciting. you had even reminded him that well, spiders aren't insects.

"don't you start," he had responded, a small smirk on his face.

after finding the last piece to the tryptich and hoping to solve the mystery concerning isidora morganach, returning to the undercroft was the last step. you both were eager to see if the portrait piece would fit, and once it had been placed, you were able to breathe.

"please tell me you recognize the location in this bit of canvas," you said, turning around to face your slytherin partner in crime.

he sighed, "the good news is, i do, in fact."

your shoulders dropped, "and the bad news?"

sebastian turned to look at you, "we're in for more trouble."

you groaned, leaning your head back as Sebastian's eyes seemed to darken; gluing your attention back to your slytherin friend, he continued, "i know that coast. Ranrok has taken over a huge mine and the surrounding area. Marunweem has suffered for it. It's as bad as Feldcroft's become."

with a sigh, your eyebrows knitted together and you looked at the triptych once more. sebastian glanced towards you, "should we head there now?

you shook your head, "no, we should wait."

sebastian immediately questioned you, "why?

you gave a grimanced look, "all this time, we've been a step behind ranrok. I may know someone who could help us get head."

sebastian raised an eyebrow, "who is that?"

before you could even think about formulating your answer a different way, the words slipped out, "a friendly goblin named lodgok. he wants no part in ranrok's fight."

sebastian immediately became disgusted, angry, even. "a friendly goblin?" he started, "you know goblins cursed my sister to shut her up! said she should 'be seen and not heard.'"

you took a step towards sebastian as he stepped back. taking a breath, you nodded, " i do, but not all goblins-"

he glared towards you, "not all goblins what? have you forgotten feldcroft? have you forgotten the mine we just went through?"

you sympathized with him, no doubt. you knew how close the twins were, how much Sebastian loved anne and cared for her - but this fight against ranrok was against all wizardkind, not just anne. and you knew she would understand.

shaking your head, you tried to reason with Sebastian, "no, sebastian, i haven't. you're not listening to me."

sebastian scoffed, "why would i listen to someone so ignorant?"

ouch.

you knew sebastian could be mean, cruel, but throughout these months of knowing him, he has only been so kind, sweet and soft with you. there was never any malice towards you, no anger or disgust. towards the goblins and ranrok in conversations with you, but it was never directed. it was understandable that what happened to anne was hurting Sebastian as well, but this anger was now at you, and he was changing.

you already had reservations working with lodgok before sirona ryan said you could trust him, but there was something he wasn't telling you. but it wasn't a secret that jeopardized your working relationship with him, no. if it had been, you would have turned your back and not worked with him another day.

it wasn't ignorant at all, you knew that. a bit sketchy at first, sure, but not ignorant. lodgok had proven himself trustworthy and has helped you in being one step ahead.

you stepped back in surprise, "that was cruel. perhaps your uncle was right about you - you don't know when to stop."

sebastian glowered over you, stepping forward as his words were laced with venom, "oh, i do know when to stop. unbelievable."

taking a deep breath, you turned and walked out of the undercroft, ready to scream. you understood where Sebastian was coming from but the way he talked to you was so...angering. maybe you should have lied about who it was, about what lodgok was.

but calling you ignorant? okay, yes, this was your first year learning about magic and catching up to the rest of your peers, but you earned respect and knew - for the most part - what you were doing. you would never intentionally put Sebastian, anne, ominis, whoever in danger if you were not confident.

with a sniffle, you made your way through the dark arts tower to your common room, ready to just cry about how upset and angry Sebastian was. but before you could, ominis's voice stopped you, "coming from the undercroft, are we?"

you turned around, eyes glassy with unshed tears - albeit glad that ominis couldn't see them. you gave a small smile, "oh, yes. we were just discussing a painting we found."

ominis hummed, not entirely satisfied with your answer, "your voice is shaky. what happened?"

you let out a breath, "i - we can't talk about it here, ominis. too open."

he sighed, and with his free hand, he grabbed your arm, pulling you towards an owl statue inside a small window, before it turned around and you found yourself...well, inside a wall at hogwarts.

before you had time to question ominis of where you were, he asked once more, "what happened?"

you explained everything, just leaving out the parts where Sebastian was intent on not stopping to find a cure for anne, but moreso focused on the triptych. when you revealed who lodgok was, ominis cringed.

"oh, that's not the worst part," you said, wiping a stray tear, "he asked why he should listen to someone so ignorant."

ominis winced once more, "yikes."

you grumbled, "tell me about it. i want to cry because, well, i understand why he is upset but lodgok is a lead to stopping ranrok, to being one step ahead."

your blind friend nodded, "agreed, and if sirona trusts him, that's saying something."

you both stood in silence, the occasional sniffle from your nose giving ominis hints of how much this bothered you.

"give him time to cool off," he began. "anne is a sore spot for him, but he needs to understand that she won't be the only one cursed without your goblin friend's help. you made your way into his heart, those that he cares about. you'll be fine."

you nodded, trying to formulate your words, "thank you, ominis. i apologize for putting you in the middle of this, but it was nice to have someone listen."

ominis smiled softly, "of course, y/n. meet you at dinner?"

with a quiet, "yeah," you watched ominis make his way out of the secret room, and once again, you were left with screaming thoughts. sobs immediately racked your body, regret aching from your tears and sore throat. there was nothing left by the time you were done, face dried with tears as you composed yourself.

taking a breath, you left the room and immediately looked down, seeing a letter by the 'door.' on the top left was ominis's handwriting, but the letter itself was unopened: told you he's gone soft for you.

with a pained sigh, you picked up the letter and opened it, reading the words:

we need to talk. undercroft after dinner?

"merlin's beard."

dinner was not something you could stomach at the moment, and to be honest with yourself, you were sure it could come right back up as you made your way to the undercroft. with a wave of your wand, you opened up the clock-looking door and headed inside, anxiety eating you up like a full-course meal.

sebastian had his back to you, staring intently at the triptych until he heard the door open. his eyes met yours immediately, and he softened.

"hi," he said, biting his lip nervously as you made your way over to him.

"sebastian, i-" you began, but he shook his head. with a small smile, he grabbed your hands and held them against his chest, "it's ok."

your eyes welled up with tears, "but it's not, seb. i should've been honest with you and i wasn't. I'm sorry, you have every right to hate me."

sebastian was silent as the tears fell down your cheeks until he wiped them away with his thumb. you sniffled, looking up at him. he grasped onto your hands once more, "you were hesitant to tell me because you know how much i care for anne, for my sister. you listen to me and want what is best - that has always been you. I'm not mad at you, dove. I'm mad at merlin for making that our last option."

you gave a sad excuse for a chuckle as he smiled at you. he continued, "dove, listen to me. I'm sorry for what i said. i know you aren't ignorant; i reacted harshly about your goblin friend, but you understand why?"

you immediately nodded, squeezing his hands, "of course, seb. i know how important it is for you to find a cure for anne, and i would never jeopardize that if there was a chance lodgok could betray us. but he's good, honest."

sebastian grinned, and you continued, "i'm not mad at you either, y'know. you're good to me, seb, and i was just scared i lost you."

he held your face between his hands, thumbs softly rubbing over your cheeks as he adored you, "you could never lose me, dove. you are one of the few good things left in my life and i'd be an idiot to let you go."

you swallowed a sob as tears clouded your vision, but Sebastian hushed you, "it's okay, sweetheart. we're okay - i trust you. promise."

you nodded and gave a small smile, "i trust you too, seb. promise."

leaning forward, sebastian nudged his nose with yours, and you giggled as he mumbled, "there's my pretty dove." and with that, Sebastian sealed your lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck as he grounded himself on your hips.

maybe you should send lodgok a thank you card.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 19 days

Note

AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?

Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.

So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).

Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.

My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.

So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.

I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.

The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.

It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.

Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.

One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.

T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.

So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.

Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.

The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.

I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.

He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.

The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.

I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".

This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.

I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.

Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.

So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.

Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.

TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #not sure if it's needed for a dnd character death but just to be safe

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lowkeyren · 3 days

Text

unrequited love...not!

in which — wriothesley is smitten with you just as you are with him. but you think he's in love with another woman, so sigewinne plays cupid (she's sick and tired of u guys)

pairing — wriothesley x gn!reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff, wc: ~900, no thoughts just sweet wrio, ty guys sm for the support so far xx love yall!!! likes n reblogs r appreciated <3

to say that wriothesley is heads over heels for you is an understatement. this man has been lovestruck ever since the day he laid his eyes on you. and he wasn't the type to be secretive about his massive crush on you, in fact; it's practically common knowledge for everyone in the fortress. sigewinne can only sigh and shake her head in disappointment every time she sees wriothesley showing his not-so-subtle affection to you (and you being blissfully unaware of the heat that rises up on his neck everytime you even show a hint of a smile) from afar. either way, it seems like wriothesley's feelings are no secret to anyone but you.

well it's not like you were completely clueless…. it's just that, the almighty duke of the fortress is an undeniably charismatic man, it's no surprise that many women flock to him like moths to a flame. and you weren't any different. truth to be told, you found yourself too, unable to resist his charms. each time he flirted with you, your heart raced without fail, cheeks flushed, and brain short circuiting, overwhelmed by his presence. —he never fails to notice your every reaction, catching every subtle flicker of expression, let it be the twitch of your lips when you try not to laugh at his jokes or the raise of your eyebrows when he mentions a topic that piques your interest. knowing that he also has this effect on you reassures him, that you felt the same way too… or do you?

wriothesley sighed as he put down his teacup, closing his eyes and resting his head in his hands, eyebrows furrowed. what's gotten into you..? you have yet to visit him for the last 3 days, and frankly, he missed you. were you intentionally avoiding him? but to him it was clear that your feelings are mutual— you liked him and he liked you.

though for you, it might have been a little more complicated.

"well, care to explain? what happened between you guys…" sigewinne puts down the half used bandage wrap and turns to face you with a questioning look.

"h-huh what do you mean…? everything's perfectly fine." you smiled and feigned ignorance —so poorly that sigewinne saw right through you the moment you opened your mouth. "tell me everything." she shoots you a pointed look. when you start talking again, she shows a hint of a smile that goes unnoticed by you.

"i guess there's no point in avoiding this anymore… look, it may sound stupid to you but the other day, i saw wriothesley together with clorinde. i was about to go up to them, but! they seemed really happy together and i didn't wanna interrupt… they're quite close with each other so i thought they were in some kind of relationship, and i didn't wanna interfere with my own feelings… since clorinde is also a dear friend of mine after all."

unbeknownst to you, while you were busy recounting, wriothesley had quietly entered and stood near the entrance. he could not wrap his head around why you would think that he could possibly be in cahoots with fontaine's champion duelist. sure they may be good friends but— he thought he made it clear that he wants you, and you only.

just as he was about to speak up, sigewinne butted in: "hey, so what you're saying is that you like him too?" with your head still hanging low, being too engrossed in this whole venting session, you have yet to notice wriothesley presence nor the ever glowing mischievous glint in sigewinne's eyes.

"you need not to be so blunt…then if i must admit, yes i do like hi- huh? what do you mean "too" ?!"

as you stumbled over your own words, you made eye contact with wriothesley who was still frozen in the doorway. you could feel your heart racing, seeing the prominent flush on his cheeks —and yours too, you finally realize the truth of your mutual affection.

sigewinne quickly excuses herself but not before discreetly giving you a playful wink and a thumbs up to wriothesley.

"out of all possible ways, i did not expect you to confess your feelings in the midst of an unexpected revelation." wriothesley walked towards you with a huge smirk on his face, having finally got the confirmation that he has been longing for, from the very person he has been pining for since day one.

you know he's teasing you even at a time like this so you too pretend to be unaffected, tilting your head to the left and folding your arms across your chest.

"hmph... you should be oh so relieved now that you know your feelings are reciprocated."

"yes of course darling. i feel complete whenever you are by my side. and i haven't been more happy than i am at this moment."

his words are sincere, a striking contrast to just a few seconds ago. you chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you as you reached up to cup his face, with a cheeky smile:

"just ask me the question already!"

with a grin, wriothesley leans in closer to you, eyes sparkling with affection, the air tensing with pure sweetness.

"will you be mine?"

ੈ✩‧₊˚ masterlist

#—stellaronhvnters.#✧renwrites!#wriothesely x reader #wriothesley #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #wrio x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley fanfic

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ghostfacd · 11 months

Text

LUKEY BOY’S GONE SOFT! — LUKE HUGHES

based on this edit of mine

pairing; slytherin!luke x hufflepuff!fem!reader

summary; all the times luke’s friends and those around you have noticed your tall cold boyfriend being whipped for you and the one time you got to see it for yourself

genre; FLUFFY FLUFF!! luke being a sneaky whipped mf, hogwarts!au, mean to everybody but you trope, black cat!bf luke + golden retriever!gf reader

✸ SLYTHERIN!LUKE MASTERLIST

Everybody knew Luke Hughes, the scary, tall, and ridiculously good at Quidditch Slytherin who was absolutely whipped for you.

If anyone had asked, you were Luke’s favorite person in the whole world. There was no hesitance in that; they knew you loved him and they knew Luke loved you just as equally.

Now how did they know Luke was, according to his friends, “down bad” for you?

Exhibit A: That one time in Potions

Everybody knew Professor Snape was very picky on how he wanted each student’s potions to look like—and he had a very strict criteria.

Luke, aside from being a great seeker in Quidditch, was one of the best potion makers their year had known.

Each time Professor Snape would pass by, he would give a grunt of approval. The other students would get a “too yellow” “too bubbly” “too little bubbling” “too little color”

You weren’t the best at potions, in fact, you were merely passing in the class. It wasn’t your fault that Professor Snape was too nit picky—you could barely even let out a word before he would criticize practically everything about your potion!

Before you had started dating Luke, you struggled quite a lot in the class. But after he had finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he took a mental note to himself that he would help you in the class whenever he could.

One day when Professor Snape was in a particularly snappy mood, he ordered the class to make him a perfectly bubbling green potion. Luke, thankfully, was the best at these type of potions and made his in the first five minutes.

He noticed you with your partner, Annie Abraham, struggling to get the potion bubbling. With a shake of his head and a sigh, he quietly snuck over to you, making sure the grumpy professor was out of sight.

He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a small back hug. You quietly gasp, turning around to face your cheeky boyfriend.

“Hi,” you breathe out, “finished early with your potion?”

“I always do,” he replies, placing a kiss on your nose, “do you need help lovely?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in annoyance when you turn back to face your potion, “me and Annie have been trying to do everything we can to get it bubbling but nothing works Lukey!”

Annie tries to hold in her laugh at your nickname for your boyfriend. She knew Luke would give her a glare if he had saw, so she covered her mouth and just nodded along to your words.

“No worries lovely, let me help,”

When Luke is done, your potion looks exactly the way Professor Snape wanted it. Squealing happily, you give Luke a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug.

“Mr. Hughes, is there a reason why you’re at Miss. L/N’s and Miss. Abraham’s desk?” A dark voice says from behind the three of you, making you quickly break apart from the hug.

“They just asked me where one of the materials are, that’s all,” Luke replies back quickly, his eyes coming into contact with Professor Snape.

The two have a sort of silent eye contact contest with each other before Snape blinks, “very well, get back to your seat.”

Luke retreats back, giving you a small smile when he sees Professor Snape give you a 100 on your potion.

“Absolutely whipped,” Mark says. He was one of Luke’s close friends, who happens to be sitting across the room from the two of you.

“Tell me about it,” Luke’s other friend says, clicking his tongue. “Kinda jealous of her to be honest, wish Lukey was whipped for us.”

“Shut up!”

Exhibit B: your first official date as a couple

“Hi.” You say as you open the door to your dorm room. You’re dressed in a beautiful but simple baby blue dress that Luke’s eyes can’t help but light up at.

“Hi,” he breathes out nervously. “Ready to go?”

“With you? Always,”

Your flirting tone makes Luke look down at the grass, his cheeks turning pink. He can’t believe he’s now shy, compared to the confident tone he had when you first asked him out to Hogsmeade.

Tonight was different though. Tonight would be you two’s first night as an actual couple. Actually boyfriend and girlfriend.

“I.. I brought flowers,” Luke says, handing you a small bouquet of roses and baby’s breath, “I didn’t know if these were your favorites but I asked your friend and she said it was and I really hope she wasn’t lying to me—Jack actually teased me quite a bit when I was cutting off the thorns and got a small cut but it was worth it to see you smile. Am I talking too much? I don’t know but I really hope you like them, I don’t even know if I was supposed to get you flowers but all my friends told me I should.. I’m also new at this so forgive me—”

“Luke!” You say, placing your hand on his shoulder. He stops blabbering and looks into your eyes, the same ones that he fell inlove with when you insisted that you wanted to be his after his game against the Gryffindors. “It’s fine my love, I love it.”

You lean in to give him a kiss, one that he returns oh so happily.

“Shall we go my lady?” Luke raises his eyebrows jokingly.

“We shall,”

The two of you leave hand in hand, both filled with stupid smiles.

“Our Lukey boy is down bad in the dumps,” Mark whispers to Quinn, who nods right away.

The two were watching from their dorm window, admiring the inlove couple.

“He is—but he’s happy, and that’s all that matters.”

“Wow Quinny, I didn’t know you were soft like that.”

“Shut up Estapa! And don’t call me Quinny,”

Exhibit C: when you forgot to do your homework

“Oh no!” You say, rummaging through your bag. You had forgotten there was a packet due for your History of Magic class.

“What’s wrong baby?” Luke asks concerned. He watches your eyes flicker in panic when you don’t find your packet.

“The packet! I left it at my dorm,” you say, slumping against your seat in disappointment. “I’m gonna get so many points taken off Lu, this sucks.”

Luke nods in understanding, taking out his own packet he had finished the night before. He goes to erase his name, putting yours on instead.

“What are you doing Lukey?” You ask, watching him hand you the packet.

“Giving it to you, I’ll turn in yours late as mine, so you can get your full credits.”

You shake your head right away, pushing the packet back into Luke’s arms.

“Lu, I can’t do that. You worked hard to finish it, and it’s not your fault I forgot mine.”

“It’s okay baby,” he reassures you, handing you back the stack, “I already have a high score in this class, a few points cut won’t hurt my grade. I want you to take it.”

With a hesitant look in your eyes, you go to trim in the packet at your professor’s table.

“I feel bad Lu,” you say, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t be,” he pulls you closer to him, embracing you tightly.

Your two classmates who had overheard the conversation can’t help but admire in awe. They thought Luke was never capable of loving someone so much, his focus had been on Quidditch for the longest time. But when you came along, it had all changed.

Exhibit D: when a guy interrupted you far too many times

“So today, we had this really cool thing in my Herbology class!” You say excitedly to Luke as you settle yourself comfortably into his lap.

He nods along to your words, urging you to go on.

But before you can, a Gryffindor boy who was also in your class interrupts.

“It wasn’t that cool YN,” he scoffs, looking between you and Luke.

“Yes it was Brandon!” You look up to Luke, who’s clenching his jaw. “Anyway Lu—”

“Luke, did you hear that Slytherin’s going against Hufflepuff next week?”

Luke nods, eyes staring emotionless into Brandon’s, “of course I did. I’m the seeker.”

“Oh right, I forgot,”

“Mhm, Lu plays really well—!”

“Eh, Slytherin will surely win anyway,” Brandon gives you a small smirk, “Hufflepuffs are too weak and nice, aren’t they YN? You would know,”

This was Luke’s last straw, he decided. He carefully slid you out of his lap, standing up to now be in front of Brandon.

“Whoa man, what are you doing?” But before Brandon could say anything else, Luke punches him straight in the jaw, making the Gryffindor fall back, clutching his face.

“What the fuck man!” He yells.

“Lu!” You pull Luke back, eyes meeting his to make sure he calmed down. “Stop.”

“Yeah, stop you fucking psycho!” Brandon wipes his mouth, which now had some blood. “Control your fucking snake YN,”

“You wanna say that again?” Luke comes closer to Brandon, who quickly scurries off to his friends, cursing Luke in the process.

“What a jerk,” Luke scoffs, “disrespecting my girl and me like that.”

“It’s alright Lu,” you say, pulling him into your arms. “He’s not worth it.”

You hadn’t believed all your friends and his friends when they came to you saying you had Luke wrapped around your fingers until now.

You realized how lucky you were to have such a sweet boyfriend, one that cared deeply for you and would do anything to make you happy.

“Love you Lu,” you say when you two finally arrive back at your dorms.

“Mhm, love you too lovely,”

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luizd3ad · 1 month

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Happy Birthday? | Poly!Moonwaterkiller x Fem!Reader One Shot

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Regulus Black x Barty Crouch Jr x F!Reader WC: 3,163 CW: swearing, teasing type of relationship, mostly fluff, slight angst at the end, slight talks of Regulus’s childhood, no use of Y/N Author's Note: This ship is inspired by @ellecdc please send her love. She's so talented and is just straight up amazing. Also I'm still new to writing so I hope you like it and I'm sorry if it's not good/doesn't make sense.

Summary: It’s regulus birthday so you, Remus and Barty want to make it special but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

I made this ig mood board inspired by the guy idk ive never made one before

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“Bartemius Crouch junior! I swear to all that is holy in this world! If you stick your grubby hands in the frosting one more bloody time!”

“Oh come on Lupin! You can’t blame me, it's just so fucking good!"

Barty yelled, waving his hands around trying to defend himself.

You couldn't help but laugh at hearing two of your boyfriends’ bicker while you put the chicken you just got done seasoning into the oven to cook.

Admittedly it was quite entertaining and it helped distract you a bit from stressing over the cooking that still needed to be done and the small decorations that needed to be put up for today.

It was Regulus's birthday, so you and Remus had gotten Sirius to take Regulus out for the day so you and your partners could try and surprise him with a birthday dinner for just the four of you.

You couldn't help but stress seeing as he should be home sooner than later at this point, and you wanted everything to be as perfect as possible since Regulus wasn't completely comfortable with celebrating his birthday still.

He didn't find the idea of a party and things of that nature to be fun, he found it more stressful and anxiety inducing than anything. (due to his childhood)

So the three of you have always tried to do a little something to make it special for him and to show Regulus that you all love him but never anything too much as to avoid overwhelming or making him uncomfortable.

“Barty, my love, how about you go and set up the ‘Happy Birthday’ banner?”

“Anything for you angel.”

Barty says with a look that he reserved for only you.

It was love sick looks. The kind of look that could show the receiver every emotion the other person was feeling. It showed that you were loved by that person with their whole heart. The type of look that had both parties feeling vulnerable in the best way possible.

Even before you all had started dating, when you all were just friends in your earlier years at Hogwarts, he had always looked at you as if you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky.

He'd look at you as if you were the only good thing left in this world, and to him you were one of the only good things left in this world.

You and two other people that he held closer to his heart than he'd probably be willing to admit most days.

Though that didn’t mean Barty didn't love Remus and Regulus.

It also didn't mean it was a secret of how much Barty loved Remus and Regulus. In fact he loved them with all his heart. He expressed how much he loved them somewhat often in his own ways.

Especially since he could be known for his flair of the dramatics at times, he had expressed many times that he loved the three of you more than anything.

Not that anyone could deny, or question it. More like no one would dare to deny or question it.

Barty has expressed many times how he'd burn down cities, commit unspeakable acts and take on any unforgivable in a heartbeat for Regulus and Remus.

The love Barty held for them two was the kind of love that was teasing and could be chaotic in the best way.

The type of love that could only be described as a ‘I can pick on them but you can't pick on them because they're mine’ in the most loving way Barty could possibly manage. And may the gods help any poor soul that ever tried to mess with someone who he deemed as his.

But the love he had for you was a softer kind of love, it was sweet. The kind of love full of things like love sick looks, soft touches, sweet kisses and even sweeter words.

Along with the promises of burning down cities, committing unspeakable acts and taking on unforgivables’, who would expect anything less from Barty? But I digress.

“Yes please, piss off for fucks sake.”

Remus says in an exasperated tone waving Barty away. Barty then gasps dramatically and clenches his shirt as if he was clutching his ‘pearls’.

“You don't mean that, Remmy.” Barty all but whined.

“Plus you couldnt get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

Barty states sending a smirk and wink at Remus, which Remus just responds with by rolling his eyes and hitting Barty with a dish towel playfully to distract Barty from the light blush that's undoubtedly spread across Remus’s face, as to avoid being teased further by him.

“Barty’s right Rem. Even if we wanted to, we're stuck with him, unfortunately.”

You say with a sarcastic little sigh while trying to suppress a smile that threatened to form due to the two men playful arguing.

Barty then gasps dramatically once more and puts his hand over his heart as if you just stabbed him in the heart as Remus snicker at Bartys reaction and to your comment.

“Not you as well, angel. You should know that words hurt. You've wounded me, you've basically killed me.”

Barty then pretends to sob as you and Remus shake your heads with smiles on your faces due to his behavior.

“Gods you’ve been spending way too much damn time around Sirius.”

Remus says while rubbing his hands over his face trying to hide his smile. You chuckle and walk up to Barty and give him a hug giving him your best ‘I'm sorry’ look.

“I’m sorry Barty, I just couldn't help it. Remus has influenced me far too much.. Blame him.”

You say in fake sincerity with a small nod as you hear Remus huff at your comment.

Barty lets out a chuckle and hugs you back with a smile on his face looking down at you as he holds you.

“It's okay angel, I could never stay upset at you. Lupin on the other hand..”

Barty drags out the end of his sentence with a small smirk on his face as Remus scoffs dramatically at his lovers’ statements.

“Really love? It's my fault is it?”

Remus says with his head tilted to the side and eyebrow raised, as if daring you to continue saying that he should be the one to blame for your ‘cruel’ comment to Barty.

“Actually Lupin, I think it is your fault.” Barty stated apparently agreeing with you.

“And what has brought you to that conclusion Junior?”

Remus says as he walks toward the both of you with a small smirk on his face.

“My angel was just that, an angel. That was until you lot got your Gryffindor hands all over her.”

Barty says with a small shrug, feeling as if his point was valid and made sense. You supposed for Barty it did.

“Is that a fact?” Remus asked while getting closer to you and Barty.

“Yeah, Lupin it is actually.” Barty says, giving Remus a somewhat challenging look.

“You don't seem to complain when I have my Gryffindor hands all over you, Junior.”

Remus then winks at a now blushing and flustered Barty. You then cover your mouth trying to hide your own blush while also trying to suppress a giggle.

Barty tries to say some kind of come back and it just results in him stuttering.

“W-well I- Goddamnit! That’s not fair Lupin!”

“All's fair in love and war Junior.”

Remus says sending another wink at Barty and smirking at you while Barty stares at him with wide eyes in complete silence.

He had managed to make Barty Crouch Jr speechless.

That was actually one of the many things that Remus was good at, especially at the beginning when everything was still new and more unexpected.

When the four of you were in that space where you weren't officially dating but it was clear to you and everyone who'd been around your little group that you four had very strong feelings for each other.

It had taken Remus no time at all to get comfortable with having at least one of you flustered almost all the time, usually to the point of stuttering or speechlessness.

He loved seeing you three like that.

Especially Barty.

Barty wasn't someone you could easily make blush let alone actually fluster, especially with just words so whenever Remus would manage to make Barty speechless he felt like he won a reward.

Barty would never admit it but it was clear as day that Remus was good at making him a flustered stuttering mess.

And Barty hated it.

“Now love. I believe someone owes someone an apology for trying to place blame.”

Remus says, walking up to you now at arms length and giving you a pointed look now waiting for an apology.

While Barty mutters a ‘fucking hell’ under his breath and runs his hand through his hair as he walks towards the kitchen counter still mumbling quietly to himself.

“I'm sorry moony. Truly. Do you forgive me?” You say somewhat sincerely knowing Remus doesn't really care all that much.

“I could never stay mad at you, love.”

Remus says with a small smile he then cups your cheek and gives you a kiss on your forehead, you lean into Remus's kiss taking in the moment and enjoying the affection from your boyfriend.

When suddenly you and Remus feel a cold, grainy substance rain down on you, which you both quickly realize is flour once the shock wore off.

You then hear a familiar giggle, and turn to see none other than a proud looking Barty standing now several feet away, covered in white powder himself. He just stands there proud of himself as if he didn't just cover you both in flour.

As you stare at him wide eyed and mouth a gasp, he just gives you a cheeky little smile.

“You did not just do that Junior.”

“Oh but I think I did, Remmy. That's what you get for teasing and being mean to me.”

Barty then sends a little wink to you and a somewhat apologetic smile.

“Sorry angel. Collateral damage, you understand.”

Barty says with a small shrug and a tone that makes it seem like it's the most reasonable thing that he has ever done.

You simply nod with the most convincing smile you could possibly muster in that moment.

“Of course my love. I understand.”

You say walking near Barty and grabbing a bowl that's filled with whipped cream that you had made earlier. You then walk closer to Barty and with a smile on your face.

“And you'll understand when I do this.”

You say while grabbing a handful of whipped cream and throwing it at Barty just for him to duck in time ending with the cream hitting Remus in the face. You gasp and cover your mouth trying not to laugh as Barty busts out laughing.

“Oh shit Rem! I'm so sorry.”

You say trying hard and failing to suppress your laughter, while Remus wipes his eyes off with his hands.

“It's okay love. All’s forgiven. Just come and give me a kiss.”

“Ummm I would love to, honestly I would… After you clean your face, that is…”

You back away from a now smiling remus while he opens his arms for you and starts walking closer to you.

“No, now would be fine for me.”

Remus proceeds to walk closer to you as you start to back away towards Barty who's starting to calm down from his laughter.

“Why not kiss Barty?! This is all because of him anyway!”

Barty then gasps.

“Angel! I can't believe you'd throw me under the bus like that… Is it bad that I liked it?”

Barty asks the last part more to himself than to anyone else. He was so caught up in his thoughts for a second that he didn't notice you now using him as a human shield, that was until he felt a clump of whipping cream on his head and looked to see a smirking Remus.

“Oh. This means war.”

All of a sudden it was every person for themselves. The kitchen was now a war zone. Flour, whipped cream, sugar, powdered sugar, fruits and berries were being thrown all over the place. It was pure chaos.

The Three you were making a mess out of the kitchen and even bigger messes of yourselves.

Next thing you, you’ve been thrown over Remus’s shoulder while Barty is chasing Remus around the kitchen.

There’s so much going on, so much laughing and screaming that no one heard the door open. Which meant no one heard Regulus make his way to the kitchen, and so no one noticed him standing in the doorway till you heard him speak.

“I leave you alone for a few hours and suddenly the kitchen explodes?”

Regulus in all his stoic glory just stood there not even looking a little surprised.

All three of you stopped running around, suddenly feeling like kids who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Then all three of you look at eachother then at Regulus.

“Happy Birthday?” You, Remus and Barty said accidentally making it sound more like a question than in an enthusiastic way.

Regulus just points at the oven says.

“The ovens smoking.”

“Oh shit! The chicken!”

You yell as Remus puts you down and he rushes to the oven to take out the now burnt chicken as smoke fills the kitchen.

“Sooo… Chinese?” Said a very uncertain Barty

After opening some windows, having the Chinese food delivered, a few showers and quite a few cleaning spells the four of you ended up on the couch with a movie on not many words being exchanged.

After the movie was finished and the food had all been mostly finished Remus had brought out the cake that he managed to finish decorating while waiting for the food to arrive.

The three of you had sung (or in Bartys case basically screamed) Happy birthday to Regulus while he sat there with a ghost of a smile on his face. After another hour or so the four of you found yourselves in your shared bed.

You couldn't help but feel guilty since Regulus hadn't really expressed any emotion which wasn’t necessarily not normal about his birthday. You felt like maybe you had upset him in some way, maybe you over stepped or maybe he was irritated due to the mess you Remus and Barty made.

You were spiraling.

Till you heard a whisper.

“Thank you..”

It was quiet for a few seconds, you supposed no one really knew what to say.

“For what Black? I feel like we kinda ruined your birthday.” Said a almost half asleep Barty

“It wasn't ruined Junior! It just didn't go.. as planned..'' defend Remus who laid on the other side of you.

You and Regulus laid in the middle of Barty and Remus.

“Would the two of you stop bickering for just a moment please?” You say with a small shake of your head and a small chuckle.

The next second there's a small choir of ‘Sorry angel’ and ‘Sorry love’.

“What are you thanking us for, Reggie?”

You say pushing some of his black curly hair behind his ear looking at him softly, though he probably couldn't tell since it was dark in the room.

The only light coming through the window from the half moon.

“For today.. I know it didn't go how any of you planned or would have wanted it to go, but still. It was nice. I spent most of the day with my brother though he can be insufferable, loud and dramatic most of the time, it was still nice. And then to come home to the three people who mean everything to me laughing and having fun... That was the best part. I know I'm not the easiest when it comes to celebrating my birthday but, your three and Sirius have been the only people who have ever actually cared for my birthday. You've never treated it like how my parents did. Never used it as an excuse to have a big party full of people I didn't know or care about just so it seemed like we were better then them or make it seem like we were the perfect family, even though it was evident that we weren't. You've always made it about me and always respected what I'm comfortable with and well I appreciate that. So.. Thank you.. I love you.. All three of you..”

“We love you too Reg.” You say quietly, giving Regulus a soft kiss.

“Awwww did Regulus Black just say he loves me.” Barty practically squealed.

Barty then pulls Regulus into him so Regulus’s back is to Barty's front and then proceeds to messily kiss Regulus all over the side of his face while Regulus tries and fails to get away from him.

Remus then starts to laugh harder than you had seen in a while, almost falling off the bed as he hears the bickering between the two (mostly on Regulus' part) and sees the shadows of a struggling Regulus and a very determined Barty.

You can't help but start to laugh almost as hard as Remus as you try and get the words out to have Barty let go of poor Regulus.

The night continues for only a few more moments it's filled with more laughing and eventually sleepy good night kisses and I love yous.

To say the four of you had an interesting relationship would be an understatement. It could be messy and chaotic, it could be a fucking headache sometimes.

But there was love. There was always love.

There were mornings where the four of you would wake up and just lay in bed happier than any of you thought you could ever be.

There were tender kisses and loving touches.

Dreams and promisses of the future.

There were smiles and laughing fits that would fuel you for the days when you felt like you couldn't even get out of bed.

Admittedly, it was a lot most of the time.

There were screaming matches and arguing at its worst times but at its best times it was you and three people that you couldn't see your life without. Three people that made life easier most of the time. People who could make you laugh till you cried and that would hold you while you cried and fall apart.

This was a life that none of you ever thought you'd have the opportunity to have, and ever so often one of you would feel like you didn't deserve the life you had.

This was the kind of life that probably wouldn’t exist for you guys in different universes. But here, in this universe? This is the life you have and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

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