#getting old enough that like the few family members i have left that like me probably don't have long

[cerbreus]

my day so far

[peachesofteal]

Dad!John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology - previous

You haven’t been inside a bar this crowded since you graduated from university. 

You settle in the corner, avoiding nearly everyone’s eyes, hands cupped around a chipped glass full to the brim with beer. 

You weren’t expecting an island on the brink of a full winter assault to be so… lively.

The room is a party. A party full of people who know one another well enough to call them by first name. There can’t be more than one hundred people living in this town year-round, and you think they might all be inside this dimly light pub, crowded around the waxed cedar bar, laughing and smiling with like they’ve not seen each other in eons. Like they’re long lost, disjointed members of the same family.

Well, all most all of them. 

You don’t see the Ranger. The Caribbean blue eyes, brusque moustache and beard, low brim black beanie, all are missing.

Somehow, it doesn’t surprise you. 

He didn’t seem the socializing type.

Still…

You hadn’t expected such a… clipped welcome. 

And you surely hadn’t expected your ferry buddy, the spunky six-year-old girl who talked to you for most of the ride, to be his daughter.

Somehow, that made his cold, distant nature even worse. 

Here’s a man capable of warmth; his smile said, when he scooped his daughter into his arms. Here’s someone you can trust. Someone who is friendly, genuine.

Just not towards you. He was stiff, uncomfortable, and even though the drive to town was fairly short, he barely spoke to you, answering your questions with the shortest syllables possible. 

He was every bit the Ranger you had heard so little about. Every bit the man turned myth.

And handsome. Rugged.

Older.

Your new friend in the backseat was better company than the man you’d be working with for better part of a year, the Ranger who you’re afraid you can’t do it without. Can’t navigate the island or the tides without him, can’t do half the work you needed to do without a partner. The thing his role is supposed to be, when needed. 

Worse was, the provided housing is a duplex, and he’s on the other side, a fact he gritted through his teeth this afternoon when he dropped you off, gesturing to the right side of the house with a callous wave. His front door was as green as the forest. 

The other was black. 

Your boss did warn you. 

She was tactful, cautious. The island itself carries a reputation; one some may be intimated by, but not you. 

Who are you to fear stewards of the land? They are more akin to you than others, after all.

John though, she lamented with a mournful expression, John was different. 

“John is less than pleased about this placement but assures me it won’t be an issue.”

“Less than pleased?” 

“He’s… protective, but he’ll warm up to you in time, I’m sure. A few days, and he’ll be showing you the ropes. Don’t worry.” 

You keep your nose in your beer. When you’re finished, the next one comes immediately, without prompting, and the bartender swoops low, voice heavy in your ear. 

“On the house.” He winks, and the woman to your left slides closer, curiosity wet on her lips between her drink and the question you know is coming. 

“You’re the scientist?” 

“No, the marine biologist. Cetologist, to be specific.” You cut to the quick and she stares at you, rightfully so. You have the good grace to grimace. “Er, sorry. I’m uh… not great with people.”

“That’s alright. Neither are we, really.” She lifts her drink with a cheers, gesturing to the room, and knocks it back. “So, what’s a cetologist?” 

“I study whales.” She nods knowingly.

“Ah. You’re here for the pod.” 

“Well, I’m interested in the humpbacks too, but yes. I’m mostly here to study the residents.” You were only here to study the pod, but you never said no to a whale, no matter notoriety, or size. You might be getting paid to study the residents, but you were going to soak up every second you could on this island. It’s wilderness was protected and almost pristine, an untamed landscape of mountain and sea too great of a call for you to resist.

The woman stares at you, intrigued, thin veil of amusement dancing in her eyes. “We’re happy to have you. You respect us, we’ll respect you.” The bartender pauses, shining a glass with a hole pocked rag, and glares at her. “Most of us will. Can’t say how John’ll take to ya.” 

“Oh, I work on my own mostly.” You lie, giving her a fake smile that feels awful, and she humphs. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” she flounders, and you provide your name, letting it settle in the air, others turning to give you a questioning look, like they’ve been waiting for it too, and she grins, repeating it with a handshake. “Skip the shortcuts through the forest at night.” She adds over her shoulder, hopping off the stool and wading into the crowd without another word, leaving you confused. 

Skip the… skip the what? 

“Ignore her.” The bartender hastily reassures you, but the emotion doesn’t touch his eyes, lingering gazes in the room enough to have you swallowing the rest of your beer in haste and beelining out the door. 

The walk to your rental is short, up the street and take a left, then another, until you reach the only house at the top of the hill, a duplex with a sweeping, wide planked front porch. 

The top step creaks beneath your weight. An ember glows in the dark. 

“Jesus chr-“ Your heart slams against your ribs, pulse thundering between your ears.

He’s silent. The cigar illuminates his face, a flicker of brilliant blue, crystal clear and piercing, pinned onto you like a laser. 

“It’s late.” It’s the admonishment of a father, and indignant rage flourishes down your spine. 

“I’m an adult, thanks.” He’s unmoved by your spite. Settled like the cedars that grow at the heart of this place, tall enough to blot out the sun, wide enough to build houses, boats. 

He pulls. The orange cinder burns red, honeyed smoke and mahogany sweetening the air. 

The smoking is attractive. It's intriguing, dangerous, and draws you closer, other foot coming to rest on the top step, tempting fate.

"You shouldn't be out around here late."

"The entire town is down at the bar." You shoot back, still rising in anger, rattling with it. You’re a grown woman, who is this guy to tell you what you can and can’t do?

His jaw flexes, mouth tightening into a straight line, invisible string pulling him taut before he speaks again.

"They live here, know their way around. It's not always safe." The protest builds, words coming quick, rapid-fire, but before you can speak, you lose your voice to a chorus of howls.

Wolves.

[hollowdeath]

obsession (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry potter (19) is attending university after hogwarts, and isn't recovering well from the war. completely alone, harry soon grows attached to you, the girl from his potions class. however, his attachment quickly turns to obsession, and harry isn't sure how much longer he can be just friends.

content warning: smut!!! perverted thoughts/acts, shame, masturbation, stalking, obsession, yearning/pining, intoxication, jealousy, stealing panties, dry humping, cumming in pants, oral sex, overstimulation, penetration, creampie

a/n: sooo i wrote over 19k words in like 2 days. but i haven't written a proper fanfic in literal years so please be kind. heavilyyy inspired by "never have i ever" from @selfcarecap , please go read it when you have the chance!! this is very much a SLOW BURN, do not proceed if you do not thoroughly enjoy pining…ft. a shy, inexperienced, slightly obsessive university student harry who has jealousy issues and perverted tendencies but is still such a complete gentleman…some of this might not be book/movie accurate…sue me...

song: Do Friends Fall In Love? - Rachael & Vilary

harry's expectations of university weren't very high to begin with, but he didn't expect it to be this shit.

there were limited options for him since he had no desire of leaving the U.K. to further his career as an auror. and since the only 2 schools that offered a program for him were either an old, run-down campus in the middle of nowhere or an overpopulated city school known for its infamously average quidditch team, his decision wasn't difficult.

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

though harry was grateful to have a solo room, it was entirely bleak and smelled vaguely of mildew. one tiny window he's unable to open past a few inches and a depressing overhead fluorescent bulb was enough to have him searching the other university's dormitory information, only to be just as disappointed with the result.

harry gets over it quickly, as it becomes fitting to his mental state at the time. plain, cold, and unforgiving, harry feels like it's what he deserves to live in after everything he's seen.

to say harry hadn't been doing well after the war was a criminal understatement. his whole life had been leading up to and dedicated towards killing voldemort before he killed harry first. in that time, he held a purpose and drive to fulfill everyone's expectations of him. and, once he did, he was left with nothing.

voldemort had consumed harry's entire life, and the lives of everyone around him as well. though they technically both died, harry had the choice to live again. after he made that choice, he was never the same.

the relationships around him were changed forever. he lost friends. he lost family. he lost himself. and yet, life continued.

applying for university felt so silly to harry at the time. he had just fought in a war and died, and now he had to sign up for 9 a.m. transfiguration classes. to say he was uninterested was putting it lightly.

it didn't help that he knew no one there. it was nobody's first choice school by any means, and it didn't exactly have the best reputation. his classmates fizzled out into other schools or already had jobs, like ron…

ron and hermione. seems like lately wherever hermione went, ron followed. of course she got accepted into some of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, with some practically begging her to pick them over the others.

in the end she chose westminster, a legendary university along the northern ireland coast that saw many great members of the ministry in its time. harry's school was practically the furthest it could've been from her all things considered.

ron worked for the ministry office in the area like his father, though he was more like an assistant or secretary than an active member. still, he was paid well and ultimately he and hermione were able to find a place near both of their priorities that worked well for them.

harry knew he wouldn't see them very often at this point. no matter, his relationship with them had long since changed, and not for the better. ron had lost his brother and hermione had lost her parents. once the calm settled after the storm, there was a lingering tension between him and them that went unmentioned for over a year before they split ways silently.

harry still talked to hermione towards the end, mainly to discuss ron and his grief. harry knew the growing coldness between him and his friend wasn't unjustified. harry felt a level of guilt that he previously thought was impossible when it came to fred, and though ron never out right blamed harry, it was just never the same between them.

harry knew their relationship wasn't completely at a loss. like hermione told him, it just needed time. once they both process what happened they can always come back to each other.

but for now, harry was alone. completely and utterly alone.

his first day of classes were confusing, boring, and packed with students. seriously, every seat in every lecture hall was filled, and the hallways were just a mess. the sidewalks weren't much better with too many people being too loud, walking too slow or too fast. in the end, harry was exhausted by the time he showed up for his last class of the day.

another packed room despite his effort to be there earlier than he planned. rather than a lecture hall like all his other classes that day, this last one was set up with plenty of tables and cauldrons. potions. harry loved this class at hogwarts. as his eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, he felt eyes fixated on him from every direction.

though he looks like the same harry potter everyone's read about, he's completely different now. his once bright eyes and radiant smile have been replaced with eye bags and unkempt facial hair. both his short beard and his overgrown hair gave him a messy, disheveled appearance that was rougher than people remember. but, as always, the glasses had never left, and neither had his scar.

ignoring the curious glances and whispers, harry takes a seat towards the middle of the room at an empty table. as more students filed in, his table became the last place to sit. he couldn't help but feel like an outsider, his first day and he already had a reputation.

as the final bell rings, the last student comes walking through the doorway.

it's you.

you're walking quickly, rushing into the classroom just as the ringing of the bell comes to an end. right behind you is the professor, a man of small stature with an impressive beard yet bald head.

"ms. [y/l/n]." he simply states.

you stop in your tracks, a look of defeat crossing your face as you slowly turn to him.

"professor rodden." you respond cheerfully. "it's nice to see you."

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

"we should try to be a bit more punctual next class period, hm?" he asks condescendingly.

harry is taken aback by the immediately intense interaction between the two of you. there's clearly an established relationship there that doesn't seem to be positive.

he can't see the look on your face as your back is turned to him, but he can hear the forced smile in your voice as you cordially respond, "of course. my apologies."

you turn on your heel, facing harry as you quickly find your seat across from him at his table. with all eyes on you, harry looks away and at the front of the room towards professor rodden.

rodden had an indistinguishable look on his face about the situation, but quickly moved on with introducing the class. as he shut the door and began writing on the board, harry took a moment to look back at you.

somewhere in that time you had pulled out a book and ink pen as you began taking notes. your hair fell around your face as you concentrated on your penmanship; a slight furrow of your brows and pursing of your lips.

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

something about the way you got lost in your notes was so mesmerizing to him. the intense exchange between you and the professor seemed to have no effect on you as you continued to scrawl your thoughts onto parchment. harry couldn't imagine himself being so calm as to just begin jotting down notes immediately after such a conflict.

his eyes flickered from your concentrated expression to your ferociously moving hand, writing line by line in succession without so much as a second's pause. he had to admit he was impressed with you, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

looking up at him, harry's struck with how beautiful your eyes were. his heart jumps along with his stomach, he's never had such a physical reaction to someone's features before. you're just, so…right. like everything about you just makes sense together.

harry's used to people recognizing him pretty quickly, mostly before he even sees them first. it almost feels like having a big sign taped to his back that says "harry potter, the boy who lived twice". but, you…you just looked at him. simply looking, nothing more.

he felt so see-through at that moment, like you were looking right past him. he could feel his heart thumping, and would be surprised if you couldn't hear it for yourself.

you give him the most casual smile in the world, barely an acknowledgement of his existence in that moment, and yet it fills him with something entirely warm and familiar. he's sure he looks completely lost staring at you, turning his head at the last moment to relieve you of his gaze.

it's a simple, introductory, first day of class. you're all let out half an hour early with no assignment other than to show up for the next, real class on wednesday.

as you're packing up to leave, harry is back and forth between introducing himself to you or letting you leave. surely you'll talk to him at some point during this class, right? especially if no one else seems to sit with you two for the rest of the semester.

but, as you turn your back to him to leave, he makes the split second decision that he can't let you leave without a proper introduction.

quickly gathering his books, harry follows you out the door along with the ridiculous amount of students flooding the halls. scrambling for a reason to talk to you, harry catches up to your left side as you look over at him with surprise.

"how does rodden have it out for you already, hm?"

it's a genuine question he has, but he's not sure it's a great topic to bring up during your first interaction.

looking up at him as you both walk away from the classroom, your cheeks go red as you chuckle dryly to yourself and look away. "oh, arthur?" you ask.

harry's shocked. not just at the way you're looking at him, but the boldness of calling your university professor by their first name so casually. he doesn't know how to respond.

"he's a total wanker," you say with a smirk. "had him 3 semesters in a row now and he just…ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. harry is even more at a loss. he's surely never called anyone a wanker, let alone a professor, but he can't help himself from laughing at your frustration.

"oh? what's so bad about him?" harry asks as he continues to follow you outside, a cool breeze blowing your hair back in the most cinematic moment harry's ever experienced in real life. as you look up at him, your eyes catch the sunlight and practically melt him on the spot. his breathing hitches at your shy smile and rosy cheeks, and he just couldn't understand how a human could look like that so casually.

"honestly, he's not so bad. he's actually quite a good professor…" you say with a twinge of guilt, turning to look ahead of you. "he just doesn't like me, i guess. we don't see eye to eye, to put it kindly." you laugh it off.

harry doesn't understand. you seem like such a pleasure to be around, and he's only known you these past few minutes. how could anyone dislike you? especially when they're looking into those eyes.

he continues to walk with you, asking about your classes and what your schedule's like. no other classes together, to harry's disappointment, but it's because you're a year above him.

"wow, have any advice for a first year, then?" he asks. it feels like a bit of a silly question, but he just wants to keep talking to you.

you chuckle, like you do after everything he says. he's not sure what to make of it, hoping it's that you truly do find him that funny. "well, i guess i would just tell you to study constantly, keep to yourself, but don't take any shit." you smirk at him again.

he likes that advice. he can already tell you're the type to not let anyone push you around, like with rodden. he likes that about you. you're a bit more confident than him, and you're not afraid to be bold despite your naturally sweet, gentle nature. you're funny, witty, intelligent, and, of course, unbelievably beautiful.

harry just keeps coming back to it through your walking and talking together. every time he looks at you he instantly loses his place in time. it's like everything goes quiet for just that split second that you're looking at him. he's never felt like this, but he's practically addicted to the feeling after the 10 minutes it took for him to walk you to your next class.

before parting ways, he asks for your name. "well, it's nice to meet you then, [y/n]. i'm–" "harry, right?" you ask sarcastically, giving him a cheeky smile. normally that answer would have left him defeated, you already knowing who he was, but for some reason, it didn't feel so bad this time. you never acted like you knew him once this whole conversation. you just let him talk and ask questions without feeling like he was anyone special.

well, of course he felt special. when you looked at him, that is.

he didn't want to let you leave, it physically hurt him to say goodbye. but he wasn't about to creep you out already. no, he had to make a good impression with you. so, he simply turned around and walked away, knowing he would see you again soon.

and as harry walked to his potions class that next wednesday, he had the biggest pep in his step he's had in a while. you'd think there was a tree full of presents waiting for him in that classroom the way he practically jogged through the maze of people between him and you.

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

how could you get even more beautiful than you were before? he's actually taken aback for a moment as he makes eye contact with you. his heart is so loud in his ears it's deafening. as he slowly makes his way towards the table left for you two, he can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips.

"[y/n]." he says, letting it roll of his tongue. you smile warmly at him, your eyes softening. "harry. it's nice to see you again," you chirp.

he's just mesmerized by you yet again, the way you say his name is like a song he never wants to turn off. he's pretty much in complete awe of you as he sits across from your seat.

you chat a bit before class starts, an introduction to your first experiment. professor rodden explains that each table of four will split into partners for each assignment. as harry instinctively looks at you, he's already meeting your eager gaze.

he can't help it when he smiles like a fool at you. he can just hardly believe someone as amazing as you would want to spend even more time with him.

after class, you gush to harry about how excited you are to be potion partners together. his face completely flushes as he tries to return the sentiment, thanking whatever luck he has in this universe to be deserving of this opportunity to be with you all semester, twice a week at least, not including outside studying and walking you to your next class.

that night, after exchanging numbers with you to "discuss class", he finds himself staring at the number you scrawled on a ripped piece of notebook paper along with your name. he just holds it for a while, tracing the curves of your name with his eyes. you're just so amazing to him in every little way.

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

you see, he's become, well…completely obsessed with you. every moment he spends awake is spent thinking about you. in the midst of hours-long homework sessions or mind-numbingly long exams, all he wants to do is think about you.

you two have become increasingly close over time, figuring out your commonalities and learning about each other's interests. you invited him to your dorm and he was amazed at your ability to dress up such a desolate space. it felt warm, inviting, and quickly became a common place for you two to spend your time together.

you also bonded over food, and would often meet up for lunches or dinners and sometimes even breakfast if you were up early enough to respond to his calls.

and you two were always studying together, you really inspired him to stay on top of his classes not only to keep up with you but to also impress you. he really admired your work ethic as a second year and would always ask for your help with assignments.

of course it was nice to have help, but he mainly just wanted you to sit closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you explained something complicated to him in your soft voice, pointing at the book that sat in his lap. you could read the most boring textbook to him and make it sound like the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

a lot of things he did were mostly just an excuse to have you pay attention to him in some way. if he felt a bit unwell, he'd play it up a bit to get your sympathy and a back rub. he still gets the most insane goosebumps thinking about your hands all over him.

if he was hungry, he was suddenly starvinggg and needed one of your amazing grilled cheese's made in the student common room kitchen. you would roll your eyes every time, reminding him that you don't do anything special to it, but he insists it's better because you make it specifically for him.

in short, he was head over heels for you. he pretty much knew that first day you two met that he was already smitten with you, but it took a while for him to fully realize just how deep he'd gotten himself into this.

not only had he learned your entire class schedule without asking you directly, he knew your schedule outside of class as well. not through any disrespectful tactics, he just so happened to always study at the library next to your dorm building with a perfect view of the door you go in and out of.

he also knew who all of your friends were, at least the ones he's seen you with so far. it's not difficult when the university yearbook practically gives away their books for free to get rid of them. that's also how he found out what clubs and organizations you're apart of, and knew exactly what to ask you to get you to talk about them with him.

see, some might see this and think harry's a bit creepy or overstepping some boundaries. and harry would agree.

he constantly feels guilty when it comes to his feelings for you. he's a complete gentleman when he's with you, but then he turns around and becomes this incessant stalker who needs to know what you're doing at all times.

that's not even the worst part. he feels so, so incredibly guilty about the thoughts he has of you.

harry's not one to feel shame from lust or masturbation, he doesn't have much experience with that stuff anyways so he never really understood the hype around it.

but now, things are different.

he's had random erections before, and he's gotten riled up from previous makeout sessions, but now, he was constantly horny.

all it took was an innocent look from you and he was hard. you often sat in your bed with him as you two studied and insisted on having a leg or arm touching him at all times, which made him completely hot and bothered. certain tones of voice you use or things you say to him can completely melt his brain on the spot.

this isn't meant to brag, harry felt truly awful for these one-sided thoughts. he felt like such a stereotypical man who thinks with his dick. the last thing he wanted was to make you think he saw you in a sexual way at all; he hated your stories about guys who only turned out to be sex fiends with no respect towards you. his blood boiled to think about it, actually, and swore to himself he would always be your friend first despite what he may feel towards you.

this is where the guilt was heaviest. you were constantly saying he was your best mate, one of your closest friends, someone you can really trust, and he held that so close to his heart. above all else, he cared about you so deeply. he wanted to keep you safe.

so when he started to think these thoughts or feel these feelings, harry beat himself up. how could he truly be a good friend to you if he was just so obsessed with you in every way?

you two had just finished up the last steps of your potion experiment for professor rodden's class in the library that harry frequented by your dorm building. as you and harry are talking and packing up to leave, you look out the wall of windows and laugh.

"hey, look. you can see my dorm perfectly from here." you say, pointing towards your building. harry freezes, feeling his mind go blank as you look back at him with a laugh. "little creepy," you say with a smirk, lifting your bag over your shoulder and the rest of your books in your arms.

harry is still frozen, terrified you're going to somehow figure out that that's exactly what he's been doing for the past month now.

"yeah, weird." is all he managed to get out.

as he walks you into your dorm, he barely has the door closed before you start taking your shirt off right in front of him, not even 3 feet away.

harry immediately turns around, letting the door close in front of him. "oh, sorry." he quickly mutters, his heart racing yet again. he didn't even see anything crazy, just the small of your back and the navy of your bra, but it was enough to immediately get him worked up.

he hears you laugh behind him, opening up your drawer. "you don't have to turn around, harry. i'm just changing my shirt." he can hear the smirk in your voice.

he's dumbfounded. all he's thought about for weeks is your body in front of him, and it's right here, and he can't bring himself to look. he feels each second pass by painfully slow, trying to answer himself as to why the fuck he's not turning around.

"okay, you can turn around now." you laugh as you roll your eyes at him. he slowly turns to you with an undoubtedly pale face and shocked expression.

you're standing at your drawer, new shirt fully on, and he can't help but feel a bit disappointed. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by watching, but you seemed okay with it. he's a bit lost in his feelings before you start asking him about something completely irrelevant, taking his mind off the mini-show he just got for free.

that night he's lying in bed, room completely dark except his bedside lamp, and he's thinking of you. like always.

as he replays the moment you took your shirt off right in front of his eyes, he finds himself grabbing for his cock without even meaning to. his hand wraps around the shaft as he begins thrusting his hips, imagining it's your hand like he has so many times before. it only takes a few seconds of stroking and thinking about your blue bra before he's made a mess of himself.

cleaning up afterwards was always the most guilt-ridden part of the entire experience. it was bad enough he thought of you sexually and constantly got hard just from you looking at him or calling him a loser as a joke, but to actually jerk off to the idea of you is something else entirely.

he tried not to get too down about it, plenty of guys do this right? whats so wrong with it if it doesn't affect his relationship with you?

except, it does. harry doesn't know how much longer he can go without telling you how he feels. the guilt he feels every time you refer to him as your best friend, not knowing he spends almost every night cleaning up his own cum off his chest just from thinking about your smile. how would you feel finding out your so-called best friend had these perverted thoughts about you?

as harry falls asleep, he hugs his pillow and pretends its you, asleep in his arms, completely safe.

it's halloween, and harry's never been more excited.

you enthusiastically asked if you could do a matching costume with him, and he'd never been so quick to agree. wearing a matching costume with you to a university party was possibly the first step in becoming a real couple. he wasn't necessarily thrilled about going to a party, but he knew if he was with you he would enjoy himself no matter what.

you couldn't decide what you two should be until harry suggested pirates as a joke.

"oh my gosh, harry! that's perfect!" you said with a huge smile. harry laughed at you, shaking his head. "really? i was kidding." he deadpanned. you narrowed your eyes at him. "yes, really! i think it'd be so cute. and i have the perfect top."

harry gets excited once you say it's cute, and is just happy to be included in your plans.

you take harry shopping just a few days before the party to find pirate-like clothes and end up with a good collection of stuff. at the last minute, harry pays for everything you bought and you give him the biggest, warmest hug he's ever gotten.

yeah, that was enough for him to know this was worth it.

the night of the party, harry feels a bit ridiculous walking up to your dorm in such a billowy white button up and the most uncomfortable, oversized pants he's ever worn. to top it all off his bandana didn't look right on his head, so he embarrassingly knocked on your door and waited for your reaction to his failure of a costume.

when you opened the door, he was stunned into silence.

you were just. so. hot.

your hair was loose around your face under a perfectly tied bandana, an off-the-shoulder white top similar to his worn over a red lace bra, along with ripped fish net stockings under a tied skirt and, shit, a fucking garter wrapped around your thigh.

to say he was insanely turned on and completely stunned by your beauty was an understatement. he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman in front of him was dressed like this to match with him at a party in front of everyone. he just couldn't stop staring at you up and down, not caring if you noticed him practically drooling over you.

"you look so cute!" you exclaimed at the sight of harry standing at your door.

he looked up at you, your soft eyes wide with excitement as you clasped your hands together. you motioned for harry to come in and opened the door further for him. he slid past you into your dorm room, intentionally breathing in your scent as he did, and practically fell apart at the seams. he was so, so attracted to you right now.

"but, let me fix that bandana." you say with a giggle. he turns around and you're already reaching for his head. his breath gets caught in his throat as your arms wrap around his head, retying the bandana tightly just below his hairline. you pull away a bit and smile at him before looking down at his shirt, reaching for that as well.

harry carefully watched your fingers begin to unbutton his white shirt, his world stopping in its tracks in this moment. he was so lost until you said, "gotta show off the chest hair."

as you continue to adjust his shirt with the top buttons undone, he can't help but admire your body and outfit from this angle, this close. everything worked together so well on you, and fit you perfectly in every spot. he felt like such a joke standing next to you, who could ever compare to such a goddess like yourself?

on your way to the party just outside of campus, you felt chilly in just a skirt and cropped top. harry noticed instantly. "cold?" he asks. you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you start to shiver. harry instinctively wraps an arm around you before he can even process what he's doing. "uh, is this any better?" he inquires.

you look up at him with those damn eyes, and he's lost once again. "a lot better." you say sweetly.

at the party, you stick with him for a bit until a few friends pull you away to do some shots. he gives you a reassuring smile as he tells you to go, and he watches your barely-covered ass as you run along.

and so do a few other guys.

harry notices at least 3 guys around him who watch you leave, and at least one of them makes some snide comment about you to a buddy. his blood boils like he's never felt before. he could feel himself tensing up as he imagined what he would do to them if they ever tried to touch you.

harry takes a deep breath and finds a bathroom, running some water over his face to calm down. you were not his girlfriend. not even close. but he felt like any other guy who looked at you was looking at what was his. he was there for you 24/7, he knew your favorite everything, he saw how beautiful you were in all your states, not just dressed up at some costume fraternity party, and though that gives him no right over you, he just couldn't help but feel protective over someone who means so much to him.

you find each other again at some point during the party, and you're a bit drunk. harry finds it somewhat amusing at first, but quickly hates the way those guys are looking at you again. so, he wraps your arm around his waist, tells you it's time to go home, and you mindlessly abide.

on the way home he's completely in awe at the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulder. he felt like you looked like a proper couple, matching costumes and all, and he loved that thought.

as he walked you into your room, you immediately began stripping off your accessories. he was caught in that same predicament he found himself in not too long ago. does he casually let you unclothe in front of him or turn around and give you the privacy you deserve?

he quickly decided on the latter and turned away, making sure the door was locked for your privacy. you started giggling infectiously, stumbling around behind him. "you ok?" he asked with a smirk, amused at the sound of you struggling.

"no, need helppp," you whine, slurring your words slightly while still giggling. harry freezes. he hadn't even considered that you might be too drunk to get undressed by yourself. he's even more conflicted than before.

"m-my help?" he asked. obviously he knew the answer, he just didn't feel right taking your clothes off of you while you were intoxicated. "well duhh…" you giggled, taking another stumbling step behind him.

what should he do? if he says no you might feel like he's annoyed with you or doesn't want to help you out, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

before he can make a decision, you turned him around, his eyes landing on your glazed over eyes.

you had taken off the bandana and gotten your shirt partially off before asking harry for help. he's a bit startled to see you half dressed in front of him, but he quickly makes the decision to be professional and friendly about this situation.

he helps you take off your shirt the rest of the way, and unties your skirt around your waist. harry tries to divert his eyes as he does so to give you the most privacy possible in this moment, though his mind was pushing the most sinful thoughts he could muster.

his hands were shaky as he put both your skirt and top in the laundry, not even noticing how hard and fast his heart was beating until he took a moment to breathe.

just behind him, he hears you take a seat on your mattress. "can you take my shoesss pleaseee," you whine, sticking your left heel in the air towards harry.

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

you, practically naked except for your underwear and fishnet stockings, pointing a bright red heel at him with a pouty face as you wait for his help. he could devour you whole right here, right now. the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet tonight honestly had harry impressed with himself.

he nervously swallowed before reaching for your shoe, carefully sliding it off your foot as you gracefully lift the other leg towards him. he takes that heel as well and sets them next to your other shoes. he reaches in your closet for a big, comfy t-shirt and turns around to give it to you.

he sees you on your back, rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get your fishnets off, laughing to yourself as they get tangled on your legs. harry cant help but laugh at you as well, your carefree intoxicated state was just so adorable to him.

harry briefly helps you out of the stockings before handing you the t-shirt. "here, is this okay to sleep in?" he asks, putting the stockings on your dresser. "yeah!" you say cheerfully. "thanks, harryyy," you coo. harry immediately blushes, the way you carried out his name just made his heart sing. he was so lucky to be this close to you.

"gotta take this off," you say, pulling at the straps of your bra. harry nods and turns away. you giggle softly, grabbing for his hand. he turns to you in shock, looking down at your hand as you stand up from the bed.

"help me?" you ask seductively.

harry is frozen. are you meaning to be so overtly flirty right now? is this a bit from the alcohol? are you about to start laughing him off and put the shirt on anyway?

but you don't, you just patiently wait for his answer with puppy dog eyes. he glanced between you and the t-shirt in your hand, clearly a worried look taking over his expression.

"you don't have to," you say softly. that snaps harry out of his daze. "n-no, of course i'll help," he says eagerly. you smile again and turn around, gathering your hair to one side to get it out of the way for him.

harry has never been so aroused in his life. this is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone. he's never unclasped a bra before, and worries he's about to make a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful girl in the world.

but he soon figures it out and manages to unclasp it for you. "there you are," he assures you. you slowly turn around, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you hold the bra up. harry's completely infatuated with the delicious sight of you in front of him in this moment, but quickly diverts his gaze to an uninteresting part of the room.

"harry, do you want to see my boobs?"

harry snaps his head back at you with concern. his brows are furrowed and mouth agape. you have a genuine expression but your eyes are still a bit bloodshot.

"wh…what?" he choked out. he can't believe you asked that, even in this state. you've truly never showed interest in harry like this before, only subtle touches and looks that he interpreted how he wanted, but never anything like this.

well, unless you count the other day when you undressed near him.

but that was friendly, wasn't it? you were just changing, lots of friends change in front of each other. but this was completely different, you were purposefully exposing yourself to him. not only that, but you were asking him if you could, as if it wasn't the only thing he wanted in this moment.

"do you wanna see my boobs?" you ask again, giggling slightly.

harry blinks a few times, trying as hard as he can to not ogle over your body. this is all he's wanted, for months this is the only thing he's wanted, but right now just didn't feel right. you weren't fully aware of what you were doing or saying, and he couldn't, in good faith, continue further with this situation.

he carefully places his hands on your crossed arms, keeping them close to you as he talks.

"[y/n], you're drunk right now. and while i helped you get undressed, which was already a bit over the line, i don't want you to do something you'll regret."

you give him a look he can't quite decipher. your smile drops, your eyes focus, and your arms tense.

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

harry quickly reassures you. "don't be! seriously, don't be. i am so, so glad that you trust me enough to help you in this state. truly. it means the world to me, because i care about you so much." he gives you a warm smile.

you smile back at him. "then i hope you understand when i say i want to do this,"

you begin to pull your arms away from your chest, but harry is still holding them. he looks you in the eyes with worry, afraid of what you're about to do, yet more excited than he's been in a long time.

"but [y/n]..." he protests. "please?" you ask simply.

harry is reluctant, but he can tell you're going to be insistent, so he slowly lets go of your arms as you remove your bra from your body.

harry glances at your chest, his heart dropping. you're perfect.

perfect, perfect, perfect.

your skin looked so beautiful in the lowlight provided by your lamps and fairy lights. the curves of your boobs looked so soft and untouched. this was the first time harry was seeing tits in real life, and he was pretty sure this was the best they could possibly get.

he looks back up at your eyes, a shy smile spread across your expression. "beautiful…" harry whispers before he even realizes what he's saying.

you giggle, unfolding the shirt you handed him and swiftly pulling it over your head. "thanks, harry," you say so casually, turning around to make your bed so you can sleep in it.

he can hardly believe what's just happened. the girl of his dreams, the girl he'd practically been obsessed with for months, just willingly showed him her boobs for fun. though you were intoxicated and would most likely regret it tomorrow, hopefully not mad at him for letting it happen, he was still grateful that you felt that level of trust with him in any capacity.

what he wasn't grateful for, however, were these bloody pirate pants that gave him the most uncomfortable erection of his life. this was also definitely the hardest and most turned on he had ever been, so he's not sure if there's any comfort to be had in this moment anyway. while you focus on the bed, harry takes a step away and tries to calm himself down, thinking different thoughts to try and let the hornieness subside for just a bit longer.

as you plop into bed and begin getting comfortable, harry turns off a few lamps for you but keeps on the fairy lights in case you need the bathroom at any point.

"do you need anything before i head out, [y/n]?" he asks.

you sit up in your bed, a look of pain on your face.

"you're leaving me?"

harry is utterly heartbroken at the tone of your question. you sound so genuinely upset he immediately comes to comfort you, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

"oh, no, i-i won't if you don't want me to." he stumbles out. harry wasn't planning on staying, he was actually just imagining how good of a jerk he was about to have in 10 minutes, plus he's never technically stayed the night with you before. but he quickly pushes his perverted thoughts of you to the side and knows it's much more satisfying to him if he stays here and makes sure you're okay through the night.

you reach for the bandana that's still tied around his head and pull it off swiftly, leaving his hair disheveled. you throw it across the room with a laugh.

"sleepoverrrr" you cheer, patting the spot next to you on the bed. harry laughs with you, standing up and realizing he's still dressed as a pirate. "i didn't bring any clothes…" he says with a twinge of sadness.

you look at him confused. "you're a guy, just sleep naked." you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. harry is a bit stunned at this statement but quickly laughs you off, going to your drawers to look for a pair of pants. besides, he's still slightly struggling with a situation in his boxers and being naked next to you wouldn't exactly help him out.

he eventually put together a shirt and pants combo that fit him comfortably enough to sleep in. "hope you don't mind," he says as he changes into them.

"not at all," you say, watching him change in the lowlight. there's something in your voice that makes harry feel feral, an overwhelming desire to just let go and release the tension between you two. at least, the tension he thinks is there.

he quickly gets dressed, setting his pirate clothes and glasses on your dresser as the sleep begins to settle into his bones. he crawls into bed next to you, and is quickly invited to join you under the covers. he's a bit reluctant at first, but realizes he doesn't have much of a choice as he starts getting cold.

within a few minutes of saying goodnight to each other, you and harry drift off to sleep together.

you're the first one awake, a splitting headache and dry mouth creating an unpleasant feeling immediately after opening your eyes. you rub the sleep away from them and reach for a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, sitting up a bit to sip slowly.

"good morning," a deep voice rumbles just beside you. you instinctively jump a bit before your brain quickly recognizes harry's tone and accent. as you turn to him, he's adorably disheveled wearing one of your university crewnecks under your blanket.

he smiles at you. he looks so different without his glasses on.

"morning, harry," you say groggily. the moment doesn't last long before another wave of your headache hits you, causing you to rub your forehead. you groan in pain. "what happened last night?"

harry's a bit frozen. this is exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. you don't remember anything from last night. he should've just dropped you off here and left right away, not even letting there be a chance of anything happening.

he's brought out of his thoughts when you look back down at him, a look of curiosity in your eyes as you continue to rub your head.

harry also sits up a bit before climbing out of bed, putting his glasses on from the top of your dresser.

"well…" he starts out nervously, scratching his head. "we went to the party," he says as he begins to stretch his back out.

"oh yeah, the party. we were definitely the best costumes there." you recall the night fondly. harry laughs nervously, worried about how you're going to react when you find out he undressed you and even saw you nearly completely naked in such an intoxicated state.

"right, yeah, of course." harry chuckles dryly. "but, um…at some point you left me and started drinking, so we didn't stay for long." he says carefully, his mind racing as he slowly, nervously paces between your bed and your dresser.

"classic," you chuckle, reaching for a hairbrush as you begin to comb through your knotty hair. "thanks for bringing me home, harry," you smile at him.

the guilt twists in his stomach like a knife, he can't believe how innocent you are. but he also can't believe what happened between you two last night, and just how eager you seemed for it to happen. he has to stop thinking about it before he gets turned on again.

"of course, [y/n], but, um…" he takes a deep breath before he continues. "you look cute in my jumper, by the way," you interrupt him, standing up from your bed as you begin to collect toiletries to take a shower.

his brain fogs from the compliment, but doesn't let it distract him from what he knows he has to tell you.

"well, thank you, but, um…" harry says with a blush.

you give him a confused look. "what's up?" you ask him. he's just going to come right out and say it.

"look, [y/n], i don't know if you remember, but…you asked me to help you get undressed last night because you were too drunk," he spits out, trying to immediately gauge your reaction before continuing. you just give him an even more confused look. "oh, well, thank you then. is that okay?" you ask incredulously.

harry stiffens. "yeah, um…i didn't mind helping, of course, it's just…" you giggle, opening the door to your en suite bathroom that's barely bigger than the shower within it. "harry, you're such a dork. do you actually feel bad for taking care of me when i was drunk?" you ask sarcastically as you set down various lotions and hair products onto the sink.

he cracks a small smile at you calling him a dork, but it doesn't last long. his heart settles a bit after hearing your positive outlook on the situation so far, but it doesn't stop completely.

"it's not that, um…but, uh, afterwards, you, well, kind of…" he awkwardly tried to find the words.

"you…showed me your boobs." not the most eloquent way of putting it.

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

"n-not by my request or anything!" he quickly reassures you (and himself). "it's just, i told you you might regret it, but you were insisting on doing it anyways…" he doesn't want to feel like he's blaming you when he was the sober one in charge.

"oh…" you say despondent, seeming lost in your thoughts as you search his expression. he gives you a moment to process what he's said. "yeah…" is all he manages to say.

you sigh. "i'm sorry, harry. it was wrong of me to force that on you." your apology is so sincere, and it immediately confused harry. force that on him? bloody hell. you really had no memory of just how much he enjoyed himself in that moment. harry's sure he looked like a kid at a candy shop just staring at your beautiful body in the warm light.

"what? no! i-i'm sorry i let that happen," he responds with a ridiculous tone. "i was the sober one, i should've tried harder to–""to what? stop a drunk girl from showing her tits? yeah, good luck with that one." you laugh, cracking a joke.

harry's nerves are much more calm. he's insanely grateful that you seem to be taking this news well and aren't angry with him.

"look, harry…" you start, adjusting your shirt around your shoulders. harry's been stealing glances of your delicious thighs and legs every so often as you talked.

"i'm really grateful for you. just in general, but for last night especially. you helped me out, and you were a complete gentleman, at least from what i can remember…" you joke with him. he cracks a smile too.

"so don't stress about it, yeah?"

harry lets out a breath of relief, physically feeling the weight of the situation lift from his shoulders. "yeah, of course. i'm really grateful you trust me like that." he's in awe of your grace in this moment.

you smile, stepping over to the laundry next to your dresser. you grab a shirt and some pants from your closet, and, before harry even realizes what you're doing, you drop your underwear you were wearing last night to your ankles, stepping out of them and walking towards the bathroom again.

"gonna shower for a bit," you inform him as you close the door behind yourself.

harry's left behind, staring at the door before returning his gaze to your panties.

they're red, much like your bra from last night, and he remembers taking note of them to keep in his fantasies later for accuracy. but now, here they were, just laying right in front of him.

he finds himself still staring at them when he hears you turn the shower on and step inside, closing the sliding glass door behind you. he looks at the door, and looks back at your panties.

for a while he just looks at them incredulously, not entirely sure why this specific detail has made him so irrationally horny. you were completely naked on just the other side of this wall, but he's practically mesmerized by the image of you casually sliding your red panties down your legs right in front of him like it wasn't the most erotic thing he's ever witnessed in his whole life.

before he knows it, the shower turns off. he's still left staring at your red panties. as he shifts his weight, he can see that they're a bit wet and slick in the light from you wearing them all night.

he can't take it anymore. his erection from last night has returned with a vengeance this morning. before harry could even realize what he's doing, he's picked up your underwear carefully, holding them between his fingers, your wetness still soaking through the cotton.

his heart is racing as he hears you brushing your teeth. what is he doing? if you caught him being perverted with your panties like this after just reassuring him that he wasn't in the wrong for what happened last night, he'd surely be on your bad side. but he can't stop himself.

he brings them to his face and takes a slow, deep inhale.

you smell completely divine. slightly sweet, slightly bitter. he gets goosebumps just thinking about how you must really smell. his erection is raging beneath your sweatpants he put on last night, feeling incredibly dirty from being so turned on by your used panties.

his stolen pleasure is too quickly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling. shit. as you're about to open the door, harry panics and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.

you come out with freshly damp hair and raw skin. the wonderful smell of your shower products fill the room as you brush through your hair casually.

harry keeps a hand in his pocket over the panties so you don't have the chance of catching him, and to better conceal the raging boner that's not going away anytime soon.

you don't say anything as you place your toiletries back in their rightful spots, humming to yourself as you comb through your hair occasionally.

so casually beautiful, so effortlessly pristine. you amazed him every time with just how ethereal you could be at any given moment. a freshly clean angel fluttering around the room without a care in the world.

you begin complaining of your hangover headache and ask harry to get food with you. he's more than willing, his stomach already growling in response for him.

at breakfast, you sit in silence with harry as you both hungrily devour the pancakes you ordered. harry got you two glasses of orange juice to keep you hydrated after last night.

after a while, you inform him you have to go study, and he offers to help you. "thanks, but i can't be distracted. this exam is going to kick my ass." you complained to him. harry gave you a look. "i distract you?"

you laugh at him, leaving him at the lunch hall with a simple, "goodbye, harry. call me later."

when harry gets to his dorm room, he realizes he's still wearing your clothes. and, shit, he's still got your panties in his pocket.

harry slowly reaches for them, feeling a twinge of guilt and lust once his hand finds the fabric. pulling them out, he's in shock that he actually stole a pair of your panties. to be fair he didn't intend to, he just panicked and wasn't thinking straight.

but, now that he has them…

keeping the red lace hanging from his fingers, harry climbs into bed and begins to remember those unforgettable moments with you just the night prior. it doesn't take much to get him just as riled up as before, imagining the moments he was undressing you in slow motion. taking your heels off as you looked up at him with the most seductive eyes in the world. seeing the flesh of your breasts for the first time in the dim lighting, imagining how they'd feel in his rough hands. god, he feels so bad finding pleasure in these moments, but he physically can't resist it.

his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking slowly as to savor the memories flashing through his brain. he's been aching for this release since seeing you in your costume last night, just another memory that brings him closer to the edge.

finally, he slowly brings your panties to his face. though they've since dried in his pocket during breakfast and the walk home, the lingering smell is still enough to drive him wild. he's breathing them in like it's oxygen and he's drowning.

just as he's nearing the end, he brings the panties to his other hand and begins stroking his cock with them. the sight alone is enough to break him, his cum spilling onto his hand and all over your red panties as images of your half naked body continue to infest his brain.

this time, the immediate guilt was the worst it'd ever been.

as he began to clean up, he realized just how much he ruined your panties in his excitement. his cum had soaked through the thin fabric and was already drying around it. he cursed himself for ruining such a sacred momento that he should've cherished, but also quickly cursed himself for thinking that way about you in the first place.

you even said yourself that harry was being a perfect gentleman last night. yeah, a gentleman with a raging erection the entire night who steals your used panties for his sick pleasure…

he continues to clean himself up, putting your panties in a safe place where nobody can find them and he won't lose them. even just the thought of them being in his possession was enough to get him riled up again.

it's the stressful time between thanksgiving and christmas where school has the two of you completely spread thin. harry's constantly writing essays while you seem to have endless lab experiments to finish for other classes. the one saving grace is your potions class together, twice a week. it's what kept harry sane during this chaotic time.

spending even just this short hour and 15 minutes with you is enough to fulfill harry. he hasn't properly hung out with you in nearly two weeks and was missing you like he was withdrawing.

sitting close to you to copy some notes about the potion you two are working on, harry admires your handwriting for the millionth time since he's met you. "i just don't understand how you write so well, i can barely read my own," harry jokes, holding out his notebook, making you laugh and blush.

the potion you're working on is one that allows the consumer to communicate with animals for a short period of time. it's rather complex, but harry helps you keep things organized and encourages you when you get frustrated.

"i just don't get it, how is it 3 drops and not 6? i swear it was 6 last week…" you groan, looking through your notes as you set down the tincture, rubbing your face, exasperated.

harry sets a reassuring hand on your arm. he's gotten pretty good at being more physical with you, and isn't afraid to touch you casually like you always have with him. "hey, [y/n], it's okay," he tells you, catching your eyes with his. "it's been a stressful week, yeah? just a mistake, no big deal."

you give harry that same, warm smile you delivered on your first day meeting him. he often looks back at that day fondly, forever grateful he got the sudden courage to talk to you after this class. not only were you now his closest friend, you were also the light of his life.

as harry finishes up, he hands you the round vial full of luminescent, purple potion. "here you are, test it out."

you take a small swig of it just as professor rodden makes his way to your and harry's table. next to the table is a bird's cage on a hook, with a sweet owl inside named jewel.

you make eye contact with the owl, and begin to speak. to you and everyone else it just sounds like regular english, but the owl begins to hoot and flap its wings at you immediately.

"hello, jewel, how are we feeling today?" you coo.

amazing, incredible, unbelievable! jewel's hoots become intelligible to your ear as you practically jump up and down with a huge smile on your face. "it worked, it worked!" you announced to harry, instinctively jumping in his arms for a hug as he spins you around excitedly.

"yes! you did it! see, i knew you could." harry exclaims, setting you down and giving you a toothy grin.

you look at jewel again, who is turning her head at you every which way. how nice, you and the boy! how sweet indeed! her loud hoots make the class silent as they watch you interact with her.

"what's she saying?" harry asks curiously. you give him a shy smile, feeling your face turn red. "she likes us." you're not totally lying.

"well, ms. [y/l/n], i must tell you i'm quite impressed. not just at how quickly you two perfected this potion, but of your performance this semester overall." professor rodden compliments you. he turns to harry. "i see mr. potter has been a positive influence on you this year."

harry quickly shuts him down. "actually, sir, if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, [y/n] has helped me way more this semester than i've helped her. she's brilliant."

professor rodden turns to you, a pale face and shocked expression, and gives you a smile. "well, then, hat's off to you, ms. [y/l/n]." he says, bowing to you before continuing with his rounds in the classroom. "thank you, professor rodden."

after class, you're all over harry, resting your head on him, hugging him, touching him randomly, but he's not complaining of course. he feels lucky enough that you're so comfortable around him as to be touchy feely.

"thank you, by the way. for what you said to rodden." you thank him as you two walk into your dorm room. harry takes his usual seat at your computer desk. "of course, i wasn't about to let that wanker give me credit for all of your hard work." harry says, laughing. he's become so much more confident with you, even using your lingo in his own vocabulary.

"no, really, thank you. just, for everything." you smile at him. "you're the best friend i could ever ask for."

harry feels his smile slightly falter. he's always reminded that that's all you are is friends, and while he's insanely grateful for your friendship, probably more than anything else in his life, he just can't help but feel a bit lost at this point. he's insanely attracted to you, ferociously protective over you, and, yet, can't bring himself to tell you any of this.

"you're welcome, [y/n], but if anything i should be thanking you. you don't even know how much you've helped me, not just with school but with everything. you're, like, the only friend i have at this point." harry laughs, but it's true. he's tried to make friends in other classes this year but has been disappointed each time, they're just not you.

you give harry a sad smile. "that's not true, ron and hermione are still your friends. more than that, they're practically your family." you walk over to him and run your hand through his hair, something you know he loves. he looks up at you slightly through his eyelashes.

"hermione's right, they'll come back to you one day. just give it some time, yeah?"

harry melts into your touch. nobody can settle his mind like you do. he didn't exactly look for pity from people, but you were someone he felt so safe with that he could be completely vulnerable in front of you. the reassurance and love that you provided him in these moments healed him in a way he didn't understand.

"right," he sighs, giving you the same sad smile.

you whine and pull his head into your chest, resting your own head on top of his. "awh, i hate seeing you so sad." you say sympathetically, still running your fingers through the back of his hair.

if harry's being completely honest, he's not sad at all anymore. how could he feel anything but pure bliss with his head buried in your sweater and your fingers leaving goosebumps throughout his scalp? he leans into you like a dog being pet, so desperate for your touch.

you stay like that with him for a while, just enjoying each other's company. harry found solace in your heartbeat, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks. "i've missed you." harry practically moans, intoxicated by your warm scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

you hum, smiling softly to yourself, feeling harry practically melt into your arms. "missed you too, harry," you coo, enjoying the feeling of being together.

"the semester's almost over, then it's christmas." you remind him, lifting your head as you look down at his closed eyes. he looks so peaceful resting against you.

harry smiles. almost christmas. but more importantly, almost your birthday.

harry very vividly remembers a conversation he had with you towards the beginning of your friendship about birthdays and how neither of you particularly enjoyed them.

your birthday fell close to christmas, so, inevitably, it became synonymous with christmas growing up. never really getting a separate party or separate presents, you learned to not expect much the actual day of, and to rather wait for christmas so you could be celebrated on the side.

harry was having none of this. he thinks you forgot about the conversation with him completely, but he's thought about it constantly since then. he's been planning on giving you a special birthday on your actual birthday this year, and he's practically dying to tell you. but he doesn't, and he won't, because it has to be a complete surprise.

"hm. christmas." is all he says, tilting his head back to look up at you. from every angle he finds you so fascinating, you just get prettier and prettier the more he truly looks at you.

you're gazing at him so gently, so warmly, your hand practically cradling his head against you. harry blinks and you're suddenly leaning forward, planting a soft kiss against his forehead.

harry could've died happy at that moment.

he brings his head away from your chest as you step away, soft smile and blushing cheeks. watching you turn and start folding laundry mindlessly, harry feels the lingering kiss tingling his skin.

for a brief moment, he imagines himself coming up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, feeling you, pushing you to the bed…

harry quickly shakes his head, grinding his teeth at the horny urges he gets at the most simple actions. what other boys in university get an erection so quickly from a forehead kiss? sometimes harry felt like such a loser, not just with you, but with sex in general.

he never thought about it much before you, so it's not something he knows a lot about. he'd masturbated before, but not as often as he does now, or in the same way. usually he thought about making out with someone, maybe touching them, but now…he just felt so dirty, the things that his brain creates about you.

once you finish the laundry, you ask for his help to put stuff away. he's done this for you many times before, so he knows where you like everything to be.

he hangs up a few shirts and puts away some jeans and socks. he turns around to see you handing him a pile of your panties loosely stacked together. "here," you say as you're turned the other way, gathering another pile of clothes with your other arm.

harry is frozen for a second before reluctantly taking the underwear from you, immediately feeling his face flush.

he's instantly reminded of your panties sitting in his room right now. the panties he stole. the panties he masturbated with.

he's since washed them and keeps them out of guilt, partially, but he's not quite sure how to subtly return them to you. not like he wants to anytime soon.

as harry turns around and opens the drawer you put your panties in, he takes his time so he can admire all the different pairs in his hand. pinks, purples, reds, neutrals, blacks, he was practically holding a goldmine. it almost made him chuckle, the irony of you asking him to put these away.

he neatly tucks them into the drawer, admiring them one last time before slowly closing it.

for the first time that month, you and harry actually have the freetime to leave campus and get food together. your favorite diner is open all night and serves the best milkshakes either of you have ever had.

"how are we splitting the checks?" the older waitress asks, eyeing harry up and down. before you can say anything he tells her just one, handing her his card out of nowhere.

as she walks away you give him an evil look. "you don't always have to pay for everything, y'know? i'm perfectly capable of paying for myself or the both of us." you tease him. he smiles. "i know." he states simply.

you finish your milkshakes within minutes, handing your cherry to harry like you do every time. "cherry for harry," you always say. it always gets a smile out of him.

after a few minutes of chatting alone in the diner, the bell at the front door rings. you get a big smile across your face as you stand from the booth. "thomas?" you ask.

harry turns around to see a man in a quidditch uniform, his hair sweaty and book bag full to the brim. he's carrying his broomstick around, like a total tool if you ask harry, and gives you the cheekiest smile possible.

"[y/n]?" he asks.

harry could've killed him just for saying your name the way he did. like a predator hunting its prey again.

harry's anger immediately worsened when you practically jumped on this guy to give him a hug. nothing like the hug you gave harry in class today, he wants to note.

harry stood up, causing the guy to look at him. he had a scar as well, one from quidditch harry would assume. a slash across his left eye, healed but still somewhat recent.

you look back at harry as well, smiling at him. "harry, this is thomas." you introduce them.

yeah, he picked up on that. harry's face was red from anger.

he reluctantly steps forward, offering his hand to the douchebag who still kept a light hand on your shoulder. harry wanted to break his wrist when he went in for the handshake, but instead he offered a polite, "harry. nice to meet you."

the guy, thomas, gives a half smirk. "harry potter." he states matter-of-factly.

harry was sure his anger was visible at this point. it was enough that this guy was touching you and clearly had a past with you, but for him to pull the boy who lived card on him in front of you was enough to make his fists ball up.

"that's me." he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

there's an awkward moment of silence as harry continues to stare thomas down.

"so. how do you two know each other?" harry asks you, his tone and gaze softening just looking at you.

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

"we dated back in high school." thomas finishes for you.

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

"yeah…for, like, 2 months…" you awkwardly laugh off, clearly not the most comfortable discussing this in front of harry.

thomas laughs with you as the waitress hands him a to-go box. "well, i'll see you guys around," he says as he hikes up his bookbag. "it was nice to see you again, [y/n]."

if looks could kill, this guy would've been dead long before he left out the door. harry knew he was visibly upset when you looked over at him.

"you okay harry?" you ask with a laugh.

he breaks, looking at you with a smile as he loosens his tight muscles. "sorry, i'm fine," he says.

as you both put your coats on to walk home, harry can't help but replay the interaction in his head. "dated…in high school…" "yeah…for, like, 2 months…"

harry's mind was swimming as you left the diner with him, walking into a light snow. "wow," you sigh, looking around you. harry looks up. it's beautiful out. the snow gives everything a light, soft look under the street lamps. he looks down at you and smiles at you admiring the scenery.

sometimes it scares harry how jealous he gets when it comes to you, and how quickly it can happen. that guy did nothing but say your name and give you a 2 second hug, and he actually dated you, so what right does harry have to get upset as just your friend? but all he can think about on the walk to your dorm is pummeling this guy's stupid face into the ground.

harry hadn't told you yet, but he had actually been going to the gym lately with all the time he had spent away from you during the busy school weeks. nothing too intense, he actually focused on boxing and lifting specifically because he wanted to be better prepared to protect you in case anything happened to you. and for self defense reasons, of course, but mainly for your benefit. he would do anything for you.

upon arriving at your dorm, you plop onto your mattress with a groan. "too much milkshake," you whine.

harry chuckles at you, shaking the snow out of his hair. "i told you not to get the large." he smirks. you frown at him, making him laugh again. "it's not funny! and you're wrong, i deserved a large after this month." you protest.

he laughs you off again, taking a peek at your alarm clock next to your bed. his eyes widen. "bloody hell, since when was it half past 11?" he asks astounded.

you laugh at his shock. "time flies when you're havin' fun,"

harry rubs his eyes. "if i don't leave now i won't get enough sleep to make it to my 9 a.m." he groans, not wanting his time with you to end yet again.

"nooo," you whine, clearly wanting the same. he gives you a sad look at your tone. "stay?" you ask.

harry's a bit taken aback. he hasn't stayed the night since the halloween party. thinking about that night for even a split second makes him break a sweat. it's his most replayed memory. he could even call it his sexual awakening at the ripe age of 19.

"stay? are you sure?" harry asks. you immediately nod your head, smiling at him. he can't say no to you, and he doesn't want to. he has no reason to leave, anything he needs is already here.

"well, if you insist." he smirks. you roll your eyes, taking off your jacket and hat and setting them in your closet. "i only insist because that snow is turning into a storm." you reply. you're not wrong, harry would've had to walk for 15 minutes through heavier and heavier snowfall, not to mention the windchill.

"well, thank you." he says. you smile back at him before reaching to take your shirt off. harry's seen you in multiple states of undress since the halloween party, so it's not uncommon for you to just change at any point during your conversations.

but that didn't make it any less pleasurable for harry.

sometimes he just sat back and watched like it was a personal show just for him. he would memorize the shape of your back and, shit, the curve of your ass. he watched as you pulled down your jeans, left in nothing but a bra and panties. he tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away for too long, your ass was just perfect to him.

before too long you unclasped the bra hooks behind your back and let the black fabric fall into the laundry. you slipped on a big t-shirt, your favorite thing to wear to bed, and harry caught just the slightest glimpse of your tits from behind you.

as you turned around, harry quickly began taking off his wet, snow covered converse to appear as though he wasn't just observing you like his own personal dirty magazine.

when he looked up, you were handing him some clothes to change into. he thanked you, grabbing them as he took off his jeans and sweatshirt. harry had also learned to be more comfortable changing around you, even if it wasn't as often.

harry put on the sweatpants and fresh pair of socks before realizing you hadn't given him a shirt. he looked over at you and you were already staring at him.

"harry, have you been working out?"

his face flushed, feeling exposed with just a pair of sweatpants on his hips. you were looking at his body with an expression of shock and amusement.

"u-um, yeah, a bit…just between classes, get some stress out." he's not entirely lying, but he could never tell you the real reason.

you smile at him, but a different smile than normal. you're almost…nervous? you've never been nervous around harry, even when you two first met.

"you look…good…" you say with a slight crack in your voice, still looking at him. harry can feel his blood pumping, and he knows that can only lead to an eventual erection, so he turns around casually pretending to fold his jeans. "oh, thanks," he tries to say casually.

he can still feel your eyes on him as he hangs his sweatshirt on your coat rack. "damn, harry. you're like…ripped." you say with genuine shock in your voice.

harry turns towards you, but you're fixated on his exposed torso. he nervously laughs, not sure how to respond. of course he thought getting stronger would mean his body would inevitably look better, but he cared more about his ability to fight off any creeps he needed to in order to keep you safe. however, he hadn't necessarily considered your reaction to his transformation. he had somewhat forgotten you also saw him change his clothes that halloween night. he thought you had forgotten too.

"i don't know about that," he laughs awkwardly.

you just giggle and look away, shaking your head. you climb into bed and invite him next to you. harry accepts and joins you beneath the covers, turning off a lamp beside him.

after a few moments of silence, harry could hear your shallow, even breaths indicating you're asleep. he looked down at you, peaceful, beautiful. he sat up as gently as possible and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, [y/n]."

it was finally your birthday.

harry had been planning this day for weeks. he made sure to ask you way ahead of schedule when you would be seeing family so he could time everything perfectly.

he had completely set up your room to look like a birthday party for a kid. balloons, streamers, a birthday cake and ice cream, presents, even fun plates and napkins.

you should be coming home from going out to eat with your parents for brunch in about 10 minutes. harry made sure to call you before you left early in the morning to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.

as he was waiting for you to arrive, he made sure everything was perfect, down to the last balloon. he had put your favorite cd on and even lit a candle. he's not quite sure why, he just felt like it was right.

soon enough, he could hear your keys on the other side of your door letting yourself in, so harry positioned himself beside your bed and waited eagerly for the reaction he'd been thinking about for months.

when you open the door, you're a bit startled to see him at first. "surprise!" he says with a suppressed smile, trying to contain his excitement.

your eyes slowly examine the room, your jaw dropping as you bring a hand to your heart. "harry…" you choke out in a small voice, still noticing different details around you as the door closes behind you.

"happy birthday." he says lovingly, taking in every second of your realization.

"you…how did you…" you can't even get the words out as you set down your purse and coat on your bed next to your presents from harry.

"i've been planning this for weeks. i wanted to give you the birthday you never had." he tells you.

you look at him with tears in your eyes, quickly looking away and towards your dresser. "you got me a cake…" you say tearfully, walking up to the custom cake he had placed an order for an entire week ago.

"we also have reservations for the diner at 5. if you'd join me, of course." harry smirks. you chuckle at him, jumping in his arms and enveloping him in a hug. "thank you…" you begin to cry into his shoulder.

harry holds you tight, dazed from your scent and enjoying the softness of your hair. he rubs your back softly as you get the tears out, letting you know it's okay.

you pull away, wiping your tears as you laugh at yourself. "sorry, i just…this is so amazing of you harry."

"don't be sorry. i'm glad you love it." he reassures you, making you smile. "let's have some cake, hm?"

after some cake and ice cream as well as messing with the balloons and party favors, it was time for harry's favorite part. the presents.

he sat you both down on your bed and savored each reaction you had to each present. every thank you was followed by, "how did you know i wanted this?" "how much was this?" "how did you get this?"

harry had his ways. and again, he would do anything for you.

his last present for you, though, was the most important. he kept it beside him until the very end, handing it to you with a shy smile. you lifted the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful necklace, one he saw you looking at multiple times while out shopping with you.

you were speechless. you looked at harry with the most genuine expression of shock, gratitude, and confusion. "harry…" you gasp. "you got this for me?" you ask.

harry chuckles. "do you like it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"harry…you really shouldn't have…" you tell him, staring at the necklace in your lap. he smiles even bigger, the look on your face was already enough to convince him it was worth it. it was all worth it. "here, i'll put it on you."

you hand harry the necklace, turning and scooting towards him as you hold your hair to the side for him. he's immediately reminded of the night he helped you take your bra off.

he clasps the necklace together and you turn towards him, looking down at it with him. "wow, it looks great." he says with a smile.

you look up at him, your faces nearly touching. harry can barely process your beauty before you lean in for a soft kiss against his lips.

harry's completely frozen, not knowing what to do or what's even happening.

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

you look up at him, your eyes soft and eager. harry can't hold himself back anymore. you've kissed him first, that's all the permission he needs for now.

he lightly grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a bigger, deeper kiss. soon enough, you're making out with harry in your bed.

he's a bit rusty when it comes to kissing, but he plays it safe with you and keeps it soft and light. your hands have traveled to harry's neck and hair, pulling him closer to you.

after a minute or so, harry pulls away. "i love you, [y/n]." he admits. he just couldn't keep it in for much longer.

your eyes light up, a shy smile on your lips as you read his expression. "oh, harry. i love you, too." you reply breathlessly.

the kissing becomes more and more heated as you eventually push harry back onto your pillows. he's surprised, and completely aroused, trying to ignore his growing erection from simply kissing you.

you climb on top of him, the visual making harry sweat already. as you lean in to continue the kiss, your legs end up on either side of him, straddling his torso.

harry is at a loss. he never imagined his birthday surprise for you would end like this. did you really mean you loved him? like, loved loved him?

his hands went to your hips, savoring the feeling of your weight on top of him, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. eventually, he can feel your hips slowly rock back and forth on his lap.

he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you above him with wonder. it was everything he could've imagined. even better than the constant fantasies he had of you.

"is this okay?" you ask him softly, searching his eyes, grinding your hips into his a bit slower than before.

harry looks at you incredulously. "[y/n], this is all i've wanted for so long. please. use me." the desperation in his voice surprises him, he knew he wanted you this bad but he couldn't believe how quickly you had him begging.

you practically moaned at his desperate request. "fuck," you whisper as you go in for another kiss.

harry guides your hips into his, and he's sure you can feel just how hard he is through his jeans. you're softly moaning into the kiss, stopping to catch your breath every so often as harry slightly thrusts his hips into you, desperate for more.

"oh, harry…" you moan, causing his eyes to roll in ecstasy. for so long he imagined how you'd sound moaning his name just for him, and he's more than happy with the real thing.

"you're so beautiful, darling," harry says, reaching for your flushed cheek.

you whimper at his voice, tangling a hand in his hair. "tell me again." you demand him.

shit. harry could seriously cum just from that. he's doing everything he can to keep this going as long as possible, but he's not sure how much longer he'll last under you.

"beautiful. so, so beautiful." he says between heavy breaths, watching your incredible body grind onto him for pleasure. "you have no idea how badly i've needed you," he looks back into your eyes, half shut with pleasure as you continue to blush.

"touch me." you tell him, putting your hair behind your shoulders. he looks up at you slowly moving up and down on his lap. he could watch you do this for hours. a dream come true.

one hand slowly makes its way towards your tits, massaging one through your clothes. harry's head rolls back in pleasure, hardly believing this was his real life. involuntary moans slip through his lips as you continue to dry hump him.

"fuck, harry…" you whimper, kissing him again. he can feel the necklace he got you against his hand as he continue to feel your tits. everything about this was perfect. as far as he was concerned, right now, in this moment, you were his and only his.

"i-i…i think i'm gonna cum…" you tell him between kissing. his hands grip you tighter, all he wants to do is please you, be the reason for your ecstasy.

"please, [y/n], please cum for me," he begs of you, feeling his own body tipping over the edge. you look him in the eyes, your hand on his cheek as your breathing gets more rapid and uneven.

you're whimpering, desperately grinding for relief on harry's jeans as he feels himself about to cum. "harry, please…" you beg.

harry slightly thrusts into you, meeting your rhythm as he pulls you closer to him. you begin to shake in his grip, your eyes and jaw going lax as your whimpers become breathless. your hand finds one of his and interlocks your fingers together. you squeeze his hand as you ride out your high. he's completely enthralled with your face and body's reaction to him. he could be here forever, letting you use his body for pleasure, and he would hurt anyone who tried to stop him.

as you start to come down from your climax, harry gently pulls you in for a weak kiss. you crawl beside him, hiding your face in his chest as you continue to catch your breath.

"that was…so hot…" you manage to say between breaths. harry laughs softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on your head. "you're amazing." is all he can say.

"so…did you…?" you shyly start to ask. "yes. i came in my pants." harry admits, hiding his face in your hair. you can't help but laugh a bit, looking down at his jeans. he looks down and sees a dark spot near the zipper.

"oh." you say, clearly amused. "how couldn't i? i had the most beautiful woman in the world orgasming on my lap." harry smirks.

you hide your face in his chest again, giggling. you look up at him with dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, and sore lips in a small smile. "i really do love you, harry," you speak softly.

"i love you too, [y/n]."

it's the day after christmas, and you and harry had spent the holiday with your family. he loved your parents, and got on well with your siblings. he had even rented a room at a local inn near the area for you two to stay in. a private place to escape the chaos and have some alone time.

you and harry were practically all over each other all the time at this point. he couldn't help himself, all he ever wanted was to kiss you and now he could, whenever he wanted, and he was going to take advantage of that.

it was your last day at the inn, a cozy cottage type place with the softest beds you've ever slept in, and harry paid for all of it before you even knew about it. "merry christmas," he had told you.

you were eating your complimentary breakfasts together in silence, across from each other at the little table in the corner of the room.

"thank you, again, harry. this was a wonderful idea." you said as you finished your orange juice, admiring the snowfall out of the window. "it's so beautiful here."

"you're beautiful."

you give harry a look, but crack a smile. "and you're cheesy."

harry chuckles, admiring you like he always does. his soft eyes and kind smile give you butterflies.

as you're packing your clothes to get ready to leave, harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. you smile, giggling, continuing to pack your suitcase. his lips end up on your neck, but you ignore him as you put your panties inside the bag.

harry laughs to himself. you look over at him. "what?" you ask with a smile. he's blushing, shaking his head. "nothing, nothing." he continues to laugh.

"tell me," you say. he shakes his head again. "no, its…it's weird." he says. you can hear a bit of shame in his voice as he hides his face in your neck again. "harry, tell me. please?"

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

he sighs, taking a step away from you and sitting on the bed next to your suitcase. "well…" he starts, rubbing his face nervously. "um, after the halloween party…" he trails off.

"yes…?" you ask, amused at his shy demeanor.

"u-uh, the morning after, when you took a shower…" harry recalls, shifting his weight. "i may have, um…stolen your underwear you took off in front of me…." he cringes at his words, turning his head away from you.

"i knew it!" you declared, pushing his shoulder.

harry covered his face completely, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment from the embarrassment.

"god, that's so bloody hot, harry," you practically moan, pushing his arms to the side and sitting in his lap. he's completely red in the face, bewildered by your reaction.

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

you hold his face in your hands, admiring his shy expression as you sink into him. "you don't find that weird? or creepy? or extremely perverted?" harry asks you incredulously.

you giggle at him, your eyes full of love. "yes, harry, stealing my used panties behind my back is very perverted. if you did that to any other girl they may find it really disturbing." harry's heart drops, his eyes focused on you completely. "but, i like you. i've really liked you for a long time. and…i find it so fucking hot just how desperate you were for me…"

harry's heart is immediately pumping at your words. you wrap your arms around his neck as you force a kiss on him, his hands grabbing your waist with a hunger.

after a moment he pulls back, nervously blinking and clearing his throat. "um, that's not all, though," he says regretfully. you give him a curious look. "i might've, um…used the panties to masturbate…" he admits.

you smile at his nervousness, biting your lip and giving him a desperate look. "oh, harry, tell me what it was like…" you moan as you begin kissing his neck.

harry's voice is caught, his head rolling back in pure bliss. sometimes he still can't believe this is real life.

you continue to bite at his neck, leaving marks as harry tries to find the words. "i, um…" his hand travels to your ass. "well, i smelled them first…" you moan against his skin, your legs tightening around him. "go on…" you say with a smile.

harry's trying to focus on the story without getting distracted by your lips. "they smelled so good, and you almost caught me, so i put them in my pocket," harry fights back a moan.

"so naughty," you tease him, pushing him onto his back. "tell me more." you demand.

harry nervously swallows at the sight of you above him. you hadn't done anything since your birthday just a few days previous, but it was all harry could think about. he missed the feeling of you being above him, using him, telling him what to do.

"when i got home, i immediately started jerking off thinking about undressing you, seeing your tits for the first time, smelling your panties, i felt so dirty because you told me i was such a gentleman that night…" harry rambles. something about revealing his perverted obsession with you as you're on his lap makes his erection harden.

he grabs for your thighs, sighing at how heavenly they feel in his hands. "then, i just…wrapped your panties around my dick…and i came on them, almost instantly…" harry reveals, the embarrassment fueling his lust.

you're practically aching for harry listening to his story, watching him become desperate for you once again. he's falling apart in your hands and you just can't get enough of it.

"god, harry, that's so hot…you were so obsessed with me…" you say as you lean into his lips, your bodies entangled on the bed.

harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands gently. "i still am, [y/n]." he says sincerely, admiring your eyes. "so, so obsessed…you have no idea…"

you gaze longingly at him, melting his heart. after a moment you kiss him passionately, savoring his eagerness.

"well…would you like these panties too?" you ask with a smirk, putting his hand on your ass. he looks up at you with begging eyes. "please," he says so softly.

soon you're sat on the edge of the bed, harry pulling down your pants with the fireplace lit behind him. he's looking at you so tenderly, taking in every part of you, constantly reminding you how much he loves you, and how beautiful you are.

you open your legs for him as he kneels in front of you, his eyes fluttering from your face to your panties, which are undoubtedly wet from hearing harry's perverted stories.

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

he gently kisses your thighs, higher and higher until he reaches your panties, taking a moment to look back up at you. you're intently watching him, a blush spreading across your face. you look so pretty from here, a view he's daydreamed about plenty of times.

he buries his face in your smell, moaning, taking you in completely, eyes drooping shut as he feels complete bliss overcome him.

you whimper at his reaction, a hand reaching for his hair as he comes back to earth. he reaches for your panties when he pauses, looking up at you shyly.

"i-i've never done this before." he admits.

you giggle at him lovingly. "i know, harry. it's okay. i haven't either." you reassure him, reaching for his glasses and setting them beside you. he smiles shyly and lays his head on your thigh, letting your hand tangle itself in his hair, memorizing this angle of you.

"just enjoy yourself."

harry blushes at that sentiment. he was enjoying himself no matter what, with you he was always happy, especially in moments like this.

but harry more than enjoyed himself. he had always fantasized what it would be like to eat your pussy, your hand in his hair as you ride his face and cum in his mouth. what he didn't expect was just how intimate it felt with you, the soft whimpers that escaped your mouth, having your legs rest on his shoulders, practically making out with your pussy while you writhe with pleasure beneath his hands.

you were both a bit unsure at first, awkward smiles and laughs and reassuring touches, before harry eventually lost himself in the act. he paid close attention to your reactions, your facial expressions, trying to figure out the best way to pleasure you. he loved feeling you get more and more wet for him by the minute, he couldn't get enough of you.

harry didn't want to stop. cumming once wasn't enough for him. he ignored your begging for him to wait, please, it's too much, holding your hands down with his own as he continued for several more minutes. he had waited so long to finally do this for you, showing you just how badly he wanted you. his dick was aching from how hard it was. this was easily the most turned on he'd been for you so far, watching and hearing you orgasm because of him, on his face, he was convinced there was nothing more enjoyable or desirable than this.

"harry, god damn it…" you sighed. he stayed between your legs in the same position, leaving loving and longing kisses on your thighs and stomach, enjoying the aftershocks your body was having in response to him, looking at you with hunger in his eyes.

"yes?" he asks innocently, still admiring your delicious pussy. "harry, i can barely move…" you whine, your body aching and sore. harry smiles devilishly at your weakness, loving the effect he's come to have on you.

he kisses up your body, leaving a desperate kiss on your lips as you taste yourself on him.

"that was even better than i ever imagined it could be," harry practically growls. you giggle at him, your eyes tired and lips bitten.

you look down at harry and see his throbbing erection through his pants. you look back at him, and offer to return the favor.

"oh, honey, you don't have to, you should rest…" harry insists, stroking your hair out of your face. but you're not backing down, and you at least convince him to let you help him out.

he lays next to you on the bed, shirt and pants off as you start feeling his dick through his briefs. harry's instantly desperate under your touch, realizing just how long he's waited for this moment, no longer having to imagine his own hand as yours.

"[y/n]..." harry moans, his eyes filled with lust as he looks over at you. you. blushing, beautiful, natural you. "i swear i could cum just looking at you."

you giggle at harry again, blushing into his chest as your hand continues to stroke him. you look back up at him innocently, admiring the look of desperation he couldn't hide. reaching for a kiss, harry moans softly into your mouth, his dick twitching in your hand.

"oh god…" harry whines, his head falling back in pleasure. you can tell he's close, just from light touching and barely any kissing. you can't help but giggle at his state, loving the control you have over him.

"go ahead, baby, cum for me," you whisper seductively.

that's all it takes for harry.

trying his best to keep his eyes on you, he comes completely undone under your touch. his breathing becomes completely ragged, breathy whimpers, vaguely trying to say your name the longer you stroked him. similar to how he kept going with you, you didn't back down. he begged you to stop, but you could tell he didn't really want you to stop any time soon. you kiss him to quiet his begging, continuing to overstimulate him until he came for a second time, ruining his briefs for good.

after cleaning yourselves up, harry gives you the longest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever received in your life. you bury your head in his chest, taking in the feeling and smell of his skin. his, now muscular, arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you like harry had nothing left in this world but you.

"i love you, so much, and i'm so thankful for you." harry says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

you hug him even tighter. "i love you, harry,"

————————————————————

by the time next semester starts, you and harry are full-blown boyfriend and girlfriend, constantly holding hands wherever you two go and seeing each other off to your classes or study sessions. people talked amongst themselves about the harry potter having a girlfriend, but you both paid no mind.

being with you has really made harry come out of his shell. by the time spring sports roll around, harry feels confident enough to try out for the university's quidditch team. with your support, of course.

it was never a question that he'd make the team, he instantly became their new seeker and brought the school out of their losing streak. through this, harry also made tons of friends, real friends, who wanted to get to know him outside of being harry potter.

not to mention that you had become his number one fan, showing up to every game and most practices to cheer on your best friend and help him strategize for future games.

in every aspect, harry's life completely changed for the better. he loved his classes, he loved his team, and above all else, he loved you, and felt like he owed everything he had to you.

the only thing that bothered harry anymore was that jerk you dated and introduced him to at the diner, thomas.

thomas hadn't made the quidditch team this season, and he made it very clear that he blamed harry for that. he tried spreading a rumor that harry paid his way in, but people didn't buy it after seeing just how well harry played every game.

but that's not what bothered harry. what bothered him was the way thomas used you to get to him.

everyone knew you and harry were dating. it was the topic of conversation on campus for nearly a week when everyone found out. so why is it that every time thomas talked to you when he saw you alone you had to remind him that no, you can't hang out sometime soon, you have a boyfriend now? to harry it felt personal, and he didn't like it.

it was one of the most important quidditch matches of the season, it determined the university's qualification for finals. harry was on top of his game, especially seeing you cheering for him in the stands, and won the match easily, being celebrated by his team on the field.

after taking a few photos and congratulating the rest of the players, harry eagerly runs to meet you at your usual spot just beside the stands to get his usual post-win kiss.

what he finds instead makes him see red.

thomas. he has you completely backed up to the stands, a clearly heated conversation going on between you two. harry can tell you're pissed just by looking at you, speaking with your hands and trying to walk away but being stopped by thomas each time. finally you push him away, and he grabs you.

that's all harry needs to see before he begins sprinting towards him, his mind racing a million miles an hour and yet completely blank at the same time.

you had managed to push thomas off of you, now yelling at him to get the fuck away from you before you rock his shit.

before you can even try, harry tackles thomas to the ground and begins rocking his shit for you.

you gasped. "harry! stop!" you tell him, not wanting him to get caught and punished. but harry doesn't stop. you've never seen this anger from him. it's like he can't stop, not showing any signs of fatigue or resistance.

"harry! stop!" you yell at him, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. harry stops punching thomas, only to stand above him and kick him in the stomach. "harry." you warn him, giving him a concerned look. "stop. you'll get expelled." you tell him in a hushed tone.

harry looks at you, softening, coming back to earth as you motion for him to just walk away with you. harry looks down at thomas, a bleeding mess in the dirt, crying in the fetal position.

harry kneels next to thomas, making him flinch. harry points his wand at him and mutters quickly, "episkey."

thomas's nose fixes itself, his cuts heal, and his stomach bruise lightens. he looks at harry incredulously, feeling no physical pain, but in fear of the threat harry posed.

"don't ever fucking touch her again. do you understand? next time i won't be so nice." harry growls. thomas quickly nods his head, desperate to leave. harry stands up, sneering at him still in the dirt. "and don't talk to me either while you're at it." you add at the end, your voice just as intimidating as harry's. "got that?" harry asks sarcastically. thomas nods again, standing up and running away from harry.

as he turns to you, you notice his bloody nose, multiple cuts from the game, and bruised knuckles. "oh, harry," you coo sympathetically, grabbing his hands and examining them. "come on. let's go home."

and by home, you meant to your house. the university had upgraded your room and board in exchange for you to work for them as a professor's assistant in potions. it was a small cottage just outside of campus, one bedroom, one bathroom, but it was enough for you and harry.

walking into your living room, you send harry to the bathroom as you lock the door behind you and drop your stuff off on the dining table. you grab a rag from the kitchen and get it wet with warm water.

you enter the bathroom to see a shirtless harry already attempting to clean a wound on his chest. you can see his reflection in the mirror and are completely infatuated with his focused, bloody face concentrated on his reflection as he tends to his injury.

you come up behind him, barely able to rest your chin on his tall, broad shoulders. his reflection instantly softens, his muscles relaxing.

you turn him around, cleaning the wounds on his chest, arms, and hands. his knuckles were bruised, nothing a spell couldn't fix. "you're lucky you didn't break anything." you remind him.

he watches you so intently. your gentle, caring touch bringing him instant relief. even now, all these months later, you still mesmerize him every day. he's not sure he'll ever get used to having you for himself. but that's just what you were, for himself.

"i wanted to kill him. i would've killed him." harry reminds you, rubbing his knuckles. "sit, please," you ask quietly, pulling him over to the closed toilet. harry sits down, letting out a groan as his entire body aches from quidditch and nearly killing someone.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and angry again just thinking about it before softening at you. you bring the rag to his face, wiping away blood and dirt from his scars. a tense silence falls between you two. harry can't tell if you're angry at him for what he did. he has no idea why, that thomas kid was dead meat as soon as he decided to touch you.

as you carefully finish cleaning the last of the dirt off harry's face, you notice how tenderly he's watching you. you sigh, holding his face in your hands.

"i'm not mad at you." you say. he swears you can read him like a book.

"but, you could've gotten in serious trouble. or hurt yourself. i just don't want to be the reason you're down." you explain, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"i would do anything for you." he reminds you, his hand finding yours.

you smile warmly at him. you can't stay upset with him for very long.

"then do this for me: stay out of trouble."

harry smiles. no promises.

as you're getting ready for bed, harry walks in from his shower in just a pair of shorts. you walk up to him, running your hands along his torso to make sure his scars are sufficiently clean. and to just admire your boyfriend in general.

harry revealed to you some time back his real reason for working out. you found it sweet, but a bit silly, as you could handle yourself perfectly well. however, tonight, harry proved you wrong. though you were never in immediate danger or physical harm, as far as you knew, it still felt really nice to know he had your back when things got scary.

while working out definitely helped his strength, quidditch is what really made his body so exceptional.

he was perfectly toned, incredibly strong, and more buff than he ever had been his entire life. you were never someone to have a thing for muscular guys, but something about watching harry's body get better and better with time just drove you crazy.

"you know," you start off, resting your hands on his chest. you could feel his heart racing. all this time later and he's still such a nervous wreck for you.

"i may not approve of it, but…i can't deny how fucking sexy you looked beating thomas up for me,"

harry could feel his blood boil just from you mentioning that douchebag's name, but he was somewhat distracted by your observation.

"oh, really?" he smirks, grabbing your waist possessively. you instantly have goosebumps, leaning into harry's tight grip. "mhm. i haven't stopped thinking about it…you in your quidditch uniform, your muscles, the anger in your voice…" you practically swoon for him.

harry blushes, but takes advantage of the situation. "i was seeing red." he recalls. "i was seriously going to fucking kill that loser for even thinking he could touch my girl."

you're instantly turned on by his fierce protectiveness. normally you find harry's jealousy funny, since he has no reason to ever worry about you, but tonight it made you see a completely different side of him…

harry was always so soft and careful with you, and was a normally mild-tempered person with everyone. the only time he really got upset was if someone was getting too comfortable with you too quickly. to see him completely lose his cool, to watch him unleash onto this guy who thought he could just grab you…

you were just so, so attracted to him right now.

"yes, your girl, all yours," you reassure him as you lean in for a kiss. he quickly takes control and brings you to your bed, laying you down with haste. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between sloppy kisses.

the lingering anger within harry needs to be released, immediately.

he quickly undresses you, a complete 180 of the old harry who was afraid to help you take off your bra. he practically rips your panties in half trying to get them off of you.

you're already soaking wet from his aggression. he smirks at you. "guess i should get angry more, yeah?" harry teases.

you blush, but you wouldn't exactly be against it.

as harry slowly begins thrusting into you, he feels that familiar bliss overcome him like it does every time he's inside of you.

you and harry have had sex a couple times before, mostly slow and passionate with lots of kissing, enjoying each other's bodies and intimacy.

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

not to say he never is. he might always be hungry for you, quite literally. but this time, he lets the hunger consume him.

harry's thrusts become less careful and more desperate, he leaves dark, aching bites all over your chest, marking what's his. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between each bite.

you're in a state of pure ecstasy. you didn't know harry could be so rough with you. his desperation usually came in the form of shy begging, whimpering, and a desire to please. but this kind of desperation was aggressive, jealous, and aimed to please himself. you didn't mind, you thought it was bloody hot. you also wanted to help harry get his anger out, and you were the perfect way to do that.

as his thrusts become more possessive and sloppy, his arms rest on either side of you, the sight above you enough to make your orgasm accelerate. a sweaty, tired, aching harry, desperate to prove something to you, looking at you like you're the first meal he's had in years. his muscles flexing, veins popping out, and his breathing becomes labored.

he can feel you tightening around him and quickened his pace. "harry, harry, i'm cumming," you warn him, whining, desperate for a release.

"that's right, cum for me, baby." he groans in your ear, wrapping his arms around you as he continues pounding into you relentlessly.

watching you fall apart under him is enough to send him over the edge himself. his head is buried in your neck as he breathes heavily, moaning your name in your own ear.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum inside you, baby. can you let me do that?" harry asks you, his sweaty face desperate for your approval. you nod quickly, eager to be his release in anyway you can.

"can you take it? can you be a good girl for me?" harry loves to dirty talk, and this is the hottest it's been yet.

"please, harry, please give it to me, please, please, i need you," you beg harry, grabbing his shoulders, feeling your body prepare for its second orgasm.

"take it, baby, take it, god, you feel so good," he groans into your ear, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you.

your body convulses from the feeling and watching harry melt into you. his face is relieved of all anger, his eyes soft and full of love for you as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss.

he steps back, watching his cum drip out of you, and could easily get turned on again just by the sight of you right now. but he's too tired, and he knows he has lots of time with you to do it all over again.

after cleaning up and crawling into bed, harry holds you against his chest. you're asleep in no time, steady breaths and slight snores coming from your peaceful expression. harry wraps his arm around you before leaving a kiss on top of your head.

"i love you, [y/n]. goodnight."

————————————————————

[if you actually read through all of this, i salute you. if you actually enjoyed it, pls let me know. i definitely want to post more like this in the future so i always appreciate any feedback <3 thank you!!! happy new year btw lol]

[callmerainman]

No Derogatory Nicknames | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

pairing. sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

plot. You're the one and only member of the Royal Family's official army, and you were given the first, vital mission in your lifetime as a bodyguard. Surveilling the First Man on Earth, Adam. Reincarnated in Hell. You and Adam agree on two things: you can't stand each other, and you would never sleep together.

word count. 3.3k

tags. Hazbin Hotel ep8 spoilers!, enemies to lovers, Adam reincarnated as a sinner in Hell.

tw! cursing, Adam being Adam, mentions of sex

part. 1/3

The Royal Family’s official army was a millennium-old institution, skillfully trained through the years to protect Lucifer’s family from potential threats. Except that the army has lost its prestige a long time ago, and you’re the last unit left. You joined the army a short time after your death. It was princess Charlie Morningstar who guided you towards that decision, after finding you lost and scared, wandering around Pentagram City. The infernal princess didn’t specify that the army was dismantled hundreds of year prior, and that it was just an excuse to convince Lucifer to give you hospitality in one of their mansion’s rooms. In the end, the King accepted to make you a bodyguard. You went through trainings, trials, impossible challenges. All of that to…guard Lucifer’s rubber ducks. Boredom wasn’t ignorable. So when Lucifer asked you if you could take on a really serious mission, you accepted immediately. And your task really was important.

Guarding Adam, the First Man on Earth. Reincarnated in Hell.

After wandering for days around Pentagram City, just like you did, he asked the Hotel for help. E promised that he would change. Charlie, being Charlie, couldn’t deny him a chance. But Lucifer didn’t trust him, and accepted his permanence at the Hotel only at the condition that you would be guarding him. And that’s how you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, how you met Charlie’s friend and especially…Adam. You immediately regretted the rubber ducks. Adam accepted in turn the idea of being watched, but he detested it and didn’t hesitate to let you know. He was as old as the Earth but as immature as if he was born yesterday. Arrogant, hot-headed, presumptuous. He made your job impossible, but he was clever enough to not show it too much to still stay at the Hotel. You were the opposite of patient and dealing with him was troubling. Talking back to him corresponded to a reaction. For example he never spared himself from letting you know how much he did NOT want to sleep with you, because of how much he found you insufferable.

“I have other priorities, instead of being approached by your teeny-tiny thing” you said.

“Hey! You can only dream of having a taste of the original dick!” Adam said, pointing a finger to your face.

And Adam hated when you followed him around town, with your angelic spear always clenched in your fist. He would always mumble insults under his breath, to which you responded with the same medicine. For example when you accompanied him to the few music shops in the city to fix his electric guitar that he would always break out of frustration of being here.

“I’m here only because Lucifer asked me, ‘cause otherwise I would have already called Nifty to repeat the job” you hissed between your teeth, sticking your spear towards his face.

Adam would hunch forward in an attempt to intimidate you “Oh yeah, go get her, so you can show your Hell Daddy how efficient of a bodyguard you are!”.

And you couldn’t do nothing more than sighing, squeezing the spear in your fist because you knew that Adam was right and you couldn’t do anything about it. You always looked forward to nighttime so that you two could separate and go to your respective rooms in the Hotel. Even the guests were relieved, because your bickering was daily and their ears were filled with your insults thrown left and right. Adam, although he was the one who knocked on the Hotel’s door, wasn’t too fond on participating in its activities. He didn’t get the benefit of Charlie’s exercises, and that anguished him because it seemed like the road back to Heaven was far away. Even there, your duty was to encourage him in participating. And your patience with the First Man was running out, so you had to do so by growling between your teeth to be proactive.

“I get it, bitch” he would whisper, enough to be heard from you but not by Charlie. And then he would improvise some sort of low effort answer barely sufficient to make Charlie happy.

You started to get the feeling that some of Charlie’s exercises were specifically aimed at making you and Adam get along. You had your confirmation when once Charlie called only you and Adam, letting you sit together on the couch. Adam’s fists were clenching in correspondence with his knees.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

You crossed your arms on your chest, cocking an eyebrow. Charlie laughed nervously, feeling a growing tension.

“Uhm…see this as a sort of…couple therapy!”

You and Adam, in tandem, erupted in a disgusted groan. His new wings, now turned black, ruffled and pointed upwards in a synced motion with yours.

“WE’RE NOT A COUPLE!” you two shouted in unison.

“I know, but you’re always together and…”

“WE DIDN’T CHOOSE IT!”

Charlie agitated both her hands “But you need to stand by each other, and I would like for you to do so without fighting every time! There must be something you get along in, right?”

You protruded forward “The only thing we agree on is that we would much rather die for eternity than being close to each other”.

Adam raised his arms to emphasize your words “Exactly, I would rather be stabbed again by your filthy janitor than sleep with a pain in the ass like her”

“What did you just say?!”.

Charlie, seeing you two jump towards each other to fight, threw herself between you both to avoid it.

You couldn’t sleep that night. With your head plunged in your pillow, you smothered screams of frustration. Adam, Adam and again Adam. He fluttered in your head with hammering insistence, tormenting you even in moments of relax. Why was he always traveling in your head? Why did you keep visualizing his dumb fucking face when he insulted you in the most disparate ways? Fuck, he knew how to get on your nerves even in dreams.

———

“Adam!” Charlie stops the fallen angel in the Hotel kitchen. He was filling his bowl with milk and cereals.

“Yeah, brat?” he replied.

Charlie sighed “What did we say about nicknames?”

Adam rolls his eyes, bringing a spoonful of cereals to his mouth.

“No ferogafory nifnames” he slurs, his cheeks full.

“Exactly!” Charlie claps her hands “anyway, I need you to do me a favor. You should go grocery shopping for the Hotel”.

Adam raises a brow “Groceries? What am I, a-“

He interrupts himself when his eyes meet yours behind Charlie’s shoulder. Where did you come from? In any case, your gaze is as furious as always. He’s pretty sure that he never saw you peaceful in all his permanence in Hell. Your fuming look is enough to make him desist, so he sighs.

“Alright. And I suppose that Mrs. Spear-Up-My-Ass is going to come with me”.

“Of course (Y/N) will go with you, you’ll shop together” and Charlie adds a hopeful grin.

“How fortun-OH”.

Without noticing, you appear on Adam’s side, a reassuring look on your face but reserved only to Charlie.

“Don’t worry Charlie, I’ll keep an eye on him”.

“Can you not stick your shitty angelic spear in my fucking cereals?!” Adam cusses.

Nervously, Charlie smiles “Of course (Y/N), but I’m pretty positive that Adam won’t cause any trouble”.

You shrug your shoulders “I dunno, I don’t expect much from a dirtbag of his caliber”.

Adam drops the spoon in the bowl of milk, cereals spilling out of it and one of them hitting your cheek

“What, you old hag?!” he screams.

“Old, me?! You’re literally as old as the Earth!”

Charlie puts her hands in her head, desperate “Just go shopping for fucks sake!”.

Half an hour later you and Adam are walking down the streets of Pentagam City. He was bragging about the time he broke the record of bras thrown on stage during a gig he performed in Heaven. Now that you think about it, Adam played in a band when he was up in the skies. And he has an electric guitar that you always accompanied him to fix. By the way, you never stopped to ask yourself what kind of music he listened to, or what genre he played. That’s because you never thought there was something worth to know about Adam. You turn around to look at him in the eyes. When he talked nonstop, without insulting you, his face was more relaxed and in a certain sense a bit more pleasurable to look at. Two big, curled horns sprouted on his head when he reincarnated, you grabbed them so many times while fighting.

“And what did you play with your band-“

“We’re here”.

You stop. You look at Adam, you didn’t realize that you reached your destination. Maybe you’ll pick up the conversation later, maybe not. Why would you want to know more about the Exterminator? You shove a hand in your pants pocket and you take the list Charlie prepared. You put it in Adam’s hand, and you turn around.

“C’mon, go inside”.

Adam frowns, puzzled.

“Wait, you’re not going with me?”.

Adam plants himself in front of you, trying to read your face. He wants to know if you’re making fun of him or something like that. But he only finds embarrassment, as you try to avoid his analysis.

“Do you need me to hold your hand or you can handle it on your own?”.

For a second, Adam’s eyes widen, then a sly smirk crosses his face.

“You wanna hold my haaaa-“

“No” you stop him “and that’s why I’m telling you to go alone”.

Adam shrugs, he looks amused.

“Okay, I’ll treasure this opportunity to get away as far as I can from you”.

And so Adam goes. You realize that all the time you tried to avoid his eyes, your face was burning. You didn’t want him to see even a drop of trust in your eyes, not even the tiniest amount sufficient to let him go grocery shopping. So you stay still outside the supermarket, your angelic spear hidden between your wings to not catch passerby’s attention. Time goes by, and soon Adam will finish. But Adam doesn’t come back. You decide to wait a little more. Then you hear sounds of shouting inside the supermarket, an argument between two men. A carousel of possible scenarios displays in your mind. Adam who calls the cashier a bitch, Adam who yells to the staff because they’re out of ribs. You immediately dash inside, almost smashing through the automatic glass door. You follow the sound of screams, and you find Adam. It’s just not the scenario you had predicted. Adam has his hands raised in front of a bull-like demon, who has a fist directed towards him.

“I recognize you, you know? You’re that shithead from the Extermination”

Adam, visibly pissed off, still keeps his palms open “Hey asshole, I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

It’s when the other demon jumps onwards to attack Adam that you throw yourself between them, your spear pointed towards the bull.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” you yell.

Your chest rises and lowers wildly with every breath. You can’t see it, but Adam’s eyes are incredulous. He looks at his own chest, your free arm is pressed against it, pushing him back in protection. Your teeth are gritted, your horns grown exponentially. His cheek tickles because one of your wings is brushing against it with ruffled feathers, and his skin starts to warm up because your hair caught fire. Adam saw you enraged so many times, usually because of him, but never like this. In the end, the demon gives up, taking a step back from your tended spear. He grunts and takes his leave, fists still clenched but not a menace anymore. You finally relax, the fire in your hair suffocates, your wings recollect themselves and your horns shrink back to their original size.

“Ehm…what the fuck happened?” Adam asks, trying to find your eyes. You run away from them as always.

“Don’t ask questions”

“I thought you were supposed to protect others from me, not me from others”

You press your lips in a thin line, and walk towards the checkout with the shopping bags Adam dropped.

“It’s not like I can leave you moribund on the floor of a supermarket with the possibility of you respawning somewhere else in Hell where I can’t supervise you. Let’s get back to the Hotel now”.

Adam follows behind you, and you know he’s smirking. He steals one of the shopping bags from your hand, and takes your side.

“Well, what were you about to ask me outside? You wanted to know about my band in Heaven?”.

Back to the Hotel, you’re welcomed by a wide smile from Charlie. Just seeing you two walking close without fighting signs on your bodies means a lot to her.

“Sooooo, how did it go?” she asks, sliding in front of you.

You and Adam exchange a quick glance, then you shrug “He almost got jumped”.

“Oh c’mon!” Adam exclaims, raising his arms in protest.

“Why so?” Charlie asks.

“A total asshole almost recognized me” Adam says.

“It’s not a secret that you reside at the Hotel, and someone might not like you” Charlie adds.

“I don’t like him-“ you convene.

“We know, (Y/N)!” Charlie sighs “and because there are sinners like you who, rightfully so, don’t like Adam, we need you to be close to him. Even because we can’t risk Adam using his powers, it could be trouble”.

You stop to reflect, meanwhile Adam puts the grocery bags on the kitchen counter without saying a word. Now that you think about it, Adam didn’t use his powers. When he reappeared in Hell, although with less capacity, he still kept a great power. He was prohibited from using it at the Hazbin Hotel, but anyone would have used them in a situation like the one that unfolded at the supermarket. But Adam didn’t do nothing. He just raised his hands, limiting himself to only cuss at the potential aggressor, and then you intervened. Did he internalize a Hotel lesson?

“No, Adam didn’t use his powers. We gotta give him credit for that” you say.

Adam freezes as he opens the fridge to organize the groceries. You can’t see him, but he’s delicately blushing.

“That’s awesome!” Charlie chirps, happily “It’s a great step forward, Adam!”.

“Mh yeah whatever” Adam brushes it off.

“And you Adam, did you see any quality in (Y/N) that you previously ignored?” Charlie asks, full of hope.

Adam looks at you. You press your lips together and for a moment you hold each other’s gazes. You feel yourself palpitating, and it bothers you.

“She was cool I guess. Cool-ish. And she got interested in my band. But that’s natural, all bitches are interested in my band”.

“Adam, nicknames!”.

Adam raises his shoulders “If (Y/N) doesn’t mind, I’ll go to my room”.

“Me too” you assert.

You wave at all the guests in the lobby, Angel Dust has a weirdly wide smile on his face, almost amused. You go up the stairs, following behind Adam. His arms fall on his side.

“You wanna follow me to my bed?!” he says.

“I’m going to my own room which happens to be next to yours, asshole!”

“Yeah yeah, it’s more likely for Mr. Deer over there to cross the Pearly Gates than me letting you have a piece of this” Adam replies, pointing both fingers down to his groin.

“I don’t even want it!”.

Downstairs, Angel Dust looks at everyone with insistence. Husk is confused, Alastor simply disinterested, and Cherri Bomb appears to already know what the spider demon is about to say.

“Is it me or I sense a certain sexual tension?” he finally says.

Vaggie, Husk and Charlie sigh in resignation. Alastor decides that it’s time for him to get up and leave. Cherri Bomb, on her part, chuckles.

“Yeah I think it’s only you” she says.

“If you sense sexual tension between them I think you got a serious problem, Angel” Vaggie says.

Angel bursts out laughing, throwing himself back on the couch and crossing his numerous arms behind his neck “I bet good money that those two will end up going at it within a week”.

Before they could realize it, all of them were already placing a good amount of money on bets. All pointing towards a no. Angel Dust is the only one convinced of his vision. That between the Royal Guard and the First Man, climbing up the stairs next to each other with annoyance, there could be something that keeps you close in a different way.

———

Adam stops in front of his bedroom’s door. He opens it, and you walk towards the door next to it which is the one for your room. But Adam clears his throat, staring at an indefinite point in front of him.

“Uhm…can you come here a sec?”.

You raise a confused eyebrow, and you cautiously walk towards him. You should be holding your angelic spear, but you left it aside. You stand behind him, and Adam turns around to face you.

“Yeah?” you question.

Adam looks at you, and you raise your chin to hold up his golden eyes. This time you see the flushed red on his cheeks, and his embarrassed expression.

“Well…thanks for today…I guess? This is how Lucifer’s brat wants me to talk to you, right?”.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your hands start to fidget. It’s not difficult to look at Adam when he’s being like this.

“Yeah, I don’t know, whatever. Don’t expect things to change” you reply.

Adam scowls, and moves closer to you.

“Of course not, you’re still a world-class pain in the ass”.

“And you’re still a fucking jerk”.

Your foreheads are almost touching, you can feel his breath on your face. You notice it too late. Why aren’t you backing up? Shouldn’t that be easy? Your heart is racing again.

“And you’re still a bi-“

“Hey” you interrupt “Charlie said…”.

Too close now. As always. You and Adam have always been close. In a different way. And you always wanted to leave. But not even Adam is moving and his gaze softens. He’s looking at you intently, he’s burning and doesn’t know what to do and at the same time he seems convinced on something.

“I know” he says, with half a tone “nicknames should not be um…”.

He stumbles on his own words, you’re now chest to chest, and you try to help him out “Nicknames shouldn’t be de…” you have trouble too.

“Deroga…tory…” he mumbles.

You lean in. And without premeditation, there’s a kiss. Strong, desperate. Your lips intertwined, your hands in his hair and grazing his horns, and his own hand placed on your waist. He doesn’t need to pull you closer, you already were. You don’t have time to breathe, your kisses are too persistent. A couple of moans escape you both, out of confusion and satisfaction. Now your arguments all look like a joke, because it’s obvious that the sexual tension Angel Dust envisioned is an undeniable reality. Despite spending months repeating that it was something that would never happen. And here you are, clinging to one another, making out. And it feels good.

When you separate you meet his eyes. You expect something terrible. Disgust, or that he stays true to his word and strays away. But you don’t see any of that. Only disbelief, and a sort of epiphany that encourages him to encapsulate the nape of your neck with a hand.

“Shit” he says.

“Shit” you convene.

And then you throw yourselves against each other’s lips again, and Adam drags you inside his room. You let yourself be taken away, and you shut the door close with a kick.

[thisreadswhatever]

The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun. 

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place. 

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it. 

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too. 

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand. 

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming. 

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms. 

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.” 

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs. 

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table. 

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef. 

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?” 

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.” 

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.” 

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night. 

“Sounds great, Dad.” 

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful. 

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building. 

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.” 

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.” 

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars. 

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.  

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.” 

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar. 

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.” 

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.” 

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.” 

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.” 

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke. 

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man. 

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.” 

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby. 

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you. 

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.” 

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar. 

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.” 

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.” 

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.” 

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family. 

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?” 

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-” 

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.” 

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.” 

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot. 

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?” 

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

 “And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?” 

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.” 

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.” 

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?” 

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.” 

“I can take you back.” 

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged. 

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.” 

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.” 

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.” 

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.” 

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed. 

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?” 

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.” 

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?” 

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.” 

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

back to masterlist

[queenofmalkier]

Moiraine being 70 vs 40

(Alright this one took me a minute because corralling my thoughts is a challenge in the best of times.)

To begin with I will admit... I am one of the people who was indifferent towards the age change in the beginning. They're Aes Sedai, they live nice, long lives, and I wasn't like, emotionally attached to a younger, canon-aged Moiraine. It does make her early years more poignant, but I'll touch on that later.

Primed for older Moiraine, the show started and after two seasons I can safely say I am so gung-ho for 70 year old Moiraine I might actually be feral.

Here's why I, personally, think it was an excellent choice: Rosamund Pike is 44 as of writing this, so she visibly fits into the book age. As an audience nobody is really questioning her age - a few show-onlys I watched season 1 with actually remarked on how refreshing it was to see an older female character allowed to just exist and be part of the narrative without trying to sex up and/or grandma-ize the role.

Little Did They Know.

So you've got an audience that's mostly accepting of this character being in her 40s, and then you hit them with "Oh she's 70 and lets explore just how horrific that fact actually is together, it'll be fun!"

It was not fun, it was gutting.

One of my main critiques of the book has always been how we have these long-lived women, powerful women... but we never really take much of a look at the reality of that concept. Nor are we given POV characters who are really old enough to remark on it. Pevara at least thinks about her family, but Cadsuane doesn't give two figs about hers.

And here's the thing... they're Aes Sedai, but they're still human. What happens to them as they get older, but the people who fill their life are the ones aging? How does it feel to watch a mother, a sister, a child, friends, acquaintances, EVERYONE succumb to time in a way you won't for a very long time after?

That has to be impactful and I wanted to see those stories - and the show delivered. Seeing Moiraine with Anvaere? Chilling, horrifying, heartbreaking. Liandrin and her boy? A kick in the teeth. Even Alanna with her family, knowing very well she's probably the oldest one sitting at that table.

The point is, being an Aes Sedai means being powerful and respected, but it also means living through a very specific kind of suffering and trauma. They're basically vampires in terms of lifespan and we should see how that shapes them.

In regards to Moiraine being older and therefore not basically a child during the foretelling, it does change that particular hit... but by no means did the show let the viewers not understand how that moment altered Moiraine's life forever.

Instead of her being sort of an unformed girl hardened and honed by a lifetime of searching for Rand, one who never got much chance to be anything else, we get a woman who was already beginning to build her life, who had achieved the shawl, found love, and was exactly where she wanted to be.

And then all of that is taken from her.

It's devastating to watch the double-barreled whammy of Siuan and Moiraine giggling about being fishwives and walking into what was in many ways their deaths. Because the Moiraine and Siuan they were before walking into that room were gone forever. They would never be able to go back to the women they were before. They never even had a chance to mourn that loss. Moiraine went hunting and Siuan set her sights on the Amyrlin Seat.

I do understand for a lot of people her age is a sticking point, and that is completely fair and valid! It's a change that I fully agree did not need to be made... but by making that change we're given such a stark insight into the lives of older Aes Sedai who are just beginning to experience what it means to outlive everyone they know, watching one by one as cherished friends and family members pass on.

Soon all they have left are the children and grandchildren of those people, fractured mirrors that are just enough of a hint at the original that it must be painful to know them - which explains even further why so many Aes Sedai cut off contact entirely with their families. It's too painful to keep them in their lives.

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P4

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid.

Credit to countingstars-17 for the GIF

You woke up the next morning on the Monday a little later than expected. You were so exhausted from your first race in F1 and then all the social interaction that followed.

You had got Charles back to his hotel room with the help of Lorenzo his older brother who you'd found in the lift. You went straight back to your room, showering of the smell of alcohol and smoke that made you cringe before flopping onto the comfy hotel bed that was calling your name.

You stayed in the bed for a while before you realized it was getting closer to the checkout time of the hotel and that you should probably check on your fellow drivers. You and Alex would be on the plane back to Germany for debrief before he flew to the UK to see his family as there was a larger break between Bahrain and South Korea which had been added back onto the list of races this year.

"Alex?" you asked knocking on his door. In seconds he came out a smile on his face.

"Hello Y/N ready for the flight?" he asks smiling towards you.

"Yes, I'm all packed and my stuff has been sent to the airport, I just wanted to check on Charles before i left. He was pretty wasted last night" you exclaim smiling hoping he's come with you.

"Oh, he's already gone. I saw him down at breakfast this morning!" Alex smiled at you before taking your hand and dragging you towards the lift.

"He left? With who?" you asked him confused.

"Erm, Carlos i think. Guessing they're flying back to Maranello" he smiles pushing the ground button on the lift.

And that was that, you didn't hear from Charles. You flew to Germany where the Audi HQ was located before you went back to see your family for a week in the UK. On the Monday you and Alex went to South Korea together Lily joining the both of you on the flight. You liked Lily a lot, she had become a good friend of yours now that you were Alex's team-mate and you were basically there adopted child now.

Thursday came around so quickly and more people were filling up the paddock, it was insane how the race weekend was such an intense build up.

"Hey Y/N can we steal you for an interview" Martin said smiling walking over to you.

"Yeah of course" You smile fixing your hair under your Audi cap.

"So, you had an amazing first race last weekend in Bahrain, you are an exceptional driver P6 on your first race in F1!" he exclaims making you laugh and blush a little at the praise.

"Yeah, i think i made a few mistakes that the car 100% made up for. Audi are clearly going to be a great competitor this year and I cant wait for Alex and I to climb the ranks together!" you nod.

"Yes, what is that like, do you have have more of a friendship or a professional relationship of are things tense there like some grid members"

"Alex is an amazing team mate. He has really helped me settle into the grid and into racing in F1. I cant thank him and Lily enough, and for that I would consider him a friend. I hope to be team mates with him for a few more years"

"That's really good to hear that you have that kind of support there as it must be hard coming onto the grid as the only female! How are you relationships with the other drivers?"

"Yeah I'd say after getting to introduce myself in Bahrain everyone has really welcomed me into the sport and i cant be more thankful for that! You know some of the people on the grid have been my idols since I first got into a kart so its amazing to be here racing with them and have the support of incredible ex drivers!"

"Well good luck for the weekend I'm sure we will see amazing things from you on this old track in South Korea that the FIA have decided to reinstate this year!" he smiles before waving her off and she walks back towards the Audi garage.

She had media for the rest of the day, her and Alex trying Korean food and drinks for their TikTok page before they went to discuss the weekend.

You needed a drink desperately but were only just entering the paddock. You were hot and dehydrated and people could see just how pale you were.

You'd managed to get past Haas, Mercedes and Williams but by the time you got to Alpha Romeo and Ferrari, people started to notice the slight wobble in your step.

"Hey Y/N lets get you a seat. You look faint" Will Buxton says running over to you, he guides you to the nearest seats which happen to be outside the Ferrari Hospitality running in to grab you a bottle of water.

"Y/N?" Charles asks seeing your pale face and sweat lining under your eyes and across the brows that were currently shaded off by your hat.

"Charles, erm hi" you say, feeling a little dizzy.

"Are you okay, what are you doing here?" he asks looking around to see if you were with anyone that would explain why you were sat on a Ferrari table.

"Erm Will pulled me here because I haven't drank today and i feel dizzy" you tried to explain to the best of your ability but it was slower and you could tell how tired you were after this Saturday Quali.

"P5 is amazing today. Most of us haven't done South Korea so it was a new track for all of us but the dinosaurs" he jokes, it was a stolen joke of course. One he had heard Lando and Daniel talking about. which made a few people around them laugh so he thought he'd test the waters with you.

"That's true, it would be Lewis, Valtteri and Sergio right?" you say thinking about the current drivers on the grid and who would have been racing in 2013.

"Yeah"

You both sat in silence neither knowing what to say to each other.

"You didn't talk to me after Bahrain, did i do something wrong?" you ask now feeling better that you'd sat down.

"No, if i'm being honest I was rather embarrassed after my brother told me how you had to support me the whole way back to my room" he admitted sheepishly knowing he should have reached out, even if it was just to thank her as she had been a great help.

"Oh" you say quietly.

"Did I upset you?" he asks softly.

"A little, when I told Alex i was going to find you, he told me he'd already seen you down at breakfast and that you'd left already. Then you didn't say anything" you explain, you'd spent two weeks wondering if you'd just messed up a friendship.

"Y/N you must understand that it wasn't my intention!" he says leaning forward and encasing your hand in his with a genuine smile on your face.

"Fine, but you owe me dinner after tomorrow's race. Before the party!" you suggest.

"Done!" he exclaims, he hops up and walks into the hospitality as Will Buxton walks out.

"Here you go" he smiles handing you the bottle he'd managed to haggle from Ferrari.

"Thank you so much!" you says opening it and chugging it down.

"I'll walk you back to Audi, just to make sure!" he exclaims and with he does exactly as he said he would.

"And where had our P5 Queen gone" Lily exclaims in outrage that her friend didn't come to see her after the race.

"Sorry, but I'm here now!" you smile flopping onto the sofa laying your head on her lap.

"Are you really trying to steal my gf Y/N we've been over this" he chuckles with a teasing groan of mock annoyance.

"Look just because she likes me better doesn't mean you should get a mood" you grin turning into Lily and hugging around her stomach. In no time with the background sounds of the mechanics working in the garage and Lily lightly playing with your hair while talking to Alex you found yourself falling asleep.

"She is literally our child" Alex says to the interviewer who had come to find them in the garage. He looked back at where Y/N and Lily were still on the sofa, Lily letting the younger girl sleep.

"And how proud are you of her P5 today in a GP that only has 3 current grid members who have driven here in South Korea?" she asks.

"So proud, I know she's been feeling the pressure to make a good impression with everyone, from the people in the teams, to all the drivers and to the fans and public eye. She's just so natural and i think that's one of the things that pulls you into a friendship so strong with someone like Y/N" he explains.

"Yes, it seems earlier that she's been getting extremely close to some of the other drivers, what do you think about that?"

"Well on the track we all are doing our best to win, and so we become rivals. Of the track Y/N is another Daniel or Lando where there isn't one person on the grid that she wont get on with. Y/N is a friend of everyone" he smiles not to sure the direction that the interviewer wanted that question to go in.

"I'm talking about her and Charles Leclerc specifically?" she pushes and Alex looks at the person confused.

"Sorry?" he asks, he racked his brain wondering if this was why you'd been asking about Charles in Bahrain.

"Will Buxton reported seeing them together earlier outside Ferrari hospitality. She wasn't feeling well and he offered her to sit and get her and drink and he saw Charles and her talking. Some fans even got pictures of the interactions.

"Oh, well I'm sure if Will was kind enough to help Y/N when she was reporting as unwell that Charles also was concerned and was checking in on her!" Alex smoothly deems, the interviewer tries to hide their annoyance as the lack of gossip she was gathering but nods and thanks Alex for his time.

"That was weird" he whispers taking his seat next to Lily again.

"What do you mean?" she asks not having heard what they were talking about.

"They were asking me about Charles and Y/N, and after Bahrain i was just confused" he admitted. Of course at the time he had told Lily about your odd reaction to Charles having left early but not having thought too much off it, but now he was for sure thinking on it more.

"Lets just focus on tomorrow!" she smiles.

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[night-raven-tattler]

Hello, hello <3 How are you?

I loved your writing!

The HC from the Heartslabyul group as parents left me thinking: how would Deuce react if, after getting married and having his own girls (Deuce is 1000% the father of a girl), he met an ex "friend" of his time as a delinquent who hasn't changed much in his ways and REALLY wants to piss off poor Deuce

(sorry, my English is unga bunga ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ)

-🌙

Hey 🌙! Mx Tattly is happy to share what she knows on the matter. He's happy to see you're sharing the same girl dad!Deuce vision. Here is the information you've requested!

Show of power, show of growth

Characters: Deuce x GN!Reader (romantic), unnamed older daughter and unnamed younger daughter

Warnings: threats, mentions of violence

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Being part of an elite anti-mage division was an achievement both you and Deuce were infinitely proud of, but he had to admit the job was very time consuming

And, since he now was a father of two girls that he bent over backwards for to fulfill their every whim, Deuce has his schedule full to the brim

Despite his busy schedule, he loves taking his girls out for walks especially during the evening, an activity he has been doing ever since his cuties were just babies

It started as a chance to give you, his spouse, a few moments to yourself to relax and destress while he bonded with the babies

He'd point at various trees, shops, the sky, and talk about them to his kids, until they were old enough to start doing the same on their own

It was a late summer evening when Deuce came home after a stressful day, and the only thing he could think of to destress was to spend time with his family

Deuce was not lucky enough for his daughters to want any indoor activities, though

So he just accepted his fate and took his little ones for a walk in the neighborhood

His older daughter, the cutest chatterbox in the world, was swinging his left hand back and forth as she pointed with her free hand at the neighborhood cats, giving them names and making up stories about their lives

His younger daughter, a quiet observer, was holding his other hand while she occasionally asked her older sister or dad questions

It was an evening like any other, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary

Yet, something felt...off

Even without his specialized training, Deuce had always been able to tell when someone was watching him, overly curious eyes burning holes in his back

He turned his head around, and saw the person looking at him

A young man about the same age as him was walking towards him

He was wearing a jacket Deuce recognized as a sign of one of the city's smaller gangs, whose members focused on shoplifting and public disturbances

Why was this person approaching him?

“Oi, Spade. Been a while since I last saw ya. Middle school, maybe?"

At first, Deuce had no idea who the guy in front of him was

"Sorry, do I know you?"

The guy scoffed, looking offended by the idea of Deuce not remembering him

"Come on, man. Heard through the grapevine you're a cop now, but that doesn't mean you have to forget your old shoplifting buddy."

The words made his eyes widen and he tightened the hold he had on his girls as an old memory came to him

He was in middle school when him and an old classmate, Kateur Pilla, stole a few bags of chips off a shelf in a local shop without getting caught

"There ya go, ya remember me after all!'"

The memory brought a bitter taste to Deuce's mouth and his face was burning with shame, but he was brought back to reality by a small hand squeezing his

"Daddy, what's shoplifting?"

The guy's eyes fell on the source of the tiny voice, Deuce's oldest child, making Deuce shiver and pull his daughter behind him

“You even have kids now! Damn, man, you really became a good-for-nothing goody-two-shoes.”

The entire existence of this guy in his family's vicinity made his skin crawl

His grip on his older daughter tightened and he picked up his youngest

"At least I did something worthwhile with my life. Now scram."

“Aw, come on, you really can't spare me a chat?”

"No, not really.”

Deuce's response came through gritted teeth

His self control improved tremendously during the years, only because he has learned how to redirect his attention towards something else

In this case, his seemingly oblivious daughters

But he still felt the burning urge to grab this guy by the collar

“Not even if I promise to give you some info? Paid info, of course. Some guys I know got their hands on some stuff that's for sure illegal. How about we have a chat, hm? Or are you still that dumb to refuse such a golden opportunity? Man, cops really are stupid.”

His tone changed into something more condescending, even though he was still a small nobody compared to Officer Spade, member of the Queendom of Roses' anti-mage division

…but Deuce felt his younger daughter cling onto his jacket, feeling the intimidating air Kateur was trying to scare Deuce with

His blood pressure started rising, and he started slightly shaking, trying his best to control the urge to kick Kateur away from the innocent eyes of his kids

"Maybe you didn't change after all. What's that badge for if you're still the same dumbass you were years ago? Wanna go steal some cigs?"

Deuce felt his hands shaking 

But before he got to push his girls away and do something he regretted, he heard a familiar voice call his name

"Deuce? Honey, what's happening?"

With your talent for appearing wherever there's trouble, you made a beeline to your family, disregarding the presence of the guy and picking up your oldest kid

Without a second through, he handed you your second child

“Go home. I have something to deal with.”

You nodded and walked away with your confused and slightly scared little girls

Now that Deuce was finally alone, he had the opportunity to punch this guy for daring to disturb his family

...but he chose not to

“Listen here, ya punk.”

The guy flinched back as Deuce's voice boomed, obviously not expecting to be so rattled

"I am a good man now. I have a family. And I don't allow any human trash to speak to me that way.”

Cracking his knuckles, Deuce stepped closer, and the guy was backed into a corner

“Scram. Don't bother me or my family again, or I’ll forget I'm a good man.”

Kateur realized he has crossed a line, so he just tsked and walked away empty handed

Before he returned home, Deuce walked around a bit to shake off his anger, directed at Kateur... and directed at himself

Why wasn't he able to just ignore the guy?

Was Kateur right after all? Did Deuce really not change at all?

..No, he must be wrong, Deuce did not use violence, which was good

But he still threatened the guy, and that wasn't good

…Not arriving at any satisfactory conclusion, he eventually decided to just go home

You watched how Deuce walked into the living room of your small apartment, your girls welcoming him with open arms and high spirits, a striking contrast to not too long ago

The moment Deuce saw them, he smiled warmly and thought to himself how they inherited your talent to make him better 

When your older daughter kept asking Deuce again about what "shoplifting” meant, you sent the girls to their room so you could discuss with your husband what happened

He told you everything that went down before your arrival, expecting to be scolded for losing his temper, like a small child waiting to be sent to the corner to think about what he'd done

"To be honest, you did great! The girls are safe and happy, and you managed to shoo away the guy without getting physical. That's the best outcome I can ask for."

..You were right

He thanked you and gave you a kiss on the forehead for reassuring him before you walked together to your daughters' room to spend some time together

And you sighed with relief after watching Deuce relax as he played together with his daughters

He would have to change his usual route for a while, just to make sure they wouldn't be bothered again

But if he'd have to face the guy again, he knew he could do even better than that 

『••✎••』

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. x

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: an old friend finds you at your lowest point, and you're confronted with ghosts of the past. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.7k chapter warnings: HEAVY ANGST. Grief. Time jumps. Referenced death of family members and romantic partners. Canon typical violence. Blood mention. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: I took a week off to get my shit together. I hope you are still with me :) Also, please pay attention to dates in this chapter.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-March 7, 2022-

You hobble forward through the snow, dragging your right foot behind you for as long as you can until you’re forced to use it to step forward. Every time you have to bear weight on your ankle, you try to mentally prepare yourself for the pain, to convince yourself it’s not that bad. But each time your injured foot comes in contact with the ground, you realize your imagination didn’t do it any justice. Still, you try to keep the noises you make in response down to nothing more than sharp inhales. Despite the fact that the boy trailing a few steps behind you always keeps his eyes cast down, he sees everything, and the last thing you want him to notice is the severity of your injury. 

Both of you have more important things to worry about. 

It’s a forgivingly warm day, and by forgivingly warm, you mean not freezing. Snow still covers the ground, so tightly packed that in some areas you can walk on top of it, but in others you have to forage a path – it’s nearly above your knees. Without the support system of the group you had just been with, there was no way you’d be able to make it in this weather. This was the plan – head South, for warmer weather. But still, you’ve no real destination or purpose, you’re kind of wandering aimlessly through the woods and mountains, with nothing to direct you but a cracked compass. 

Despite the pain you’re in, you find the discomfort a welcome reprieve. If you’re focused on that, you’re not thinking of her. Of what you’d just lost, which would spiral into all the things you had lost, and so on and so forth. If you let yourself go down that path, you wouldn’t be able to come back, despite your future looking more and more uncertain each day. 

The boots that crunch behind you echo your own footsteps, so when they come to a sudden halt, you turn to look at him. He puts a finger to his lips. “Did you hear that?” 

His head tilts towards the wind. It’s hard enough to hear already, between the rushing river to your left, and the whistling of the breeze through the pines to your right. It ruffles his dark hair and you watch him – but it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking when his eyes are obstructed by a pair of Rayban Wayfarers perched on the bridge of his nose. You’d found them – along with the aviators you wore – on a road full of abandoned cars about three days back. Or was it…four? You’d have to look at your journal. Either way, you’d known they were necessary to avoid snow blindness, especially now that the sun was out. 

After a few moments of listening, he shakes his head. “I thought I heard horses.” 

Whether he did or not doesn’t matter. “We should move back towards the woods,” you advise.

He frowns, but doesn’t argue, and you abandon the easy path in favor of what’s safer, but also much, much, harder terrain to move over. Now, you have to move slower, but the pain is just as bad as before. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before you lose your footing over some gnarled tree roots, and it sends you to the ground. It hurts, and because you weren’t prepared for it, sharp cry you let out can’t be held back. 

“Shit!” 

Within a second, the boy is kneeling at your side, brow furrowed in concern. And you’re reminded, with him hovering over you, that he’s not a boy anymore.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say rapidly, rolling onto your stomach to push yourself up to a seated position. 

“No you’re not,” he crouches down, gesturing to your foot. One of his hands lands on your shoulder, keeping you from trying to rise to your feet.  “You’re clearly not.”

You lift up your pants to tighten the cloth you’ve wrapped around your ankle – a makeshift compression sleeve – even though you know it’s not going to fix the problem. It’s main purpose, really, is to hide the majority of the bruising and swelling. It makes it easier for you both to stay in denial of how bad the situation really is. “I twisted it. It’s fine.”

“It’s fucking broken,” he insists. “You know it is. We can’t keep going like this, we need to rest, and food. You need to ice it and actually let it fucking heal-”

“Ethan,” you hiss. “Just where the fuck are we going to do that?”

Wherever you are is incredibly remote, you hadn’t been able to find a reliable shelter since you first started running away. 

Your nephew frowns again, his head dropping. “You’re right. We’re fucked, aren’t we?” 

“We’re not fucked,” you say, even if you don’t believe it. “We’ve seen worse.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know....this is pretty fucking bad, right?” 

There was something equally tragic about almost every situation you’d been in since the beginning of the outbreak, so it’s honestly hard if you’re actually doomed or not. 

“I mean we survived….that,” you gesture towards the general direction from which you’d come, even if it’s a week’s worth of travel away. 

“Maybe we’re still not out of it.” 

“We are. The worst is over.” Despite your own doubts, you try to remain determined for his sake. 

Ethan only sighs. He doesn’t argue with you, and rarely does. It doesn’t mean he agrees with you. Even after everything you’d been through, he’s sensitive – and incredibly introspective. 

This conversation was getting filed away to bring up later. There’s a lot of things you know he wants to talk about, but he knows now is not the time for those conversations.

“Let’s keep moving,” you decide. “Hopefully we’ll find shelter soon, and when we do, I promise, you can rest.” 

“You can rest,” he corrects.

You hum your affirmation, and he stands. The thick pelt that’s draped over his shoulders shifts when his hand reaches out to help you up. There’s still blood that stains his clothing, and it’s caked under his fingernails. Yours too. It’d be nice to clean yourself off properly, but with the unpredictable temperatures, you’re not interested in diving into the river and risking hypothermia.

The second that you rise to your feet, you can see you are – as Ethan predicted – fucked. 

There’s four, hulking figures cantering towards you on horseback. You turn to look into the woods. “Fuck, we have to-” you fumble for the revolver strapped at your hip, and Ethan lifts his rifle, but it’s too late. Before you can even draw your weapons, or comprehend an escape plan, you’re surrounded. 

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” there’s at least two guns trained directly at you. “Hands up.” After everything that had gone down, you’re out of bullets, so even if it might’ve been a good bluff, a gun would only get you so far. 

You both obey, but Ethan subtly shifts his weight so he stands in front of you. “Hey kid. Step away from mom or we’ll shoot you both.”

The words come from the man on the horse directly in front of you. Probably the leader, if you had to guess, and clad just like his counterparts. They’re all clad in muted tones, handkerchiefs obscuring their mouths and cowboy hats casting shadows over their eyes. There’s a dog seated obediently at one of the horses feet. 

You don’t say anything as Ethan steps away. This wasn’t the first time you’ve both been cornered like this before. And hopefully not the last, you think, before realizing just how grim of a wish that would be. Either way, he knows what to do. Silence is an incredibly effective card to play when you have absolutely nothing to offer. It allows you to bide your time, to strategize, to listen.

Once Ethan is an appropriate distance away, he raises his chin in defiance. “What brings you to the area?” 

“Nothing. We’re passing through,” you answer. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe the only thing you really can use as leverage right now is just how down on your luck you actually are. Unfortunately, you have found that even when you have nothing to give, there are still things that can be taken.

“What’s with all the blood?” another man asks, this one to your left. “You in some kind of trouble?”

“Only the usual kind.”

“Infected?”

“We aren’t sick.” 

“We’ll see…” the third man whistles to the dog at his feet, which trots forward with a low growl to sniff at your shoes. 

Neither you or Ethan have been bit, so you know you’re in the clear, but that doesn’t make things any less hopeless. You exchange a sidelong glance with your nephew as the dog sniffs at you, and you glance to the only cowboy who has been silent the whole time, the one at your right. He clears his throat, adjusts his hat, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes….just for a second. The dog backs away.

“Looks like you aren’t lying,” the cowboy in front of you sounds almost satisfied. “Both of you, take off those glasses.” 

You sigh, glancing over at Ethan. 

“Don’t look at him, just do it.” 

You do, pushing them off the bridge of your nose and up into your matted and tangled hair. Pointedly, you turn to look at the men surrounding you. Revealing your face is always a risk, and you’ve made plenty of enemies who would recognize you. But you’re out of options.

“Where are you headed?”

“South,” you say. “Just trying to get out of the cold.” 

“If think this is cold, then you must have not been in the area long enough.”

Actually, I have, asshole. Is a decade long enough? You keep the commentary to yourself. 

“Any friends nearby we should know about?” 

Your stomach twists. No. But he doesn’t deserve the story. Not when all you want to do is forget every second of the last week. “Can you just tell us what you want from us?”

“Answer the question.”

“Hold on,” the man to your right speaks up for the first time, and you turn to look over at him. “What’s your name?” His voice is muffled by the bandana.

Hesitantly, you give him your first. 

The man pulls his handkerchief down around his neck, pushes the brim of his hat back. Now, you can see him clearly. He looks familiar, but it’s not someone you know from this lifetime. His long, dark hair pokes out from where it’s slicked back behind his ears. He looks far too young to be the first person that comes to mind. But….maybe. 

And then he repeats your name, adds your last himself. How does he know?

You tilt your head to the side, squint against the sun. 

“....Tommy?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Huddled at the far end of a couch, you’re still trying to make sense of the situation when Tommy settles into a chair that he pulls alongside you. 

“Let me take a look at your ankle.” 

“It’s fine, really,” you insist, even though all your efforts to refuse help since you’ve arrived have been futile.

It’s the most normal-looking community you’d seen in a decade. Completely self-sufficient and self-governed – no FEDRA, no Fireflies. Hell, you’d just showered under warm, running water – had watched the blood and dirt and grime swirl about the tiles before disappearing down the drain. And now, despite the temperature having dropped since nightfall, you are perfectly warm in a thin gray sweater, thanks to the central heating and a fire crackling in the fireplace. It seems far too civilized to be real. 

Your eyes flick behind Tommy towards the stairs, and you register the sound of the water running above you. Ethan. For the past few days, he hasn’t left your sight once, such a force of habit that leaving him alone puts you on edge. If something happens, and you’re separated….

“He’ll be fine,” Tommy assures you, almost like he can read your mind. You focus back on him, but don’t have anything to offer in response. He sighs, lowers his voice. “Whatever happened to you, I want you to know that you’re safe. And can trust me. You know that, right?” 

You study Tommy. Of course, you want to trust him. But he is a man, after all. A man you haven’t seen in a long time. You had been betrayed so many times by people you thought you could trust that it was no longer something you could give so easily. The sincerity in his expression, the conviction with which he speaks, however, causes you to soften. “C-Can I?” 

“Of course,” Tommy says. “We knew each other….before.” 

“I know, I know.” You nod, wearily, and take in the room. “Guess it’s just….a bit of a shock.”

“I get it,” he sympathizes. “But I’m here to help. If I wasn’t, all this…” he gestures around the living room of the once-empty house he’s letting you use for the night. “...would be a huge waste of time and resources.”

You offer a small smile, feel some of the apprehension fade, and allow him to examine your ankle. When you’d gotten a glimpse of it in the shower, you really couldn’t deny the severity of the situation. 

“It does look like it could be broken,” Tommy says as he begins to wrap it in a bandage. It’s so sensitive, you can’t even watch, trying not to wince. “Tomorrow, I’ll get the doctor to come by and take a look. But for now, we’ll ice it and keep it elevated. Maria’s coming by later with dinner and some medicine that should help with the discomfort.” 

You nod. To be real, the whole situation seems too surreal. There is something interesting about this situation – that right after one of the most traumatic events of your life, someone you knew from before was there to help. It wasn’t nothing. 

And you’re aware that there are a thousand questions that hang between you. It’s overwhelming, you don’t know what one you want to pick, or if you even want to. So you keep it simple. “Who’s Maria?” 

Tommy maneuvers a pillow under your foot and gingerly rests an ice pack on top. “She only kind of runs the place. And….she’s also my girlfriend.”

“How nice,” you say, earnestly. 

“Yeah….” Tommy smiles to himself. “Yeah, it is nice. I have a life here. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt that way.”

His candid nature further helps you relax. If you can trust him, and he feels safe here….maybe you are, too.  

“Look, I’m sorry, but I have to ask…” Tommy begins, rubbing his hands together and looking over his shoulder. “But uh….the kid….Ethan…is he….”

You tilt your head.

“Is he….Joel’s?” 

“Oh,“ your eyes widen. You register that a less hardened version of yourself might have laughed at the misunderstanding. But not now. Something twists deep in your gut at the implication. “No, no. No. He’s not mine. He’s my nephew. My brother’s son.”

“Okay,” Tommy looks almost relieved. “Sorry, it's just. He’s so young and you sort of look alike and-”

“It’s alright, Tommy,” you say. Because you can see why he thinks that. You are old enough to be Ethan’s mother, and people constantly assume he’s your son. Most of the time, you don’t bother to correct them. No one needed that information. Ethan was only a child when his parents passed. The two of you were all that remained of your family, and if it weren’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be here. -“I get it.”

It’s been awhile since you’ve thought of Joel, of Sarah. It seems cruel, but it’s really just a matter of self-preservation. For some time, right after the outbreak, you had tried to find them. But you weren’t willing to abandon Ethan or Vincent, and there was only so much you could go. You kept losing people, and then started to avoid thinking about them entirely. Those memories became a distraction. You had more important things to focus on. Staying alive. Only when things were quiet would you let yourself indulge. 

“He’s still alive,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the silence. 

It almost feels selfish to be relieved that Joel’s alive.  Because anyone who remembers what it was like before has survived, against all odds. And it’d be impossible to meet anyone who hasn’t traded over part of their humanity to last this long. 

Despite that, you aren’t surprised. Joel was practical, smart….a protector. You remembered a hot summer night, the way he’d made some guy harassing you and Sarah cower and retreat with all his friends. It would be terrifying to be on the receiving end of that rage. What kinds of things was he capable of? Maybe you’re just projecting. 

“And Sarah?” You think of her, her sweet smile and quick wit. 

Tommy’s head drops, he shakes his head once. 

“No….really?” It’s such a stupid question to ask. As if he’d make such a terrible joke. 

At first, you’re overwhelmed by the anger you feel. It grips you tight around your throat and you struggle to breath as Tommy continues. 

“It was the night everything went down. The military had these orders to kill all civilians….we all got split up. Sarah and Joel were cornered by this soldier. I shot him but…. I got there too late…she, uh….yeah….” 

The anger dissipates quickly. Because you know all too well that it’s not useful. You’re completely powerless, it won’t fix anything. So all that momentum and energy comes screeching to a halt. You’re left thinking of Joel, of what that loss must have felt like. What you’re feeling now probably isn’t a fraction of what he felt. And you feel terrible. 

“No,” you choke out, the frustration fizzling into grief. “She was so-”

All that time you’d spent with her, all those years ago, yet you still can see her so vividly. 

Something you’ve always longed for is the ability to know, the second you meet someone new, just how much they are going to change your life. You think of Sarah, standing timidly at the end of your driveway, asking to use your landline. That was it. Then, she was always over at your place – eating your snacks, sprawled out on your couch watching television, asking for life advice as if you were qualified to give it. In the end, you’d probably learned more from her than what you had to offer. It wasn’t fair. Not to her. Not to Joel. Not to Tommy. Or you. 

“I know, it’s-” Tommy starts, but he doesn’t finish. You understand. What is he supposed to say?

You’ve been a fortress, held together by nothing but sticks and plaster, and this is the blow that takes you down. It’s not just Sarah, it’s everything you’ve been holding back for the past week. That you’d hidden from Ethan because you didn’t want him to worry. But you can only take so much loss, pitching forward to sob into your palms.

You don’t cry like you used to. The tears come, but you don’t make any noise, save for the shaky, staggered inhales your body forces you to take to self-regulate. There’s a hand on your shoulder, and a weight settles next to you on the couch. “I’m s-sorry,” you manage through a faltering breath.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, but he wraps his arms around you. Something in the back of your brain reminds you that this could be a part of some long con. But you’re sick of listening to that voice. You lean into him, and accept the little bit of comfort, because you can’t remember the last time it’s been offered to you. So much time spent being strong, but you’re only human, and no one is built to endure this much without breaking. 

“Where is he?” you ask Tommy, once you’ve finally managed to pull yourself together, his hand still between your shoulder blades. “Is he here?” 

“Last time I saw him, we were livin’ in the Boston QZ.” Tommy shakes his head. “But it’s….been awhile since we’ve spoken.” 

They had always seemed close, but you don’t press, because you get the impression it’s painful to talk about. You wonder what kind of man Joel must have become after losing Sarah. What else would he have to fight for? You know how loss has changed you, too. How all of this has changed you. For better, and for worse. 

“I bet he would be glad to know you’re still here,” says Tommy, patting your back.

“Sure,” you say. “But it’s been a long time.”

“It has been. But you took good care of him and Sarah,” Tommy says. “So there’s a place for you here. If you want to stay, the house is yours.” 

“Tommy, I can’t-” You aren’t really sure why you are refusing. It’s all so much. And it doesn’t even make sense to do it, because where had you been planning to go to begin with? You’re just stubborn. You know if you stop moving, everything will catch up to you. 

“You don’t have to decide tonight. But at least wait until you’re back on your feet.”

“Is that…a joke?” you glance towards your ankle, relieved to find some remaining proof of your sense of humor, something you’re pretty sure you can’t go on without. 

Tommy seems to share this relief, smiling gently. “It wasn’t intentional.” 

There’s a lull, then: “Maria was a lawyer, too. She could use your help on the council.”

You sniff, wipe at a stray tear that falls at the mention of your old life, the job that you were constantly complaining about. Everything had been perfect, and you had taken it for granted. “I don’t know how much of that stuff I even remember.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re family,” Tommy speaks definitively. “Maybe not technically. But eventually…you would’ve been.” That makes you ache, and he goes on. “It’s the least I can do.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 10, 2024-

The wind rustles the leaves of the trees, through the windchimes that hang off your back porch. The sun is on the horizon, you can tell because there’s a red glow behind your eyelids. Huffing, you fold your body forward over your feet, pulling yourself towards the floor by the backs of your ankles, before stepping back into a lunge. 

The sound of a door sliding up interrupts the quiet, then two plates hit a glass tabletop. 

“Breakfast.” 

You open your eyes. Ethan’s head is tilted as he glances over at you. “I can’t believe you still do this shit everyday.” 

“Old habits die hard.” You push yourself up off the tattered blanket you’ve been using as a yoga mat and roll it up. “Gotta stay limber.” 

It’s the truth. You’re in your forties now, and have spent the last twenty years under constant physical and mental stress. If there’s anything you can do to reverse the damage and be a little kinder to your body, you’re going to do it.

You put your hands on your hips and look at the omelets he’s prepared. “Wow,” you say. “You know, you’re becoming quite the chef.”

“One of us has to.”

You ignore his dig to take a sip of the tea he’s prepared you. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Patrol. I have to leave in like 20 minutes. Are you going out today?”

“Tomorrow,” you correct, sitting in the chair across from him. “But today I have to meet with Eugene, and then I told Maria I’d look after the baby while she gets some work done.” 

“Makes sense. Tommy told me they’re hardly sleeping. How is she?” 

“She’s doing good. But…there used to be this saying…It takes a village.” 

Ethan considers this. “I still don’t know how you and dad looked after me all those years.” 

“You were five years old, not five weeks. At least you could walk.” 

“That’s still young. It must’ve been hard.”

“It was but….” you shrug. “We made it.”

Ethan looks into the backyard, like he’s contemplating the past two years you’d spent in this house. “You think this is it?” 

After Tommy had brought you to Jackson, you’d never left. Will it last? Is really what he’s asking. It’s easy to feel jaded. The last place you’d been before Jackson had housed you for almost a decade. It hadn’t been nearly as nice as this, but it had its appeal. Today, you feel hopeful. “It’d be nice if it was.” 

Ethan seems comforted by your answer. “I don’t remember much…from those days. Back at the beginning of everything.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” you say. There are so many things from that time you’d erase from memory if given the chance. Some things never felt less jarring, even with time. 

Ethan looks down at his food. “I miss them. I wish I got to know them better.”

You think of your brother, of Elizabeth. His parents. “You knew them,” you assure him. “And they loved you.” 

Ethan studies the divots in the glass of the patio table. He’d grown up to be a spitting image of his dad. In fact, if Vincent were still alive, you would’ve found a way to give him shit about it. I knew you were self-absorbed, but don’t you think cloning yourself is a little extreme? But he’s not here, so you whisper those sorts of things when no one else can hear you, and hope that somehow he can. 

He finishes his last bite of food and stands, towering over you, tall and lanky. When he reaches to collect his plate, you stop him. “I’ll get it. Don’t want you running late.”

“Thanks,” he leans down and gives you a quick hug. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun is about to set when he returns. You’re back from Maria’s, mellowing out on the couch with your knitting while listening to an old comedy album you’d found the last time you were on patrol. 

“Hey,” you crane your neck to see him kicking off his boots in the foyer. Taking your shoes off when you walk in a house was a habit that had taken some getting used to. Before Jackson, you’d been so used to sleeping in your clothing, your shoes, knife and gun curled by your side, ready to grab at a moment's notice. The first week you’d lived here, you and Ethan had slept on the couches in the living room and refused to separate. 

In general, there were a lot of things that had taken some getting used to while you were settling in. But humans have a natural instinct to put down roots. It was only a matter of time before you’d start to thaw out. And boy did you thaw. 

For a long time, you were resistant to staying. At first, it was just for the night, then, it was until your foot got better. Your foot got better, and then you wanted to put on some weight. Then one day, you were sitting in the Tipsy Bison, sandwiched in a booth listening to Tommy brazenly flirt with Maria while watching Ethan joke with the kid his age working at the bar. It had been three months, and you didn’t want to leave anymore. 

Twenty years of running, of not knowing when your next meal was coming from, or what could be lurking around every corner. It was a different kind of exhaustion, and the second that you felt safe, it all caught up to you. All you did for the first two months was sleep. 

You woke only when Maria dropped by. Like Tommy had said, Maria had been a lawyer before. A prosecutor, however, so the work was different. You’d had a good laugh over the fact that you were raised by a ruthless criminal defense attorney with questionable clientele, because that was her worst nightmare. She was always enthusiastically telling you about things happening amongst the town council, and would even ask for your expertise. When you were done sleeping off the exhaustion, she’d extended you an offer to work for the town council. 

Not leaving your house for weeks you assumed would earn you the reputation of the town recluse. But when you started to participate in community affairs, no one gave you any grief. That was probably thanks to Ethan, who from the beginning, fit right in. He was desperate for a social life outside of you, and more importantly, with kids his actual age. 

Between helping Maria on the council, and Eugene with his….business…you didn’t go out on patrol too often. But you were glad you and Ethan had managed to find some sort of normalcy in Jackson. Even though you’d never admit this to him, the last group you’d lived in had some…..questionable traditions. 

“Did Tommy come by already?” Ethan asks as he strolls into the living room and practically throws himself down on the couch. 

“No,” you say. “Was he supposed to?” 

“He said he was coming over tonight because he has a surprise for you or something?”

“A surprise?” you ask. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan says, sounding slightly annoyed by your questions. Sometimes, you still get glimpses of the fifteen-year-old boy he once was. He had always been well-behaved, but those sorts of things slipped through on occasion. 

“Hmmm,” you return to your knitting, but don’t think much of it. It’s not like Tommy coming over is out of the ordinary. If it wasn’t him walking through your front door, it was Maria, and you and Ethan were over at theirs several times a week as well – whether it was for dinner or to help out with their new baby. 

You think about what Tommy had told you when he first encouraged you to stay. He’d called you family. At the time, you didn’t think that was true. But now, it was. Maybe you weren’t bonded together by blood, but you’d grown to care for each other as if you were. Opening your heart used to feel impossible, painful even….but all the people who had helped you at your lowest had proven otherwise. Shutting them out only made things worse. After everything you’d been through, all you had left were the people you cared about. What else was there? It was stupid to do anything else but love. 

There’s a knock on your screen door, and Ethan is the first to practically jump off the sofa. You don’t get up right away, figuring that Tommy will stroll in shortly. 

Instead, you hear more voices than you were expecting, the screen door closing behind Ethan, his muffled “Nice to meet you.” 

The sun is setting, and the last thing you want to do is go and meet someone who's new to the community to make small talk. But then you hear Ethan call for you. You need to be a good member of the community and keep up appearances. Begrudgingly, you lift yourself out of the sofa and walk down the hallway to your front door. 

You slide into your sneakers, pull on your pair of aviators to protect from the intense light of the sun on the horizon, stepping onto the patio. 

“What’s up?” you ask, stepping out onto the patio next to Ethan, and Tommy is to your right, though you are hardly aware of him as you focus immediately on the man standing in front of you.

You recognize him instantly. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. It doesn’t matter that his hair is more gray now than it is brown. It doesn’t matter or that the lines on his face are deeper, and his shoulders slump under an invisible weight. There’s a scar on his temple that hadn’t been there before, and his eyes, once warm and sparkling, seem impossibly cool and distant. He’s hardened by the world, and so are you.

“Joel?” 

It’s a stupid to pretend like you don’t know that it’s him. Like you need the confirmation. And you lower your sunglasses, just in case you’re seeing something you want to see, and not what’s actually in front of you. 

When you meet his eyes, his jaw clenches, and something unrecognizable flashes in his eyes.

“How are-” you step forward, and you’re not sure why. 

What were you expecting, a hug? A kiss? Some grand reunion, like you hadn’t lived separate lives for two decades, like you hadn’t loved someone else in the meantime. He probably had, too. So it’s not like you’d be able to pick up where you left off and forget all the things that happened. It wouldn’t be possible, but you have an instinctual urge to wrap him in your arms, to press your face into his chest as you did so many times before. You’d tilt your head back to kiss his neck, his jaw, and to feel his stubble scratch your face – you’d do it anyway, because you don’t care if it hurts you. 

Joel steps backwards just as you move closer. There’s a young girl hovering behind him, the same way that Sarah used to. But it’s hard to see much of her from where you are standing. His eyes flicker between you and Ethan, and then he turns on his heel and walks down the pathway without a word.

“Ellie!” he calls out, and doesn’t even so much as glance over his shoulder. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, and his voice gruffer, a bite to it that didn’t exist before.

You don’t call out after him, don’t trail after him down the street like the girl or Tommy does. But you do stare after him until he turns the corner and disappears from view. The only evidence he’d been standing in front of you at all is the pounding of your heart and a sick feeling in your stomach.

-

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[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels, here is another chapter! As always thank you all for the love you show me and all your kind words, I love reading all of your messages and comments/replies!! Everyone seems to love Gwayne Hightower lol !

Setting a boundary here: Please stop asking me when the next update is going to be when there has been a ONE DAY BREAK, its really rude and fucking annoying hehe (i'm at my breaking point with these dms).

ANYWAY... I wrote this chapter ages ago ahead of time and have been itching to get you all here... hehe... Enjoy <3

Chapter 64: A Bee 

You walked around the Keep aimlessly, looking at the different Lords and Ladies who shuffled aimlessly through the castle, thinking of who you could pursue. You thought of how Aegon and Aemond had both happily, and openly found pleasure with others. And how women like your mother were punished for doing the same. 

You had left your chambers with clarity in your mind. You would find someone else. If Aemond was to travel and love another, then you would too, only minus the travel.

They could be your ally in the Keep. You could spend your time talking to them and enjoying your days in each others company. You would not be so alone in the Keep. And above all of this, it could be advantageous.

When you left your chambers, you walked with no destination round the Keep. More specifically, the areas were Lords and Ladies would frequently pass. You had walked and observed, watched and deliberated on who would be a good match for you.

You thought of the names you already knew.

Perhaps the Lannister? But even the idea of taking him into your bed made your skin crawl, for all of Aemond’s cruelty, you knew that he would at least bring you pleasure, and doubted that the Lannister even knew how. 

You thought of Cregan Stark. Now he would be a good match. He was about your age, a few years older, maybe the same as Aemond. He was, from what you had been told, a handsome and respectful Lord. He was said to have the famed dark, curly hair of the Starks and eyes to match. But he was in the North, and thankfully allied to your mother, and you doubted that he would be able to sneak into the Keep unnoticed, nor you be able to send word to him by raven. 

It would have to be someone who came to the Red Keep frequently.

Or resided in Kings Landing at least.

You let yourself lean against a wall in a hallway, watching potential suitors walk past you. To your dismay, most of the Lords were old and balding, whilst the women refused to meet your gaze. You thought of Ser Criston Cole, but shrugged the thought away quickly with a shiver. He would not come to your bed willing and at the slightest hint of your plotting he would tuck tail and run to his precious Hightower Queen. You would do well to avoid him at all costs.

Lest you end up like you mother.

You shuddered at the thought and continued to watch the people walk about the Keep.

And then you saw someone promising.

He was tall, though not as tall as Aemond, and with a regular build. His skin was pale and dark curled hair was cut close to his head. He was not the most handsome man you had seen, but in a Keep with limited options you thought he would be a good enough.

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws, member of Aegon’s small council, walked through the halls slowly, large tome and parchment in hand. His eyes were a light brown, and he had a trimmed dark beard around his face. His face was stern and his eyes were hard, a most serious looking man.

You smiled at him gently as he walked closer towards you, moving to pass you in the halls. 

“Lord Wylde.” You greeted, straightening your posture as you smiled sweetly at him. 

You had not spoken once to the man, merely been in his presence a few times, including once when you has dined with Aegon on your wedding night. The Lord slowed his step and looked down at you, hint of interest in his eyes.

Perfect.

“Princess.” He greeted back, and moved to continue his walk. You pushed away from the wall to come beside him, his eyes watching your move.

“Might I accompany you on your walk?” You asked sweetly, hands behind your back as you pushed your chest forward subtly. You felt a prickle run along your skin.

You had heard from Saria that the Lord was known as Ironrod to the small folk, for he was unbending and immovable with his beliefs. A small voice wondered that if he was called Ironrod for another reason. Lord Jasper had sired over twenty-nine children, and had wed four wives, three of whom you knew had died in child birth.

“Of course, My Lady.” Wylde responded, uncertainty in his voice as you slowly began to walk together through the halls of the Red Keep.

“I must apologise for my behaviour in the Throne room the other day,” You began, knowing that he had witnessed your outburst. You needed to be sweet, saccharine, a docile woman he may take advantage of, “I was finding myself emotional after so long apart from my husband.” You looked down shyly at your feet as you walked. 

The Master of Laws stayed quiet beside you as you continued. Perhaps he would not be as easy as you had thought. You turned another corner, looking at the man as something moved in the corner of your eye.

“Does your wife reside here in Kings Landing with you, My Lord?” 

“My late Lady Wife passed away in childbirth two moons ago.”

Four wives then.

You slowed your step, frown pulling your lips downwards. A shiver rolled down your back and your hairs stood on end.

“My condolences. Are you being looked after?”

Jasper smiled down at you softly, “Of course, Princess. King Aegon provides all that I need here.”

Ugh.

“I am gladdened to hear this.” You paused looking back down at your feet as he slowed his step, curious eyes looking over you. 

“Do you not get... lonely?” You asked, looking up at him as you came to a complete stop.

The Lord of the Rain House stilled and looked down at you, hands adjusting the tomes and parchment in his hands. A silence stretched between the both of you as you looked at each other. 

Why was he not saying anything?

More importantly, who was watching you?

It set you on edge.

“I only ask as my Lord Husband is away for so long, and I find myself anxious for his return.”  You made a show of the sadness you supposedly felt, lifting a hand to come touch the man, before rethinking it and tucking back behind you to move forward. 

“It does get lonely, at times.” Lord Wylde spoke quietly, “Though I have promising news of a potential betrothal to Lady Ellyn Baratheon.” 

Here comes wife number five.

Shit.

“Oh, that is wonderful news then, My Lord. I must congratulate you. I would hate to know the you suffer the same affliction as I do.” You continued. 

The prickling of your skin started again and you turned your head. You and Lord Wylde had walked beside the Godswood in the open courtyard coridoors, where not too far from you stood a man with his cane.

You were definitely being watched.

“This is where I must leave you,” You told him, “Until we meet again.” You smiled, turning and leaving Lord Wylde without hearing his farewell. 

You crossed the courtyard not too far away, to where Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whispers, stood watching you with a knowing smile, leaning on his cane.

“Princess Y/n.” He greeted you, as you came to stand in front of him.

“Lord Larys. Do you ever grow tired of watching me from afar?”

The man hummed, “A fine day in King’s Landing.”

“No finer than the last. I would ask you to join me on my walk, but… I fear it may not be of interest to you.” You pointedly look down at his club foot.

Larys smiled, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Princess. My club foot would not restrict me from such an honour.”

You hummed.

Turning on your foot, you waited until he came to your side and began to slowly move out of the courtyard. You moved around the Keep, leading out to the garden.

Caution arose inside of you as you walked beside Lord Larys. You did not trust the man, nor did you like him. He was one of the many vipers in this nest, and had whispered in Alicent’s ears for years. For the most part, he had made himself scarce, barely acknowledging you, nor your presence for many years growing up, but now his sudden interest in you was a warning for you to keep a level head.

You would do well to not let your guard down around the man and not show him any weaknesses.

“Lord Larys, forgive me for my brazenness, but I must ask you.” You stopped walking and looked at him.

He did not look much like Ser Harwin. He was smaller, and weaker and ill-made. He stood crooked and thin, skin pale, and resembled a weasel more than a man. But his dark eyes and hair were the resemblance of his House.

“I am sure what you are about to ask is neither brazen, nor offensive, My Lady.”

You gave him a small smile.

“How does it feel...” You began looking down at the floor in mock innocence, as you begin to walk again through the garden, dirt path beneath your feet, and blooming flowers of all colours and shapes surrounding you.

You left him in limbo of the question a little while longer, before continuing, “...To the be the last of Strong blood? I was shocked when I had heard the news of what my Lord Husband had done in Harrenhal to your House, and I feel as though I must apologise to you for his actions.” 

“My Lady, you know more than I, that I am not alone.” He looked at you pointedly.

Your brothers. 

You clenched your jaw.

“Ah, yes. Alys Rivers.” You looked him up and down, “I suppose with her still surviving, you are not the last Strong after all.”

Larys lets out a small, knowing laugh, quiet for no-one else in the garden to hear, but loud enough for you.

You steered the both of you towards where you always sat. Where you and Helaena had watched sunsets and sunrises, looked at bugs and talked of your futures together.

Not at all what it was for now. 

You sat at a small steel table, and held out a hand for him to take the one opposite you. He bowed his head and sat, leaning his long cane against the table. It was well crafted, with a gold top, a small bee in its centre. It reminded you of the cane that had been left in your chambers. 

A servant boy came to join you once he saw the two of you seated.

“Please bring me and Lord Larys some tea and fruit. " You smiled at the boy, "Thank you.”

The young boy, no older than ten-and-five, bowed his head, and scuttled out of the garden towards the Keep. You held your hands together on the table.

“I will withdraw any pleasantries from this conversation henceforth. You know better than I,” You mocked his previous words, “That you are no ally to me, and I simply cannot stand the sight of you.” You smiled gracefully.

To any passing in the garden, it would look as though you were having a pleasant interaction.

“For years I had thought of how Ser Harwin and your late father had died so quickly on their return back to Harrenhal. I had slept on it as a child, you see. Ser Harwin was good to us,” You smiled and nodded your head to behind him, "He trained me in the yards just on the other side of this Keep. He was like a father to me.” 

Larys watched as you spoke to him, relaxed in your chair. All falseness had left his face, and what was left in its wake was a viper. He certainly played the defenceless and meek man well. 

“At first, I had my suspicions that Alicent had to be behind it, but it did not make sense for the man who could be put on trial for treason, to be put to death first. And so quietly too. "

You leant forward on the table as you looked at him, "Alicent loves a public spectacle, we saw that the day she tried to take my brothers eye. So I ruled her out. And then I thought some more.”

The servant boy came back with a large silver tray, pot of tea and teacups sitting atop, with a small plate of cut up fruit. You paused from your thoughts as the young boy placed the cups down in front of you, pouring them high and placing the fruit in its centre.

“Thank you. That will be all.” You thanked the boy, dismissing him, watching as he left. 

Reaching across the table you picked up a small sugar container, mother of pearl spoon inside. You scooped a small spoonful of sugar out of the bowl and held it towards Larys.

“Sugar?” You asked.

The man nodded, and you let the small soft grains fall into his cup of tea, before placing the sugar back in front of you. Picking up your unsweetened tea, you brought it to your lips, the steam brushing against your mouth warmly.

You took a small and polite sip. It was steeped perfectly.

A soft bitter aftertaste, just as you preferred in times of stress like this. Larys picked up his spoon, stirring the sugar into his tea gently, before bringing it up to his lips to drink.

“It was not hard to figure out. Who would have something to gain from the death of the Lord Lyonel Strong, and his first born son, Ser Harwin?”

You placed your teacup back on the table, letting the china clink softly against one another. Larys mirrored your movements. He did not seem nervous at all by your accusation, nor comments.

“Of course, it always comes down to the second son. You had a title to gain, lands and wealth, and not only that, but I suspect something to hold over the Queen’s conscience. Am I wrong?” You asked, and Larys stayed silent, "I’m sure you made it seem as though you did it for her, yes?”

“Quite the accusation, Princess. What you accuse me of would be treason, and kinslaying.” Larys mused, picking up his cup to sip at again.

“Of course. Forgive me, ’tis merely just speculation and a child’s mind left to run through endless possibilities.” You shrugged, and reached forward to pull a grape from its bunch, popping the round fruit into your mouth, feeling your teeth slice through the juicy flesh.

“It was an unfortunate accident. They say that Harrenhal is cursed.” The Strong man began, “Not at all like what had happened to the poor Prince Daeron.”

You let your head lazily look down as you sighed, “An unfortunate accident,” You parroted, “A casualty of war. Thank the Seven that we now have a treaty, to prevent further losses such as that.”

You sipped your tea in tandem, a tense silence filling your area of the garden.

“And how are you faring? Have you settled back into the Keep?” He asked.

“With my Lord Husband so frequently gone, I find myself more settled than ever.” You smiled, “It is relaxing to know that I do not have two monsters, watching me at all hours. Though I do worry for his absence. What whispers will the courts concoct once they hear of his whoring?”

“Trouble in paradise in such a fresh marriage is concerning to hear. But I would not worry on any opinions of the Lords and Ladies at court. They would not care for a bastard born from another.”

“And what of this bastard, Lord Larys, Master of Whispers? I have heard whispers of my own. They say that she is a witch, and has put a spell on my husband. That is why she still lives. Is it true?” 

“I seemingly recall you reminding me that I am neither your ally, nor you mine.”

“Mm. That’s true. You can’t blame me for trying. It is terribly dull, locked in this Keep. I am just desperate enough to sit and have tea with you, let alone look at you.” You smiled, and he smiled back. 

“Is this why you peruse the Keep in search of somebody? Is your Lord Husband not satisfying your needs, warming your bed chambers?”

“Unfortunately for me, my bed chambers are warmed enough. Though they lack a certain, want. I am sure you would know all about this, having known about Aegon and his wondering cock. You know, it truly is a mystery at how it has not fallen off yet.”

“A mystery indeed, Princess.” He paused, drinking from his tea, watching you, thinking, and when he comes to a conclusion, he places the cup back down, reaching to refill it.

“But Alys Rivers is less of a mystery.” He began, “I have heard tales of her beauty. An older woman with hair as black as the night sky, and eyes of green that pierce any mans soul. Rumours are about that she is a witch, and she claims to be one. Though who knows if it is real or not. I have been told she wears a chain of Valyrian steel around her neck, with three emeralds dripping from it. A gift from a Targaryen Prince.” The man shrugged, “Depends on what you believe.”

He brings the cup to sip again, eyes watching you over the rim.

“Are you a man of Faith, Lord Strong?”

“Of course, My Lady.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I believe what I am told.”

“And what a good little dog you make for it.” You smiled viciously, pulling another grape from the table to pop into your waiting mouth. “For a Master of Whispers, you sure do miss a lot of things.”

“Like what, Princess?”

You laughed.

“If you truly are a Master of Whispers, I am sure you will find out in due time. Need I remind you that I am neither your friend, nor ally?”

“You need not. Though may I give a word advice?”

You sighed, cocking your head, “No. But I have a feeling that you are going to anyway.”

“If you are to look for a man to warm your chambers in the absence of your husband, it is best that you don’t do so, so brazenly.” He smiled brightly, “Though he has lost an eye, he is not blind and has his ears.”

“Of no doubt you will be whispering your poison into.”

Larys smiled a sickly smile, “Of no doubt. Who knows what the courts may begin to whisper. Of course, only if my hand is forced.”

“May I offer you a word of advice, Lord Larys?”

The mans hand touched the top of his cane, its engraved bee sitting pretty in the expanse of the tip. A smirk wound its way on his lips in confirmation, head tilting to tell you to speak.

“Don't fuck with me." You smiled, and enjoyed the way the man blinked in shock at your harsh words, “I have found that throughout my life, men with ambition are a great threat to the realm and to the people living within it. I doubt that any man,” You looked him up and down in disgust, “Or woman, would lay with you. And without the lust of flesh, you are free to lust after power. A dangerous man indeed.” You smiled falsely, leaning back in your chair, listening to the waves behind you before you continued.

“Dragon or no dragon, I have not forgotten your place in this war, nor what you had done to Ser Harwin. I will rip your throat out with my teeth if I must. But of course,” You stood from the table looking down at the man who’s brow had hardened, “Only if my hand is forced.”

You walked around the table to stand beside Lord Larys.

“Thank you for an… inspiring conversation, Lord Larys.” You smiled down at him, “I had almost forgotten of your presence in the Keep.”

You grinned at the man, letting your hand come to touch his shoulder in a friendly manner.

Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whispers, stared at his empty tea cup as you walked away, leaving him to his thoughts and your unprovoked threat.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[2996-sana]

lost in japan

loosely based on lost in japan by shawn mendes :D

being a soloist in the industry is a bit like riding a rollercoaster of emotions. while it brings creative freedom and a chance to shape your own journey, it comes with its share of loneliness. unlike being in a group, where you share every step of the journey, as a soloist, you navigate the entire process – from making albums, promotions, gigs, to tours and interviews – all by yourself. sure, you have your crew and team, your chosen family, but seeing groups together makes you a bit envious. they get to share the highs and lows, the crazy moments, and the struggles. it's a camaraderie you sometimes wanted.

but being a soloist has its perks. you get to pour your soul into your music, writing and producing most of your songs. music isn't just a job; it's a deeply personal expression. every note and lyric carries a piece of your story, every emotion, and experience that left a mark on your heart.

and then there's the subject of love.

in the vast expanse of the industry, finding love can be a challenge. all eyes are on you, not just in korea but globally, and being an idol only adds to the scrutiny. but that hasn't stopped idols from dating, and who can blame them? when love comes knocking, it's hard to resist.

for you, love arrived unexpectedly in the form of a blind date, set up by mutual connections. specifically, yeri from red velvet, who passed down the idea to nayeon from twice. and believe it or not, love turned out to be a member of the renowned girl group twice.

love felt like magic, and at this moment, love happened to be right beside you on the couch in the recording studio.

"baby, i'm gonna miss you like crazy," sana pouted.

"i know, baby, but it's only gonna be a few weeks, right?" you ask, trying to offer comfort.

"three weeks, yeah, but i hate being away from you," she replies, eyes still a bit teary.

turning to your girlfriend, you put down your guitar and scoot closer to sana. "i understand, baby. if i didn't have schedules lined up for the next few weeks, i'd come with you guys," you say, your voice carrying a tinge of sadness.

sana sighed in defeat and planted a playful kiss on your cheek. "you should write a song about me while i'm away," she teased.

you rolled your eyes. "they're all about you, i don't know what you're on about."

sana giggled, fully aware that it was true. despite this knowledge, hearing every new song you wrote about her never got old and it never failed to make her swoon. your love story held a special place in both your hearts, and having it immortalized in your music felt special. especially since the general public remained oblivious to the fact that the songs were about her or your relationship. it was like a secret world that only the two of you shared, untouched, and safe from the prying eyes of the public.

as much as sana wanted to shout about your love from the rooftops, she found solace in the fact that you both hadn't given anybody the power to take what you had away. having your close circle and family know felt like enough for now.

"i adore you so much, baby. i feel incredibly lucky," sana confessed, locking eyes with you.

"i love you, baby. we're both really lucky," you replied. "are you excited to be home and visit family?"

sana's eyes lit up. "yes! mom and dad wanted to see you, though. but yeah, it's been a while, so i'm excited."

the joy on her face brought warmth to your heart. "i'm excited for you, baby. send me lots of pictures, okay? and don't worry, i'll give you a call when you're together with your parents."

that night, you had to take sana and the rest of twice to the airport. well, technically, you were in the same car they were dropped off in, but you couldn't get off due to the swarm of reporters and fansites. now, that would be a headline.

you gave sana one last kiss and waved goodbye to tzuyu, dahyun, mina, and jihyo, who were sharing the same car.

"be safe, you guys," you said.

"we'll miss you, unnie!" tzuyu exclaimed, and the rest of the girls echoed her sentiment.

"i'll miss you the most, though," sana said sadly.

you reached for her hand and gave it a soft kiss. "i'll see you real soon, baby."

"y/n, you better pay me extra to keep sana from talking everyone's ears off about missing you this whole trip," jihyo joked, earning laughs from the group.

"bank transfer?" you suggested playfully.

"yah!" sana feigned annoyance.

"alright, alright, you guys go. the rest of the girls are already outside."

as the car door closed, you sighed. a busy week awaited you with recording sessions, and on top of that, you didn't have a girlfriend to come home to for the next few weeks. *+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

a week drifted by, and there you were, sprawled out on the cushy couch in a hotel in taiwan, peering through the grand glass windows that framed the city's glowing lights. the sun descended gracefully, painting the sky with warm hues. you wished sana was there with you. memories flooded in — of quiet evenings cocooned on the couch, watching anime after demanding days, and lively moments in the kitchen, dancing and singing together.

"it's cool. just two more weeks," you mumbled.

suddenly, a soft buzz broke the silence.

m.by__sana tagged you in a post

you tapped the notification, revealing snapshots from a dinner a week past, capturing the comically overcooked steak you had made.

당신은 여전히 최고입니다, 셰프님! ♡´ (you're still the best, chef! ♡´)

a gentle chuckle escaped you.

당신은 미친 듯이 나를 그리워하고 있을 것입니다, you playfully commented. (you must be missing me like crazy)

almost instantly, you got a reply.

당신은 모르고 있어요 (you have no idea)

you released a resigned sigh, well-acquainted with the sacrifices that came with being idols. both of you knew the drill — the inevitable stretches of separation that, despite understanding, never got easier.

you knew sana was currently holed up in her hotel with the other girls, having just gotten off a facetime call with her. it didn't make the distance any more bearable, and resisting the urge to fly over and be with her required more self-control than you cared to admit.

wait…

with a swift move, you grabbed your phone and opened up the voice memo app. "na na na na, do you got plans tonight, baby? something something, lost in your paradise. the only thing i’m thinking ‘bout is you and i, i can’t get you off my mind," you sang, a mix of determination and confusion in your voice as you attempted to untangle the tune in your head. recording the snippets, you couldn't help but hope that this spontaneous burst could turn into something.

as a musician and songwriter, you know that when inspiration hits - seize it and craft it into art. luckily for you, sana was the kind of girl who could fuel a billion songs, and the thought of writing about her never got old.

fueled by the sudden inspiration, you reached for your guitar.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

"sana, you okay?" mina inquired, concern etching her features as she observed sana lost in thought, brows furrowed.

"she's fine. just being dramatic because y/n hasn't replied," nayeon chuckled, finding the situation amusing.

"you don't get it; she never takes this long to reply, even when we're both busy," sana whined, her frustration evident.

"unnie, isn't she in the middle of preparing for a comeback?" chaeyoung suggested. "maybe she's stuck in a meeting or recording something."

despite chaeyoung's rationality, sana's irritation persisted. she wasn't worried; she was just plain mad that you weren't responding.

the day dragged on with your replies limited to one-word responses, fueling sana's growing annoyance.

"who does she think she is?" sana slammed the door of her and momo's hotel room. "she didn't even pick up when i called her at my parents' house, and she specifically told me to!"

momo racked her brain, knowing sana's penchant for needing attention. she silently cursed you for leaving her with a moody sana.

"sana, it's okay. she'll eventually reply. i'm sure she has her reasons," momo sighed, offering a reassuring smile.

sana, across the room, sprinted to momo, shoving her phone in her friend's face. "what is this, then?"

momo squinted at your instagram story, revealing a tiktok of you and jennie doing a dance. momo silently cursed you again.

"uhh, scheduled post? maybe it's a new challenge," momo suggested, attempting to ease the tension.

sana rolled her eyes and threw her phone on the bed. "i don't care anymore."

"we can go out tonight, satang!" momo encouraged. "you'll get your mind off y/n."

sana shook her head defiantly. "i'm not going out! i'm staying in."

"nope, you can't," momo declared, standing up and joining sana. "you promised, remember?"

sana groaned. "fine, whatever, but i won't like it." *+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

sana and the group entered mina's cousin's newly opened restaurant, exclusively reserved for the night. despite the collective effort to lighten sana's mood, she remained unusually gloomy, a stark contrast to her typically bubbly self.

"sana, you look ugly when you’re frowning," jeongyeon teased, eliciting laughter from the group. sana responded by sticking her tongue out playfully. just as sana was about to retaliate, their food arrived, and the delightful aroma of the ramen momentarily diverted her attention. she was clearly hungry.

the dinner unfolded with vibrant conversations about their promotions, and even sana couldn't resist breaking into a smile and sharing a few laughs. after finishing her ramen, sana reached for a napkin on the table and discovered something tucked underneath — a small note?

do you have plans tonight?

suddenly, the lights dimmed, causing gasps from everyone. a soft strumming of a guitar filled the air.

"all it'd take is one flight,

we'd be in the same time zone."

sana could recognize that voice anywhere. her eyes shifted across the room, finding her girlfriend perched on a high stool with a guitar, singing just for her. sana could barely wrap her head around what was happening. she glanced at the girls, who were all smiling with their phones up.

as you sang, it dawned on sana what the song meant. her eyes widened as she listened.

“do you got plans tonight?

i'm a couple hundred miles from japan, and i

i was thinkin' i could fly to your hotel tonight

'cause i can't get you off my mind.”

you smiled and threw her a wink. sana couldn't help but cover her blushing face with her hands.

“do you got plans tonight, baby?

i was hopin' i could get lost in your paradise (paradise)

the only thing i'm thinkin' 'bout is you and i,

and i can't get you off my mind.”

sana should've probably known you were up to something. you wouldn't have left her hanging like that. but who would've thought you were crazy enough to leave in the middle of your schedules and fly to japan for her?

“let's get lost tonight,

let's get lost tonight,

baby, you and,

i can't seem to get you off my mind.”

the guitar strumming gradually faded, and the girls were howling and clapping. you walked toward sana with a single flower in your hand, wearing a big grin.

"hi," you said, still grinning.

sana got up, playfully shoving you before throwing her arms around you. "you are crazy!"

"crazy in love, apparently," dahyun giggled.

"are you complaining, though?" you laughed, ruffling her hair. then, you whispered in her ear, "if love doesn't make you do crazy things, then are you really doing it right?" *+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

"lost in japan is trending," sana giggled from the couch.

you joined her, tossing a blanket over both of you. "you think they're putting two and two together?" you laughed.

sana laughed, sharing a message from a fan on the bubble app.

"that new song from y/n is definitely about you and i'm taking no arguments."

[riality-check]

The first time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s just trying to make his brain quiet.

It’s so loud, all the time, and between his memories and vivid nightmares of the Upside Down, he misses silence more than anything. Music isn’t enough to drown it out, no matter how much he cranks up his stereo or his amp. People work fine. As long as he’s talking to or listening to someone, it’s fine. The whole party has been a big help. Dustin, Wayne, and especially Steve help the most.

But they’re not always there. They grow up, move away, and have their own lives. And even though Steve is his boyfriend, and they live together, it’s unrealistic to always expect him to be there, too.

He’s got his own shit going on. He doesn’t need Eddie’s on top of that. Eddie ignores the fact that he will always help Steve.

So, because music doesn’t work and people aren’t there, alcohol is a wonderful thing.

Eddie usually tracks his drinks. He does. But it’s the anniversary of the whole shitshow, and the nightmares are worse and he had a fucking flashback this morning because of the lights. He hasn’t had those for months.

He just needs some goddamn quiet.

He remembers throwing up on the kitchen floor, too sick to make it to the bathroom.

And then he wakes up in a hospital bed, feeling like death reheated.

(He knows, intimately, what that feels like.)

Steve is crying beside him, and Eddie just thinks back to his ten year old self, the little stringbean kid who had to make the call and tried to clean up the vomit before the EMTs got there, and he swears to himself, Never again.

The second time Eddie needs an ambulance, he just got carried away.

It’s too easy, with the clubs he plays in. It’s too easy to lose track of the drinks audience members offer him. It’s even easier to do a line because what the hell, it’s just one.

It’s easy because he and Steve have been fighting. A lot. Steve started drinking more than usual, and Eddie’s been trying to get him to stop. Steve says he’s hypocritical, that Eddie didn’t take rehab seriously because he still keeps beer in the house.

He didn’t think he needed to quit completely; he just needed to get it under control.

He’s aware of the fact that he’s been out of control all night. He’s crossed to hell and back, but he takes another shot.

Steve stayed home because he was sick. Eddie stumbles inside and can’t even close the front door before he’s on the ground.

He hates that he knows what charcoal tastes like now.

The third time Eddie needs an ambulance, he’s scared shitless.

Steve keeps talking about family. About having kids. Eddie looks at the chip on the kitchen counter and can’t help but think, How old would the kid be before I had to explain that to them?

Every answer he comes up with is too young.

Eddie is scared shitless because he knows, he knows that he’ll be just like his parents. He knows that he’ll end up a deadbeat, a drag on both Steve and that kid, and he won’t do that to them.

He thinks about being six years old and being left alone for days at a time. After the first time, he always made sure the cereal was in a spot where he could reach it.

He thinks about being eight years old and cooking for his parents, not the other way around. He had to use a step stool to reach the stove.

He thinks about being ten years old and calling the ambulance because his mama was on the ground again, and this time his pa was out, too.

Eddie will not do that to this kid, and he won’t do it to Steve.

He thinks about an article he read a few months ago. Some new study came out, saying that addiction is genetic.

Figures that’s the part of them I carry with me, he thinks right before his mind slips into nothing.

He wakes up in the hospital again. He’s starting to wish he wouldn’t wake up at all.

The fourth time Eddie needs an ambulance is the first time he’s alone.

After the third time, Steve and him fought like hell. They almost lost each other, and that’s when Eddie realizes he would rather die than have that happen.

He took rehab seriously, and Steve joined AA, too, despite not being as bad. Eddie doesn’t play in clubs anymore. There’s no alcohol in the house, hasn’t been for years. He cut off all contact with his old dealers.

He misses it.

He doesn’t miss the high, not really. Not when he can have something better by being with his family. Not when he gets the same rush from listening to his favorite albums or turning his amp up to max. Not when he’s with Steve because everything is better when he’s with Steve.

Eddie misses the low because he’s still hurting. Bad days still happen and they’re a bitch to deal with. He still can’t sleep right, after all these years, and he still doesn’t always believe that he deserves a life this good.

He’s hurting, and nobody notices because he looks fine. He’s healthy.

He’s healthy, and that’s the problem, because Eddie misses being sick.

So he crashes, and he crashes hard, and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking when he finally goes out.

He wakes up in the hospital alone.

Alone.

No sign of Steve.

And that’s when Eddie realizes he fucked up the last good thing in his life.

His voice is shredded, but he asks the nurse where he is. She says she’ll call and find out.

Maybe he went to get food. Maybe he went home to sleep. Maybe-

She comes back in and tells him that Steve says he’s glad Eddie is okay, but that he’s not coming back.

Eddie doesn’t bother going back to their apartment before he goes to rehab.

He takes it seriously again. He knows the goddamn script by heart, knows what to do and what not to do, what to say to get out.

It’s the fastest he’s ever gone through the program.

He goes back to their apartment. It looks like Steve never lived there in the first place.

Eddie cleans it up. Calls a few people. Calls Dustin, who lets him know that Steve is alive but doesn’t say anything else.

It’s quiet. Eddie just barely keeps himself from going to the liquor store.

Instead, he gets a fish.

It’s a stupid looking fish. A goldfish that isn’t supposed to last long, maybe a few months. He names it Bagagoth and buys it a tank and makes sure to feed it regularly. If he takes care of himself, he doesn’t kill the fish.

Bagagoth lasts two years before he dies of natural causes. It’s sad, but Eddie doesn’t take it personally. By that time, he’s got a hognose snake named Lancelot and a cat named Ozzie depending on him, too.

If he dies of an overdose, they’ll eat his face. Eddie wants an open casket funeral.

He doesn’t play in bars anymore. He puts down the electric guitar and all its dim-lit, drug addled memories.

He picks up the acoustic and starts playing the music he grew up with. Stuff he heard on the radio as a kid, songs he learned for Wayne when he was first starting out.

Eddie told himself that he wouldn’t play any more hick shit once he learned electric. Hick shit brings him a comfort like no other.

He expands it to some pop, some softer rock. He starts writing his own stuff, much tamer stuff. He stays solo. He plays in cafes in the middle of the afternoon.

It’s boring as shit. It’s better than the headache of a hangover or the bill that comes after a hospital stay.

He actually goes to meetings. He makes new friends and hangs out in parks and at people’s apartments and at comic book shops. He joins a new D&D group as a player, not as a Dungeon Master. His character is a chaotic half-elf bard running from his past.

He makes enough to actually afford a therapist. She’s nice, about his age. She’s got experience with addicts and children of neglect. It takes Eddie a year’s worth of sessions to realize that he is not his parents, and a few more for him to realize that he still deserves good things even after all his fuck ups.

Eddie calls Wayne every Friday night, when two years ago he’d be at a bar. He keeps in touch with the kids and the rest of the party. Dustin tells him Steve got accepted into some master’s program in Chicago, and Eddie tries not to let that hurt so much.

He’s become a regular at a coffee shop a few blocks away. They’ve got an open mic, and while it’s not a paying gig, it gives him the opportunity to play new stuff instead of the acoustic Journey covers a lot of other places want from him.

The best thing about recovering from addiction is that it gave him a lot of new song material.

He sings about darkness, and fear, and pushes and pulls. But he always follows it with light and love and the hope of being battered but not broken.

That’s what he is. He’s got scars that never quite faded, but that chip is still on his counter, and there’s still breath in his fucked up lungs.

He’s almost at the end of his set when he spots Steve in the crowd.

Steve, dressed in a cozy looking blue sweater. Steve, with round frame glasses. Steve, with the tiniest streak of gray in his hair. Steve, whose eyes are alert and shining. Steve, who looks as handsome as ever.

Steve, who’s staring right back at him.

He stammers out an intro to his last song before he just plays, letting the music take over. He sings the first song he wrote after that last rehab stint, when he came home to an empty apartment and instead of cleaning up right away, grabbed his notebook.

It’s the only one he’s ever written that never changed from the first draft.

Steve comes up to him, after, and tells him he doesn’t hate him. Eddie says he doesn’t hate himself anymore. It’s mostly true.

They got their asses in gear. It sticks, this time.

Eddie moves into the apartment Steve has. He takes Lancelot and Ozzie, who are both confused and pleased about their new surroundings. He decorates it with posters and enough plants to constitute a garden because while a lot of things have changed, Steve’s lack of design skills haven’t.

They have a kid. The moment Eddie has her in his arms, he realizes that she will alway be his top priority. Always.

And he knows Steve thinks the same way.

They don’t drink; they dance in the kitchen. They still fight; they have a rule about not going to bed angry.

They love each other, and it sticks this time because they’re not young and self-destructive and plain fucking stupid anymore.

They’ve got years and pain behind them, and they’ve got a lot more years and a lot more love ahead.

(Click here to read Steve’s POV by my wonderful enabler, @hexmionegranger )

[atopvisenyashill]

Do you… do you maybe want to share the nedcat sex headcanons?

alsdfj i got you anon

so emotional/timeline wise my headcanons are-

Ned actually knows a lot about sex because he grew up with Brandon and Robert in his ear talking about the women they'd been fucking but he sticks to missionary until after Sansa is born because he doesn't want Cat to think he's a man slut, he canNot get hard if he's thinking about Brandon or anything Brandon ever said to him even a little, and he's also like 75% sure they were just straight up lying to him.

Ned doesn't want to pressure her because he's unsure how long it takes to recover from birth and he's worried she hates him so he awkwardly asks if the birth was hard, how she's feeling, and Catelyn realizes he's asking if she's cleared to fuck and she's just like "yeah I'll come to your room tonight if you want" but Ned is like "no no i'll come to you!!" so the first few years, they're doing all their fucking in her room instead of his.

With the three year gap between Robb and Sansa, I think the first year or so the two of them are barely fucking. There's barely an eye contact because Catelyn still thinks he's mid and he always looks so serious and Ned keeps thinking about Brandon, going soft, and getting embarrassed (i'm an expert on grief and sexual dysfunction bro trust me on this) (i'm being serious here i got a lot of dead family members)

The crying incident happens like a month after the Ashara incident. Ned doesn't skip their Scheduled Sex Day, but the bruise he left takes forever to fade away and they're both really aware of it when they're fucking and he can't like, apologize even though he feels like the biggest asshole and she can't be mad at him because that's not how Proper Wives act, so it's just a lot of no eye contact sex until he's crying into her hair and trying to hide it. Catelyn feels so weird about it because she's like "he's crying over Ashara he hates me he wanted to marry her instead of me and we'll never be happy" but she's also Elder Sister Extreme so his crying makes her start playing with his hair, and then they're sad making out and both crying and he goes soft and they're both laughing at how deeply stupid they're being.

He comes to her room the next night to apologize for being a fucking wreck and then when they're banging - and it's going really well - he suggests she get on top and she's like...I can do that? Hell yes she can and it's real good.

They start fucking more spontaneously, with her dropping hints outside of Scheduled Sex Days that he could drop by if he wants, and Ned awkwardly asking if he can come by on other days, but before they really find a groove she's pregnant with Sansa and he's like "if we fuck it'll hurt the baby" but he notices Cat is clearly feeling some type of way about the fact that they stopped having sex and this is when Ned goes down on her for the first time.

Literally the moment she's cleared they start having sex again. I love that scene in the show where Ros says he rang all the bells in Winter's Town for a week after Sansa was born, because I just love the idea that Cat is feeling slightly bummed that this one came out with red hair and a girl at that (she wants a daughter eventually but what she wants is a son that looks like Ned) but Ned is so jazzed about being here for this birth and getting to hold Sansa when she's still a newborn and the birth was easy so they're both healthy, and keeps stopping random servants to be like "look at my baby i made this!!" that Cat just completely falls in love and is dropping hints about him visiting her rooms whenever he wants and Ned loves affection so. It's so good none of the kids are old enough to be scarred by how often their parents fuck yet.

Sometime after Arya is born and he's back from the Greyjoy Rebellion, they start getting super adventurous. He's going down on her in the godswood. She's going down on him in the middle of the day in his solar. One time she wears an old dress that's a lil too tight across the chest and he mumbles about visiting her later and she's just like you know what fuck it and they do it in a random room. He feels her up one time in the Sept but she's like i canNot do this with the Seven watching so he drags her to his room and it's not even lunchtime. They get ass over tits drunk at an Umber wedding and bang (really quickly and not very quietly) in a random hallway. Robb sees like the corner of Ned's ass one (1) time when they're fucking in the godswood and they calm down a little bit because Robb spends the rest of the month sullenly glaring at Ned while Jon is clearly trying to become one with whatever floor he's standing on because Robb obviously squealed immediately.

They start fucking in his room before Bran is born and she starts sleeping in there sometimes when they get tired out lmao. As they age, they gotta limber up a lil bit but that just means Ned has has an excuse to "massage" her aka feel her up. She will do that thing where she'll lightly massage his shoulders in public but it always gets him a lil rowdy (in an affectionate, loving way) and it makes Theon cackle and it makes Robb want to die and Jory is always saying he hopes he's happy like that with his wife while Robb is begging him to shut the fuck up.

Ned would never grab her ass in public but he definitely checks her out with zero shame in front of the gods and everyone because the pregnancies gave her a huge ass and sometimes Arya will narrow her eyes at him because she doesn't know what the fuck he's staring at but she knows it's inappropriate and then Ned feels guilty for being horny in front of his kids.

specific "what are they doing in bed" stuff-

most of the weird shit they get into is curiosity. neither of them is ever trying to be sexy (he doesn't want to pressure her, proper ladies don't enjoy they endure, etc) but she is naturally curious and they find each other so completely sexy that they just want to try everything to see how it feels.

they get into orgasm denial (for her). starts out as just like, they're unsure of what to do, he's fairly certain Robert was making up all that stuff about his girls screaming in ecstasy but once they find a groove, Ned finds he really enjoys like, methodically edging her until she's tearing her own hair out and then getting really rough, and it becomes a game to see how close he can get her without pushing her over, how long she can stay on the edge without going over, and then snowballs into how long they can fuck ~just for him~ until she's like, inconsolable. this is mostly because ~proper ladies don't ask for it~ right so Catelyn is always framing her own sexual desire as I'm Sure You Have Needs My Lord so Ned becomes determined to make her admit that she really wants him.

He goes down on her literally all the time. Man dreams about eating the pussy every night.

obviously Ned has a canon breeding kink a mile wide but that's because when they're fucking Catelyn is talking to him about making another son. she picked that up from a Manderly wedding they went to. she doesn't go down on him as often because he's like no it goes Inside You Cat and it's the most hilarious, most sexy thing he gets huffy about.

they do reverse cowgirl all the time specifically so he can watch her hair bounce all around. she really loves when she's in his lap and they're just kinda grinding and making out and he's playing with her hair because she really likes the feeling of her chest against his.

they go hard he has bruised her hips a lot but it's okay because she scratches the fuck out of his back. they're both really apologetic the first time it happens except as it turns out not only does Cat get a thrill out of pressing down on the bruises during the day, Ned likes looking at the scratches so they start doing it on purpose. he's really careful to never bruise her arms however (he did one time kind of accidentally because he was holding her wrists above her head and she was weird and moody all week until he realized he'd triggered The Bad Memory) but he will leave fingerprint bruises all over her thighs and chest. She'll scratch up his chest enough to draw blood and he'll be fingering the scrape and Luwin is like why do you two do this to me. make sure she washes her hands before at least so it doesn't get inflamed seven hells.

She catches Theon doing anal with a servant and gets curious and brings it to Ned and she likes how it's just a little painful and overwhelming. Ned never finishes inside her ass though he thinks it's really weird, so he finishes on her belly usually which he feels is a waste until she started scooping it up and licking it off her fingers again, mostly out of curiosity than anything, and he uh, really likes that.

He still refuses to come in her mouth though lmao.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mixed race cousin the truth about her racial background?

This happened a few months back but continues to divide our family to this day, and I have my own regrets about it, so I thought it would be good to get some outside perspective.

My little cousin (we'll call her May) was privately adopted by my aunt 17 years ago. Her biological mom already had 4 kids at home, 2 of them special needs, and she was an unplanned pregnancy. But she was also deeply religious and against abortion, so she went to her (southern baptist) church for help. My aunt was a member of that church and was having trouble conceiving, so she offered to adopt the woman's baby and she agreed.

I know all this for a fact because my aunt asked my mom to come with her as emotional support when she met with the bio mom and dad at their home to talk more about the details. I was dragged along (8 years old at the time) and saw the bio parents myself. The mom was white, and the dad was black. I sat and listened to them talk about boring adult stuff and heard both the man and woman refer to May as "their baby". Then I got bored and went in the other room to play with their kids on the xbox.

Fast forward 17 years later to the present day and May has done pretty well in life. She's a straight A student with a 4.0 and wants to be a physicist. She knows she's adopted and knows she's mixed race (would be pretty hard to hide, since both her parents are whiter than mayo and she's obviously not). I never said anything about her being half black, because I assumed she knew. I found out she does not when she was talking about looking into scholarships and says maybe she can get a scholarship for Indigenous peoples. I laugh because I assume she's joking.

May looks at me and asks why that's so funny, and I say because she's not Native American. She looks truly pissed now and like she's geared up for a fight against a racist and says yes, she is. I look at her parents for backup but they won't look me in the eye. "May, I met your parents. You're half black," I told her. She calls me a liar and says that's stupid, because her parents got her through an adoption agency and she knows she's half Native American.

Now I'll tell you, I know my aunt and uncle made jokes about how she "looks like an Indian" when she was a baby. I know they dressed her up in racist "Indian" outfits every Halloween (first I wasn't old enough to know it was racist, then I thought it's not worth the argument bringing it up). I know her cringey online persona when she was 12/13 was called "PocahontasGirl", and her online "aesthetic" has always been nature and romanticized, spiritual Native American stuff. And again, I never said anything because it wasn't worth the argument, and I figured she would grow out of it when she was less immature. I had genuinely know idea it's because her parents have been lying to her.

I tried to convince her I wasn't lying, I tried to get my aunt and uncle to back me up, but May is a terror when she's mad and she was screaming and crying at me for being racist and calling her parents liars so I just left. She's blocked me everywhere since then, and my aunt called my mom to rant about me filling her daughter's head with lies and trying to break up their happy family. My mom said I should have just left it alone, I said May deserves to know who she really is, and how can my mom condone lying to her when we both know the truth? My mom said just to drop it, it isn't any of our business. That she didn't like the fact that my aunt lied either, but bringing it up now was an asshole move because it would divide the family no matter what. Either May would believe me and hate her parents, or believe her parents and hate me.

In my heart I feel like it's wrong on so many levels to adopt a mixed race child then lie about their heritage, and I think my aunt and uncle are just plain racist. But I can't blame May for not believing me and believing the people who raised her. And I truly do miss her, having known her all her life. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[demonslayedher]

This is the Hashibira House--hear me out

I've mentioned this idea in a few posts here and there, but I'm putting it here with my nine reasons:

I think Tanjiro will ask Inosuke to inherit the family home and charcoal kiln.

Reason 1. Kanata and Sumihiko live in the city and show no ties to charcoal farming. This makes me very sad, but although they inherit Tanjiro's sword and the earrings, and although the two of them both perform Hinokami Kagura at a local shrine at New Years (Fanbook #2 Taisho Secret), they are is no mention of charcoal aside from the "sumi" in Sumihiko's name. Even then, he is the second son, so it's kind of like they forgot the family traditional when Kanata was born. Really goes to show how much they still value the old family trade that kept them working with fire, hmph!

Although Tanjiro knew the need for charcoal was decreasing (Fanbook #2 post-epilogue comic), and although he'd probably be happy to see his descendant free to be a parkouring zookeeper, that's still generations of the family trade that's been tossed out. Not that Hinokami Kagura is needed in their world anymore, but still, that sucks some of the meaning dry. So again, I am sad.

Reason 2. There is precedent for the house and its legacy to be passed around.

According to the Taisho Secret right before Chapter 191, the house was previously used by Yoriichi and "Uta." It only became the Kamado house once Suyako and Sumiyoshi came across it when it was abandoned.

It was temporarily abandoned again later on when Tanjiro had to take Nezuko and make a run for it, and despite all the care taken of it the house is already hundreds of years old, so it wouldn't be surprising if it gets abandoned again. Still sad, though.

Reason 3. Tanjiro already kind of expected he wouldn't live there long.

In the Fanbook #2 post-epilogue comic, Tanjiro mentions that even though he doesn't need to, he likes working, and he wants to leave money for everyone when he's gone.

He feels the effects of his injuries and everything else he's been through, and needs regular check-ups down at the Butterfly Mansion. Maybe he'll be fine for most of the years he has left, but what if it's a steady decline from the easily-tired point he's already found himself in? Take care of the house is going to take more and more out of him, and his children won't be old enough to take on many responsibilities before he's 25.

He's at peace with the understanding that he'll be gone someday and hopes the others will live peaceful lives without him.

We know that Kamaboko living arrangement couldn't had lasted long, though, because he and Kanao go on to have descendants together.

Reason 4. Kanao's not going to have Kaburamaru for long.

As much as I have faith in Kanao to live near-blind in the deep mountains, it's going to be a bit harder once she loses her seeing-eye snake, and Kaburamaru's already a somewhat old snake by the time she inherits him. If she's going to continue being a doctor, she may have an easier time of that staying in the Butterfly Mansion with all the resources there, and patients coming to her (a challenge to ask them to go up the mountain for her services).

Reason 5. There's someone who might do just fine without those extra conveniences and resources, for she is very resourceful.

Even though Kanao would insist the contrary, Aoi--who always called Shinobu by "-sama" and never "-neesan"--might feel Kanao has more claim to inherit the Butterfly Mansion, for Aoi was always a little hard on herself and insecure in her role as a failed Corp member. I stress again, none of this would make a difference to Kanao, who knows Shinobu cared about Aoi just as much. As much as Aoi has demonstrated her ability to run a clinic, I have just as much faith in her to run a mountain household, including handling its inevitable repairs, as well as to go make house calls around the village whenever needed.

Reason 6. Inosuke is more genki than anybody. And, more importantly, he's learned to make charcoal.

This takes us back to the comic in Fanbook #2, where Inosuke is so well-adjusted to life in the Kamaboko household that he's not only learned the charcoal trade well enough to say, "buy Inosuke-sama's charcoal," but he's also a shining star when it comes to doing chores. He's doing really well with growing up and taking on human responsibility!

He is also, however, the King of the Forest. That's his home, and even when spending long periods of time in the Butterfly Mansion, the forests call him.

Reason 7. You know who else loves nature? This dude.

Just because he wants to be alone in nature doesn't mean he grew up on Mt. Kumotori, but I do suspect he has spent a lot of time there, because that's where the blue spider lilies--the subjects of his failed research--had come from. Although we don't know how this research started and who got the flowers in the first place, the potential connection is strong.

If he wasn't raised in that house, then maybe he and his family still go out there regularly to take care of it. After all, even if they don't remember who and they're unmarked, there are important graves to show respect to and take care of there. Maybe it was on a trip like that when Aoba discovered where the blue spider lilies grow, which put him on the botany path.

You know who he apparently didn't run into? Any Kamados, as he and Sumihiko didn't meet until Aoba was unemployed and Sumihiko was scolded by the police and they were both hanging out and depressed in the park.

Reason 8. Tanjiro trusts Inosuke.

Entrusting Nezuko to Zenitsu is one thing--Zenitsu obviously would do anything to keep Nezuko safe, happy, and comfortable, but Zenitsu's heart isn't in the mountains. He's a city boy and doesn't like the inconveniences of mountain life, and clearly he doesn't show much initiative for the demands of keeping a mountain home. Tanjiro wouldn't expect this of Zenitsu, nor would he trust him with it, even if he'd trust Zenitsu with just about anything else.

In Inosuke's case, Tanjiro understands Inosuke at an intuitive level--what he needs to hear and be told, and what Inosuke's strengths are. If ever Tanjiro got the inkling that he can no longer take care of the house, or that he must prioritize taking care of his small children and partially blind wife, then he wouldn't think of anyone else but Inosuke who would be happier having that home for his own.

Inosuke sure wouldn't be happy at first, though. That house is Kamado Tanjiro's house, and he doesn't want a house without Kamado Tanjiro in it.

But Inosuke, who has never had a traditional nuclear family, might come around to the idea of being the head of his own family, and having something normal and human like this of his own.

The Hashibira house, with Inosuke the head of the Hashibira family, providing for them with his labor.

I can imagine Tanjiro would run the idea by Aoi first, who would accept the responsibility as an honor, and maybe this would come after Tanjiro and Kanao had been a married couple on their own a while in the house first. The town where the boys sell charcoal is big enough that I can see Nezuko being pretty happy settling down there where it's close both to home and more along the lines of Zenitsu's tastes, but eventually...

Reason 9. One way or another, the Kamado and Agatsuma families are both going to wind up in the heart of urban sprawl, far away from Mt. Kumotori.

It's only a question of when and why.

[beachylupin]

lighthouse for steve plss

you two broke up (not mutually) and you went off to college and didn't return to hawkins at all and when you did, you saw him and it was kinda awkward but nice to see him

Big Buy Blues || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

i'm sorry this took so long omg :-(((( i've been so stupid busy, and i've had this request sitting in my inbox since early november and i feel HORRIBLE about it. i hope this is okay! if you'd like to see more of this pairing, please let me know (i lowkey am thinking of a second part) word count: 2.6k warnings: honestly??? like nothing. maybe like... old people being old people? and anxiety, kinda angsty?

Your hometown of Hawkins was always filled with Christmas lights this time of year. Every house looked like iced gingerbread, covered in a dusting of fresh snow. Christmas trees played peek-a-boo out the window with the children sledding down the sidewalks. It was magical.

Although it was magical, you went to college out of state to escape the small town with even smaller thoughts. You were bigger than Hawkins, and everyone there knew that. They knew that you’d amount to so much more than the little, strange town could provide you.

Escaping people was yet another reason to leave. Everyone in Hawkins was connected, whether from friend groups in school or the tragedies that seemingly struck the town every year. A messy breakup had sent you northwest to Minnesota, attending the university there.

Sure, there was much more snow and a lot more people in St. Paul, but there, you could be just another face in the crowd. Nobody there knew you. Nobody there knew what you had seen or what you had been through. You could just be a normal person.

You hadn’t seen anyone from Hawkins since you moved out in July, not promising that you’d ever return.

Thanksgiving not at home was weird, but necessary. Your friendsgiving was good enough to keep you feeling like you didn’t need to go home. You didn’t need anyone at home. You had almost decided to not go home for Christmas until your mom called, practically begging you to come back.

“Just for a few days, sweetheart,” your mom had cooed over the phone. “Your dad and I just want to see you for Christmas. You can go back to Minnesota right after.”

It was her tone of voice, the brokenness, that called you back home. It was the promise that you could leave that made your decision for you. 

The plan was set: home for a few days before Christmas and heading back to your small apartment right after. No dilly-dallying in town. No time to see anyone. Just simply going to their house, staying, and leaving.

You had pulled into your parents’ driveway late last night. It was a joyous reunion with a promise of nobody else knowing you’re home besides your mom and dad and maybe a few family members. You hugged your mom before getting stolen from her by your dad, who hugged you like you’d been overseas at war. The hug had confirmed that you’d be staying later than expected, just for him.

They’d left your childhood bedroom almost the same since there was only so much that two people could change in five months: pink walls, white dresser and run down desk. The only thing that had changed was that your once twin bed was now a queen, taking up much more space in your little room than normal.

You almost missed the normal city sounds that St. Paul had to offer, but settling into bed that night, you relished in the quiet of Hawkins. Snow fell softly, quieting the whole town, and you quickly fell asleep, sleeping soundly for the first time in months.

You woke up to light streaming on your face, and you had to resituate yourself. You were really in your childhood bedroom. It wasn’t a dream. You really had driven seven hours to Hawkins, Indiana for Christmas just for your parents, and you didn’t have to go anywhere.

You dressed in light wash jeans with a rip in the knee and a blue, turtleneck sweater. Padding your way down the stairs in stocking feet, you saw your mom waiting for you in the living room, a worried look on her face.

“Honey?” She asked you, standing and walking up to you.

You lingered on the bottom step, furrowing your eyebrows. “Why do you look so nervous?” You asked, almost retreating when she hugged you, knowing she was going to ask you something.

“I need you to go pick up the ham from the butcher,” your mom said as she pulled away, trying to hand you money. You stared at her hand, your teeth ground together. “Please? I won’t ask you to leave the house anymore this week.”

“Why me?” You asked, still staring at her hand. You weren’t going to take it until she gave you an amazing explanation as to why she couldn’t go.

“We’re expecting company any minute,” she said quickly. “You’re great auntie Hen and grandma are coming over, and-”

You huffed, annoyed, grabbing the cash from her. “This is the one and only time I’m leaving the house,” you stated hotly, tucking the money in the pocket of your jeans. “Do you need anything else?”

Your mom glanced at your dad, who just shrugged, mumbling a quick “I dunno,” his typical permissiveness showing its true colors. “Apple cider? Maybe you could-”

You cut her off with a loud sigh. “Why don’t you get me a list while you’re at it,” you suggested, looking at your dad as your mom walked into the kitchen to grab a notepad, your mouth tight.

“Maybe you won’t see anyone,” he said quietly, causing you to roll your eyes and follow your mom into the kitchen.

She was hunched over the counter, writing things down as she thought of them. You peeked over her shoulder, scoffing.

“Mom!” You whined, taking the list away from her to look at it closer. “There’s like twenty things on here! I’m not going grocery shopping for you!”

“It’s all at Bradley’s!” She offered with a small smile. “Please, honey? It’s not good to stay all cooped up.”

“I want to be cooped up!” You could’ve screamed, but hearing the loud knock at the door, you decided against it. You followed your mom to the door, hissing, “I want to stay here!”

She shot you a look over her shoulder then opened the door.

“My baby!” Your grandma gasped, pushing past your mother to hug you tightly, smearing red lipstick on your cheek. She passed you along to your great auntie Hen, who held you at arm’s length.

“Have you been eating, sweetie?” She cooed, hugging you as gently as she could. “You look like you’re going to blow away.”

“I wish I would,” you grumbled more to yourself than anyone else, but you meant it all the same.

“My God,” your grandma scoffed as she was taking off her coat. “Did you rip those jeans yourself or did you buy them like that?”

“That’s the fashion nowadays, mom,” your mom said for you, sending a sideways look your way. “She’s a university girl now. She’s fashionable.”

You refrained from rolling your eyes in front of your grandma and great aunt, resorting to sighing softly through your nose instead. 

“Well, that’s not what I call fashion,” your great auntie Hen pitched in. “Showing too much skin for my taste.”

“It’s just my knee,” you said quietly, feeling ambushed, but she continued over you, her hands on your cheeks.

“Have you gotten any sleep, dear?” She asked, looking at you through the bottom of her glasses. “You look exhausted-”

“I’m fine,” you said just to get her hands off of you. You looked at your mom, your eyes wide with panic. You wanted them away from you.

“She’s getting enough sleep, auntie. Quit worrying,” your mom said, smiling as she put her arm around the woman. “She was just on her way to run errands for me, so let’s get out of her way. Come on, now. There’s a fresh pot of coffee…”

Her voice trailed off as she ushered the women into the kitchen, leaving you to regain yourself.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, making a mental note to change your pants when you got back from the now not-so-dreaded trip to the supermarket.

You grabbed your keys, your peacoat and purse, and slipped on your sneakers, not even saying goodbye as you left what was supposed to be your haven in Hawkins.

Bradley’s Big Buy wasn’t anything special. Like a typical supermarket, they had a little bit of everything. Because of that, everyone shopped at Bradley’s, and it just so happened that they all decided to shop at the same time as you.

Finding a parking spot, you parked, sighing to yourself. You looked at the store and how busy the lot was and dropped your head to your hands.

“Please don’t let me see anyone I know,” you whispered to yourself, shutting your car off. “Please don’t let me see anyone I know.”

That was your repeated mantra as you walked through the sliding glass doors, grabbing a basket. You kept your head down amongst the busy loud store filled to the brim with Christmas stuff and songs, walking straight back to the butcher.

You rang the bell on top of the counter, and lifting your head for the first time, you looked around while you waited for the butcher to come out.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you spotted him next to the deli meat, his tell-tale hair now in a longer, modern type mullet. 

Sneakers squeaking against the linoleum, you wheeled around, ducking down a half-busy aisle. Your hands began to sweat as you grabbed a random box of flake potatoes, trying to look as natural as possible while scanning the side of the box.

You hadn’t seen that head of hair since last May, when you graduated Hawkins High and the owner was there for Robin. Not you. Rather, he was there for her instead of you.

And now he’s here, at Bradley’s, an aisle or so down from you. For deli meat.

It was always something else. He always needed something or someone else.

“Miss?” The butcher called out, gaining your wide eyes. “You rang?” He pointed at the bell, and you nodded, setting the box of potatoes down as quickly as you picked them up.

You approached the end of the aisle, not quite stepping out. “I’m supposed to pick up a ham,” you said, holding out your hands to show how big it was supposed to be. “But I don’t want to carry it all over so I’ll come back.”

“What?!” He half-shouted, his hand cupping around his ear. To be fair, Christmas music was blasting, babies were crying, and people were stomping all around the store. It was loud.

“I’m supposed,” you started again, clearing your throat so you could be louder. “I’m supposed to pick up a ham!” You stood to your tiptoes, trying to shout over the people crossing in front of the two of you. “I don’t want to walk around the store with it, so never mind!”

His hands slapped to his side in frustration. “You’re going to have to come closer!” He shouted, and a few people glanced at your reddened face.

You huffed, and squeezing your eyes shut, you stepped forward, opening them as you got to the counter. “I need to pick up a ham, but I’ll be back because I don’t want to carry it all around the store,” you said quickly, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“So you’re telling me that you’re coming back for it?”

You nodded, feeling stupid.

“Name for the order?” He asked, and you owlishly blinked at him. “I can get it all rung up so you can just come back and grab it.”

You gave him your mom’s name, followed by a quiet, “Thank you!”

He just shook his head, pushing back through the double doors into the cooler.

You scrambled away from the counter, nearly missing a cart as you ducked back into the aisle, pulling your list from your pocket.

You could just leave the store. You could just grab the ham and go.

Nevertheless, you persisted, grabbing the random things your mom sent you to the store for, including apple cider.

It was a nagging itch in the back of your mind that he was still there. You ignored it, keeping your eyes glued to the ground.

He hadn’t seen you, so why worry? It’s not as though he was going to recognize you anyway. You had gotten your hair cut, sporting a wavy bob instead of your normal, long hair. You held yourself taller than you used to. You had grown into yourself, a confident feeling that was quickly diminishing the longer you spent in that stupid supermarket.

Once you had gotten everything, you started on your way back to the butcher, hoping you could just ring the bell, grab the ham, and hightail it out of there.

You ducked down a busy aisle, clipping shoulders with a woman, who loudly scoffed. You looked up from your sneakers, apologizing to her briefly before continuing down while watching where you were going.

You felt as though your heart stopped, your feet stopping as his brown eyes cut across the aisles to yours. He perked up, sending you a small, lopsided smile and a wave.

You looked around, hoping he had seen someone else. You looked back to find him still staring, now making his way through the crowded store to see you.

This is exactly why you wanted to stay home.

“God, are you a sight for sore eyes,” Steve said when he finally stood almost toe to toe with you, his smile growing. “You cut your hair!”

“Bout a month ago,” you said, staring at him, taking in as much of him as you could.

He hadn’t changed much. His hair was shorter up top and longer near the bottom, and he was in a blue athletic sweater, wearing jeans and sneakers. If you wanted to be presumptuous, you’d almost say that you matched.

He even smelled the same: citrusy, green, and soapy.

“It looks nice,” he said, shifting his basket to his other arm. “How’s school, Ms. University?” You furrowed your eyebrows, knowing you hadn’t told him where you were going. “I talked to your mom,” he said, sensing your confusion. “Said you’re studying history?”

“Right,” you said, mentally cursing her. “Yeah, history. It’s fine.”

Of course she still talked to Steve. She loved Steve almost as much as you did.

“Well…” He trailed off, pushing a hand through his hair before shifting his basket back to the original arm. He stood a little straighter, almost as if he had come to some sort of quiet conclusion. “How long are you in town for?”

The dreaded question sent your heart to your stomach, and you didn’t really know why. You swallowed the pit, clearing your throat.

“Just until the day after Christmas,” you said, blurting out, “But I don’t go back to school until the fourth,” before you could stop yourself. The tips of your ears burned.

“If you wanted to stick around Hawkins, I’m having a little New Years Eve party at my house,” he said, his eyebrows raised hopefully.

“I don’t know-”

“Everyone misses you,” he added quickly, causing the pit in your stomach to grow bigger.

You searched his face, trying to find the hint he was lying. You sighed, finding him genuine. “We’ll see,” was all that you could give him.

He nodded, the hopefulness leaving his eyebrows as absentmindedly checking his watch. “I gotta run,” he said, smiling tightly at you before squeezing your bicep. “It was really nice seeing you.”

You met his smile with the realest looking smile you could muster. “You too.”

He let go, taking a few steps away. “Think about the party, okay?”

With your eyes on his, you nodded. He took that as permission to leave, a small skip in his step as he left you in the aisle to think about why your heart was beating so fast.