#for the other tournament it's mostly a matter of trying to figure out how to make things work on my schedule

[ultimatepokemontournament]

Can you reblog your posts from the other sideblogs more often. I didn't realize until too late that they were a thing :( I don't want to miss it for future other polls going forward!

I can try to! I'm not too terribly good at promoting things ahaha, so I just reblogged some of the polls weekly at the beginning and then nothing after a while since I did hold it on a different blog for a reason! (Though I left it in the pinned post!) I'm a little worried about spamming people

Maybe what I can do is provide status updates for all of the related tournaments at the end of the Monday post going forward? Since I do week-long polls, none of these tournaments move particularly fast, so that might work?

FWIW, the only other spin-off tournament I have so far is the Unown one! (@ultimateunowntournament) (And I am thinking about running polls to find the 2nd place winner as well if people are interested!) And for the future I only have plans for two more--the underdog tournament, which I plan to actually be more like a long series of smaller tournaments with Pokemon winning in multiple categories, and another one I haven't talked about yet!

[geraldmariaivo]

404 Pulse Not Found

Hopefully this version won’t make y’all feel like you’re having a stroke when you read it.

Jon was worried about Damian. Namely because his friend’s heart..shouldn’t really be doing that. Granted, it hadn’t suddenly started weird stuff during their sleepover today. No, for as long as Jon had known Damian, his friend’s heart had a tendency to slow down really, really slow, to the point where anyone could be forgiven for thinking that it forgot how to pump blood. It wasn’t super worrying at first either, because as far as Jon was concerned, it helped him find Damian, because it was different from everyone else’s heartbeat, which was great! Or, it was great until he double-checked that human hearts aren’t supposed to slow down this much, let alone so randomly, and that it meant something is definitely, probably lethally, wrong.

But his dad didn’t mention it even though he definitely heard it, which meant that Bruce knew about it. Which meant that it wasn’t anything to worry about, and it would probably be rude to ask about something personal like that if it was already being handled.

And then the humming started, and Jon was worried again. It started only a month or two ago, and it was....eerie? Pretty? Both, if he was honest. But now the humming was there, and the only time he could actually hear it was when Damian’s heart stopped. Not slowed down, just full-on stops for probably way too long. If he had to guess, the sound of the heartbeat didn’t block it out because Jon couldn’t hear it between beats, but it only started up when his heart wasn’t doing anything. Which is kinda weird, because if it was a pacemaker or something, he’d expect it to sound like most other pacemakers and organ replacements he’d heard when they were on.

Here he was, worrying about his best friend while playing Mario Kart in the manor with him, while his heart hadn’t had a single beat for almost a minute and a half now, and the buzzing was in full swing. It kept like that, on and off, for the rest of the tournament, and honestly, Jon wanted to know what was going on. He also knew that Damian wouldn’t tell him about whatever medical condition this is, no matter how much he asked, pleaded, or begged.

So, he figured, he might as well try the Big Bat himself. Was it possibly very rude to go behind his friend’s back to get this information? Yes. Was it likely that he would only be told stuff he already knew? Yes. Would it soothe his nerves slightly to be told that they’re handling whatever this is? Also yes. So, he got up, and told Damian that there’s something he wanted to ask Bruce.

Bruce wasn’t hard to find, he was in his favorite study, and in a blink, Jon was politely knocking on the door. He really wanted to barge in and know right now, but his mom and dad taught him better than that.

“Come in.”

Jon opened the door, and was suddenly much more nervous. As he stepped in, Bruce turned to him. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wayne, but, um...” God, why did his brain have to empty itself of any social skill right now? He closed the door, mostly to have something, anything, to do, but also because it probably wouldn't be a good idea to have this conversation with the door open.

“It’s alright if you need to gather your thoughts; Take your time with it.”

He really couldn’t, because if he stood here just trying to figure out how to say this in a polite way he’d be standing here all day, and probably most of tomorrow. It did, however, take a few seconds to figure out how to ask it bluntly. “Why does Damian’s heart keep stopping?”

Bruce froze. This probably wouldn’t have scared him as much as did right now if it wasn’t for two things: 1) Batman was the one who usually stayed statue-still, not Bruce, and 2) Bruce freezing like that didn’t really make sense because that’s something he would expect Jon to be able to detect, especially if there’s some kind of electronic implant involved, and he would usually be able to answer immediately.

When the man finally moved again, it was only because his brow furrowed. “Damian’s last full medical examination was three weeks ago, and his vitals were well within normal range.” 

Now Jon was confused. “I’m pretty sure human hearts are supposed to do sixty to a hundred beats a minute, not like five seconds per beat off and on, or just stopping for a whole minute. But it’s been going on since I first met him, so it seems normal for him. It’s been happening more often, and I kind of want to know what’s going on. I know he wouldn’t tell me, so I figured I should ask you what’s going on.”


Bruce frowned slightly, and he seemed concerned, maybe. It was hard for Jon to tell what he actually felt, but he was pretty sure Bruce was extremely concerned. This assumption was backed by the man’s heart-rate skyrocketing. (Jon did not know that Bruce was internally screaming for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that he knew a perceived flaw or failing like a serious medical condition is something that Damian would be either too prideful, or too afraid to admit to having.)

“Thank you for telling me. I was not aware that Damian was having heart problems. You said it was for- Jon?”

Bruce didn’t know? He didn’t- oh god so that wasn’t a- “It’s not a pacemaker or artificial organ or something???”  Bruce’s brows drew closer together, now visibly confused and concerned. “To my knowledge, there’s no medical equipment in his chest. Did you hear a pacemaker?”  “N-! No. That’s one of the things I wanted to ask you about. I thought it might be some cutting-edge medical tech because it doesn’t sound like any replacement or assistance machine I’ve heard.” Oh god, Bruce is probably so mad at him for not telling him something was wrong with Damian sooner. Fuck. Okay, how to calm down a probably-angry Batman? 

Uh....information! Isn’t information like those really fancy pet treats to the bats and birds? Okay, information. What information does he start with? He already said Damian’s heart had been doing this for as long as Jon had known him, a-wait. He hadn’t said what he was hearing that he thought was a machine, he should start there. “There’s a humming that starts whenever his heart stops beating. It usually takes a second or two, but when it does, it’s a pretty sure sign that it’s not going to start for another six-ish seconds or so at least. It stops just before his heart starts beating again. The longest his heart stopped was close to two minutes, but it doesn’t stop often or, I guess it does, but it’s not like an hourly thing.

“It happens kind of all over the place. I’ve never heard it stop when he’s already injured, and I think it happens less often when he’s tired, but when he’s asleep his heart definitely slows way down.” He briefly fidgeted with his hands. Why does remembering stuff have to be so hard when he actually has to tell someone?!? “And, um, he acts like nothing is happening, which is why I thought you guys already knew and were handling it. Not- not that it’s your fault that I didn’t say anything! I still should’ve told you about this sooner, and-”

Bruce held up a hand, and Jon snapped his mouth shut so fast the clack of teeth was audible. The man didn’t seem angry as much as he was tired. Which was fair. Learning that your son’s heart stops on a regular basis would make anyone feel tired. Or at least that seemed like the kind of thing that made parents tired, other than work.

“Jon,” he said, “It’s okay. I appreciate that you came to me with this, and you aren’t in trouble. I will be talking with Damian about keeping important things like this secret, but I’m not angry.” (He was extremely frustrated and immeasurably worried, but not angry.)

Jon still didn’t stop fidgeting -he wasn’t really sure when he’d started- but he was slightly less nervous. He really hoped that Damian would still want to be friends with him after getting him in trouble like this, even if Jon hadn’t thought it would.  Bruce sat up, and Jon quickly left the room so Bruce could actually, you know, get through the door. Because Jon had been awkwardly standing in the doorway the whole time. Maybe he should pay more attention to how his dad treats conversations like this next time some Stern Adult Thing comes up.  It took about a million anxious thoughts and probably a few minutes on their way to talk to Damian about his apparent heart issues for them to run into one of Damian’s....brothers? His brothers’ friend? Jon couldn’t really remember. Didn’t his name start with a D? Or maybe it was an E? Euchre? Wait, no, that’s a card game. Oh no, he and Bruce were talking, he should really pay attention.

“-eah, we’ve met.” The person-of-unknown-relation-to-Damian rubbed his neck a bit sheepishly. “I can’t remember your name, though. Sorry.”

Jon relaxed a little. “It’s okay, I forgot your name, too. I’m Jon.”

“Duke,” he responded, before turning back to the oldest of the group. “Did Damian hide a kitten in the manor again? Or was it a bearded dragon or something this time?”  Bruce sighed. “Evidently he’s been hiding a serious medical condition from us.”

“Oh. Does this have to do with why he looks like he’s made of glowstick goop sometimes?”

What?

“He What-”

[shitpostingkats]

Hasajkldska @soul-matter hope you don't mind if I make this it's own post because your question made me realized I have never coherently explained my groupchat au

The yugioh groupchat au is the bucket where I throw all my headcanons and imaginary oneshots involving the yugioh protags. The basics of the au are that all the yugioh protagonists are in a discord server together, ad have the special kind of ride-or-die friendship found between long distance internet friends who have met in person maybe twice if they're lucky. Yugi started the gc (he's the moderator) with Jaden and Yusei after the events of Bonds Beyond Time (for the sake of this au, the gaps between series is getting squished so there's no time travel involved), as a way to keep in touch. Now, whenever they find another kid with trauma, a knack for cardgames, and frightening knowledge of the cosmos, they shoot 'em an invite. I went into a little more detail here

Other fun facts about this au:

It has an entire expanded lore and cosmology because I can't help myself. The bois have an entire channel dedicated to trying to figure out how it works. It's mostly just a record of wild things Jaden has said offhand and then refused to elaborate on.

Part of the reason they never see each other outside of international tournaments is that only Yugi and Jaden actually live in the states (and with Jaden, he spends half his time traveling or in the dark world so who knows where that boy is at any given time). Yusei and Yusaku (and probably the sevens and go rush kids, haven't decided yet) are in Japan, Yuya is in Mexico, and Yuma is in the Philippines.

Occasionally, Astral will pop in while he's visiting Yuma, but he's notorious for not remembering to log out of Yuma's accounts, leaving everyone to wonder if the person in the gc at 2am asking "do pigeons have feelings?" is an alien, or just a very sleep deprived Yuma.

Jaden and Yuya like to pester Yusaku to write them a plugin that enables keyboard support for the Eldritch Language Of The Damned that they both are fluent in.

Yusaku refuses to do this.

[valleydean]

Chapter 10 [Read Here]

HEAVYWEIGHT a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from beginning | playlist | ko-fi

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1927. The Golden Age of Boxing. Two years ago, light heavyweight champion Dean Winchester and heavyweight champion Castiel Novak had a secret affair. After a scandal tarnished Cas’ name and stripped him of his title, the two parted ways. Now, with a heavyweight tournament on the horizon, Dean aims to up his weight class so he can compete for the title. He finds unexpected competition when Cas comes out of retirement and returns to New York to fix his reputation. Upon their reunion, the two contenders learn that, outside of the ring, some bruises never really heal.

PREVIEW:

Castiel rolled his fists, one over the other, against the speed bag. It swung back and forth in a blur of motion, producing a constant, rhythmic thumping and rattling as the chain pinning it to the wall vibrated and swiveled. Burning heat was creeping into his shoulders, and his wrapped hands were beginning to grow weary and loose from holding a fist for so long. It was getting harder to keep his wrists steady.

After a full day of training, he was tired. Every time he thought they were done, Raphael came up with something else for Castiel to execute. Endurance training, he called it. Castiel was fairly certain he’d endured enough.

Besides, it was late. Night was encroaching beneath the gym’s front door. All the other recruits had gone home hours ago. And Castiel had somewhere important to be.

His eyes flashed to the clock in the corner of the room. Dean’s bout had started fifteen minutes ago. The sweat on Castiel’s brow was partly from exertion, but mostly from anxiety at being so late. His stomach was in knots, and he was sure he’d become nauseous if he thought too much about the look on Dean’s face if Castiel didn’t make it.

He kept negotiating with the clock, first telling himself that if he left at a certain time, he’d be able to shower, dress, and make it to Madison Square Garden in time for the last two rounds. Now, he bargained for enough time to make it for the final bell and the judges’ decision. It was possible—so long as he took a taxi and there wasn’t too much traffic, and if a win by knockout didn’t occur early, and if he left in the next five minutes.

He’d smell, and he’d be dressed in the wrinkled slacks and sweater he had in the locker room, but he’d be there to celebrate with Dean when he won or comfort him if he lost.

He’d be there. That’s all that would matter to Dean.

Raphael seemed intent on derailing Castiel’s best laid plans. He said, “Single arm, left.”

Castiel lowered his right arm, keeping it in guard, while he continued to beat his left hand against the speed bag. While it was a slight reprieve to his dominant side, his left shoulder was ablaze, and he could feel himself getting slower.

“Faster,” Raphael instructed. Castiel knew it was useless to argue.

“How’s it coming along?” Michael’s voice sounded as he materialized behind Raphael. Castiel hadn’t even seen him come out of his office. Raphael turned, giving his attention to Michael, and Castiel figured it was a good opportunity to rest. He dropped his arms. The speed bag continued to vacillate rapidly back and forth before incrementally slowing to a stop.

“His reaction time could be faster,” Raphael said.

Irritation filled Castiel. He rubbed his left shoulder and shook out his arms, trying to soothe them. “I’m tired,” he bit out.

“Excuses,” Raphael answered, and Castiel rolled his eyes vehemently. He didn’t have time for this. “If you continue with this attitude, you’ll never make it to the finals.”

Castiel wanted to say that, if he didn’t rest, he’d be too exhausted to compete at all.

Michael got there first, and he was much more refined about it. “I’m certain you’ve prepared him well, Raphael. That’s enough for today. He should give his muscles time to heal prior to the fight.”

Castiel shot Raphael a sharp, closed-mouth smile, feeling vindicated.

“Besides,” Michael said, already walking backward, “we have nothing to worry about. Castiel’s a shoe-in for the finals.”

All sense of reprieve and relief Castiel felt suddenly dropped away. It took any thought or concern of missing Dean’s fight with it. Suddenly, nothing mattered so much as the easy confidence of Michael’s words. The surety of them.

He watched Michael turn around and head for his office.

Castiel pulled his hands back into fists, a renewed vigor overcoming him. The searing of sore muscles transformed into a wildfire through his veins.

“Fine, then I suppose we’ll call it a night,” Raphael said. Castiel didn’t acknowledge him. He marched after Michael, anger driving him.

It was time to end this. He wouldn’t step in the ring and be a pawn for Michael or Crowley again.

Behind him, he was only faintly aware of Raphael calling his name. Castiel didn’t stop, too worried he’d lose his nerve if he allowed himself to pause. Already, doubts were edging into the sides of his mind, telling him that it was better to remain ignorant. To let Michael do as he will, and Castiel would regain his title belt without ever having to know the truth for certain.

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he allowed that—and he wouldn’t be able to convince Dean of his innocence on the matter either.

He had to know, even if he lost everything because of it.

/////

TAGGED: @lovercas @donestiel @wanderingcas @wayward-angels-club @thetiredstuff @skella-bro @casthegrumpy @celestialcastiel @bluefirecas @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @that-one-fandom-chick @haru-park96 @alejandriaiqq @no-aesthetic-all-aethetic @amirosebooks @epple-benene @agus-likes @the-ship-haz-sailed @justkissalreadyforfucksake @madimoo31 @an-angel-in-love-with-a-hunter @gracelesstars @bazghetti @wayward-waffles @theojaxons @jenmishrob @all-or-nothing-baby @auttownblue @leftistdean @sargafust @wannabe-loser @jessalrynn @splicedthoughts @castielss @that-dumbass-on-a-horse @passionfruixts @fabreagab @princesswinchester100 @superduckbatrebel @hopefuldreamers-world@theangelwiththewormstache @casandeans @mylovelydame21 @confusedisaster @superduckbatrebel @destielwentcanonomg @highest-brightness @i-put-the-ayyy-in-asexual @darkacademiagay @imthedoctorlove @freckledean @youcanteverknowenough @chicken-kebabs @myguardianangelisatrickster @hotactiongirlcoded @wingsandimpalas @casandhumanity @tploz @dontsgotalifee389 @on-a-bender @castiel-mybeloved @siriusseverusdeservedbetter @doctorprofessorsong @castielshotgirlsummer @toomuchheartcas @paintdriesfaster @lesbiancowboyy @angelinthefire @transdeantruther @fluffy-alpacaness @rogue-cas-whore @winchester-derangement-syndrome @lizzybennettdarcy @kineticpassion @i-love-books-and-so-do-you @dascean @llamasdumpsterfire @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff @im-some-lionheart @charlie-bradburi @bunnymcbunnister @gothanna @afeelingsosweet @sinnabonka @artsymoth @cassandrablah @sweetpeaalena @goiwantamuffin @rauko-is-a-free-elf @jessalrynn @ungcl @highwarlockofinnsbruck @deancaskiss @caddy-coo @bloodydeanwinchester @hannibalsthembo @proudpigeon @butterscotchdean @this-is-me19 @layofcastiel @claire-drinks-lovely-lemonade @harleycao @jgvfhl @thembo-cowboy @aussie-twat @slit-wrist @ilikemanythingsespeciallyyou

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in chapters or if you’d like to be taken off the list.

[ben-talks-art]

Why I like Adam

"It's alright... Don't cry... Your dad is here to protect you!"

I don't really know what other word I can use to describe it but to me, "Records of Ragnarok" is a manga with probably the biggest "Chad" energy that I have ever seen.

This ridiculous premise of a bunch of popular male historical figures banding together to fight against the gods of several different cultures in a tournament where the fate of humanity is at stake as they get paired up with the valkyries to unleash a hidden power that represents their personalities manifested as a super powerful weapon is so freaking stupid but at the same time so freaking awesome that I can't help but love it!

The fights themselves vary in quality depending on who is fighting who and how much you care about the backstory of the competitors, and for me, no fight has gotten me more invested than Adam's fight.

(spoilers for Records of Ragnarok)

When I talked about Makima I mentioned that one of the character traits I tend to hate the most is entitlement and I mostly prefer it when it's used on villains to show how bad of a trait it is.

Meanwhile, one of my favorite character traits is by far "confidence."

Confidence is, I feel, one of the most attractive, appealing, inspiring, and overall just enjoyable quality that you can give any character. You can be doing the most mundane of things like, walking your dog, doing grocery, paying your bills, or whatever... But when you do it while exhibiting a lot of confidence it instantly makes you look 10 times more badass somehow. It's why so many people love Escanor. A character that shows confidence just makes you believe that they're born to lead, that they'll keep you safe, and makes you want to follow them no matter where they go.

And like I said, Records of Ragnarok just radiates a ton of that "Chadly" confident energy. Every character goes into a fight fully believing that they're going to win, constantly smiling, laughing, relaxed, and just having a ton of fun with their fights, even though it's their lives and the lives of every human on the planet hanging on the balance as they face off absurd monsters like Hercules, Thor, and Belzebub.

Of course, the biggest Chad of all these Chads ends up being Adam, who's facing none other than Zeus himself with nothing but a knuckle duster.

Just from a visual standpoint, this setup alone would already be amazing. The father of the greek gods versus a skinny man using nothing but his fists to fight. These are such absurdly ridiculous odds that you can't help but want to root for our apple-eating underdog.

But the actual true core of what makes me like Adam so much is the why. Confidence is only effective when it feels earned, when you have a good motivation behind it. Why is he doing all that, why is he fighting these crazy odds, why is he risking his life, and why is he still so calm while doing it??

Because he wants to protect his family... And that's it.

That's his entire motivation, and if you saw my Rachel post, you know I love it when a character's motivation is reflected in their actions. It's such a straightforward reason but he goes to such lengths for it. Kinda reminds me of Denji from Chainsawman. Yeah, his motivation is simple but he's trying so hard for it that you just start rooting for him, because you see how much it means to the guy.

Even while Adam's getting the hell beaten out of him, slowly going blind, and painting the ground in red with his blood, the only thing on his mind is whether or not his wife and kids will be safe, and he does it all with such a relaxed set of eyes.

The way Adam's eyes are drawn is simply perfect as they show there is no hesitation or doubt in his heart. Yeah, he's fighting freaking Zeus, the god of lightning and one of the most powerful things on the universe but... He has a family to protect, man.

Adam just awakens a very primitive and animalistic feeling of "fight for what you believe" in me, because I really get behind what he's trying to achieve as I feel how passionate he is about it and get really inspired by how hard he's trying to reach it.

He's a man with a simple goal, but also a man that's giving 150% of himself to achieve said goal, and it's a goal anyone can relate to.

Very basic but still very noble and very awesome!

Favorite character list>>

[runewriter-norko]

,,Hmm.. Who should I play.. Why yes, a troll. I like trolls. Better keep it simple though...."

Me, creating a new DnD character for an upcoming campaign:

,,Heh. How funny would that be if I played as a troll warrior who wears a stereotypical - and quite frankly inauthentical - horned viking helmet except the horns aren't actually on the helmet but growing from his head? Ha haa, brilliant.. And I'll also make him a mere peasant who worked the fields until.. until.... That's it! Until the simple, small settlement he'll have lived in by that point will receive an invitation to the knight tournament where all the PCs are meant to meet. And he will be elected as the best candidate because there are no capable warriors by trade in the village. So all of the inhabitants put every 'noble-looking' piece of armoury and such together and-"

Me - an amateur historian, anthropologist and linguist - creating JUST the said DnD character AND NOTHING ELSE for the upcoming campaign:

,,So his name will be Grœnbjǫrn Erðason - which should simply mean 'Green-bear son of Œrði in Old Norse - or just 'Grenn' for my co-players, the DM and so for some other characters. But he'll be specifically told by the village's elders, the brothers Hárolfr and Hrœhyrn, to use the more noble name of 'Roþgeirr Rauðareiðr Rauðaskjaldarson' they made up for him since Rauðaskjǫldr is a famous hero of Northwest or 'Norðvestrœnn' lands known even in their little town of Sauðsskítstaðr. That reminds me.. Do I have the names of the people who lent Grenn their heirlooms?"

Me - an amateur historian, anthropologist and linguist PERFECTIONIST - creating JUST the said DnD character AND NOTHING ELSE for the upcoming campaign:

,,Let's see....

So we have the great axe of Knustafr Ulvarsson - who had fought side by side with Rauðaskjǫldr, yes - with a runic inscription that confirms the past ownership that Grenn receives from Hrœhyrn - Knustafr's son - as his main weapon (check), a silvery shining sax covered in sea motifs from the wide, ginger and freckled fisherman with just as wide, ginger and feckled family, Jǫrm Jǫrmsson (check), a case for the fishy knife decorated with golden scenes of wild hog hunts from the twins Svenn and Svína whose father - the boars-befriending Svínabani, disgrace of his swines-slaying family - had been gutted by one in his naive attempt of reckless pacifism (check), a big sword sheet covered in crude images of exotic and highly stylised horned figures from Dreiða or 'Trütta', a robust troll originally foreign to the village and girlfriend of the smaller but still strong Bróga who's the one to lend the nigh ancient shortsword that her father Øski received through his marriage to.. to.. Hm.

Eh, this is more than enough for now. From Bróga shall too be the iron helm modified by the smithy Ægnir (triple check). His round, red shield then would be the work of the whole Sauðsskítstaðr as everyone would try to help out with the recreation of Rauðaskjǫldr's legendary namegiver - and especially the children (check) - his ornamented clothes will be mostly bought or fresh sawn (check), and the chainmail.. together with many other trinkets it would be from Hoddr 'Samnandi' - the Collector' (check). Wellp.. Guess, I'm all set now.

Wait.

What if Grenn.. had a wife.."

Me - an amateur historian, anthropologist and linguist PERFECTIONIST - creating JUST the said DnD character AND NOTHING ELSE for the upcoming campaign - a masochist:

,,HOW THE BLOODY HELL DOES THE BYZANTINE GREEK NAMING SYSTEM FOCKEN WORK!? HRNNNNN, ok, ok, there we go, it's just a simple matter of family names and patronymic names acompanied by occasional nicknames, everything's fine. So the proper name of Grenn's second wife therefore is Eugenía (Εὐγενῐ́ᾱ) Prasinoarktos (Πράσῐνοᾰρκτος) born Hierologína (Ίερολογίνα) but the folks will still call her either Augéni (as a sort of adaptation of her original given name into their language) or 'Valfríðr' in the sense of 'Foreign beauty' but Grenn's first wife Særsýn does try to call her Eugenía as to make her feel more at home because SHE is the one who persuaded her into staying after she escaped from the norse pirates - being almost sold into slavery - and somehow got to Sauðsskístaðr where they (Grenn and Sær) took her under their wings. And aye, there is a lot of sparks and chemistry between the two of them even though Eugenía is an actual human while Sær is a notably tall troll with long, luscious locks of pure gingerness, face covered with freckles and YES SHE'S PART OF THE JǪRMKYN FAMILY. Because those bastards - AND ESPECIALLY THE FIRSTBORN JǪRMS (except maybe for Jǫrm son of Jǫrm Feiti and we'll see about his own son Jǫrm Gulli) - breed like damn rabbits. No wonder they practically own the docks! But aye, Grenn was quite lucky - the way his peers see it at least - that Œrði was one of Fat Jǫrm's best mates otherwise he'd promise Sær to someone completely different. AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON-

A campaign? What focken campaign?"

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter thirty-nine // death eater ! tom hiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary:  While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

word count for this chapter: 5.6k warnings for this chapter: blow jobs, dom talk, masturbation

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Thirty-Nine:

Thomus is in the kitchen when I go down the next morning. I really force myself not to turn around and head back upstairs at the sight. It had been a ridiculously rough morning and I’m not in the mood to argue with him. (About what? I don’t know but I’m sure something will come up.)

When I’d woken up, I’d quickly realized why I was being tormented by cramps. Since I no longer have my IUD preventing me from having them, my body is forcing me to catch up on all the periods I’d missed since I was 18. Of course, now that I’d figured out what the problem was, I quickly called for Mippy. She’s my knight in shining armor, returning with a contraceptive potion to make it stop. By the time I was out of the shower, the bleeding had stopped altogether.

I guess this is how it’ll be for the rest of my life. Even though my fallopian tubes are damaged, my uterus will still try to shed the lining every month. I’d opted for the muggle option for contraception because I’d never been good at taking things regularly. One summer I’d made a big deal about wanting acne pills, but totally didn’t take them when I was at school. I simply didn’t trust myself to take a pill every day, or a potion once a month for that matter.

The IUD especially came in handy when coming here. I never knew where I’d end up or what could happen, even when things were starting to take a turn for the worse for No-Maj borns. My position at the Daily Prophet wasn’t secure after they’d found out my parentage. I couldn’t hide it when anyone could summon articles about a No-Maj born child winning the Wandless Magic Tournament.

Not saying anything to Thomus, I go about making myself a cup of coffee. A large one with copious amounts of cream and sugar. I’d kill for some mocha creamer at a time like this.

I don’t bother sitting at the table with him. Mostly I stare off into space, working on my Occlumency. Shoving back and burying recent painful memories since I’d had my magic taken away. Similar to Thomus’ lock box method, but a cemetery. The emotions are buried, but the facts remain etched into a headstone or a plaque, dependent on severity. My one night stand with Thomus is a mausoleum, every little physical intimate interaction, every kiss we’ve had resides there. It's pretty morbid, I know, but it’s how I’ve learned to live with the pain.

Sam is a different story. My memories with her are in a cute little library that looks like her favorite one. A decommissioned caboose that sat on the edge of a park in a surrounding township where we went to college. I remember how she’d lost her mind the day we found it –

“Alder, did you hear anything I just said?”

Shit fuck. I blink and look at Thomus to find him staring at me, an eyebrow raised. The kettle starts to whistle and I jump into action.

“Of course I heard you,” I lie. The fresh coffee smell fills the room again and I pour the cream in. I’d already spooned out sugar into the bottom of the mug beforehand.

“Then what did I say?” he asks.

My backs to him as I stir my coffee, taking a testing sip to see if I’d wrangled the coffee taste enough. “Mmm, something about tonight.” Satisfied, I start putting everything away. “A time maybe?”

He gives me an extremely unamused look. “Yes,” he snaps. “7 o’clock is when I want to leave.”

Picking up my coffee, I take another sip. “Sure, I’ll see if I have room in my schedule. It’s a little last notice, so I’m warning you now that I might not be able to fit it in.”

Before he can argue, Sam, meowing his head off, bolts into the room through the cat door. He charges through the kitchen straight to the living room, then comes back and starts circling my legs. I immediately put down my coffee and swoop him up into my arms.

“Hello!” I say, nuzzling his face.

“That beast’s still around I see,” Thomus grumbles.

I sigh and resist tossing a glare his way. “Well, I’ll just take him outside so you can sit here all alone.”

I’m dressed enough in my shorts and hoodie, so I march outside without my shoes.

Sam’s meows quieted the moment we’re through the door. “Wait till we’re by the creek,” I whisper to him.

I probably didn’t even need to say anything like that, because as soon as we’re out of eyesight into the woods, he’s out of my arms and running ahead of me. Quickening my pace as much as going barefoot will allow, I follow him to the creek. When I get there, I barely catch his white fur disappearing on the other side of the creek, the rustling of leaves in his wake.

After a few moments of anxious waiting, his blond head pops up out of the foliage. His arm is up, pointing his wand at something above him. My eyes scan the trees above, but see nothing. He crosses the bubbling water and I almost think his worn out converse won’t make it across the slippery rocks, but soon he’s standing before me.

Sam’s blue eyes are almost perfect circles as he stares at me. I can see white scar marks, remnants of magical wounds down the side of his face. They stand out in the dark scruff coming in along his jaw.

I don’t have time to comment on his new worn-torn look, because he takes a few steps back, bringing his wand arm down until his wand is pointing at me. His free hand comes out, taking a fist of something invisible in between us. I blink rapidly as my eyes take in the recognizable movement of magical fabric. He pulls it back to reveal George Weasley’s sleeping face, floating between us. My jaw drops and my eyes widen in shock.

Sam’s words come out in between labored breaths. “We were tryin’ to move a couple families out beyond the Anti-Apparition line, but he got hit with an acid curse as we tried to Apparate and he splinched.” He pulls the fabric back more, revealing wrappings around George’s torso and limbs. “I gave him all the Essence of Dittany I had, but he still has to regrow his bones.”

My mouth forms around the words, but it takes me a moment for them to come out. “Why the fuck would you bring him here?” I whisper. “You do know that Thomus Malfoy has been tasked with hunting him down, right?”

“Aye, I’m no’ an idiot,” he protests. “I’ve been helpin’ him avoid the fucker.” Then he sighs. “This was the closest place that I could think of. What better place than right under the bastard’s nose?”

I take deep breaths, stifling the panic threatening to burst through and make me lose all clear, cohesive thinking. Sam’s logic, while a stretch, isn’t crazy. Thomus would be out searching for someone who was right where he’d never think to look. But where to –

“We could put him in the attic!” I say excitedly. “There’s plenty of room and I don’t think Thomus knows it’s there.”

“You have an attic?” he asks, tilting his head.

I laugh once. “My point exactly.”

We both look back down at George, and I reach my hand out to grab the invisibility cloak, slowly pulling it back over him until he’s covered again.

“I have him stunned right now,” Sam says. “But I don’t think he should be for much longer. He’s in a lot of pain.”

“No, you’re right,” I respond. “Malfoy is home right now, so it’s going to be difficult getting him inside.”

“Is there any way into the attic from outside?”

I shake my head. “A tiny window. The entrance is in the laundry room above the dryer and it’s maybe this wide.” I show with my hands. “We’ll have to get him up there at an angle.”

“I can manage that. How’re we gonna get around Malfoy?”

“Um…”

We have to get him through the living room. I don’t think I can manage to get him up there without Thomus noticing. Sam would have to be in cat form and he wouldn’t be able to suspend George like this. Thomus is nosey as shit so he’d ask what I was doing and –

“I’m gonna go back up to see if he’s still there. It’s early morning so there’s a chance he’s left by now, but with us having plans this evening, it’s unlikely.”

Sam doesn’t hide his surprise. “Ye have plans?” he asks. “Together?”

“It’s a meeting,” I say. “Some conversation they’re continuing with some American wizards. I don’t know any details yet.”

He nods. “Alright. So how’re we getting him past Malfoy?”

I take a deep breath. “If he’s not already gone, then I’m gonna go distract him and… try to make him leave I guess.”

I don’t like the idea that I have, but it’s the only thing I’ve got.

“How?”

I start towards the house, ignoring his question. “Just wait for my signal and please, for the love of God, don’t come inside.”

Sam starts at that. “What?”

“There’s no way for me to explain without it being super awkward, so just roll with it, okay? It’s gonna work.” I don’t wait for him to respond and make my way back to the house.

Before going inside, I take a moment to calm my racing heart. I need to get Thomus to leave. The only thing that I can think of is extremely risky. Fuck, it might not even work. With everything that’s happened, I have no idea what he’ll do.

Tentatively, I step back into the kitchen. He’s not there. Slowly I walk over to where my coffee is still on the counter. From this angle, I can see Thomus sitting on the couch. Okay, so he’s still here. I gulp down a good portion of my coffee, cooled down enough now for me to do so.

What makes the most sense to me is to try to catch him by surprise. So I go upstairs, acting like it’s a regular day. Because it is – of course it is. I need to change out of this hoodie. The shorts can stay, I’ll hike those up later. Shit, what else should I wear? A tank top?

My brain reminds me of the outfits I wore around the house when he was healing from the doxy bite. My “whore” outfit that made him weak enough to sleep with me. I roll my eyes as I dig through the closet. As if. I pull out a familiar crop top and quickly pull it on, knowing time is of the essence.

Before going downstairs, I take yet another moment to compose myself. He’s just… Thomus. He’s not a big scary Death Eater. He’s hurt my feelings but he hasn’t physically hurt me, so the chances of that happening are unlikely. He’s just a man. A man who, when I can be detached from those feelings of hurt, I can still climb like a goddamn tree. A man that, when I can smother my feelings of inadequacy and fears of rejection, I can recall all of those fantasies I’ve had.

I didn’t know I’d be grave digging twenty fucking minutes later. Is it grave digging if it’s a mausoleum? Maybe not if I’m cracking open the new locks with a crowbar. Thank fuck I have my magic at a time like this.

I pull out the memory of us together, before what happened after. Before the moment I reached out for him. I need to remember how fucking amazing everything was. I need this to feel genuine. Believable.

So what if he doesn’t find me attractive? That’s probably going to come to my advantage, and I’m trying not to care how humiliating it’s going to be. He’s going to reject me and if I can bet on anything, it’s that he’s going to walk away.

I flip my hair over, running my fingers through the drying locks. I wish I could put makeup on without wasting time or drawing too many questions. I grab the waistband of my shorts and hike them up so my ass cheeks are hanging out. In an innocuous, whore-ish way, I hope.

When I enter the living room, he’s sitting relaxed on the couch, eyes closed. I clear my throat, acting like I’d just walked in. He opens his eyes.

“Hi!” I say and smile, forcing myself not to wince at my overly enthusiastic tone. I go to the bookshelf, which is directly across from where he’s sitting, and lean over. I spend a few good long moments searching for a book that I know is in the office.

“Hmmmm,” I sigh. After grabbing a random book, I straighten, flipping through the pages. Knitting patterns. Casually, I turn around. He’s looking at me already, his eyebrows pulled tight, his lips pressed together. I shift my weight onto one hip.

“Mind if I sit?” I ask, trying to sound innocent.

He lazily waves his hand to the chair. “Be my guest,” he says, his tone heavily bordering on annoyed. Keeping my eyes on the book in my hand, I move forward, invading his space by directly straddling his lap. He immediately shifts, holding his hands up, not touching me. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I close the book dramatically and toss it on the floor behind me before running my hands up his delicious shoulders. I shrug and sigh heavily. “Sitting.” I keep my tone light and teasing while the muscles in his jaw tick. He shifts under me again, as if uncomfortable. My legs open wider, and I shimmy closer to him, my fingers coming to rest lightly on his neck. His face is tilted up and to the side, refusing to look at me.

I lean forward, running my lips along his neck. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “You said I could sit.”

He sighs heavily, frustrated. “This is not what I fucking meant.”

“This is much better,” I murmur, my voice low and near his ear. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

His jaw clenches and his eyes close while he shakes his head. I grab his hands and put them on my bare thighs. My lips on his neck part and I leave wet kisses up to his jaw. The hands on my thighs don’t disappear, they don’t squeeze, they don’t rub. They just sit.

“Have you forgotten the entire conversation where I explained I find you repulsive?” he asks through his teeth.

My next few breaths are painful, his words tearing at my confidence. My heart races, my pulse beating loudly in my ears. His breathing is controlled, and it reminds me of when I’m trying not to gag.

“Then close your eyes,” I whisper.

Bravely, my hand goes down between us to palm his length. I feel a mixture of surprise and triumphant when I discover he’s already semi-hard, listening to his sharp intake of breath. The hands on my thighs grip me, not to pull me closer, but to push me off. My legs clamp down over his hips and my remaining free hand reaches up to turn his head so my lips can meet his.

It feels like heaven to kiss him again. And for a moment, he kisses me back. Our tongues meet gently and he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth.

Then he bites down – hard.

I gasp in pain and yank my head back. He’s glaring at me, drops of blood on his lip. A spot on my bottom lip pulses and hurts when my tongue comes out to feel the small wound. A sore really. My hand comes up and I wipe the blood beading out of the cut. My eyes are wide with shock.

His hands on my thighs move to my hips and he shoves me off. I quickly go to my knees, kneeling between his, my hands on his thighs. My eyes slide down his torso to his crotch and without a second thought, I start undoing his pants. I pop out the button and his hand over mine stalls my pulling of the zipper.

“Please,” I gasp, using my tongue to pull my lower lip in my mouth, tasting the blood. My hand that’s not covered rubs him through the fabric. I push my eyebrows together and look up at him with what I hope is an innocent face. “I need to feel you in my mouth again.”

He raises a mocking eyebrow. “You need it?”

I nod, short quick juts of my chin. I have to smother my shock when his eyes darken as they roam my face and his chest expands as he takes another deep breath. His free hand comes up to my face and he grabs my chin, tilting it up. He sits up, bringing his face closer to mine.

“You better make it worth my while,” he growls the threat. His grip releases as he shoves my head back. I try to keep a straight face, my breath quickening, partly with fear and partly with… excitement. Oh boy is this unlocking a kink I didn’t know I had.

When he sits back, his hand releases mine, and I immediately continue unzipping his pants. Then he’s free and in my hand. My core involuntarily clenches as my hand rubs him up and down, my fingers barely touching my thumb around his girth.

By the time I lean forward and take him into my mouth, he’s fully hard. His breath is measured and he leans back further into his seat, an arm coming to rest along the back of the couch. I pull him deeper into my mouth, sucking, before looking up. His eyes are still dark, but his face is passive, reserved. My hesitancy springs forward, and makes me second guess my decision to attempt this. The apathy he’s showing makes me wanna curl up and never look him in the face again.

But I close my eyes and shove that feeling down for the moment. I’ve been told that I was good at this before. I’d always been so willing because I marveled at how I could make the guy come apart. Thomus almost did last time before he stopped me.

I slide him out of my mouth, stopping to swirl my tongue around his head, before descending again. I take him as deep as I could without gagging before beginning to bob my head up and down. My hand comes up to slide along his length where my mouth can’t reach. It twists with every stroke, synchronizing with my mouth and tongue.

Normally, at least in my experience, the guy by this point is giving some physical signs that he’s enjoying what’s happening. But besides from the pre-cum I taste on my tongue, Thomus is showing none of the usual signs. Not even like he did last time. So I keep going, like it’s muscle memory.

My movements only falter when his fingers brush gently along the side of my face to tuck my hair behind my ear. I guess that means I can assume he’s still watching me at least.

This goes on for a few more minutes. I let out a small moan here and there, kinda sorta getting lost in what I’m doing. Sucking his cock does turn me on, it feels so good and dirty that I almost forget Sam and George are waiting for me as I sink further into this headspace.

“That’s enough,” he grunts. Abruptly, he’s grabbing my hair, pulling me back, and he’s out of my mouth with an audible pop as the suction releases. My eyes are wide and I pant through my mouth, catching my breath while I look up at him. “I think you were enjoying that far too much.”

I shake my head, a pout forming on my lips. “I don’t think you were enjoying that enough.”

“Excuse me?”

My fingers slide up and down his length, so wet with my saliva. “Are you really going to lie and tell me you're not enjoying this?” I murmur. I squeeze and twist my hand around his head. His jaw clenches and I catch his sharp intake of breath when his nostrils flare. “I love your cock in my mouth so much, please let me make you cum.”

I align his cock with my mouth and make a beeline for it, but have to stop when his hand is at my throat. His grip is firm and pulls me up closer to his face.

“Prove it,” he says. “Show me how much you love it.”

Breathing hard, I involuntarily swallow, my throat moving against the palm of his hand. I can’t believe I have to look him in the eyes as I do this. My hands feel around for his free hand and I pull back my shorts' waistband, sliding his fingers down my stomach and under the soft curve of my pelvis. My hand is down there with his, his fingers cool against my hot folds as I push them to slide through. Even from here I can hear how wet I sound.

His hand cups me as his fingers explore, feeling around my entrance and pressing in on my clit. My eyes flutter and my hips rock against him. I think this is when the lil slut in my head finally takes over completely. My hand is over his still, using light pressure as a way to beg for more.

But he pulls his hand out. The elastic of the waistband snaps against my stomach before his fingers are at my mouth. My lips automatically part for him as he slides his wet fingers along my tongue. He pushes in until he’s knuckle deep and I have to focus on breathing through my nose so I don’t gag.

“Su –“ he starts to say, but I’m already doing it. My tongue circles his fingers and laps up every tangy drop of myself.

“Good girl,” he continues, his voice is scratchy and hoarse. His eyes are focused on my lips around his fingers. “I suppose I can close my eyes and pretend you’re someone else. A mouth is a mouth after all.”

He releases my throat and I immediately shut away his last words, choosing to pretend he never said them. His fingers pull out of my mouth and he sits back, pushing his hips forward. I grip the base of his cock again, preparing to descend, but his fingers are at my lips again.

“I want your fingers buried in your cunt as you suck my cock,” he orders. “Keep proving to me how much you love it.”

My split second hesitation isn’t because I don’t want to do as he says, but because I have to decide where I want my dominant hand. Making myself cum or around his cock?

When I make my decision, my right hand quickly finds my pussy. I figure his cock doesn’t need my mouth and my dominant hand. I spread my knees and grab him with my left hand. My mouth starts sucking his tip when I push two fingers inside myself. They bend and hook right against my g-spot, the swell of my hand under my thumb brushing against my clit. As I pull his cock further into my mouth, my hips move and I can’t stop the moan that escapes.

“That’s it,” he pants. I continue the routine I had before he pulled me off. Only this time it’s hotter because I’m getting myself off, too. It makes me love him in my mouth even more.

Every time he descends into my mouth, my tongue swirls around him, giving special attention to the underside of his head. I quickly find the perfect rhythm between the bounce of my head and hips.

I feel almost drunk on him as my orgasm builds. My fingers are almost not enough when I have the memory of his own long digits, curling and fitting better inside me. His cock is drenched in my saliva and my mouth gets sloppy. The cut on my lip is throbbing from being stretched around him.

When all I can imagine – all I can think about or want – is his massive cock buried inside my cunt, I know it won’t take long for me to cum. My fingers move with my jerking hips, soaked with my own arousal. Instinctively edging myself because I want to cum at the same time as he does. I want to taste him.

When I look up at him, I fully expect his head to be tilted back, his eyes closed as he pictures someone else’s mouth on him. Instead I find his gaze open, watching me. His hands are fisting the seat cushions on either side of his thighs, gripping so tight his knuckles are white. He’s breathing hard and as our eyes meet, his hips start jerking upwards, as if he’s unable to stop himself from fucking my mouth.

It's so fucking hot and dirty that I suck him harder as my cunt clenches around my fingers. I start whimpering around him as my orgasm starts to break, pleasure radiating through my body while I continue to fuck my fingers. A strangled groan tears its way out of his throat and my mouth is getting filled with his hot cum. I start swallowing and shove him further in, my mouth lax as my throat repeatedly closes around his head.

A louder, deep growl sound erupts from him. “Fuck – just like that – oh, fuck,” he purrs, his voice deep, sending shivers through my body. I pull my fingers out and gently circle my clit, coming down from my high as my mouth turns to gentle sucking when his body relaxes.

He finally touches me again when he pushes at my shoulder. I release him and straighten, pulling my hand out of my shorts. I’m trying to keep my panting quiet.

Thomus grabs my wrist, the one with wrinkly, drenched fingers and pulls it closer. He flips it over and around, examining the glistening slick globs of my arousal. I watch his face anxiously. His eyebrows are pulled together, his mouth a tight distinguished frown. He’s probably experiencing that post-nut clarity again and wants nothing to do with me.

He softly clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Look at the mess you made."

My face is already flush from the exertion, but it heats once more at his words. When he drops my wrist I immediately bring it behind my back. My mind is already at work sweeping up every thought and emotion about this experience to box it away, to trap it in a compartment in the mausoleum. I start to put distance between us, backing away so I’ll have room to stand.  

His hand shoots out, gripping where my neck meets my jaw, pulling me back towards him. My eyes widen with alarm when I see his wand pointed right at my face. My clean hand braces itself on his thigh, pushing myself back. His eyes are on my mouth and it’s where he puts the tip of his wand.

“Episky,” he murmurs, and the wound on my lip heals. Then his wand is gone and his thumbs are swiping at something wet on my cheeks and under my eyes. When had I started to cry? I’m definitely not crying now and I’m surprised he’s showing so much… care. What am I supposed to say?

Luckily, not much. He releases me and sits back, tucking himself back into his pants. I stand and he does, too. He doesn’t look at me before walking away and silently going upstairs. I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear the bathroom doors close and the shower kick on.

I hurry into the kitchen to wash my hands and then bolt out into the backyard.

“Sam?” I loudly whisper, but get no response. I run down to the creek, calling his name. When I don’t hear anything, I rush back into the house and head straight for the laundry room. The panel in the ceiling is cracked open a little. My heart drops into my stomach when I realize what must have happened.

Quickly, I climb up onto the dryer, popping my head into the attic. “Sam?”

Sam’s head pops up from behind a wall of boxes. It’s clear he’s moved them to provide more of a hiding spot as I pull myself up.

“Hiya,” he says. His pale face is flushed and although he’s got a lil smirk on his face, he’s not looking me directly in the eyes. George is still knocked out, laying on a conjured sleeping mat, the invisibility cloak covering half his body. I get down on my knees beside where Sam is sitting.

“How much did you see?” I ask, unsure if I want to know the answer. I’m already dying of embarrassment myself.

He shrugs, fiddling with his wand. “Nothing really. It only took a glance to figure out what was going on.”

I feel my face get all hot again. My jaw is sore. “Did you cast the sound muffling charm yet?”

He shakes his head and I stand, holding my palm out and mutter the incantation. A golden misty shimmer floats out of my hand and settles all around the room, putting us in a sound bubble.

“I thought they’re suppressing all of the Lots' magic with a potion,” he says, surprised. “And ye can… do it without a wand?”

“They are, but… I think I’m beginning to overpower it,” I explain. “Malfoy had to make a stronger batch for me early on, and recently it’s been starting to lose its effects on me.”

“Like ye’re becoming immune?” There’s a touch of excitement in his voice. “I’m guessing he doesna ken ye have it now.”

I shake my head. “Luckily, no. And I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

“Especially if ye can do wandless magic that’s… I doona ken I’ve ever met anyone besides Dumbledore who could do that.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely going to come in handy.” I kneel beside George again. “When are you gonna wake him up?”

“I wanted to wait until ye were here,” Sam says.

I nod and hold out my hand, conjuring a vial of the pain potion from my room. “This is a pain potion. When I took it, it knocked me out for a long time. It should help him get through the worst of it without being stunned. Do you have the Skelegrow?”

“Aye, here,” Sam says, pulling it from his pocket. “What did ye need the pain potion for?

“You don’t wanna know,” I sigh. I move around to George’s head, lifting him by the shoulders until they rested in my lap. I uncork the vial. “Okay, you can wake him up now.”

Sam points his wand to George’s chest and says, “Rennervate.” A flash of red light goes into George’s chest and his eyes immediately pop open as he gasps for breath.

“Hi, George,” I say gently. My hand caresses his cheek. “Remember me? My name’s Melisa, I’m friends with Ron. We met at Hogwarts in May?”

I can tell he’s holding back groans of pain. The part of his body I could see are jerking minutely.

“You’re safe here, okay?” I continue. “We have Skelegrow and pain potion for you. It’s going to make you feel better.”

“Where am I?” he gasps, looking to Sam.

“It’s like the lady says, you’re safe,” Sam replies. He puts his hand on George’s shoulder to hold him down.

“Did the MacDonald’s get out? And the Carmichaels?”

“Aye, they did.”

This seems to settle him a bit. “Angelina, is she still –“

“She’s still with Fleur, doona worry,” Sam says lightly. “Ye’ll turn grey before ye see her again if ye keep it up. Now drink up, lad.”

George’s tired eyes go from Sam to me and I smile, gently stroking his cheek. I take the Skelegrow from Sam and press it to his lips. He accepts it, downing half the vial. He breathes audibly as I switch out the Skelegrow with the pain potion. He drinks all of that, too. We watch as his eyes flutter closed and his breathing evens out.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief. “How long will he be out?”

“24 hours, at least,” I say as I lay George back down. "You hungry?"

“Starving, if I’m honest,” he replies.

“How does beef stew sound?”

“Fan-fuckin-tastic.” His enthusiasm makes me smile.

“He should be alright up here by himself for a bit. You can come down with me,” I say as I head for the hole in the floor, getting onto my butt to fit through legs first. “As a cat, of course.”

He chuckles. “No shit.” He crouches to shift.

“Wait, what’s your real name?” I ask.

“Caelan.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad.”

He tilts his head. “Why did ye think it’d be bad?”

“Well, you said I should keep calling you Sam when we first met,” I explain. “I figured it was because your real name was something you didn't like.”

He snorts. “No. I just didn’t trust ye yet.”

“Oh,” I say, then smile again, understanding that means he trusts me now, and turn to hop down onto the dryer. When I look back, Caelan’s white cat form is in my face, purring.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 119

Look out, it’s the Predator!

I wouldn’t go as far as saying this episode is bad, but it’s not very important, as it’s mainly about clearing some of the dead wood from the tournament.  Universes 2 and 6 were erased last time, which leaves us with the following...

U3: Dr. Paparoni, Catopesra, Biarra, Borareta, Koitsukai, Pancea (6)

U4: Xiangca, Damom, Gamisalas (3)

U7: Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, Piccolo, 17, 18, Frieza (7)

U11: Jiren, Top, Dyspo (3)

It should be pretty obvious by now that this tournament is building up to a big showdown between U7 and U11, so that means U3 and U4 need to go, and that’s not much of a loss, since all that’s left of those teams are a bunch of losers who didn’t matter much in the first place.  Which means eliminating them is more of a chore than any sort of accomplishment or milestone. 

Vegeta takes on Catopesra, who’s been showing up a lot lately, mostly because there aren’t a whole lot of guys left for Vegeta to fight with.  He powers up to his “Ultimate” mode, but Vegeta overwhelms him with a Final Flash.

To his credit, Catopesra manages to save himself from falling over the edge of the stage, so maybe this explains how he’s lasted this long...

... but then some unseen force sweeps his legs out from under him and he falls off anyway.

The U3 gods want to know what happened to him, but Catopesra is just as confused as everyone else.  Wow, he looks way cooler without the helmet.

Vegeta investigates, and nearly goes over the edge himself, but he manages to grab the stage before it’s too late.

Same with Gohan, except Piccolo uses his stretchy arms to rescue him.

The U7 guys on the bench try to make sense of it all, and Roshi deduces that it must be an invisible fighter.  They act like it’s such a stretch, even though they once encountered an invisible fighter in OG Dragon Ball.  Roshi even references it in this episode when he suggests Gohan nosebleed all over the place.

Beerus is skeptical of this idea, but Quitela, the God of Destruction from Universe 4, just flat out admits it, which seems like a dumb play to me.  “Yes, we have an invisible fighter.”  I thought these guys were supposed to be sneaky.

Piccolo tries to flush the guy out with explosive ki waves, but it doesn’t work.  Finally, Gohan starts shooting blasts, not to hit their enemy, but to kick up enough dust that it covers the invisible fighter, exposing his position.  Piccolo takes it from their, since the guy isn’t actually that strong when he can’t sneak up on anybody.

And Gamisalas has been eliminated.  Well, you’ll have to take my word for it. 

So now Xiangca tries to step up to the plate.  We’ve seen this little guy floating around before, but he hasn’t done much.  Now, he reveals his true power, which is to cast illusions.  Wait, didn’t Universe 4 already have a fighter with that power?

Suddenly the U7 team is confronted by spectres of the fighters they’ve already defeated.  They were supposed to have been erased, but now they’re back for revenge.  And even though they can’t touch these phantoms, they seem solid enough when they attack.

But Piccolo uses his ki senses to locate two enemies, one circling around them, and the other staying in one spot.  He tracks down the stationary fighter and it’s Xiangca.  He chucks him out, and the illusions vanish. 

That just leaves the last Universe 4 fighter, and Piccolo thinks he’s found him, and it’s another inivisible fighter.  I don’t think they state this in the show, but it seems like this guy, Damom, was attacking the U7 guys to make Xiangca’s illusions seem real.  But with Xiangca out of the ring, Damom has to fight alone. 

Fortunately, Piccolo has an easier time tracking Damom down, but when he finds him, he still can’t hit him.  But why?

And Piccolo gets knocked out of the ring before he can solve that mystery.

Eventually 17 figures out the truth.  It’s not that Damom is invisible.  The truth is actually much more simple, but Gamisalas earlier left them all convinced that they were dealing with a second invisible man, which kept them from figuring it out. 

Damom isn’t invisible, he’s just really, really small.  So even though Piccolo located his ki, he aimed his strikes like Damom was a full-sized fighter, and that’s why he missed.

But knowing Damom’s secret doesn’t make it easier to catch him.  17 notices that Damom isn’t flying, so if they can make it so that he can’t jump, they should be able to grab him.  Goku solves that problem by punching the stage, making it impossible for Damom to get his footing.

17 traps Damom in a force field bubble and Pele kicks him out of the ring.  And Universe 4 is done, just like that.

Quitela panics and threatens to get everyone, but he can’t escape his fate.  He gets erased along with the rest of his universe.  Good riddance.

This was another all-jobber team, like Universes 9 and 10, but it’s kind of annoying how they lasted this long, yet did so little in the Tournament.  I mean, Damom, Gamisalas, and Xiangca seemed to have a very effective strategy in this episode, one that could have been extremely effective in the early going.   So why did they wait until now to try it?  Why didn’t Xiangca and Damom lift a finger to save Gamisalas?   Why didn’t any of them take out Master Roshi back when he was dismantling their team?  I think U4 was trying to play a long game, staying out of sight long enough to reach the end, where they could sneak up on the opposition, but then why didn’t they wait a little longer, then?  At least let Universe 3 take their shot before striking. 

Well, no use in trying to make sense of it.  If Universe 4 was any good at this, they wouldn’t have lost.  Here’s KISS with “I Just Wanna.”

[toyota-supra]

Honestly has good racing AI ever been achieved? Is it possible, or if it is, is it viable or just ignored?

I feel like that’s an underspoken challenge of racing games. Probably less relevant since we don’t get many of those today anyway.

I feel like all the racing games where AI has been noticeable were games that account for how bad racing AI is through their mechanics, or games that pretend that there’s nothing wrong with the AI thus making it completely broken.

Think about it. If racing AI was ever good, we wouldn’t use the word “rubberbanding” to talk about them in 2023.

“Without it, the game would be boring” is coward talk.

Forza Horizon 4 and 5 have like 8 different AI levels and all they change is how fast they go. At the highest levels, they are all on you no matter what kind of crazy busted car you have. The sooner you realize that the game is more fun as a time trial challenge than a race against CPUs, the better.

So many racing games operate on a cycle of “no matter how fast you go, don’t make mistakes or you’ll get passed by CPUs with zero driving skill because we made them faster. otherwise the game would be so boring because you’re faster than them!”

Ridge Racer games have a different thing. At the start of every race, every car is way faster than you, so you always start in last place. However, their speed mostly stalls after a few seconds. This makes it so races in Ridge Racer aren’t a challenge of keeping pace with a bunch of other drivers, but actually a challenge of catching up to first place and keeping yourself there. Racers being unfarily fast in the beginning rather than adapting to how good you are at the game ensures that they don’t actually get in the way of your race unfairly, as getting and staying in first place is your responsibility only.

In Tokyo Xtreme Racer Zero, cars have different types of AI depending on the racer’s car and personality. Some try to ram into you, some try blocking you from overtaking, some slow down too hard on corners, some always drift, etc. This way, they don’t all need to be unfairly fast. It makes the game a little more strategic.

Some of them are unfairly fast, though! But the way the game works, even the harderst CPUs are capable of making mistakes (faster car in that game always means harder to turn without hitting something), and you are fully capable of using strategy to your advantage anyway.

art of rally is a racing game by yourself. There are other racers in the tournaments with you, but none on the track while you’re there. The real challenge of the game is doing the fastest times you can. This may sound boring, but that game’s mechanics are so tight and fun to figure out, that that whole struggle with yourself and your vehicle is much better than putting some random bricks on the road would be.

Don’t even get me started on kart racing games, man.

I just think racing games should respect racing more.

And fuck Need for Speed.

[allsonicgames]

Mario & Sonic at the Olympic Winter Games (Wii)

Original Platform: Wii

Original release: 13th October 2009

Available to buy: No

A big improvement over the first Mario & Sonic title. This gives you all of the main events straight away, with the Dream Events being the main unlockables (but aren’t difficult to unlock). The events themselves also felt a lot more fun, with rules and controls that are simpler to understand and far fewer events where a single mistimed (or unregistered) Wii Remote shake can knock you out of the competition, or create a false start.

Skiing and Snowboarding are some of the main events, both with a trick version (jump for skiing and halfpipe for snowboarding) and a race. The controls are very similar (tilt to turn, pull back to slow down) except that skiing uses both the Wii Remote and nunchuck and the Snowboarding uses just the Wii Remote – although thankfully it doesn’t force you to unplug the nunchuck. Bobsled and Skeleton have you going down a long pipe, tilting the Wii Remote to stay within the optimal racing line.

Speed Skating I couldn’t properly get the hang of, the on-screen prompts are hard to see but luckily it’s not too difficult to get used to the rhythm needed to move the remote from left to right. It’s a good way to make it feel different to the other sports. Figure Skating is a “simon says” type thing which mostly works fine, except for a tilting action which I always failed at.

Ice Hockey is great fun. It’s a simple version of ice hockey, but as it uses buttons and analogue sticks, it feels very responsive. My only issue is that you can’t select to play one match, you have to take part in a mini-tournament with two matches. Curling is by far the worst event. The swing required for how powerful your hit will be is very unreliable, and it takes ages. I ended up just doing a full power shot each time, as without sweeping it’s actually a perfect short. To make matters worse, it’s also a mini tournament.

The Dream Stages are better than the main events, with races like Snowboarding and Skiing taking place on fancy tracks with loops, jumps, springs and items. They’re incredibly good fun, with other Dream Events following similar things. Dream Figure Skating is like a “Sonic on Ice” (or “Mario on Ice”) performance. The dream events feature some new ones.

Dream Gliding was not what I was expecting. It’s like the multiplayer from Lylat Wars/Star fox 64, a dogfighting game where you score points for hitting enemy units, or even more points for hitting opponents. I was expecting something like Monkey Target from Super Monkey Ball. This, however, does get a similar game in the form of Dream Ski Jumping.

The main campaign is called “Festival” where you play through various events and training exercises to try and earn the most points (although I don’t know how they work, as even though I lost a lot of events, only one opponent had a single gold medal). You don’t have to win to progress, they just add to your final score. Every now and then you’ll encounter a boss, who you do have to beat, although my main struggle was one race with Bullet Bill. Although I did have to retry a race against King Boo, but only because the game cheated and claimed he won, even though I crossed the line first (and even the replay showed this).

Overall, this is a much better party game than the original Mario & Sonic at the Olympic Games, and the festival is even fun for a single player.

[blank-doc]

Riyo Sokai: Relationship with the Boys

I swear this isn’t a Riyo Only blog lmao. I just have a lot of shit about her in particular to write about. Happens when a character has been knocking around in your head for 20+ years lmao.

Yusuke:

Riyo and Yusuke are basically each other’s annoying siblings they never had growing up.

…and on that note, they are simultaneously the type of siblings that are ride and die, as well as the kind to throw each other under the bus (mostly only if it’d be really funny in that case).

The two of them first meet when Yusuke has officially began training under Genkai. Since Riyo feels salty that her grandma wouldn’t even consider taking her on as her student, she takes it out on Yusuke by verbally harassing him as he trains. However, Yusuke throws back just as much sass as she deals out and they pretty quickly end up becoming friends.

The make a tradition of going to tournaments to spectate together at least once a year.

Their personalities and sense of humor are pretty similar, though Riyo’s definitely more emotionally intelligent than Mr. Suppress-anything-that’s-considered-mushy.

Kazuma:

While Riyo has her fair share of fun in teasing him like everyone else, they get along pretty well, especially when they team up to give Yusuke shit.

Since the man has a weakness for cute girls, Kazuma definitely tried to flirt with Riyo when they first met after the Rando fiasco. Yusuke gives him shit for being so quick to switch off from his crush on Botan and Riyo uses that as an excuse to let Kazuma down easy. Her pettier reason is that he’s way too tall for her and too cutesy for her tastes (Riyo likes her men like she likes her cheese—with some bite).

When everyone else leaves for the Makai, Riyo helps him with studies and applying for colleges, and he’s there to support her through her pregnancy with Sachi. Naturally, they get pretty tight-knit during this time and Kazuma very much earns his spot as Uncle Kuwa to Riyo’s kids (no matter what Hiei has to say about it later on lmao).

Due to their closeness, they spend a lot of time around each other’s immediate families and friends.

Kazuma 100% gets Riyo into Megallica.

Kurama:

She and him go to the same university, though Riyo doesn’t properly meet him until the Dark Tournament, and she also thought he was vapid and probably had his head up his butt like the other students that tended to be top of their classes since he tends to be more aloof and surface-level friendly at school. Obviously she changes up her perceptions quick when they finally properly meet.

He’s of course the first person she goes to to figure Hiei out (particularly when their tentative relationship is first starting out). “Hey Foxy, how do I get on this asshole’s good side?”

Riyo really enjoys telling him the most inappropriate jokes she can think up to try to get him to crack. It works more often than she assumed it would (because Kurama is 100% just as much of a doof as Yusuke and Kuwabara, he just hides it better).

She pretends to be his girlfriend at school just to be obnoxious (with bad pet names and everything). He’s more than happy to let her do it (what better way to keep people he’s not interested in from trying to get in his pants? xD)

When he and the others are in the Makai, he keeps her up-to-date on what’s going on. He’s also the one to keep pushing her to tell Hiei about her pregnancy with (and later birth of) Sachi, and consistently offers to find out a way to get word to him for her, but she’s stubborn about telling Hiei herself (then of course she has the chance to do just that, and Kurama has to push her to spill the beans then too).

[some-kindofgnome]

you turn me on (i’m a radio)

bokuto comes over one night midweek while you’ve got the apartment to yourself. after a mishap with his favourite volleyball shorts, you take advantage of the privacy.

c: koutarou bokuto x reader

wc: 5.4k

tags: smut (18+ please!), college au, aged-up characters, oral sex (both receiving), praise kink, begging, soft and sloppy sex feat. bo the horny simp giving u the creampie of ur life, body worship if u squint

notes: bo has a fat ass and I have a praise kink. that is all. oh, wait, i should also mention that this is mostly unedited. so if u see typos feel free to point em out! thx 💕

the song this bit is named after is so sweet and sunny & makes me think of bo all the time, so give it a listen if you’d care to! ☀️

ALSO forgot to mention that this was inspired by a tiktok i saw like a million years ago where this girl was helping her boyfriend get out of his too-small rugby shorts. it has been lost to the ether but you better BELIEVE if i ever find it again i’ll be linking it here

EDIT: @karikarasuno​ the absolute ANGEL has scoured the internet and found the tiktok in question.  p l e a s e go and watch it, u will not regret 😌

(MASTERLIST)

“’Kay, okay, I’m going!”

Bokuto tears himself from the tender press of your mouth in one fell swoop. As he whirls away with a tempted giggle, he combs his fingers through his mussed-and-sweaty hair. Practice was only two hours tonight, but he still doesn’t want to leave your side even long enough to shower.

You’ve only been dating for a few months, still lingering in that phase of every new relationship that feels too good to last. Your emotional involvement in one another deepens by the day, but you never fight. And you have a shamefully difficult time keeping yourself away from him. On a weeknight like this with no big assignments to speak of, you should be catching up on your readings, your chores, or even your sleep. But when you passed Bo in the quad earlier, pausing in your walk to class for a hi and a kiss, you’d invited him over before you could even stop yourself.

He’s nice to be around. Pleasant, unhindering. Even if you wanted to finish some readings or do some laundry while he’s over, he’s happy to be idle in your company. He is infuriatingly patient and understanding sometimes, compared to the slew of demanding, needy boyfriends that came before him.  

You watch him retreat into the safety of your bedroom, grinning like a fool. He’s fresh out of practice and practically dripping in sweat, dried from the walk you shared from the athletic center. Your evening class that night wrapped up around the same time as his practice, and when you passed the gym doors on your way home, he was already loitering on the steps with his teammates. Instead of pretending he didn’t see you or offering you a casual, passing nod like you expected, he practically bounded down the wide concrete steps and introduced you gleefully to the pack of volleyball players behind him who already knew you well.

There was no way you were letting him go all the way home to shower first. Not when he’s never minded smelling like your orange-and-sandalwood shower gel in the first place.

Once he’s disappeared, you give a yawn and a deep stretch and haul ass off the couch, padding into the kitchen to tidy up the snacks you shared on the way in the door.

You’ve barely got the first plates in the sink before a muffled babe? from the bedroom gives you pause.

“Bo?” You call back, setting your handful down and trying to keep your brow from furrowing too deeply. “You okay?”

“Can you… um…” His response starts off strong, louder than before, but it dwindles into a dull, unintelligible mutter that sounds uncertain enough to send you away from the kitchen.

You gently shoulder the bedroom door open, frowning at his broad shape, silhouetted in the shadowy bathroom doorway from the light behind him. “What’s the matter?”

Feeling along the wall for the light switch, you illuminate the pot lights over your bed.

Bokuto’s cheeks are gently flushed as he waddles toward you with his thumbs dug into the waistband of his volleyball shorts. The fabric is tough and certainly seems clingy, but there’s a strain in his neck and shoulders that takes you a minute to pin down.

“I can’t…” he starts to say, trailing off, then pulls his hands out of his shorts and drops them to his side with a heavy, defeated sigh.

“They’re stuck.”

You force the corners of your mouth downward, tightening the line of your mouth to keep the mirth locked firmly in your throat.

“I can see that.”

He’s been hitting the gym hard lately, shoving down the calories to try and bulk up a little for the upcoming tournament season. And while you know he’s been putting on some weight, since he tells you just about everything, it never occurred to you that he might be bulking up quick enough to outgrow his favourite shorts.

Bo lets out a quiet little whine, digging a thumb into the waistband one more time and prompting you to step forward.

“How stuck are you?” You reach for him. He turns sideways, twisting his chin over one shoulder to try and assess the situation from every plausible angle.

Oh. You slap a hand to your mouth.

The waistband is rolled down around his hips and already strained to its absolute limit, stuck on the sharp swell of his butt and already compressing the flesh in a way that looks genuinely painful. He’s wearing a pair of tight white compression shorts underneath the uniform shorts in question, but they’re not doing much to aid the situation, either.

You’re eager to get him out of those shorts for several reasons now.

“Alright.” You try to keep your voice low, stepping up to his front and gently laying your hands on the stiff cotton roll at his hips. “Let me just-“

“I don’t know what happened,” he whines, slotting his hands on top of yours and squirming in between them. “They were hard to get on, but-“

“Don’t worry,” you interrupted softly. “We’ll get them off you one way or another.”

The fearful reflection of your sharpest kitchen scissors in his eyes suggests that he believes you.

Your first two attempts are about as successful as Bokuto’s solo endeavours. First, you wedge your hands into the fabric at his sides while he pushes from the front and back, but you give a hard shove while he lets up on the tension and his elbow very nearly connects with your nose, so you try a different approach.

Coming round to his backside, you dig your hands into the space between his uniform shorts and the tight spandex that holds what’s left of his modesty.

“Okay,” you pant, already a little breathless after dodging Bokuto’s flying elbows. “What if I-“

“Hang on,” he prompts, but it’s too late. You wind up and jump as hard as you can, using the downward force generated to try and shove the confining waistband down over his hips. It slides down another couple of inches, and inspiration flares in your chest as Bokuto turns over one shoulder, sweating.

“It’s working!” Your voice comes shrill with excitement, and before he can stop you you’re jumping again, shoving even harder this time. You meet resistance this time, and before you can clue in to what’s pushing back Bokuto howls in pain and doubles over, clasping his palms between his thighs.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m sorry.” You drop to one knee beside him as he descends into pained laughter.

“’S alright,” he promises, “I didn’t want kids that bad, anyway.”

You can’t help the snort that bubbles forward from your chest. Bo straightens slowly as his pain fades, but you stay on your knees, determined to get him undressed without resorting to textile violence.

Determination settles heavy and proud across your shoulders. You look up through your brows at him and when your eyes meet, his cheeks pink softly.

“We got this.”

Bokuto’s throat bobs. He nods shallowly and pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

You slip your hands into his shorts again, rolling them slowly down his thighs. Bokuto averts his eyes, letting out another audible gulp. Just when you’re starting to get somewhere, his hips twitch and he shifts his weight restlessly from one leg to the other.

“Stand still,” you scold, giving his hip a little slap. His breath hitches, hands flinching forward as he dips his torso backward.

“Um,” he pants. When you look up at him again, his neck and ears are bright red and he’s got his eyes trained firmly on the Star Wars poster hanging above your desk.

You level your gaze and realize two things.

1) Bokuto’s not wearing anything under his white compression shorts.

2) Apparently, your little scare wasn’t nearly as painful for him as he let on.

“Babe,” you tease. “I’m flattered, really.”

“C’mon!” He protests, scraping his fingers through the wild strands of his sweat-clumped hair. “What’d you think was gonna happen if you got down there all…”

“All what?” You lean forward without thinking, nuzzling the spandex that sits in the groove between his hip and his thigh. He groans deeply, letting his head fall back. His cock, thickening at the base, is still restrained tightly by the waistband of his shorts. You can practically see it throb into its confines, and his groan pinches tight with discomfort.

“Baby, please.” He’s wound his hands tightly in the front of his t-shirt by now, rucking it up over his belly for some way to dispel the tension. “Get ‘em off. Please.”

“You’re not exactly making it easier.”

A desperate whine from over your head suggests that maybe the time for jokes is passing. You abandon all coyness and tuck your hand under the weight of his balls, gently tugging down on the waistband and freeing all of him from its confining pressure. Bokuto gasps and lets his hips swing forward, but his dick swells quickly to fill its new, spandex restraint and you figure you’d better work quickly.

“God, this is really turning you on, isn’t it?” You can’t help the eagerness in your tone as you attack the swell of his hips one last time. With all his sensitive parts in the clear you don’t have to hold back, wedging and wrenching until the widest part of his pelvis is free and the shorts drop to the floor with a soft little triumphant rustle.

Bokuto groans like he’d just been strapped to a time bomb, stepping out of the fabric and kicking it towards the door. He drops the hem of his shirt and reaches for you, but you’re already leaning in to nose against the crook of his thigh some more, peeling down the stretchy, forgiving top of his compression shorts.

“Wh- babe.” He flushes. “I haven’t showered-“

“Don’t care,” you hum, entranced by the hypnotic length of his shaft, white spandex stretched sheer and dabbed with wet at the tip. “Want to taste you.”

“Are you s- oh, you’re sure.” His hands surge forward, this time soothing lovingly over the crown of your head as you tug the stretchy fabric down to his knees. His cock bobs eagerly against one thigh, unaffected by its confining endeavour, and you lean in and seal your mouth against the seam of his groin, where his shaft meets his body.

He is bulky and broad, thick cords of muscle and fat spanning his thighs and torso. His thighs and pelvis are dusted all over with wiry silver hair, and you bury your nose into the trimmed patch of it over his cock, licking eagerly at his soft skin.

Above you, Bokuto shudders hard enough to buckle his knees while you trace your hand up the stiff length of him. You’re trying your best to hide just how deeply you want to breathe him in, the addicting musk of his sweat filling your brain and sending deep throbs of arousal straight to your pussy.

“So hard,” you groan into his hip, “just from letting me get on my knees for you?”  

He draws a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing at the back of your head as his eyelashes flutter. His face is beet red from nose to hairline now.

“W-well, what else was I s’posed to- with you lookin’…” He is borderline incoherent, and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet.

Adorable.

“You smell so good,” you murmur without thinking, flicking your eyes to his quickly when you realize what you’ve said. But it only serves to push his own arousal further, cock throbbing palpably between your fingers as he curses quietly through his teeth.

“Please,” he groans, letting his head roll back. “Don’t tease.”

You can’t deny a request as pleasantly worded as that.

After planting one more teasing kiss along the plane of his shaft, you draw back to his tip and give your tongue an enthusiastic flick, dipping it into his weeping slit. He yelps, and you swallow him down before he can ride out the shock, making him shiver. You can feel the tremor racking all the way down the column of his spine, his toes curling on the floor by your knees.

When you start to bob your head, his jaw goes completely slack. You’re learning to love the way he doesn’t hold back with you, a point made obvious by the expressions crossing his face as you settle into a steady rhythm. You can’t fit his entire length- impressive, not that he knows it- into your throat, but when you grip the base of his shaft with one hand and the spit from your throat drips eagerly between your fingers, he practically goes cross-eyed.

You fight the urge to smile around him, leaning into the way he fusses and grips at your skull.

“Nggh, babe, not gonna last long… when… suckin’ like that.” He’s grabbing your head with both hands, rocking his hips tightly forward in time with your gaudy slurping. You’re drooling all over your hand, spit dripping obscenely down your chin and onto the hardwood, but his whimpers are growing to obscene levels, punctuated by deep, chesty growls and quiet, slurred praise.

There’s no way you’re going to back off now.

You’ve been with Bo long enough to know his tells, so when his thighs start twitching and his voice pitches from his chest into his throat, you re-double your efforts, intensifying his pleasure until he’s howling and panting like a beast, rocking tightly into your mouth with his abs drawn tight as a bow.

“Ohhh, babe, lemme cum on your tits,” he pleads, slurring every syllable together as he looks down at you with unimaginable bliss mounting in his gaze. “Please, please, please, your tits, lemme cum on ‘em.”

With a smirk touching one corner of your mouth, you drop your free hand between his thighs. Until now it had been braced delicately on his hip, gently mitigating the wild bucks and twitches of his body giving into ecstasy. But you’d picked up one little trick that never failed to boost him over the edge- and send him falling that much further as a result.

As you draw your mouth back from his twitching cock, you close your free hand around the heavy sack of his balls- drawn up tight to his thighs in preparation for his orgasm- and give the supple skin a gentle little tug while you arch your back and jerk him off against the swell of your chest.

Bo’s voice shoots up a twelve-tone as his hands slide from your hair to your cheeks. His fingers tremble as he cups your face, throwing his head back with a wild yowl and wildly humping your fist. The first long spurt of his cum hits you square in the throat, dripping down between your collarbones and soaking the neckline of your tank top as he rides out the powerful waves of his climax. By the time it’s over, his thighs are shaking hard, tough lines of muscle standing out against the silver hair while his cock dribbles ripe streams right down your shirt.

He deflates with a heavy, heady sigh, falling to one knee in front of you and keeping your face gathered between his palms.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he moans, leaning in to capture your mouth and dip his tongue sloppily against yours. As soon as he’s found your lips he skates his hands down your shoulders to your breasts, lovingly cupping and thumbing the tightening buds of your nipples where thick shots of his cum are soaking into the white cotton. You can’t help the shaky little sigh that catches at the back of your throat, or the aching way you lean into his touch.

“G’nna-“ he cuts himself off, dipping his face into your throat. He licks into the tender column of your windpipe, bringing one big palm to the back of your neck to hold your head steady while he tucks his chin in and tastes the wet stripes of his cum that paint your décolletage. You’re not exactly sure what to expect, but the long, wet groan he lets into your chest is a pleasant surprise. He slides his hands from your neck to your shoulders to your sides and up the plane of your back, drawing you closer while he laps the mess from your collarbones and neckline.

“C’mon,” he mumbles into the swell of your left breast. “Gotta taste all of you.”

He slips his arms underneath you, lifting you with little more than a quiet grunt of effort as he gets to his feet. He holds you lovingly against his chest, striding slowly across the room and depositing you onto the bed with a smooth little bounce.

You hardly have the space to catch your breath before he braces a knee on the mattress beside you and leans down for another taste of your lips, kissing you slow and loving and skating a palm down your front. He slips his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, slipping his fingertips across your clit and making you yelp. Chuckling into your mouth, he dips his fingers lower and gasps.

“God,” he sighs. “Shoulda known you were holding out on me.” He sinks his middle finger into your clingy depths while he catches your mouth under his one more time. You’ve been unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, pinned sensuously under his touch, but as he curls his fingers against the restrictive insides of your leggings, you whine deep and slow into his mouth, arching your back to push your hips into his touch.

He doesn’t linger, drawing his hand from you and curling it in the waistband of your leggings instead. You’re slipping your fingers under the hem of your soiled tank top, pulling it up to expose the bare swell of your breasts.

“Let me?” He poses it like a question, pulling your leggings and underwear down and fluttering a kiss to the newly exposed skin below your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, already planting your feet in the fluffy sheets to lift your hips and help him undress you.

He pulls your leggings and underwear down over your hips in one smooth motion, pulling just a little harder than necessary to make you gasp and giggle. Your ass lands on the mattress all at once, punctuated by another handful of mirth that you can’t keep contained.

Bo’s grinning down at you as he balls up your clothes and tosses them toward the hamper like a mid-court basket shot. He doesn’t wait to find out if they made it, though, settling himself between your knees and gathering your hips into his arms.

“So soft,” he purrs, kissing the velvet skin of your tummy.

“Bo,” you whine. It’s your turn in the hot seat, and now the idea of teasing isn’t half as appealing as it was when you were on your knees.

“What? You don’t want me to take my time with you?”

You groan, letting your head flop back against the pillows as your eyes slip shut. Now that he’s got you bare, with his breath puffing hot and wanting over your tender skin, it’s hard to focus on anything but what you want.

“Don’t be mean,” you whine, but the hot press of his tongue on your inner thigh shuts you up fast. He moans low and rumbly against the damp of your skin, sinking his teeth gently into the fat of your thigh and giving a noisy suck.

“You’re so ready for it,” he muses, eyes darting sideways to admire your weeping slit. The buzz of his voice shoots right down the column of your spine, vibrating pleasantly at the base of your tailbone and sending goosebumps racing up your torso.

“Man,” Bo sighs, planting one hand on each thigh and pushing them apart. “You must really like suckin’ me off, huh?”

“I swear,” you grit. “I’m never touching your dick again if you don’t-“

He doesn’t waste another minute, leaning down and sealing his mouth greedily over your slit. The payoff is there for both of you, if the sound he makes when he dips his tongue between your folds is anything to go by.

The relief comes on swift wings as soon as he lets his tongue wander, stoking the fire that had been burning dangerously low and hot in your gut. Your thighs twitch in toward his ears while he tastes your messy slit, but his palms are as strong as shackles, keeping you open and vulnerable for him.

Bo prods his tongue forward, pressing inward as far as he can with a tiny little strained groan of effort. You cry out and clamp down around his tongue like a vice, a reaction he feels so vividly it makes him whip back from your body with a laugh.

“Don’t stopppp,” you plead, but his face is already disappearing between your thighs again, and you wrap your fingers in the hem of your tank top while he re-focuses his efforts on your swollen clit. He’s pressing his hips forward in a slow tempo that matches the patterns he tongues between your thighs, softly humping the mattress in time with your pleasure.

You’re sensitive and ready for him, stomach tightening smoothly when he settles into a rhythm. His technique is sloppy but he makes up for it in eagerness, pausing only to take deep breaths through his nose. He smiles into your skin and you can feel the way his mouth twitches against you, making you arch your back and slide one hand between your legs to rake through the silvery strands of his mussed hair. He grunts hard against your clit and you jump, giving him the chance to slip his hands under your thighs and hook them over his shoulders.

When he swallows you down this time, there’s something in the changed angle that drives pleasure straight down your back, letting it reverberate all the way into your toes. You flinch hard between his hands, and as he settles back into his messy, enthusiastic rhythm, you feel the telltale twinges of your building climax.

“Bo-“ you choke on his name.

He flicks his gaze to yours and his eyes flash, bright and golden. He knows your tells, too, and he sinks his fingers into the fat of your thighs, re-doubling his efforts and sucking a languid rhythm into your needy clit.

“Fuck,” you sputter. “Fuck, f-fuck, I-ah-“

Your mouth drops open, but the scream dies in your throat as white-hot pleasure bursts through your veins. Bokuto is heartbreakingly persistent, keeping up his ministrations while you claw at his hair and clamp your thighs down around his temples and ride the waves of your orgasm as gracefully as possible. By the time the sharp, burning pleasure’s raked its way through you, all your limbs have gone tense, and when it’s over you collapse, sweat-soaked, to the sheets beneath you.

Bo’s trembling between your legs, and when he surfaces his cheeks and ears are maroon. His cock is still twitching against his belly, bobbing as he gets onto his knees and still weeping long streams of spend.

“Oh.” The word flies from your throat before you can trap it, and he rubs your thighs soothingly with both hands as he takes a shaky, cleansing breath.

“You’re so-“ he starts to say, but you reach for him and he’s got no choice but to dip his cheek into your palm, flushing even deeper at the open way you stare.

“C’mere,” you prompt. Bo takes the bait and flops forward, landing stomach-first on the bed beside you and pillowing his head between your slick breasts. The position ought to be comical, but the weight of him is immensely soothing, rising and falling with the even pulse of your laboured breath.

You lie that way for a long while, staring vacantly past your reflection in the dark window beside your bed. The nighttime chill radiates through the glass, cooling your heated flesh. Your body aches with the fresh sensations of climax, but you’re not ready to put your clothes on yet.

“Bo.”

“Hmm?” It never occurred to you that he might be half-asleep until he winds himself upright, blinking weighty silver lashes against his still-blushing cheeks.

Still, you know how to wake him up. The conspiratory grin that touches your mouth is completely involuntary, and it’s enough to have Bokuto cocking a tired brow.

“Can I ride your cock?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything at all. His eyes grow slowly bigger, focus drifting away from your face as his jaw drops. Literally.

“Bo? Baby?”

“Y- b- I… h-“ he sputters, blinking hard and shaking out his sweaty hair. He looks up at you again with an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Like a kid at the zoo.

“Right now?”

You can’t hold back a snort, shoulders pitching forward. But he’s not kidding.

Neither are you.

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that a yes?”

By the time he rolls over, his cock’s already half-hard again, swelling against the strong cord of his right thigh. He sits up, scooting himself comfortably back against your bed’s stacked pillows. And when he reaches for you, you’re already rooting through the nightstand for supplies.

Bo’s a big dude, in every conceivable way. And while he’s never exactly been shy about that fact, he’s also painfully aware of the fact that with great power comes great responsibility. So when you start to warm a dollop of chilly water-based lube between your fingers, he doesn’t flinch.

“Mmmf.” He pushes his hips into your hands as you wrap them around his shaft, letting him swell into your palms while you slick him up. He’s still tender from before, and when you shift onto your knees your clit’s still tensing with leftover pleasure, but you’re buzzing with want. It hangs thick and heavy in the air between you. You’re unwilling to let it dissipate until you’re both completely satisfied.

By the time you’ve got the lube spread evenly from his base to his tip, Bo’s fully hard for you again, flushed and panting and grabbing at your hips as you scoot forward to straddle him. His impatience should probably bother you, but at this point it’s just endearing.

“Hmm, you’re so close,” you say, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. His mouth drops open as you bring his tip to your ready sex. Your pussy clamps involuntarily around the swell of his weeping head, and you’re panting into each others’ mouths as your hips sink slowly backward. The fill of him presses up into your belly, and you bottom out with a little flinch of discomfort, settling your thighs over his. He’s long enough that it actually hurts to take him in all the way like this, but you’re willing to put up with it for a minute while you get adjusted.

“Look at you.” Bokuto’s eyes rake up and down your trembling form, keeping time with his strong palms that rub soothing circles into the flesh of your hips. You shift a little, making him twitch and grunt. His thighs strain, struggling to keep from bucking upward against your tender cervix.

He lets out a deep, shaky sigh through pursed lips. “You’re so f-fucking perfect, you know that?”

You’re concentrating on tucking your knees underneath you for proper leverage, but he never fails to make you smile.

“I haven’t even started moving yet,” you breathe, bracing one hand on his shoulder. Once you’re stabilized, you lift your hips slowly forward, letting the thickness of him pull slowly from your slick depths. Bokuto’s head falls back against the pillows, beet red with exertion already.

“God,” he groans, bringing one hand around to your ass. “More, baby.”

You swallow hard, grip his hips tightly between your knees, and swirl your hips in a careful, tight little circle. It’s a subtle movement from the outside, but where you’re joined it rubs the thick ridge of his tip along all your tenderest nerve endings, sending powerful surges of pleasure vibrating into your chest.

Bokuto’s feeling it, too, the hard angles of his jaw standing out as he clenches his teeth. His silvery lashes rest heavily over his flushed cheeks, giving you little more than a bare peek of his dark, tawny eyes with the pupils blown wide in ecstasy.

“Just like that,” he prompts when you angle your hips forward, pinning your abused clit against his pubic bone and continuing to grind greedily over his shaft. He interrupts your rhythm with a sharp little pat to your ass, making your hips jump forward and giving him an opening to lower his chin and seal his mouth in the crook of your shoulder.

“Fu-uck,” you whine, looping both arms under his and clutching tightly at his back as your rhythm grows more urgent. You know how to work yourself to the peak easily, using his powerful body and thick cock to your every advantage.

“You’re close already,” he pants in your ear. “Oh, man, I can feel it. Don’t-“ His hips jerk backward, choking him on a surge of pleasure that washes over both of you.

“Don’t hold back for me, baby. I c’n… take it, yeah, that’s it.”

The low rumble of his voice in your ear reverberates all the way down to the pit of your stomach, cocktailing with the pleasure you’re grinding out yourself, and when he grabs your ass with both hands and rocks his tip against the gooey-sweet spot on your upper wall, you’re lost.

“Bo,” you whimper, grabbing tightly at the muscles in his back as your thighs start to shake. “Fuck, oh, fuck, ohfuck-“

The peak crests quietly between you, but quickly bleeds into every limb. You’re powerless to do anything but cling to him and whine in his ear as your hips stutter and twitch and grind over his stirring cock. Just when you think the wave is subsiding, Bokuto glides his hips beneath yours again and draws it out into a tight, near-painful shudder. Your vision whites out, then flashes black as you squeeze your eyes shut and lose yourself to the pleasure.

“Fuck.” Bo’s cursing as you come back to the surface, humping shallowly into your spent body. The lube you used squelches obscenely with the handfuls of slick your climax brought forth, numbing your used insides to his desperate thrusts. “Fuck, you’re so- you’re so- ohgod, inside, I-“

He goes completely incoherent as he finds his own pleasure, shoving his hips tightly against yours. His balls draw tight beneath you, thighs twitching as thick, heady warmth fills your belly. You’re addicted to the fullness he leaves in you without fail, the mess between you when he goes slack and you draw your hips backward to let his falling erection slide out of you.

Your roommate’ll be back from the library at any second. You should be getting up and dressing yourselves, making some attempt at feigning innocence before she comes in. But the bedroom door is closed and it’s far too easy to tumble back into the haphazard embrace from before, cum collecting sticky and hot between your thighs as Bokuto buries his face between your tits.

“D’you think they’ll stretch?” he mumbles into your skin, once your pulse has finally slowed to its regular pace.

“Hmm?” In your pleasure-addled haze, you don’t follow. Bokuto lifts his face from your flesh, resting his chin gently on your sternum.

“My shorts.”

Right.

“Uh-“ You have to purse your lips hard, to keep the dumb smile from showing on them. You take a slow pass of air in through your nose and lift your fingers to comb soothingly through his sweaty hair.

“We’ll make them fit,” you promise. “Somehow.”

Before he buries his face in your chest again, you catch the pure, blissed smile that stretches his cheeks. He slips his eyes shut, nuzzling you tenderly and kissing the swell of one breast.

“Good,” he sighs. And then, bare-assed, sweaty and sticky, he falls asleep.

You spy the shorts, still lying in a crumpled heap by the bathroom door. You make a mental note to check the brand and sizing later, before he leaves.

You’ll make then fit again.

Somehow.

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 18

Hello everyone! Here she is! Thank you all so much for being so patient with me and this chapter. I hope it lives up to the hype and the wait lol. I'd also like to say that I will still be writing and finishing this series as well as my other in progress ones. However, I'm currently feeling like I'm not that interested in Harry right now and I feel like it's mostly all the drama and everything going on with him right now so updates will be slow. Also I've changed my theme to a Marvel x One Direction theme because I've decided to take one of my Bucky Barnes plot and actually publish it. I'll still post Harry because of course I love him but he won't be the main focus of this blog anymore.

Thanks for waiting and reading. Hope you enjoy the chapter! X

Harry's good under pressure. At least looking from the outside in, he is. It's a skills he's picked up from boxing. Always pretend you know what's going on. No surprises, no shocks. If he's in a fight and his opponent is stronger or faster than he originally thought, he doesn't show it. Acting like it was expected, like he planned it rattles others and helps him maintain his grace.

He keeps that same approach when it comes to interviews.

Liam meets him outside the gym, waving with a bright smile that Harry just smiles at, shocked to find his trainer in the parking garage rather than the ring.

"What's going on mate?" Harry greets, trying to step around him to get to the stairs but Liam halts him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Gotta reporter here who wants to chat with you about recovering from your concussion and reaching the finals."

His tone is laced with hesitance, lips pursed in suppressed grimace and Harry doesn't blame him. Liam knows how much Harry hates interviews. They're his least favorite part of the job. He's here to box and get paid, to provide for his family, not to tell the world every detail of his life.

"Oh," Harry mumbles, shrugging and stepping up to the door. "Alright. Only for a few minutes though, wanna get home a little early today."

If Liam is surprised by Harry's ease he doesn't show it. "Got something going on?"

Harry follows Liam inside, nodding to Mark at the front desk. "Y/n has just been exhausted lately and Arlo can't spend a second alone without screaming bloody murder. Just want to be there to make sure she's resting and Arlo's not being a pest."

"He's your son, of course he's being in a pest."

The comment leaves too much pride in Harry's chest for him to even care that Liam just insisted he himself is a pest. Besides, Harry knows he's clingy and a little too attached but that's just how his relationship with y/n is, and they love it.

In his private locker room,Harry finds the reporter, a young girl who can't be too far out of undergrad with dark hair and a bright red lips. She's sat on the bench, a notepad on her thigh and her phone resting next to it.

"Hello Mr. Styles." She greets, shaking his hand when he approaches her. "I'm Rebecca Weese."

Harry takes a seat next to her, nodding. "Nice to meet you. I don't have a lot of time today but I can answer a few of your questions if we can make it quick." He smiles guiltily, hoping to not come off as rude.

She nods, immediately glancing down at her notepad and crossing some things out. Harry assumes they're questions she's decided aren't important enough. "Is it ok if I record this? Just sound of course."

Again, he nods, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as he waits for her to begin. Tapping at her phone, she places it between them to catch both voices and then scans her notes again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you've only been boxing for a few years, right?"

Harry shrugs. "I trained a lot when I was teenager, worked under Ted until he decided to bring me up to the pros. Was about 20 I think when that happened." He tries to stay vague, knowing he can't tell the public that his "training" was an illegal boxing ring.

"Five-Six years is a short amount of time to be included in a tournament like this one. Most contenders are well into their careers before being qualified to participate. What do you think has been the main factor in your success?"

Routine question, and he's got a routine answer. "I was fortunate enough to figure out early on that boxing is what I wanted to do and I think that helped out a lot. I also got a very good team behind me. My trainer, manager, my wife, they're all the main factors in my success. I'm very grateful to have them."

Rebecca smiles a bit, jotting down a few words. "Does your wife work in the industry?"

It's her casual tone, as if she were a friend just wanting to hear him brag about his lover that has him answering so honestly.

"No she works in design but I met her early in my career and she's always supported me. Takes care of me after bad matches and whatnot, always comes to my fights even if it means being on her feet for hours. Which isn't exactly her favorite thing at the moment with the baby-"

Harry stops, eyes widening a bit at what he's just revealed. Part of him wishes desperately that Rebecca didn't hear him but he knows that's impossible.

"I didn't know you're a father," she says kindly, sensing his panic. "Do you want to talk about it more or should I scratch that part?"

He doesn't know what makes him say it. A year ago he'd have fled the room if he were questioned about his family. Harry likes to keep them separate, to keep his kids away from his boxing. It's possibly a small part of him that's conditioned to keep his work a secret from his family even if he doesn't have to. But Rebecca's offer to drop the whole topic is what breaks him.

"S'ok," he says "I've got a son that's about a year old and another on the way."

Her eyes light up, beaming at him and he grins shyly but somehow proudly at the same time. "That's awesome. Congrats. I know your son's young but does he have any part in your career? Influence maybe?"

"He doesn't watch any of my fights or anything. Too young to be around violence like that but he does affect my fighting in a way. I used to go into boxing with just the mentality that I'm doing something I love, but now I've got the added success. A win means more support for my family and I want them to always have what they need so I've got sort of an edge there."

"Like having something to fight for?" She confirms, and Harry nods immediately.

"Yeah. I'd do anything for them and I think that makes me a bit dangerous in the ring."

No matter what, he'll always be fighting for them. Everything he does is for y/n and his boys.

~

The house smalls of tomato sauce and pasta when Harry walks in, mouth instantly watering and stomach rumbling. He had a light breakfast this morning before going to the gym and now that's he burnt off all that energy he reckons he could eat a horse. Dropping his keys on the table in the entryway, toeing off his sneakers, and dropping his gym bag to the floor, Harry makes a beeline for the kitchen. He's so caught up in wanting to eat he doesn't notice the TV playing a Disney movie or the two figures sprawled out on the couch until one of them is calling for him.

"Daddy!" Arlo's head pops up over the cushions, dimples sunk into his cheeks and eyes bright. Harry immediately changes course, coming up behind the couch and meeting Arlo's outstretched arms.

"'Ello bug," Harry greets, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Arlo coos happily, curling up against Harry's shoulder. Y/n is watching them with a small smile, a hand resting easily over the stretched fabric of his tee-shirt she's wearing. "And hello darling." He leans over the back of the couch to press a crooked kiss to her lips.

"Hi baby," she sits up, smiling dreamily at him. "How was the gym?"

Harry shrugs, adjusting Arlo on his hip. "Was good. I had an interview today about finals and....stuff." Her eyebrow quirks up at his hesitancy to continue.

"What stuff?"

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Harry drops his gaze to Arlo. "You, Arlo, the baby." She doesn't respond immediately and he knows it’s because she’s trying to analyze him. He's fairly private about his family, especially his children and the only reason he'd informed the world of Arlo was to get people off his back about leaving y/n, so he knows she's probably confused by his ease with talking about the new baby.

"How'd it go?" She asks, pushing herself up from the couch with a hand on her belly. Without hesitation Harry reaches out to place his free hand over hers, moving her with him towards the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"M'starving darling," he says and his stomach grumbles in agreement, making Arlo gurgling back and nudge his foot into Harry's tummy. "But interview went well. Announced the pregnancy."

"You did?" She questions, perching herself on the counter stool with wide eyes. "Seems a bit early compared to Arlo's announcement."

Managing as best he can with one free hand, Harry retrieves a bowl from the cabinet and serves himself a heaping mountain of spaghetti. "Just came out if m'being honest," he shrugs, settling into the stool next to her with Arlo still glued to his lap. "'sides it's different this time. He was my first baby and I was scared."

He doesn't realize that she's fallen silent until he's slurping back noodles and she doesn't scold him. Curiously, Harry rotates just enough to look at her. Y/n is staring at him, eyes big and moony when he mumbles a suspicious "wha'?"

"You were scared?"

Swallowing down his food, he nods. Her intent gaze brings a blush to his cheeks and he has to drop his eyes to peer down at Arlo. "Y-yeah. Didn't know if he'd like me as his dad, ya know?"

Harry's never said those words out loud, now that he's come to think of it. Whenever something's pertained to Arlo, Harry was always the positive reinforcement, the one reassuring y/n about them stepping into parenthood. He never really told her how much it scared him because he didn't want to scare her.

"I-I didn't know that," she mumbles. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugs, lifting his gaze from Arlo to y/n. "Because I wanted to be a good dad. Ya know, like the kind that can kill spiders and scare aware bad dreams.....Just wanted to be strong I guess."

He doesn't say it, but he knows she's picked up the fear he won't acknowledge. He doesn't want to be his dad. His father was great but the sad thing is, everything great about him was brought out by alcohol. Des needed that poison to combat his own fears and insecurities, and Harry doesn't want to be like that too. He doesn't want to leave his kids the same way he was left.

"Being scared doesn't make you weak Harry."

She leans over to press a tender kiss to his jaw, belly brushing against his side, and he thinks about those words for the remainder of the day.

~

Crouched down, Harry steers the shopping cart with one hand and guides Arlo along with the other one. By the way he's trudging along, Harry knows Arlo is getting tired of walking. It's good for him to practice though, so Harry leads him along for another few minutes before scooping him up in one arm.

"Did so well bug." Harry compliments, pecking Arlo's cheek. The toddler curls up into his chest, yawning. It's a bit difficult steering the cart with one hand but Harry manages, steadily making his way up and down each aisle. He gets baby cereal for Arlo, a couple bags of puffy hot Cheetos to stash in the cabinets, and he's stocking up on y/n's latest craving (spaghetti-o's and meatballs) when a familiar face rounds the corner.

Zayn is pushing a cart filled groceries, eyes scanning up and down the shelves and Harry curses under his breath. The last person he wants to see right now is Zayn. Last time they had a run in he said something that bothered y/n and Harry never wants anything to bother his girl.

In an attempt to hide, Harry pulls his hood up over his head, shrinking into his pullover and craning his neck to not make eye contact with his old friend. Grabbing a few cans of the fake pasta y/n is living off of, Harry sets them in the cart and quickly walks down the aisle. A man who looks a few years older than Harry moves towards him, stepping around Zayn and in front of Harry's cart.

"Excuse me," the man stops him, gaze dropping to the boy against his chest for half a second before regretfully meeting Harry's eyes. "m'so sorry to bother, didn't notice the little one-"

"It's fine." Harry cuts off, glancing at Zayn to make sure his back is still to them. It is and Harry relaxes a bit at that, but his curiosity grows. "How can I help you sir?"

The man smiles, grateful. "I just wanted to tell you that m'son and I are big fans and we're excited for your fight this weekend."

Harry knows he has fans, he's run into a few around the city but they're usually teens and kids that want an autograph. He's never had a grown man approach him about his career and it's odd. Flattering, but odd.

"Thanks man. I really appreciate your support." Harry says sincerely, smiling. The man nods in response, taking a step away from Harry. He moves to leave but stops last minute, turning back to Harry.

"Congrats on the baby news too." He says quickly, almost shy or embarrassed. Before Harry can even thank him, the man is rushing out a "have a good day" and then he's moving down the aisle.

Confused, Harry stands there for a moment trying to figure out what happened. He knew announcing the new baby would bring more attention to him in the media and he's not surprised that that man, who's clearly a fan, had already heard it. He is surprised that the man seemed almost scared to admit to Harry that he knows.

"Harry?"

Fuck.

He looks up, meeting the golden eyes that could only belong to Zayn. Harry doesn't even bother trying to smile at his old friend as he stands in front of Harry's cart. A lady maneuvers around them, murmuring a soft "excuse me sir." Harry scoots his cart over, smiling apologetically.

"How have you been man?"

Harry's gaze returns to it's impassive expression, glancing over Zayn's too-bright presence. "I've been good." Harry responds, moving Arlo to his other arm when he starts to lose feeling in his fingers. The movement draws Arlo out of his nap-like state, the toddler now noticing Zayn standing in front of them. Immediately his face scrunches into a look of annoyance.

If Zayn notices, he must not care because he smiles at Arlo, teeth dazzling. "That's good to hear. Congratulations on the baby, by the way! Saw the article up front. S'amazing!"

Article? Harry lips are just starting to form his question when his phone rings, the tune specific to y/n. "Sorry, gotta take this." Harry says in Zayn's direction, digging into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He hits answer before Zayn can even respond.

"Hi darling."

Harry wiggles Arlo into the basket. "Hi H. You still at the store?"

He pushes the cart down the aisle, not caring that he's left his old friend hanging. "Yeah I am. What's up"

The sound of a running faucet comes through the speaker. "Forgot to add yogurt bites to the list. Arlo ate the last of 'em last night and ya know how he is if he doesn't have any before bed."

Harry snorts, steering towards the baby food aisle. Arlo has fallen in love with yogurt bites and they've become his snack before bed. Harry thinks he shouldn't be having them every night and he'd tried to tell Arlo that two nights ago, but Arlo is a stubborn thing. He screamed his head off, ignored Harry's attempts at giving him fresh fruit instead, and then only calmed down after y/n nursed him.

"I'll grab 'em darling. No worries." He assures, tossing a couple bags of the bites into the cart. "Anything else?"

"Do we still have the old flower vases from our wedding in the garage?" She asks.

"Umm, I think so. You expecting flowers from a secret lover or something?" Harry jokes, eyes catching on a pack of bibs hanging in the aisle.

"Not unless you've got a trick up your sleeve Styles." She retorts.

He tosses a pack into the basket. "Buy you a whole flower shop if that's what ya want darling." Arlo grumbles from the baby seat of the cart, tiny fingers coming up to play with the rings on Harry's fingers that are locked around the steering bar.

"Don't worry about that, we've got enough flowers." Y/n laughs and he can hear her moving around the house. "Three bouquets just arrived with congratulations cards."

"What?"

"Guess the baby announcement was well accepted." She says. "We're getting lots of flowers for it."

Pushing towards the checkout, Harry frowns in confusion. "Got stopped by a fan today for the same thing. Can't believe it's such a big deal."

"Well you're more known now than when we were having Arlo." She reasons, and Harry hums his agreement. He passes the self checkouts, freezing when he spots numerous copies of his face on the ends of the aisle.

"Holy shit," he breathes, not even thinking about the innocent ears before him. Y/n gasps through the phone, scolding him for his language. "Sorry darling, s'just I'm bloody plastered all over the grocery store."

He reads over the cover of the sports magazine. It's got a big photo of him in the ring, gloves held up to his chin and jaw tight around his mouth guard. Next to it is a photo of him and y/n leaving a big fight awhile back. She's got her head down, hand snug in his as he leads her along. And written in bold yellows is "Harry Styles Expecting Baby #2 As He Prepares for Biggest Fight Yet!"

"They put me on the front page." He tells her, not bothering to flip open the article before he's quickly moving away from the display. "Why would they do that?"

When he did that interview, he thought it'd be a small, breezy section in the magazine. If he had known he'd be getting stopped in the grocery store and flowers sent to his house he wouldn't have said anything. As previously mentioned, he's a private guy, so having this detail projected in a way he wasn't warned about makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"It's alright Harry," y/n says reassuringly, knowing that he's become anxious at the publicity. "No harm done. It's just flowers bub and as long as we've got those vases in the garage, everyone will survive."

He chuckle weakly at her joke, picking an aisle so he can quickly checkout and go home. "Don't go digging around for them by yourself, don't need ya falling and getting hurt. I'll help ya when I get home."

"Aw my hero." She coos, and he knows she's teasing but it still makes him blush. God he loves her.

~

"Those bloody things are making my nose itch." Harry grumbles, aggressively rubbing the palm of his hand into his burning nostrils. He glares at the bouquet of peonies on the dresser, a gift from y/n's co-workers, and moves towards the bed.

Y/n is propped up against the headboard, a pair of his pajama bottoms on her legs but her shirt has been abandoned on the carpet by the bed. Arlo is attached to her hip, mouth latched to her nipple and she's stroking through his soft hair while he breastfeeds. Harry's heart throbs in his chest, warmed by the sight of his wife coddling their baby, and he's so fucking in love with her he's anxious to get Arlo into bed so he can have his way with her.

"I can't just throw them out, H." She sighs, pulling her gaze from the television to his pouty face. He huffs, running the damp towel in his hand through his hair one last time before haphazardly tossing it towards the closet. Kneeing his way up the bed, he curls into y/n's side and smiles when she tucks her arm around him.

"Stroke my hair too?" He mumbles, peering up with puppy eyes and she giggles before threading her fingers through his hair too. Arlo gurgles around a mouthful, bright green eyes opening to look at Harry. He worries for a moment that Arlo is going to get fussy and kick him away, but the toddler just blinks at him sleepily.

"Tha's ma boy." He coos fondly, squirming a hand over to pat Arlo's full tummy. Y/n giggles and continues to stroke his hair, Harry watching Arlo slowly be soothed to sleep. "Lemme get him to bed darling."

Grunting, he pushes himself up from the mattress and too his feet. Y/n transfers Arlo to his awaiting arms, swiping at the milk that dribbled out of his snoring lips and onto her skin. Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Wanna have a shag when I get back?"

A shocked laugh bursts out of her, Harry's face lighting up at the sound as his heart swells. He was trying to be a bit silly, not enough to have her eyes crinkling like that, but he's happy she finds him funny.

"Sure baby." She breathes, still grinning. His stomach flutters, excitement bubbling in his belly and he nods quickly before moving across the room.

Arlo stays cuddled into Harry's neck as he flicks on the nightlight in the nursery and adjusts the blankets in the crib. Theo watched Harry from his bed in the corner, sleepy puppy eyes following his every move. He lays Arlo down, gently shushing him when he store and tucks Bunny into his side. With a peck to his head and a quiet "good night bug," Harry partially shuts the bedroom door and rushes back into the bedroom.

Y/n has already kicked off her bottoms, leaving her naked on their sheets and Harry groans as he works to catch up with her. His shirt is playfully tossed at y/n's grinning face, Harry laughing as he wiggles out of his sweats. Naked as the day he was born, Harry jumps onto his knees at the bottom of the bed.

A laugh bubbles out of y/n when the whole bed shakes under his weight, clearly amused at how excited he is. She must be just as excited though because she quickly leans forward to cup his face, attaching their lips and bringing him back down to the pillows with her.

"Wanna be on top," he mutters into her mouth, ghosting his hand down her tummy and tickling his thumb over her clit. "f'that's ok?"

"Mmm," she hums, happily "too tired to top anyway."

Harry seals their lips together again, using his knees to spread her thighs a bit further apart for him. Her palms smooth down his sides and around to his back, a breathy moan interrupting their kiss courtesy of his fingers. Harry utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging her hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against her side. She lifts, and he settles it under her lower back and bum to prop her up. Luckily for him, he's had a lot of practice getting around a baby bump for a shag.

Settling between her thighs, Harry giggles when she wraps her legs around his hips and tugs him closer. His body hovers over hers, love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through her folds, groaning at how slick she's become.

"Don't even have to try anymore do I?" He teases with a wolfish smile, capturing her lips just as she rolls her eyes. Giggling, he leaves soft kisses across her cheek, heading towards the base of her jaw.

"S'the baby's fault honestly." She argues, her fingers disappearing into the damp locks sticking to the back of his neck.

He hums, smirking against her skin. "Is it?"

With a small tug she's pulling him back up to her mouth. "Yeah. Gets me revved up all the bloody time. I don't know what you're putting in there mister but it's exhausting."

Harry laughs quietly, nipping at her bottom lip. "Don't worry baby, I'm gonna take care of ya. S'my problem after all, isn't it?"

Y/n nods, biting back a grin as Harry grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling her. Chest to chest, Harry smiles at the feeling of their stomachs pressed together as he guides the head of him into her slit.

The sigh that puffs out of her chest sends a zip of pleasure up his spine, as if she'd been partial without him and the pure relief of just having him in her is all she could ever want. Harry hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey she is for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have her this desperate for him and his touch.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to her, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. He pulls his hips back, breath stuttering when he easily slips forward again.

Y/n moans softly, dropping one hand to the small of his back as if guiding him. "So so good H." She confirms in a whisper, her voice tickling his ear and he squirms with a small laugh at the sensation.

Harry's soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between them and the one sleeping down the hall. Even the kisses he places on her jaw and lips are tender, small brushes between their confirmations that he "feels so good" inside her and she was "made for being wrapped me huh?" And Harry thinks nothing ever been truer. Her arms were made to hold him, her hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and her heart was made to completely consume his.

Y/n reaches her high before him, rolling her hips up to try and quicken his but he maintains his sensual thrusts, stroking her temple as she trembles and gasps, clinging to him in every way possible. There's something about how quick she falls apart for him when she's pregnant and how utterly earth shattering it is for her, that it completely obliterates any sense of stamina Harry's ever had. He couldn't care less when he follows shortly after, grinding down into her heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in her walls. She's the one stroking his temple this time, and he knows she's watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes.

Maybe it's the lingering anxiety that washed over him at the grocery store, but when y/n kisses him and gently nudges him off of her so she can go pee, Harry's desperate as he grips her hand and pouts, practically begging when he asks "can I get back in ya after? Just to fall asleep darling?"

Of course she nods, brushing sweaty curls from his forehead to soothe him and just like that he already feels lighter. He never has to sorry with her, because they were made for loving each other.

~

"Oh fuck!"

"Would you stop being so loud! It's 8 in the morning!"

"Can't help it, darling."

Harry tightens his hold around y/n's thighs, dipping his tongue back into her slit and groaning loudly despite the warning she's already given him this morning. She tugs on his hair scoldingly, drawing a pained hiss out of him. Harry brings his teeth up to her clit, nibbling in retaliation. A pained hiss of her own leaves her lips, cut off by a soft moan as he soothes his tongue over the spot.

Grinding her hips up into his mouth, Harry can't help but push his own into the mattress and a deep groan escapes him as he does so. Huffing, y/n scolds him again for being too loud when they've got a sleeping child one room over.

"Stop yelling at me so I can make you cum." He purrs, lips brushing over her clit. Their eyes meet over the curves and dips of her body, Harry smirking when she raises a prodding eyebrow at him. He kisses her thigh just once, lapping his tongue through her slit and he's just reaching her most sensitive spot when the beginning stirs of Arlo waking up break through the baby monitor.

Simultaneous groans leave both their mouths, this time of frustration. Harry pouts, knocking his forehead on y/n's hip bone and shaking his head.

"I told you Styles." Y/n teases, stroking through his hair for a second. He can't even think of a rebuttal before Arlo is calling out softly for her, and she's pushing up from the bed to get dressed.

"Take care of that while I take care of this." She calls as she disappears through the door, snickering softly and leaving him there desperate for her. But then again, when is he not desperate for her?

~

Hey man, hope I'm not being a bother. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink Friday or something?

-Z

Harry stares at the message, wondering why Zayn would sign it when the Instagram handle is clearly him. He also wonders why the hell Zayn is trying to hang out with him now.

It's a sunny day, the air outside relatively warm for March so Harry slipped a sweater on Arlo and brought him out to the backyard to play. They're sat in the grass, Arlo between his legs as they teach Theo to play fetch. Arlo's gotten good at tossing the chew toy himself, so Harry used the free time to start clearing out the congratulations messages he's received on Instagram.

"What's the matter H?"

Harry locks his phone, tilting his head up and squinting into the sun as y/n stands over them. She's got a bowl of puffy hot Cheetos in her hand, cradling them as if they were a precious gem as she settles into the grass with them.

"Nothing," he mumbles, pecking her temple when she leans into his side. "just got a weird text from Zayn. He wants to hang out."

Crunching through a chip, she hums. "Did you know he lives here?"

She lifts up a Cheeto, offering it to him. Harry gladly takes it between his teeth, pulling it from her fingertips and crunching down on the puffy chip. Swallowing, he shakes his head.

"Ran into him at the store once around Valentine's Day," she says, eyes watching Arlo dig his stubby fingers into the dry grass. "Was trying to talk to me about you I think but your son threw a fit and I was too busy to care honestly."

"Really?" Harry asks, perking up at the idea of Arlo throwing a tantrum to keep people away from y/n. That's the only time he'll agree with such actions. "Taught him well then haven't I?"

Rolling her eyes, she elbows him. "If you're son grows up to be rude I'm going to kick your ass Harry Styles."

Laughing, he steals a chip from her, locking his phone and dropping it to the grass. Arlo, interested in the device, crawls over to pick it up.

"Wouldn't expect anything less darling." He says, reaching over to swipe his phone to the camera so Arlo can snap random pictures.

"What are you going to do about Zayn then?"

"Suppose I should see what he wants, yeah?"

Y/n shrugs but Harry can read the look on her face easily. She's always silently encouraged him to face things that need mending or fixing, and his past with Zayn is one of those things.

"S'done then," he laughs, pinching her side affectionately. "I'll figure out why he's so obsessed with me."

She laughs, throwing her head back and scrunching her nose in the way makes him want to stare at her forever. "Think it's that one he's obsessed with. Look how cute he is."

Harry follows her line of sight, smile growing at the sight of Arlo making faces at himself in Harry's camera.

So bloody cute.

~

"Are we gonna be besties? I think we're gonna be besties." Niall states, swinging an arm around y/n's shoulders. He's on his third beer of the night already and Harry hasn't even made it to the ring yet. Y/n just laughs, continuing to maneuver tape around Harry's fingers but he's not as kind.

Casting a glare at the Irish man, Harry calls out to Gemma. "Get your leprechaun off of my girl before I use him to warm up."

Niall isn't really phased by the words, only pouting softly at Harry's steel gaze but Gemma is quick to rush over and pull Niall up from the couch by his hand.

"Come on babe, let's go find our seats." She coos to him, sending Harry an apologetic smile. He waits for her and Niall to turn their backs before chuckling softly. Y/n pinches at his wrist.

"Be nice to Niall. I really like him."

"Oh you really like him, huh?" Harry huffs, nudging his knee against hers. She rolls her eyes, giggling when he slips his free hand around her waist and pulls her into his lap. "Please tell me how much you really like Niall darling." He requests, shoving his face in her neck and playfully biting at her throat and shoulder. Just as he'd expected, she giggles and squirms, Harry having to wrap her up in a bear hug to keep her from sliding right off his thigh.

"Harry! Stop!"

He laughs with her, moving up to bite at the apples of her cheeks and her nose, growling as if he were a rabid beast. His freshly taped knuckles ache under the tightness of the wrap as he grips her flailing legs but he ignores it in favor of listening to her laugh.

"I like you more! I swear!" She shouts between laughs, wiggling a hand free and gripping the back of his neck. Pleased with her words, Harry pants out a laugh before sealing his mouth to hers.

"Tha's good because I like you more than Niall too." He mumbles into her lips.

"You like me more than you like everyone." She chuckles, stroking her thumb along his jawline. Harry's eyes shine with delight, proud that she knows her place in his heart, but he still teases.

"Mmm almost darling. Quite like my son, ya know that?"

She rolls her eyes but looks at him fondly, pinching the meat of his cheek. "Cute," she murmurs, "now go get ready for your fight baby. Want everyone to see my husband's gonna be the national champion."

Her words bring a rush of blood to his cheeks (and his cock if he's being honest), but he nudges her onto the couch next to him. "Just need two more wins." He whispers in her ear, pecking her temple.

Just two more wins.

~

There's good fights and there's bad fights. Everyone knows that. But not everyone knows that there's good wins and bad wins. Harry's experienced a few of those bad ones. Wins that he probably shouldn't have gotten because he certain his opponent had landed more punches and the judges miscounted. Or it was clear the other fighter wasn't into it and let him win.

Harry thinks tonight is his worst win ever.

The fight had been good. Trinsky, tonight's opponent from New Jersey, was short and stocky but strong. Harry was quicker than him though so they'd gone back and forth for a few rounds. Nothing two rough, just enough punches to have bright red welts on his torso and an ache in his jaw.

He fought through it though, fueled by the sounds of y/n and Niall cheering for him. Win this fight and he's onto the championship match. So he went at it with all he had left, charging Trinsky just as the man knocked his fist into Harry's temple.

It felt like a lightning bolt of pain zapped through his brain, shaking his core and causing his feet to stumble. Trinsky slid to the right as Harry crashed into the ropes, blinking furiously as the room around him spun. He was still in a daze as his body moved on its own, quick enough to uppercut his left fist into Trinsky's chin. The man crumbled to the mat, out cold, and Harry's dizzy head brought him down as well.

There's cheering and an announcement of his name, declaring Harry the winner but he can't seem to focus on it. Trinsky is being moved from the ring by his team, Harry falling to his bum on the mat as he rips at the velcro of his gloves with his teeth.

The room is coming back into focus, someone is calling him from the side of the ring but he doesn't recognize the voice so it goes ignored. He gets his hands free, rubbing his fingers into the tender spot on his head and wincing. He needs to take some Advil and ice it.

Harry climbs to his feet, a bit disoriented as he ducks under the ropes to leave. He knows he's got a team here somewhere but his mind can't seem to recognize what they look like or how to find them.

"Man, what are you doing?"

He turns, confused to find two men watching him like he's grown a second head. Harry feels like he knows the warm brown eyes of the taller man but he's not sure from where. Smiling uncomfortably, he motions behind him.

"I n-need ice or something." He says, excusing himself with a shrug and turning back to the locker room. He doesn't like the way his stomach twists or how his chest is telling him he knows those men when he couldn't even tell you there names right now. His heart thunders in his chest, panic seeping in and he's desperate to find something or someone that'll just help him out.

"Harry baby," she says calmly, a hand rubbing up his bare back comfortingly. "you okay?"

Y/n appears at his side, head tilted so she can meet his nervous gaze. Almost immediately he latches onto her hand, shaking his head. Her eyebrows crease, lips frowning as she reaches to cup his cheek.

"What's going on H? What's the matter?"

"M'head hurts," he answers immediately. "I-I think I forgot my team."

A trembling breath leaves his lips, tears stinging behind his eyes when he sees the concern on his wife's face. She brushes her thumb over his temple, the one she knows got hit the hardest, and then brushes a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead to place a tender kiss there.

"Let's get you to the locker room babe."

He follows like a lost puppy, trailing behind her through the back hallway and into his locker room. Y/n closes the door behind him before anyone else can enter, twisting the lock. Harry sits in the closest chair, fiddling with the tape on his fingers as he tries to calm down.

"Do you want to talk to me bub?" Y/n asks quietly, pulling up a seat directly in front of him. He nods, lifting his gaze from his hands to her face.

"I don't know what happened. It's like I got hit in the head and everything got shook up." He explains, frowning. He hates the way this feels. Hates that his body is screaming at him to just remember but his brain refuses to accept the message. "I know them, I know I do but s'like their names and stuff are just gone."

Y/n inhales sharply, biting nervously at her bottom lip. Harry's not even sure what to say and that makes him feel so much worse. He doesn't even feel like he has a concussion, not really. Everything else is still there, still in the forefront of his mind. His wife, his boys, Anne and Gemma. And he faintly remembers sitting at bars with one of the men from his team, remembers crashing on his couch late at night. But the soul of those memories are gone.

"I'm gonna get you some painkillers and water okay babe? Then we'll figure out what to do."

He nods, smiling wetly when she kisses his forehead. Watching her move around the room to gather water and whatnot, Harry wills himself to just think. He knows these men, he's just gotta focus on it. A memory stands out, one of the three of them in a car on a road trip. His trainer is driving, his manager in the passenger seat and he knows this is a trip for a match. A recent match too because he remembers saying goodbye to Arlo and y/n, kissing her swollen belly before he went.

Y/n returns to him with a bottle of water and a couple pills, watching him cautiously as he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to just think. Recalling conversations from the car, remembering the screen in the front of the vehicle that reads Connected to Liam's iPhone. Liam. Almost instantly Nick's name floods his brain again and he feels his whole body tremble with relief.

Harry takes the medicine, gulping it down and slumping into his seat. "Nick and Liam," he finally murmurs, voice thick. "I couldn't remember darling. They were right in front of me and I couldn't remember their fucking names."

A silent tear trails down his cheek, Harry sniffling as y/n wipes it away with a tender touch he's only felt from her. "Its ok Harry. We'll figure out what happened. At least you remember now baby." She tried to comfort, but Harry's heart still aches.

"What if-" he peers up at her through wet eyelashes. "what if it had been you? Or Arlo? Or all three of you? What if I-"

He can't even finish the thought before he's shaking his head, more tears slipping down his cheeks and jaw. What would he have done if he'd looked at y/n and not remembered her name? Not remembered the beautiful son they created? Or the one she's growing now?

"It wasn't Harry," she stays sternly, cutting into his spiralling thoughts. "it wasn't and even if it did happen, it wouldn't change a thing. You're not getting rid of us."

Trying to smile, he nods and takes a deep breath. He trusts her, more than anyone, and he's never known someone that fights as much as she does. He knows, no matter what, that she'll always have his back.

[crapitskizaru]

(Most of) The Worst Generation as famous Youtubers

Warning: long post ahead!

MPV - most popular video

Monkey D. Luff (Mukbang/Daily Vlogger)

1,5 mln subscribers

vlogs about everything, most of the time captures only his face with the shaky front camera phone 

always has some of his friends in the videos - whether they consent to it or not 

as soon as Luffy started hitting bigger numbers, Nami got involved

- “Oi, Luffy, do you know how much money you could make on this?!” 

she’s both fascinated and deeply terrified as to how Luffy even got that many subscribers in the first place - most of the videos consisted of a shaking view of Luffy’s nostrils and his loud voice reporting every little thing he does at the moment, as well as teasing all of his friends 

after countless arguments, Nami settles for adding ads only at the start and the end of the video (as opposed to slapping them every 2 minutes) 

merely enjoying a random video he found is enough for Luffy to try and make a collab with the youtuber behind said video - thanks to that, his channel is filled with various topics and lots of unrelated communities

his most popular collab so far is with Kid - where they go to a haunted house together 

MPV: WE GOT KICKED OUT OF A PRIVATE ISLAND DAILY VLOG S.30 EP. 996

Roronoa Zoro (Health and Fitness)

320k subscribers

most of his videos are shot from an identical angle - he sets up his camera in the same spot every time and starts working out 

once a month he throws in a recipe for protein powders he uses (it’s actually Chopper’s recipe) 

Zoro despises one particular video on his channel that surprisingly went viral and earned him a lot of new subscribers - when Luffy made a compilation of Zoro sleeping in various spots around Sunny, not waking up even during extreme weather conditions (title: SWORDSMAN SLEEPS THROUGH A HURRICANE - FUNNY VIDEO MUST WATCH)

MPV: weekly vlog 18,000 rep squats bench workout bicep curls

Trafalgar the Bastard (Study Vlog/Conspiracy Theories)

500k subcribers

a rather diverse channel - at first his videos only consisted of him studying at his favorite study spot, but as soon as he began to be more popular, he decided to add some of his own conspiracy theories reviews, as well as vlogs from where he simply wanders around the city

more often that not, his videos involve Bepo, Shachi and Penguin - not that it’s Law’s choice to involve them. Usually they just steal his camera and zoom in on him when they’re on a camping trip in a forest; they title the video as “lonely man wanders around in the woods - he attacks us at the end!” 

at the beginning, Law asked Shachi to be his editor, but since he always cut out the parts where Law started speaking, he went to Nami instead - she agreed to be his temporary editor (not for free, of course) until Law learns editing himself 

MPV: my armageddon 2020 theory proved to be true

Eustsass Kid - (Music/Pranks and Challenges)

470k subscribers

messy videos with all kinds of challenges - no matter how ridiculous they are, Kid has to complete them 

for the Ice Bucket Challenge, the video is just a compilation of him absolutely drenching his friends with a bucket of ice water and his own evil laughter in the background 

when it came to the Cinnamon Challenge, Kid dared Killer that he won’t even budge when doing it; of course, it only resulted in a disaster

as soon as he takes a spoonful of cinnamon, his face turns redder than his hair - he starts to give Killer signals to end the video right now

“Cut. Cut!” he chokes out while spewing cinnamon powder on the table. “CUT!” 

Kid’s pranks are mostly either waking Killer up in the middle of the night with an Air Horn, or putting himself in dangerous situations just to see Killer’s reaction 

MPV: DROWNING MYSELF ON PURPOSE PRANK ON BOYFRIEND (HE FREAKS OUT)

Killer - (ASMR/Music/Cooking)

200k subscribers

he puts a lot of effort into his channel, mainly because it’s a hobby that takes his mind off of things and lets him relax 

the videos consist of him standing in the kitchen and calmly following a recipe with relaxing background music - he includes the proportions and ingredients in the bio 

his main goal is to be able to make an ASMR cooking video, but so far he hasn’t succeeded - mainly because of Kid interrupting him every second with either his yells or clanking of pots on the other side of the kitchen 

wanted to make a cooking collab with Kid and, surprisingly, that earned him a lot of subscribers - not because of his cooking skills, but thanks to Kid being awfully entertaining (as depicted in the gif above)

aside from food-related videos, Killer also makes music videos where he collabs with Kid 

since Killer is an innocent victim of Kid’s merciless pranks, sometimes he snaps and pranks Kid instead - he figures it’s only fair if there is some kind of retribution from his side

MPV: ignoring my boyfriend for 24 hours (he leaves me)

Basil Hawkins (Design/Beauty Guru/Lifestyle)

320k subscribers

just like Killer, he does his best in order to produce entertaining content, puts a lot of thought and effort into his videos 

he’s an amazing editor and an even better graphic designer; all of his shots fit into his own aesthetics - symmetrical, with a lot of pastel colors 

he mostly focuses on make-up tutorials and reviews, since that’s what produces the most views for his channel 

one time he collabed with Law, where he got to do a stunning Halloween make-up on him - the video was also made in ASMR (Hawkins secretly rewatches that particular video at least once a week, he’s so proud of it)

MPV: My daily night routine || winter 2020

The Allosaurus (Lifestyle/Science)

222k subscribers

with simple editing, his videos are filled with science terms and shots of the night sky as he gushes to the camera about the beauty of astrophysics 

most of the time, he records himself on a balcony with a telescope, pointing at the stars and planets and providing all of the known information about them 

however, the video that really blew up was the one where he made a vlog about his exotic pets - either zooming in on them through the terrarium glass, or taking them out of their reptile houses and placing them on his hands or arms as he shows them off to the camera and talks about each animal 

MPV: Real time Perseid Meteor Shower in observatory 2020

Bonney (Mukbang/Daily Vlogger)

140k subscribers

the only reason she still uploads to her channel is because it gives her money to buy more food 

most of her audience is still in awe - just how is she able to fit that much pizza into herself?

she agrees to collab with Luffy whenever he proposes such idea - and they always end up challenging each other as to who will eat more in less time (hint: she always wins) 

MPV: ULTIMATE MUKBANG | FIRE NOODLES FRIED CHICKEN PIZZA TRIPLE CHEESEBURGER

Urouge (Travel Vlogger)

108k subscribers

he made the channel mostly for himself, to document his experiences; but soon it turned out he gained quite a following due to his outgoing, peaceful nature that is just pleasing to watch 

mostly talks about his day and which places he visited - and gets a lot of questions from his subscribers about his daily life and how he handles living by himself in a rusty van 

MPV: MY VAN BROKE DOWN! (a day in my solo travel VAN life)

Capone Bege (Family/ASMR)

350k subscribers

he records his chess games with Chiffon and tries to make them ASMR, but more often than not, it fails miserably - his crying son simply doesn’t know what ASMR is all about 

Bege also takes part in a lot of tournaments where he’s considered one of the best chess players in his region 

MPV: ASMR CHESS GAME (SON CRYING IN THE BACKGROUND) RELAXING VIDEO TO HELP YOU SLEEP

Teach (Gaming/Conspiracy Theories)

2mln subscribers

gaming, gaming, and gaming, either during livestreams on twitch or on youtube

he genuinely enjoys posting his game reviews and let’s-plays where he simply tells about his first impressions with the latest video games 

because of his spot-on critique and charisma, he’s one of the most popular youtubers in the gaming community 

does lots of collabs, but never with other gaming channels - he treats them as nothing more than a competition

he’s hired a top-notch editor for his videos; thanks to that he produces high quality content 

sometimes he also throws in a video about his end-of-the-world predictions, as well as what he thinks about the popular conspiracy theories 

MPV: TOP 10 CRAZIEST 2021 PREDICTIONS || WILL ALIENS DESTROY HUMANITY?

[rwprincess]

Knowledge Bowl (Brian Johnson x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Previous

Next

Word Count: 3100

CW: teasing; mild name-calling; parental interactions (mostly positive though)

Synopsis: This is mostly a bridge chapter to get to the next one, but also some quid pro quo. Brian supported Reader, now it’s her turn to support him at the Knowledge Bowl.

A/N: Yes, those are all real high schools in that area of Illinois. Well, except for Shermer. But it has to be there. XD Shout out to this document for Knowledge Bowl questions because I do not have that field of knowledge (and definitely not the math knowledge, much like dear reader). Also, I kind of lowkey hate this chapter. It’s definitely a filler episode. I’m sorry. 

 *~~~~*

Y/N, Bender, Allison, and Claire sidled down the row in the gym of Lake Forest High. This was the first time they had all been together in a number of weeks.  Andrew was conspicuously missing from their group, but he had been acting oddly the last time they were all together and only really talked to Claire anymore, but even that was waning. Given that it was the weekend, it was likely that he had wrestling practice or a meet anyway, but Y/N wasn’t sure that he was even invited today. However, that didn’t matter much; there was still a buzz of excitement from the crowd for the Knowledge Bowl and they had gathered there to support Brian, so he was the focus for all of them. It was a rather large tournament with six or eight schools from the area congregated here under the blue and gold banners of Lake Forest’s past achievements. There would be two teams going head to head at a time, rounds lasting around five minutes, playing in brackets. Y/N had grabbed two programs, one for herself and one for “posterity” to give Brian afterwards as a sort of memento. She rolled her eyes at her friends’ teasing when she explained her reasoning to getting two; but it wasn’t like it was a big secret anymore. Everyone had figured out how she felt about Brian by now, except for Brian.

Y/N spotted Brian’s parents a couple rows down and over and decided to say hello. She was excited that they had come to support him as well. She knew what that would mean to him. She asked the others if any of them would like to join her; Allison and Claire had politely declined but Bender laughed, “You want me to meet goody-two-shoes Johnsons? Oh, I’m sure they’d love that. Seeing me as their son’s friend, living with his little girlfriend!” He slapped his knee, even. 

Y/N glared at him for a moment, “You could have just said, ‘no thanks.’” She tried to shake off John’s words and get her reddened cheeks under control as she approached the Johnsons. She had met Brian’s mom after one of their tutoring sessions a week or two ago, but not the rest of his family. 

“Hi, Mrs. Johnson!” She said sweetly and enthusiastically. While their first meeting had gone well, she still felt like she was trying to make a good impression. Brian meant a lot to her, and these were the most important people in his life, which made them important by extension to her. 

“Y/N!” Brian’s mother, Mercedes, said, placing her hand on her chest in endearment and smiling. “It’s good to see you here.” 

“You too, Mrs. Johnson.” Y/N returned the smile and tried to be the pinnacle of politeness.

“Oh! You haven’t met the rest of our family yet, have you? Hugh, come here, dear.” She beckoned her husband over. “Hugh, this is Y/N. Brian’s friend.” She said, with a meaningful look to him. The implication that they had talked about Y/N before made her nervous.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson.” Y/N shook his hand as Mercedes ushered her youngest child over. 

“Likewise, Y/N. It’s always nice to meet Brian’s friends. You came out to support him today, I hope?”

“Yes, sir.” Y/N nodded, “A group of us came to cheer him on.” She pointed up towards the other three teens who had accompanied her. 

“That’s very kind of you, I know that Brian will appreciate friends being here.” He said with a little twinkle in his eye. Brian’s little sister shifted next to him, so Y/N moved her attention slightly.

“Hello, you must be Mary.” She said, smiling down at the little girl who was probably seven or eight, bending slightly to be more at her level.

“How did you know?” She looked wide-eyed with surprise.

“Oh, Brian talks about you a lot.” Y/N enthused, hiding the fact that usually Brian complained about his little sister. “I also think you and I have talked to each other on the phone a couple of times.”

“Oh!” Mary said, connecting the dots. “You’re the girl who keeps calling my brother!” Y/N blushed a little to be bluntly put on the spot like that. Little kids were nothing if not honest and direct, right? She was still giving Y/N a wide-eyed stare. “You’re really pretty.” Y/N was about to say ‘thank you,’ but Mary immediately said “What are you doing hanging out with my brother?” 

“Mary!” Her mother hissed, letting her know she crossed a social boundary. Y/N just tried to laugh it off.

“He’s a really good friend when he’s not related to you, I promise.” She explained and Mary gave her an ‘if you say so’ look, but didn’t want to upset her mother by being rude again. Y/N stood back up straight, not sure how to respond to that look, and decided to move on. “Well, I best be heading back to our cheering section, but it was nice to meet you both, and to see you again, Mrs. Johnson.”

“It was nice to see you again, too, dear.” Mrs. Johnson smiled, and as Y/N retreated, she could hear her admonish Mary for what she said.

“How are your future in-laws?” Bender said as she sat back down in their row.

“You hush.” She pushed him slightly, cheeks burning hot at the thought. 

*~~~~*

The announcer called each school’s group to the stage for introductions, “The home team, Lake Forest High!” Which of course, got many cheers as most of the population in the stands was probably local and there to support their school. “Lincoln Park High School...Kenwood Academy...John F. Kennedy High School...Whitney Young Magnet School...Shermer High School…” Of course, the group leapt to their feet to cheer on Shermer, and Brian. The final schools, Hyde Park Academy and West Joliet High, were lost on Y/N. She fixated on Brian walking onto the stage, next to Matt, wearing a suit. ‘Wow, does he look good,’ she thought and didn’t realize she was staring until Bender started to pull her back down into her seat. Seeing the other schools, particularly the “Academies” and the Magnet School, Y/N wondered why Brian didn’t attend any of the others with his intelligence, but thanked whatever stroke of fate put him at Shermer High and in her path. As the competition commenced, she watched his every move, imagining that he could somehow hear her or feel her presence motivating and supporting him. Their Breakfast Club was stoked when Shermer moved forward and won their first and second rounds. They usually weren’t much for school spirit, but this event had a personal touch, and they did their best to bolster their team.

The host asked, “Electroplating involves the deposition of a metal onto a metallic surface through what chemical decomposition process?” 

Matt buzzed in almost immediately, “Electrolysis.”

“Correct,” the host gave Shermer the point.

“I don’t even know what half those words mean.” Claire hissed, down the row. “I don’t even know what these questions are asking.”

“What layer of the Sun's atmosphere is immediately below the corona?” JFK High school buzzed in this time.

“The chromosphere.” One of their team said, correctly, tying up the score.

“The final question and tie-breaker for this round: Factor this expression. 4(m squared) + 26m + 22.”

 Brian was almost lightning-quick hitting his buzzer and Y/N leaned forward. This would make or break the round, but Brian was confident with math questions and didn’t look nervous at all. He had a steady look of determination on his face as he replied, “(2m + 11)(2m + 2).”

“That is...correct! Shermer High School will advance to the next round, against Lake Forest High.” The announcer said, and dismissed the contestants currently on the stage. Y/N smiled in relief and whispered, “That’s my boy,” hoping that John didn’t hear her over the applause from the crowd. Luckily, he hadn’t seemed to notice. Both teams shook hands in show of good sportsmanship before heading to their tables in the waiting area.

“That Magnet School is really good. They’re like, deadly fast.” Claire said during the next round. She was right. They were almost robotic with how they rang in and answered immediately, confidently, razor-sharp. A lot of the rounds had been close but those going against Whitney Young Magnet were being trounced by several points. 

“I don’t think we can beat them.” Allison said, ever being the realist.

“If we even make it that far…” John scoffed.

“During the Holocaust, what Swedish diplomat in Budapest, provided at least 20,000 Jews with Swedish passports and protection?”

Zero-hesitation, a girl with fiery red hair from Whitney Young clicked her buzzer and replied, “Raoul Wallenberg.” 

“Correct! That means Whitney Young advances to the next round with a score of thirteen to seven. So sorry, Lincoln Park.” The announcer said with false sympathy. It was a competition after all.

Shermer excitingly beat out Lake Forest High on their home turf. It was easy to see how upset they were at losing in their own gym as they gave very apathetic “good show” handshakes at the end of the round. Of course, by the end of the competition, it was just Shermer High and Whitney Young Magnet School left. There hadn’t really been doubts that Whitney Young would be one of the finalists, and while they had done well the whole competition, Shermer High felt like the scrappy underdogs in comparison. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation for this final round. 

The first question was history-based, and Matt showed that he had indeed studied.

“Charles Pinckney's refusal to pay bribes extorted by French agents in 1798 brought what affair into the public light?”

“The XYZ Affair”

“Right!” The announcer moved on almost immediately, though, to see how many points each team could rack up within the time limit. There was no time to waste. It seemed like a volley between the two teams, or a tennis match. One would answer and then the other, picking up speed as they felt more and more confident.

“What kind of current raises benthic nutrients to the surface?”

Ding “Upwelling.”

“Point to Whitney Young.”

“A colonial key to the Great Lakes was Fort Oswego on what lake?”

Ding “Lake Ontario.”

“Point to Shermer High.” 

However, Whitney Young’s robotic speed started to get the better of Shermer High. They slowly crept ahead by a point, and then two. Brian rang in on the question: “The Khyber Pass connects the two countries of Afghanistan and-” He hesitated for half a second, looking like he was weighing two answers and the time ticked down for him to be able to answer. ‘Come on, come on.’ Y/N chanted for him, on the edge of her seat.

“ ... Pakistan.” He decided

“Correct! Point to Shermer.” Brian let out a relieved exhale and a smile, bringing the scores closer together.

“Yes!” The Breakfast Club cheered, much more invested than they thought they’d be.

By the buzzer, they had tied it up, which was an impressive feat of its own against the Magnet School. “This final question will take a moment to work out,” the announcer stated, adding an air of mystery and showmanship. Each team leaned forward to focus on the problem at hand, “Evaluate this expression given that p = -3 and q = -7: (6p + 3q)2 + 7p + 4.” Of course, the Breakfast Club was totally lost in how to even go about solving such an equation, but the Shermer High Knowledge Bowl Team were mouthing the work to themselves with looks of steadfastness. They took just a moment to confer about the answer, but that moment of double checking unfortunately cost them the opportunity to buzz in first. Their hope now would be that Whitney Young would answer incorrectly and that they’d have the chance to steal. However, the fates weren’t so kind today.

One of the boys on the Whitney Young team with thick glasses clicked his buzzer, and as soon as he was acknowledged by the host calmly said, “-95.” The audience waited for verification, because most of them had not sussed out the solution to the problem either.

“That is…” the host dragged out the tension for a moment, “Correct! Which means Shermer High has placed second and Whitney Young Magnet School is our champion for this year’s Knowledge Bowl!”

The Breakfast Club groaned at the outcome. “They were so close!” Claire cried out.

“Better luck next year, I guess,” John chuckled but the three girls didn’t find it so amusing. They waited a moment for some of the crowd to die down before going in search of the team to congratulate Brian. Y/N removed the bouquet of flowers she had stashed under her seat on the bleachers to give him. When she and John had left the house with them this morning, he’d given her a questioning look and a smirk and she told him “It’s a tradition” and made a face when he sarcastically replied back with ‘Riiiiight.’

They spotted Brian with his team and his family as they approached. 

“Oh, we are so proud of you, honey!” Brian’s mother cooed and brushed back his hair, kissing him on the forehead.

“Mom!” He groaned with embarrassment, but Y/N could see the small smile on his face and knew he needed that kind of reassurance from his family and that he was probably secretly enjoying the moment, even if it did make him feel a little foolish.

“It wasn’t as boring as I thought it would be.” Mary admitted, as the Breakfast Club came near.

“Oh, I like this one!” John said, gesturing to Mary and her honest congratulations to her big brother.

“Thanks, Mary.” Brian rolled his eyes, and then spotted his detention-group of friends.

“Hey!” He said, breaking away from his family a bit, “You came!”

“Of course!” Bender quipped, “You think I’d miss out on a three-ring geek circus?”

“John,” Y/N growled in response, reminding him that he had agreed to be better about the name-calling.

“What I mean is, it was actually impressive. You guys were really quick and holy shit, you know a lot!” 

“Yeah!” Claire said, “I couldn’t even make heads or tails of half those questions and you actually answered them? Wow.” She gave him a proud, respectful smile and he responded with a sheepish, grateful one of his own.

“Of course, we’ll always come when you ask us to.” Y/N said, stepping forward with her bouquet to hand him. “Tradition.” She nodded at the flowers as she gifted them.

“Of course,” he said with sparkling eyes and a kind smile. Matt started to approach them out of the woodwork, too.

“You were great.” Y/N told Brian, looking at him as if he were the only person in this dense crowd, then noticed Matt standing there. “Both of you! You did such a good job!”

“Thanks. I was really hoping we’d win it, though.” Matt replied and Y/N looked between them both.

“Still! Getting to second, and against that team?!”

“And during a tie-breaker.” Allison chimed in.

“Right. Every other team they went against, they absolutely crushed. You held your own.” 

“Kicking ass, taking names.” Bender joked.

“Oh!” Brian realized that none of the rest of the Breakfast Club had ever met Matt, even though he had told him all about them. “Guys, this is my best friend, Matt. Matt, this is Allison, John, and Claire.”

“More friends?” Brian’s mom sidled up to them, and he redid the introductions he just made. “It’s so nice of you all to come out!” She said, smiling warmly. It was obvious to see the pride written on her face that Brian now had so many people that cared about him, particularly enough to drive half an hour to sit through a lengthy trivia tournament on his behalf.

“It was a great tournament, Mrs. Johnson!” Claire said, turning on the charm.

“Yeah! First place next year for sure!” Bender clapped Brian on the shoulder, making him give a stunned sputter at the support. 

“Well, dear, we were just about to head out, since we said goodbye to your coach. Are you going to stay here with your friends for a bit?” Brian blinked, not expecting the offer. Usually his mom wasn’t so open and he normally would have a much stricter schedule. He looked to Y/N for confirmation.

“I can give him a ride home, Mrs. Johnson.” She said.

“Uh, yeah! Sure! I’ll see you at home then, mom.” Brian said, enthusiastically.

“Would you like me to take your flowers home?” She asked him quietly, but still in front of everyone, making his cheeks flush. “They’re from Y/N, I presume?” She looked over at her and smiled that knowing smile.

“Yes, ma’am. Tradition.” Y/N grinned, knowing that Mrs. Johnson would understand. Bender poked her in the ribs and whispered ‘ma’am,’ as she had made fun of him for using the same formality many times.

Mary came and tugged on Mrs. Johnson’s skirt, “Can we go now?”

Bender laughed, “I really, really like her. Johnson, I didn’t know you had a little sister!” Brian shrugged in response.

“Yes, Mary.” Mrs. Johnson said with an exasperated sigh, “Go get Daddy and then we can go. It was so nice to meet you all.” She said again, even though she looked a little warily at John and Allison. They weren’t the type of friends she had imagined Brian would have.

“Hey, Matt, you want to come with us? We could go get lunch or something.” Y/N suggested. He waggled his eyebrows at Brian in response, amused by the invitation.

“Well, I’m not usually one to say no to a meal,” he said, “and today will be no exception. Let’s roll.” They divided the cars in two, with Claire taking just Bender, for some quality ‘couple-time’ since they didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time together normally, and the rest in Y/N’s car. Brian offered to ride in the back seat with Matt, since he knew him, but Matt insisted he could get to know Brian’s other friend and that he should ride up front. Allison, catching wind of the plan agreed quickly and all but pushed him out of the way to sit with Matt in the back. The two actually hit it off, both being sarcastic and witty, anyway. But mostly, they were playing matchmaker in making Brian sit up front, close to Y/N and listened in periodically, grinning at each other. With words unspoken, they’d come together on a common goal. 

Next

[wondernimbus]

come back to me — harry potter

pairing: harry potter x female!reader

summary: harry has never been good at keeping promises, but this one he knows he will keep.

a/n: this is my entry for @hufflefluff-writer‘s writing challenge! congrats again on 300 followers!! <3 the prompt was “are you just going to leave me here?” and will be in bold :) 

“Do you promise you won’t leave?”

“Yes.”

"I mean it, Harry. No matter what happens. No matter what Dumbledore may have told you. You can’t—“

“I know. I know. I promise.”

—

Harry isn't very good at keeping promises.

At first the promises were small, almost irrelevant. When Harry promised to call over the summer of their third year, he didn't, but that might just have been because of his horrible uncle. When Harry casually threw it out there that he'd teach her how to play Quidditch in their fourth year, he didn't, but that was mostly not his fault and more of the Triwizard Tournament's, which banned Quidditch matches throughout the entire year. When Harry promised that the Dumbledore's Army wouldn't get caught under any circumstances in their fifth year, they did—and while part of her had been expecting it, it still would've been great if they didn't. And when he promised that he wouldn't do anything reckless in that very same year, he did, by going to the Department of Mysteries in an impulsive attempt to rescue his godfather. In their sixth year he promised the same thing—"I won't do anything rash unless I'm absolutely sure he's a Death Eater, I promise"—and just like the ones before it, Harry broke that one, too.

So [Y/N] isn't to blame when she starts to grow frustrated and her trust in him begins to wane.

A week before Bill and Fleur's wedding, when they’re staying up late at night for preparations, [Y/N] and Harry find themselves alone in the Burrow's garden with no one but themselves and the garden gnomes for company. [Y/N] goes, “With any luck, we’ll be able to prepare for our wedding like this sometime in the future” and Harry looks over at her, a wistful sort of look in his eyes, smiles and says, "We will.”

It sounds like a promise. [Y/N] is scared because Harry is bad at keeping them.

But yes—she may be scared—but she can't burden him with things like this, not right now, when he's dealing with far greater things than his girlfriend's petty wishes. Not when he's dealing with a crazed evil wizard who will stop at nothing to kill him.

But she is only human and humans have a tendency—an eagerness—to try and take even things they cannot have. They cling onto them out of whatever reason; greed or pure want or curiosity, but in this case it’s love.

And love makes you do foolish things. Makes you beg and plead and do anything you can in your power to hang onto whoever your heart feels so strongly for despite the circumstances.

That's why, when [Y/N] spots Harry’s figure from outside of her bedroom window at the Burrow at three in the morning, his back turned and a bag slung across his shoulders, she scrambles out of bed and runs down the stairs to intercept him.

”Harry!”

He freezes in his tracks; he hasn’t even made it past the Burrow's enchantments.

[Y/N] is barefoot but she barely even makes out the feeling of soil underneath her feet as she walks forward. The disappointment drowns everything else out.

It’s not like she hasn’t noticed. Harry isn’t exactly the most discreet when it comes to planning; Ron had told her days ago that Harry seemed to be packing his stuff. But even if Ron hadn’t ratted him out, she still would have known, because [Y/N] knows Harry well enough to know that he won’t be able to sit around doing nothing while the rest of the wizarding world struggles under the grasp of Lord Voldemort.

[Y/N] knows Harry well enough to know that he has a tendency to want to save everyone. Something that makes it hard for him to keep promises.

But knowing that doesn't make it any easier for her to accept it.

She doesn’t bother asking him where he’s going because she already knows. But it hurts, still, and the disdain in her chest has her saying in a tight voice, like there's already a lump in her throat, “Are you just going to leave me here?”

And she sounds desperate. Sounds like she's pleading—and she is, even though it makes her sound pathetic—but because she is human she hangs onto what she can't have and stands there outside of the Burrow at three in the morning, when the sky is still a shade of pitch black and the cold wind tosses strands of her hair about in the air, asking Harry for something that she knows he can't give her. But she tries, anyway, because she is human, and because she is human she is capable of feeling love. The kind of love that has her staring at Harry with a look in her eyes that pleads with him to stay.

Harry's jaw is set. The midnight breeze ruffles his hair as he meets her gaze. There's that same kind of longing in his eyes that's reflected in her own, but his has resolution in them—determination. He has his mind made up. “Please don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

“But you promised." She wants to yell, but the words come out of her choked and weak and do little to hide the pain in her chest. "You told me you wouldn’t leave—“

“I know what I said." Cold. Pained. He has his mind made up. "I know what I promised you and I’m sorry but I can’t just sit here—“

“While other people die,” she finishes for him, because she knows Harry so awfully well, enough to know that he tends to want to save everyone even if it means putting his own life on the line.

And that angers her, because for once in his bloody life can’t he put himself first?

But he's right, and in a way that makes it even worse. Harry is the only one capable of bringing about the Dark Lord's downfall—there's a whole bloody prophecy about it. But Harry is more than that; he's a teenage boy—a child—and he has people who love him and want to protect him—people like [Y/N], who can't stand the thought of him going out there alone to bear the weight of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders.

"At least let me come with you." Helpless.

Sadness appears at the corners of Harry's mouth, tugging them down a little as he offers her this pained sort of smile and says what [Y/N] is expecting him to but hopes he wouldn't—"I can't."

"Just wait here. I can go—" Something like a cross between a whimper and a sob slips past her lips. "I can go inside really quickly and pack some of my stuff, okay? Just wait here."

"[Y/N]."

"I'll be quick, Harry—" There are tears on her cheeks and anguish in her voice so palpable that she doesn't even try to hide it anymore. "I'll be quick. Just wait here."

And then she's turning around, but before she can even make it a few steps, Harry is rushing forward and he's grasping her wrist and pulling her into his chest. [Y/N] feels his arms wrap themselves around her shoulders but she can't find the strength in her to hug him back, so all she does is cry into his shirt, entire body wracking with the force of her sobs. And she can't, for the life of her, bring the tears to stop—not for a while—so for a long time all the two of them do is stand there outside of the Burrow with Harry holding her like if he does so tight enough he'll be able to pull the pain right out of her and deal with it himself.

But when she does—when she finds her voice again and with it the will to stop crying—she pulls away from his chest, and Harry moves his hand from her shoulders to her waist, and with his other free one, he reaches for her face and thumbs at her tear-stricken cheeks even though his own face is wet from tears he hasn't even realized had fallen.

And when she looks up at him, her eyes are pained. Tired. Defeated. But at the same time there's also a sort of fierce determination in them—the kind that Harry has grown to love so much.

"I'm only going to ask two things of you, Harry." By some miracle, her voice doesn't tremble as she reaches up to grasp at his arm, her grip firm. She swallows. "The first is that you stop making promises you know in your heart you can't keep."

[Y/N] sees something break in Harry's eyes. Harry knows that this isn't any easier for her than it is for him, so he tries to be brave, too. He closes his eyes for a few moments, as though gathering himself, and when he opens them again he whispers, "And the second?"

Just like that, her resolve breaks. Her heart lodges in her throat. The determination in her eyes dies out. In a broken voice, she says, "Come back to me."

Suddenly his lips are on hers, barely more than a gentle press of lips, something stolen—something pure and intimate and gentle amidst the war that's raging on beyond the Burrow's enchantments.

He'll be back. No matter what it costs him. He will have this again—this, her, the feeling of his skin on hers and her lips on his.

Harry has never been good at keeping promises, but this one he knows he will keep.