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#harry: i can take them off if you'd rather ;)
bizarreandjarring · 1 year
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just an old hick goin' fishin
plus kim "i am winning at fishing. something which is both normal to want and possible to acheive" kitsuragi
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ref
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lilahisntsadanymore · 3 months
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Blood status seems to become less important when you acknowledge the actual feeling of love. What will Theo do when Y/n comes to the terms with the differences between them being impossible to ignore?
Pairing: Theo Nott x granger!reader
Words count: 1.9k
Author's note: My apologies for keeping you waiting so long, but I finally got some time off at uni!! Wishing you all a good year!!
Kind of a 2nd part of this fic, but you can read it without the previous one
≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪
Keep you safe
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One evening, Theo was waiting in the library. Waiting for a person he never expected to talk to. Y/n Granger. He found himself feeling a bit nervous, even though there was no reason.
Thinking about Y/n made him feel something. A feeling he never felt before. Slughorn said it's love, the muggle kind of love, the purest form, not induced by anything supernatural.
Theo decided to read about it. Hoping to find some book about it, he asked the librarian. She gave him a book specifically about love potions and spells. One of the first chapters was just what Theo was looking for.
"How to tell the difference between love and infatuation caused by magic." He whispered the first sentence to himself.
He started reading, his mind realizing what he got himself into as his gaze brushed over the text. Well, technically it wasn't his own fault and apparently also not the girl's fault.
But there must've been a reason. If love was a part of biology, brain chemistry, there had to be some logical factor.
"What are you reading?"
When Theo heard Y/n's voice right next to him, he immediately closed the book, causing it to make a loud sound.
"You took such a long time I got bored." He replied.
"Don't be so shy," the girl shifted her eyes to the title of the book, "oh, love potions and spells? But we're doing something completely different."
"Really? I couldn't care less, forgot what we were supposed to do." Surely one thing he'd love to do was making out with her on that table.
Y/n put her homework on the table.
"Read it and tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing is wrong, I just-"
"What's wrong with my text, Nott. I didn't ask how you were doing."
"Right."
Theo took the papers and started reading. The text was written with the most beautiful handwriting he's ever seen. So elegant, so precise.
"How long did it take you to write?" He asked.
"One evening. It was easier than you'd think."
"I think it's extremely easy." He bragged. "Anyway, is that all? Or do you wanna add something?"
"Well, Slughorn thought it's necessary for you to help me. Is there anything you think should be added?"
"Uh, no, it looks fine," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
"Fine? Theodore Nott, the perfectionist Slytherin, settles for 'fine'? I expected more from you."
"Look, it's not my homework, it's yours. I don't know why I agreed to help you, but it was pointless."
"You got yourself into this, could've said no."
"What the fuck am I even doing?" Theo asked rather himself than the girl. "I don't need to be helping a mudblood, who cares what grade you'll get." With these words, he stood up.
"Because-" Y/n stuttered. "Because... I've heard your conversation with Slughorn. And you said... that you liked me."
"Me? Liking you?" He snorted with laughter. "What the hell, Granger?"
Tears formed in Y/n's eyes as she watched Theo walk away. Sure, he was mean to her before, this wasn't the first time. But this time was somehow different.
Y/n could swear she heard Theo confessing to Slughorn that he's actually in love with her. It's not possible her brain played tricks on her. Plus Hermione said Theo told her about his feelings for Y/n.
≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪
Harry walked onto the astronomy tower. Y/n was supposed to be back a long time ago. Ron and Hermione also wanted to go there, but Harry asked to let him go alone.
Harry knew where Y/n was thanks to the Map. He felt such relief not seeing Nott's name next to hers. She was standing alone, leaning on the banister. There was something in her hand, Harry couldn't see well in the dark, but from the smell he realized it was a cigarette.
"I didn't know you smoke." He spoke.
Y/n expected this to happen, she was aware of Harry's feelings towards her. She took one last drag from her cigarette then dropped it on the ground, put it out with her shoe and kicked off the tower.
"Why do you keep doing this?" Y/n asked, smoke leaving through her mouth. "I knew you're gonna look at your silly little map to see where I am."
"We were starting to get worried. Theo is... you know, dangerous. We got scared he would hurt you."
And he did. Theo did hurt Y/n, just not physically.
"Hermione should be here instead. But, let me guess, you told her you'll check up on me."
"Maybe," Harry admitted finally, "do you know why? Because I actually care about you. I've had feelings for you for years. I deserve you, not Nott. I deserve you, because-"
"Because you're the chosen one?" She mocked and paused. "Look, Harry, I like you as a friend. I've never felt anything more than this. I can't change how I see you and I won't pretend otherwise."
He nodded, acceptance settling in. "I get it. I just... I thought if I cared enough, it would make a difference."
"Caring is important, Harry, but it doesn't always lead to the feelings we hope for."
"Whoever you date, just don't date Nott, please."
"I promise I won't. Not after today, I'm over him."
"Care to share what happened?"
"I'll tell you, Hermione and Ron in the common room. Let's go, I've been here too long."
≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪
Y/n didn't even know how wrong she was that night on the astronomy tower, but she forgot about it. Weeks went by, Christmas had passed, everyone were back from the break. Classes started again and Y/n found herself hoping to catch a glimpse of Theo.
They kept exchanging glances on the corridors, accidentally bumping into each other in the crowds. Y/n wanted to believe Theo liked her, but even if he did, they could never work.
"Y/n, listen to me," he said, catching her when she was alone in the library one time. "I know how things have been between us, but during the break I... I realized I don't wanna keep being enemies."
"Theo, you know it could never work. You said what you said and maybe it's better to leave it this way."
"I contemplated a lot," it was true, he spent the break mostly in his room, drowning in thoughts. About her, about them, coming to terms with what he was feeling. "I decided to accept my feelings."
"That's great for you, but we could never work. I've always 'fancied' you, I guess, despite what you were doing, ironically, but the time we worked on my project together, I accepted we could never work."
"And why's that?"
Y/n took a deep breath, wondering if he was stupid or just pretending. Maybe it was a bet he had with someone. Maybe Draco dared him to do this.
"You don't see how different we are? What do you expect is gonna happen? Would you introduce me to your father? Wouldn't you care that I'd get you disowned?"
Theo looked at her, Y/n could see sadness in his eyes. She realized her words made him realize the differences between them, because he walked away. Theo walked away without a word.
Y/n pierced her own heart with an invisible knife. She was really hoping they could work, but it just wasn't possible in this universe. Maybe there was a universe where none of this purity bullshit didn't exist. Y/n wished she would've been born there.
Y/n couldn't predict what Theo was going to do. She thought her words made him give up on her. It was for the best, of course, she should've focused on her studies firstly, and then on a realistic relationship.
It was a Friday. Y/n was sitting next to Ginny by the Gryffindor table. It was dinner time, all the students gathered in the Great Hall. All the students besides one Slytherin, the one that Y/n hoped to see. Maybe it was weird, but she enjoyed the sad looks they'd pass to each other.
"Hey, Y/n, are you listening?" Hermione asked from across the table.
"Sure," Y/n quickly shifted her eyes to her sister. "You were talking about Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"You've got divided attention. Stop looking at the Slytherin table."
"Ugh," Ginny groaned, "were you doing this again? Merlin, you stare at this Slytherin git 90% of the time."
"Well, he isn't here today. I wonder where he could be. Everyone else is here."
"There he is," Ron pointed out, rolling his eyes.
The golden trio and two younger Gryffindors looked at the doors' direction. Theo had just walked into the Great Hall, but surprisingly he didn't walk towards his table. He walked towards Y/n.
"Y/n," he spoke, catching everyone's attention. People were reading to witness another argument. "I can't help this, I love you."
Shocked noises came from all the tables, but Slytherins kept whispering between each other also when Theo continued talking.
"I don't care what anyone says, anyone thinks. Love is not meant to be controlled, it kills me to fight it."
Y/n stood up from the table, ready to leave the room.
"Theo, stop," she begged, "you're embarrassing us both. Your friends will-"
"I don't care what they do. If they don't accept it, they're not my friends. If anyone wants to fight me for having feelings for a muggleborn, I can fight, I've never lost a duel."
The whole Great Hall fell silent, even the teachers didn't try to intervene, when they saw Theo pulling out a small, black velvet box.
"I want you to wear this ring," he opened the box, "as my promise to always protect you from whoever tries to harm you or our relationship."
"It's beautiful, but..." Y/n was speechless by the sight of the ring. It was silver with two gemstones forming a subtle heart - half emerald and half ruby.
"It was custom made and if you accept it, I'll once get you a matching engagement ring. Also, there are thorns which will hurt you when you try taking it off. I want you forever, Y/n Granger."
The ring in the black velvet box sparkled under the enchanted ceiling. The Great Hall remained in silence as Theo poured his heart out, confessing his love. The unexpected turn of events had everyone on edge.
Slytherins exchanged intrigued glances, Gryffindors shared confused looks and even the teachers seemed to not know how to react. Y/n could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on her, and for a moment, she considered the potential consequences of accepting Theo's proposal.
"Theo," she began, her voice breaking, "it's not that simple."
"I know it is. But I can't keep hiding my feelings, Y/n. I've tried, and it's tearing me apart. I'll protect you from whatever comes our way."
Y/n looked at the ring, then back at him. "I believe in second chances. And I appreciate your sincerity. I accept the ring, Theo."
Theo carefully took the ring from the box and gently slid it onto Y/n's finger. The Great Hall burst with cheering and applause, only the Slytherin table didn't seem so enthusiastic about this.
Theo placed his hands on Y/n's waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn't hesitate to kiss him back, her hands sinking in his dense her yet the ring on her finger still visible, reflecting the light from the ceiling.
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patrophthia · 10 months
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take you to the basics | theodore nott
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pairing: theodore nott × hufflepuff!reader
genre: fluff, (kinda) established relationships, theo is whipped, even more fluff, everyone are friends, everyone is an idiot, self indulgent, 7th year (after war), theres ginny here too, not beta read, awkward theo bc it’s cute, theo is basically just tall, and not buff ver of jeon wonwoo from svt
word count: 3.9k
is a sequel to love is sour grapes but can be read as a one shot as well!
With as much care as he could muster in his tone, he asks. "Will you give me the honour in courting you?" And then, as if he was realising he's supposed to take things slow -even though his intention was, and will always be, courting me- he corrects himself. "Will you give me the honour of being my girlfriend?"
What a way with words he has. I'd like to think it has something to do with the romance books he'd been reading just so he could have something to talk to me about all these months.
"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I counter after a beat.
Theodore stayed quiet for the briefest second before: "yes."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"You're my boyfriend."
"Oh." There's a second of silence where neither of us spoke before my face breaks out into a smile, one that he doesn't bother to hold himself back from reciprocating it. "Okay."
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Why was life so complicated? Okay, maybe not so much life —why was dating Theodore so complicated? That is if the two of us were even a thing. It was okay at first, now it's just plain out exhausting.
I like him and he knows it. And he likes me, and I know it. So why was things so complicated? We've kissed before, multiple times actually. We've gone on dates where we spent a majority of the time talking about the books we read —although it's more like me talking and him listening with that stone cold face of his, but that was just who he was and I would never change it about him.
What I do want to change though is whatever is going on between us. I've already embarrassed myself in front of him once and I would rather die than do it again. So what should I do in this situation? Talk to my friends apparently.
"I don't get it," says Hermione with a frustrated tone. "You both like each other and he acts like your boyfriend." I nod slowly and she continues. "But he isn't actually your boyfriend."
I nod again. "Yup."
"He didn't ask?" Ginny asks, now having joined our little friend group. Ron and Harry listen reluctantly, not enjoying the girl talk all too much.
"You have to ask?" Ron asks suddenly, obviously clueless. And when Hermione, and Ginny shoot him a look. He turns to his plate, mumbling. "I thought you'd be boyfriends and girlfriends after the third date."
"That's normally how it goes," I said. "After the third date the two of you are technically a thing but it isn't official until one or the other asks to make it official."
"Why don't you ask him?" Harry says suddenly, immediately regretting it when all our attention was fixed on him. "I mean maybe, he —like Ron and I— don't know about these things so he just assumes—"
"That's not excusable," Hermione cuts him off. "He's friends with a girl, Parkinson, so I'm sure she's filled him on this stuff."
"But what if she didn't?" I ask. Okay maybe I had a soft spot for Theo and is trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. And in my defence, I liked him, like a lot, and when you fancy someone, like really fancy them, the red flags tend to look like a dark shade of pink and I'd like to think that pink was a pretty colour.
Plus —and this isn't just an excuse, if I really thought about it, I don't think I've ever seen Theodore go out with anyone before he went out with me. So if he was a rookie at this dating thing, maybe I should be the one leading this relationship.
"Okay then go ask him," Hermione says pettily, she wants me to be happy, she really does, but she can't find it in herself to support me dating someone who can't make it clear what his intentions with me were. "Ask him 'what are we?' Or 'why did you tell me to not smile at other people?' I can't let you be with someone who doesn't know their place with you."
"And what makes you think he doesn't," Ron chimes in between a bite of his snack, when did he get one, I didn't seem to notice.
"You see her?" Hermione asks, she then says my name in the same questioning tone. "She wouldn't be talking to us about this if he did."
"Wait, aren't you supposed to be on a date with him right now?" Ginny says suddenly. "Why are you here?"
"He had last minute plans with Malfoy," I say, and I know, even without looking at her, that Hermione was disappointed with me. "And it wasn't a date."
"Yeah, just two people who fancy each other hanging out," Ron snickered, now being on Mione's side of disapproving of Theo.
"Did he tell you what he was doing with Malfoy?" Harry asks, curious as to what the Slytherins might be up to.
"I don't know," I told him. "I'm already stressing about this whole situation with him that I just accepted and went to find you four. I think I'm just going to take off my makeup, spend the day with you, then try to sleep good tonight."
I then added. "Unless you had plans that didn't include me in it?"
The four shook their heads. "We were just going to go watch Harry and Ginny practice." Hermione says.
"Great," I mumbled, standing up. "I'll come with."
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"Wait," Ginny calls out, and I pause in my step, turning to where her voice came from. "I'll be quick."
She points at her shoe and it's then that I notice that it's been untied. Ron, Hermione, and Harry, who seemed to have not heard her, continued their way towards the quidditch pitch. I waited by her side, offering her a hand when she had to get back up.
"You know," she says lowly, "I heard that you're the only person Nott didn't reject, apparently he's pretty popular with the girls."
I shook my head. "That's not true," I say with a slight frown. "When I first asked him out, he just stared at me."
"Which technically isn't a rejection," Ginny smiles sweetly. "More like you rendering him speechless."
That was exactly what Theo told me after my first date with him. "I guess."
"Bloody hell, will you two please speed it up?" Ron shouts at the front of the quidditch pitch, only now realising that we're far behind them.
I felt half the urge to walk even slower, and from the small grin Ginny wore from the corner of my eyes, I'm pretty sure she was thinking the same thing. But Harry and Hermione were also waiting with him, and it was only a matter of time before they started bickering about it as well. So we sped up with our steps.
But just before we reach the pitch, Ginny stops me, yelling for them to go ahead without us. "You want to know a secret?" she asks, I nod. "Since I was Harry's first real girlfriend I had to be the one to ask him to be my boyfriend."
"Are you saying I should be the one to ask?" I murmur. I don't think I would mind doing so, but there was something more romantic about having your date ask you to be your boyfriend.
"No," she says kindly. "Just saying you should nudge him in the right direction."
"So guide him?"
"Yep."
Okay. That is surely something I can do. Now, for me to draw up a plan on how to do it. If I've managed to help take down a dark wizard then surely I can get Theo to ask me to be his girlfriend.
Both Ginny and I step into the quidditch pitch. Slightly taken aback to see more than six players in the field (with Ginny being the missing member), it didn't take us long to register why though.
Neither did it take me long to notice Theo, standing right behind Malfoy as he bickered with Harry. What was happening? And did Theo really ditch our (not) date just to watch his friend's quidditch practice?
"Badger," Blaise says suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to Ginny and I by the entrance. "I see you look pretty as always."
Theodore doesn't even bother to subtly smack his friend in the back of his head. It doesn't affect Blaise though, only finding it amusing to witness.
"What's going on?" Ginny asks.
"We booked this pitch," Malfoy says before Harry could get a word in. "And now you're trying to take it from us."
"No, we booked the pitch." Harry says sternly. "You're the one trying to take it away from us."
Despite Gryffindor and Slytherin (somewhat) friendship after the war ended —and the fact that our friend groups were now mixed because of whatever Theodore and I have going on. They were still competitive people. And they want more than anything to win this year's cup.
"I have an idea," I say, quite honestly done with their stupid rivalry. "How about you practise together?" I say off-handedly, knowing full well that they'd agree to come for my throat. "Just an idea."
"And have they found out about our strategies?" Malfoy scoffs. "I thought you were smarter than this."
Considering that I did better in classes then him, and that Ron agreed with his words. I technically am smarter than him. "Well if you're so sure about your strategies working then it wouldn't hurt if you gave up the pitch for just one practice right?"
Draco was on the brink of agreeing when it hit him, blinking at me. "Oh you're good," he murmurs. "Fine, have the pitch for all I care."
I was more than sure that he was only giving it for my benefits. Sure that if it had been someone else who had said it, he'd only double down and insist that he'd reserved the pitch (he didn't, not a single Slytherin booked the pitch for today). But it seemed as though he had a soft spot for me.
The theory of Slytherins having soft spots for Hufflepuffs gets proven right once more. And I'm more than glad to know that I was the beneficiary of this theory.
Blaise was the first to leave, waving at me as he went as the other Slytherins followed after him, the players grumbling under their breath with their brooms in hand. Theo was the last to leave, lingering just so he could pull me to the side.
A hand on my left arm leads me to a quieter corner of the pitch, just below the benches as the players start to get ready for practice. I don't look him in the eye when I ask him, "what?"
The hostility in my tone wasn't missed by Theo and if I didn't know him the way I did, I would've missed the flash of hurt in his eyes. "What do you want, Nott?"
And Theodore feels as if I was stomping on his heart. He hasn't been called Nott since the two of us started going out. "Are you mad at me?"
My brows furrow. "What do you think?"
"Did I do something wrong?" He follows up, his tone doesn't show it —neither does his face, but he was worried, scared, and quite honestly pissed with himself. "Is it because I cancelled on you? Doll, you said you were okay with it."
"No," I shook my head. Confrontation wasn't something I was fond of, nor was I good at it. So I'll settle with just being upset for now. "I'm not mad at you."
Theodore blinks, seemingly getting whiplash from my words. First I ask him what he thinks, in a —if he wasn't wrong— passive aggressive tone, and now I'm telling him that I'm not mad at him? What.
But he decides to take my words as is, trusting that I'd tell him how I feel despite him not telling me that he honestly feels like he'd fucked him over; ruining his only chance at love —oh, and that he doesn't even know what he did. "I'll see you at dinner?"
"No," I say with a slight shake of my head. "I think I'll have dinner with my friends tonight." Theodore fails to mention that Blaise, Draco, and Pansy were also my friends by now. "Next time?"
Theo nods, agreeing. "Next time."
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It has been three weeks and 'next time' has yet to come. He's starting to realise it now: realising that I was actually mad at him when I said I wasn't and it'd be a lie if he said it didn't hurt him. He has somehow made me mad and he wishes more than anything that he was dead —because, quite honestly, he can't stand living if I was mad at him.
He needs to recruit help, he decided. And who better to help him with relationship problems than his friends (who he thinks has more experience with relationships than he does) and my friend (whom he knows has more experience in relationships then he does —take Granger and Weasley for example, the two have been together since fourth year).
"So you think she's mad at you and you don't know why?" Weasley comes to the conclusion after Blaise, who he'd already told the whole story to, summed it up for them. "You seriously don't?"
Theodore nods slowly, there was a slight shift in his stone cold expression, barely catchable by the eye but it was there. And it was that slight shift that reassured Hermione that Theo did actually have good intentions when it came to her friend; he was just clueless on what to do.
"She's upset with you because you said you were busy and left her to watch your friends practice," Ginny offers, it was clear that she was also mad on my behalf.
"That's it?" Malfoy mumbles questioningly. "Something as mundane as that is what we're meeting here for?"
"It might be mundane to you but it's not mundane to her," Harry jumps to my defence. "She's not you, Malfoy."
"Okay, so she's mad at Theo because he ditched her for us?" Blaise asks, trying to get them back on track.
"Don't say it like that," Ginny scoffs. "Phrasing it that way makes her seem selfish, which she's not. She just wants to know where she is with Theo and for him to at least try to prioritise her."
"I do prioritise her," Theo says dumbfounded-ly. He really did, he's spent the last however many months of his life reading cheesy books just to annotate them in hopes that I'd love them, he'd even picked up on cooking just so when (or really, if) we ended live together I'd always have a nice home cooked meal waiting for me. "She said she was okay with it."
"She said she was okay with it thinking that it was something important," Pansy explains, understanding exactly how I feel. She's been placed in the same position before, by no one other than Draco himself. "Thinking that Blaise had a heart attack or something, not a stupid quidditch practice."
"Careful," Draco warns. "You were also at the practice."
Pansy rolls her eyes. "Bite me."
"What do I do then?" Theo asks after a while, picking the topic back up.
And the Gryffindor's try their best to remain normal, never —in the last seven years they'd spent studying in the same castle as him— had they heard him spoken for such a long period of time.
"Well let's take you to the basics," Hermione says. "Where are the two of you right now? In terms of relationship that is."
"We're dating?" He answers slowly.
"No you're not," Ron says loudly. "You haven't asked to be her boyfriend yet."
Draco, clearly befuddled, says. "You have to ask?"
Pansy nods. "Of course," she says. "I thought you knew?" And then, after a beat, she adds. "Maybe that's why we didn't work out."
Draco rolls his eyes, mumbling something along the line of his fathers as he does so. "So what should he do then?"
"Apologise for what he did then make it clear what the two of you are." Harry explains, he's done this before, he did it when he first went out with Ginny —so really, he's speaking from experience. "From then on you take things slow so you can work out the kinks of your relationships.
Okay, he thinks he gets it. He has to apologise, make things clear, then take things slow. Surely he can do it.
Now for him to actually do it.
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STEP ONE: apologise
Which is, more often than not, easier said than done.  Theodore has half the heart to buy something nice in order of winning me over but he knew me better. And he knew that I wasn't with him for his money. So he ought to do better. And he thinks he knows how to do it.
To apologise he should do something heartfelt, which was why he'd found himself learning to plant my favourite flower. He'd rather die than apologise to the one person he cherished more than anything empty handed.
He sees the few cuts on his hand from his attempt at gardening and he hopes that I don't notice it. He doesn't want me to notice his imperfections when I was (to him) perfect in every sense. He likes me every time he sees me, I was exactly his type and he hopes I know it.
He doesn't want to mess this up. He doesn't want to mess us up. And he's really trying his best not to.
With our shoes almost touching, Theo stood tall from my seat on Hogwarts many benches with a planted pot in hand. "I'm sorry," he says first and I mask my surprise at his words. "I won't do it again."
He doesn't bother beating around the bush, with a gift in hand, safe to say I'm impressed. If not a little bit amused by how frustrated he looks.
"Why?" I ask, a hand reaching for the plant and Theodore hesitatingly hands it over, his own fingers brushing against my own. "Why are you sorry?"
"Because I ditched you for—"
"Sweetheart, I told you that it was fine."
Theodore's pretty sure his brain is short circuiting. He's heard every variation of his name by now. All of which he can recall from the top of his head. Theodore, Theo, Nott, even Teddy from that ex-girlfriend he had back in kindergarten. But sweetheart is different.
And he thinks he likes it. He thinks he likes it when he's called sweetheart. He thinks he likes it because he likes me. And I was the one calling him sweetheart.
"But your friends—" he pauses, correcting himself "—our friends said that you were upset."
Relationships are built on communication, and I know that it was hard for Theodore to do so. So I won't make it harder for him and lay it all out. "I was upset, yes. But I also said that it was okay for you to spend time with your friends."
And after a second, I added. "And it's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything."
Theodore frowns, taking a seat on the bench besides me.
STEP TWO: make things clear
His chest feels heavy at my words. He doesn't like knowing that I think I wasn't his girlfriend. Because, if I really wasn't, was it normal for him to like me as much as he did?
He has to say something.
"But you are, aren't you?" He asks, brows furrowed.
His heart is leaning, waiting and waiting for an answer. His eyes flutters shut, and he doesn't know it. Wishing and wishing that I would say something.
"Theo." My voice comes out softer than I intended for it to be. "Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"
His heart is speeding up. And he thinks that there should be a guide book on how to be in a relationship with pretty girls. But he guesses that he's being guided by one right now.
THE BASICS ON HOW TO DATE PRETTY GIRLS (FOR ROOKIES) by Theodore's and I friends.
His words get caught in his throat. Isn't it so incredibly obvious? He wants to say. Isn't it so incredibly obvious that I've bewitched him? He doesn't say it, but he does nod. And he hopes his nod conveys just how much he wants to be mine.
"Okay," I said first. "I'll be your girlfriend." But of course, things can't always be that easy. "If you ask me properly."
STEP THREE: take things slow
He blinks at me slowly. As if he's only just learning how to properly function; a shift in his eyes caught my attention though, knowing that he's finally processing my words.
He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows that I like him just as much as he likes me but he's nervous about it all. Forgive him for being new to this dating thing.
With as much care as he could muster in his tone, he asks. "Will you give me the honour in courting you?" And then, as if he was realising he's supposed to take things slow —even though his intention was, and will always be, courting me— he corrects himself. "Will you give me the honour of being my girlfriend?"
What a way with words he has. I'd like to think it has something to do with the romance books he'd been reading just so he could have something to talk to me about all these months.
"Do you want to be my boyfriend?" I counter after a beat.
Theodore stayed quiet for the briefest second before: "yes."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"You're my boyfriend."
"Oh." There's a second of silence where neither of us spoke before my face breaks out into a smile, one that he doesn't bother to hold himself back from reciprocating it. "Okay."
"Okay." I nod. "So what should we do first boyfriend?"
Theodore mulls everything over before he turns to me, his hair falling into his eyes. "What do you want to do girlfriend?"
I can't tell whether his hand reaches for mine, or mine his, but I knew that our hands found one another. "Go on a Date."
Theodore lifts our intertwined hand up, placing a careful kiss on my hand as he nods. "Let's go on a date."
STEP FOUR (UNOFFICIAL): kiss, go on dates, be happy!
note: if this guide works, please take the authors (Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron and Ginny weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy) out to dinner, all expenses paid by guide user (Theodore Nott).
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— from bee: i lost the initial draft for this which was a lot longer and had to restart all over 😵‍💫😵‍💫 this wasn’t what i had planned for it to be like but it’s cute and im happy with it anyways!!
some other songs i used for inspo for this fic:
say something - twice
rookie - red velvet
+ bonus scene: The table goes silent as Theodore picks up the check, waiting with bated breath on how much it came out to be.
And despite knowing that all the Slytherins + Harry would be able to handle the bill without making a dent in their vault, they're still all anxious to know the price.
Theodore pulls out his card, sleek, black, and hands it over to the waiter. Once the waiter left, he turns to us. "I'll buy you dessert if you can guess it."
The group starts blurting out numbers, startling the other customers but they couldn't seem to care less. Beneath the table, with his finger tracing the skin of my thigh. Theodore writes the price, and inching a bit lower, he adds; "make me proud, sweetheart."
Safe to say the group wasn't all too happy to know that I was the only one who not only guessed right, but was right number by number. Draco would later on whine about this, something along the lines of: "Girlfriend privileges."
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avatar-anna · 23 days
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i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((
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this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!
Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader
"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"
You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.
The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.
His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.
"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."
His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.
"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"
Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."
"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"
"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."
"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"
You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.
A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.
"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"
"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"
Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"
He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.
"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.
"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."
"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."
"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.
You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.
Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.
Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.
"I'll get you some more blankets."
Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.
You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.
Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.
Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.
"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."
"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.
"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.
Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.
Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.
You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.
The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.
That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.
Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.
"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.
"What is?" you asked.
"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."
You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.
"You were shivering."
"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."
"That's good. Your fever probably broke."
"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."
Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.
"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.
"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."
Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.
You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.
"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.
Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."
You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."
"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"
"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.
"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."
"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."
Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.
"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."
Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."
"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."
"I'm so glad," you mumbled.
Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.
"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.
Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Hey. I said almost."
You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"
"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.
"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.
Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"
"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.
"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."
"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.
"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.
Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.
When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."
"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.
Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.
It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.
You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.
You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.
It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.
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ghouljams · 7 months
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I DONT KNOW WHY, but bewitched by laufey awfully reminds me of knight ghost with princess reader
except the song would be ghost's pov
abso-fucking-lutely you're right on all of that. Here's the bewitching:
If you'd told Ghost that he'd be called on to be the crown princess's personal guard, he would've laughed. He would've told you he was hardly interested in such an "honor" and that he's sure her most royal brattiness must have better prospects to scare off. Surely you must have been such a petty handful that the other knights offered the position had declined, leaving him next in the long line.
Although, it was flattering to hear he was even in consideration. He'd sure worked his ass off to be the best of the best. Making something out of nothing but a failing title thanks to his father's- Well, the man was a better father 6ft underground than he'd ever been in life, and that's all he really needed to say on it. Ghost didn't think much of the summons. He couldn't ignore it, of course, but that didn't mean he had to take it seriously. He could run a little late.
Ghost's pace is slow as he walks through the castle. Admiring the architecture, he told his escort, who looked far less than pleased with that answer. He did his best to stall, hopefully the princess would be fuming by the time he arrived and he could be dismissed easily. No muss, no fuss.
Uneven footsteps race down the hall behind him as he and his escort turn the corner. He pays it no mind, likely a maid, no reason to pay them mind. Until they slam into his back and bounce off. He turns, wide eyed, in time to see you fall on the floor, landing hard on your ass with a pained expression. It doesn't fit such a pretty face. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and Ghost has to shake himself out of staring at you. His escort has already scurried ahead to see about buying him some time.
"You alright?" Ghost asks, helping you to your feet. You wobble a little, he keeps hold of your hand to keep you steady. "You broken?" He tries, brow furrowing at your changing height as you shift on your feet. He doesn't know you, he certainly wouldn't be here if he did.
"No," You lift your foot, and Ghost glances down, one of your feet already in just a sock, "but, I'm afraid I'm running terribly late." You tell him, glancing behind you and pushing your hair out of your face as you unlace your remaining shoe.
"Maybe I can help you, where-" Ghost watches as you tug your shoe off and shove it against chest.
"Hold that please," He blinks, and takes the heel from you, judging by your clothes you must be of high status. He's never seen a lady running around barefoot before. "Now if you'll excuse me, Sir Knight, I really am in a rush, and I have a baron hot on my tail attempting to hold me hostage another hour still."
Another glance behind you, one Ghost leans to check for as well. You must be quick to have outrun a man he can't even see the sweat of. He wonders if you lost your other shoe somewhere along the way or if you, perhaps, threw it at the baron to buy yourself some time. That look in your eyes is wickedly clever when it meets his again. You nod to him once and slip around him to take off running again.
"Wait, I'm-" Ghost stops, and sighs watching you slide around another corner. "The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" He grumbles to himself, tossing your shoe to his other hand as he walks. He'll pass it off to his escort once he meets up with him again. He's pretty sure he went the same way you did.
The escort looks rather harried when he spots him in front of the reception chamber's doors. Big fancy things that have guards waiting to open them on either side. His escort enters to tell the King and Queen that the newest guard candidate has arrived. Ghost tries not to eavesdrop.
"I haven't needed an escort since I was a little girl I'm-"
"A flight risk," The Queen says firmly
"I'd hardly call running from a daft old man a flight risk," The King grumbles. Ghost chuckles a little to himself. His escort slips back out of the throne room to tell him they're not quite ready for him. Which seems strange considering how much time they've had to prepare.
A maid exits one of the nearby rooms with a pair of slippers and something clicks in Ghost's head. Despite his escort's best attempts at stopping him, Ghost enters the throne room with the maid, and watches your sweet face fall as silence covers the royal family. The maid too, it seems, doesn't know what to do.
"Sir Simon Riley," Ghost announces himself, "I was called about being her highness's personal guard."
"It seems you've already run into each other," The Queen's lips purse, eyes on the heeled shoe in Ghost's hands. He offers the offending shoe to the maid, and takes the slippers.
"This is really-" You whisper to him, Ghost hums, slips the silk slipper onto your foot. You swallow, try again, "I'm sorry to have troubled you, I can't imagine how you must think of me."
"Briefly," He tells her. You're still standing at the bottom of the steps to the throne; apparently having had time only to argue with your parents, not take your seat, in the time between bumping into him and getting here.
"Sir Riley," you start.
"Ghost," he corrects you, "if I'm going to be your guard, I'd like you to call me Ghost."
"Ghost," you start again, not even a hint of annoyance in your voice. Actually, you sound a little embarrassed. It's cute. He likes how easily you give in to him. "I'm sure you'd find this position terribly boring, and a waste of your many talents."
Ghost drops to one knee, and pats his thigh, you quickly raise your foot to settle on him.
"I mean, I'm really not the flight risk my mother thinks I am, and I hardly think you want to accompany me on diplomatic excursions-" he holds your ankle to slip the new house shoe on "-or trips into town. Wouldn't you rather be off, I don't know, fighting marauders and dragons?"
"What do you think knights do, princess?" He smiles, setting your foot on the floor and prompting you for the other one. "It's my privilege to serve you, one I'm enjoying so far."
You feel heat brust over your cheeks, finally taking in the man in front of you. This man is a trained combatant and yet here he is helping you put your shoes on. Christ, you'd literally run into him, and now he was. Why was he treating you so nicely, he should be laughing at the idea of serving you.
"No," He murmurs back, "You can't imagine what I think of you." He stands as you settle your foot back on the ground, and takes your hand, bowing his head to kiss the back of it. "But, rest assured those thoughts are good, my lady."
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Can you write something where y/n is insecure about having a bigger vagina. maybe its during sex or when she's drunk or really however you want to write it.
Drunk Insecurities /blurb/
AN: i've had this in my inbox for a while and found the motivation to finally write it. i hope you enjoy. i know i said my next fic was gonna be a smut but when i thought about how i'd write this, i didn't see smut appropriate for my vision. hope that's okay. remember our bodies come in all different shapes and sizes and they are all beautiful. and remember to leave you feedback : ) also the words are orange rather then yellow in my authors note because tumblr must have took the yellow color away. i can't find it. 😭
This story contains: talks of what vaginas look like, insecurities, being drunk, mentions of sex, fluff
{ husband!harry - softrry - any harry era - non famous harry }
word count- 1,022
As Harry tries to bathe you in the shower after a night at the bar with some friends, you have a drunk meltdown with the thought that he thinks negatively about how your vagina looks.
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You were currently drunk in the shower. Your husband Harry was in there with you, holding you upright and helping you wash off the smell of booze that lingered on your skin. You'd went out to a bar with a couple of your other married friends and now it was two in the morning and Harry's trying to help you get ready for bed. Key word, trying.
One thing to know about a drunk Y/n was that you get very emotional. You're an emotional drunk. Some people get silly when they're drunk. Some people get sleepy when they're drunk. Some people get sick when they're too drunk. But you, you'll burst into tears at every little inconvenience or negative intrusive thought.
Like right now, as Harry tries to wash over your body while also holding you upright, you burst into tears for the tenth time in a span of an hour. "Baby, you've gotta calm down f'me. Don't want you to make yourself sick from all the cryin' you're doin'. Then we'd have to shower you again."
"But, but," you begin though heaving breaths as you sob, "do you really like my beef curtains?" In your drunken state, you remembered a conversation you had in the bars bathroom with your friends Melony and Paige. Something about how Melony is insecure about having an "outie" vagina but she nicknamed it as her beef curtains. Then Paige saying she wished she had that problem because she's insecure with her innie. Oh the things girls talk about in bar bathrooms......
You kept quiet in the conversation because you didn't exactly want to share what your pussy looked like to your friends. But on the inside, you were just as insecure as Melony was. You know vaginas come in all shapes and sizes but what if your shape and size was unappealing to Harry. What if behind your back, he discussed how his wife had large beef curtains to his friends and they laughed. Your thoughts are totally irrational but your drunk brain can't help it.
Flabbergasted, Harry yells out, "WHAT!" Not in a mean way but in a shocked way. He's no idot. He knows what that can be slang for but he's not once looked at your vagina and thought, oh she has beef curtains. That sounds totally too offensive for Harry to ever think of saying to a women.
"Harry," you mutter annoyed, "my pussy!! Do you really like the way my pussy looks or have you been lying to me?" Now Harry knows your drunk, drunk. Sober you would never question his love for your pussy. Not with the way he treats it.
"My love, why are you askin me that right now? You know I love the way it looks, baby. I love the way all of you looks. All of your imperfections look." Harry responds as he takes the shower head in his right hand to rinse the suds off your body.
Crying again, you say, "Are you saying my pussy is imperfect?" Here we go again, Harry thinks. In your drunken state, you misunderstood his words and turned them into something he hadn't even meant.
Harry turns the water off and leads you out of the shower where he grabs a towel for each of you. He helps you sit on the closed toilet seat while he wraps his towel around his waist. Then begins to help dry you off. And as he dries you off, all Harry can think about is, are you really insecure about how your vagina looks? Or are you just super drunk.
Because in all the years of being with you, never once has he looked at your pussy and thought anything negative. To him it looks normal. Though he isn't blind with the fact pussies come in all shapes and forms, just like dicks do, but to him, your pussy is his normal. It's the only one he's had for nearly a decade and he almost forgot any other pussy even existed.
Coming out of his thoughts, Harry stands up from where he was kneeled down drying your legs, and coos gently, "Come on baby, lets go to the bedroom and get our clothes on so we can get in bed."
Now it's like you've completely forgot about your meltdown in the shower because you whine, "Can we sleep naked, pleaseee?" You don't always sleep naked. Most of the time you sleep in an oversized t-shirt and panties and Harry sleeps in just his briefs. But when you do sleep naked, it's usually after you've had sex and either you're too lazy to put clothes on or you want to feel close to one another after having sex.
So naturally, Harry's response is, "Fine, but no funny business. Your drunk, Y/n."
With no tears in sight anymore, you grin up at your tall husband and reply, "Hey, I know that. But, what about in the morning, hm?"
"If you're not puking in the toilet from how bad your hangover will be, I'll consider it, okay. But for now, lets go to sleep. I'm knackered." Harry helps you stand on wobbly legs from the toilet seat and helps you walk to the bedroom. Once in there, he peels back the duvet and sheets and carefully helps you crawl in the bed to get comfy.
Harry walks around to his side of the bed and slips his towel off before joining you in bed too. He turns the lamp off and slides over to your body so he can cuddle you. He's a big cuddler. Then before you both drift off to sleep, he whispers, "Wake me up if you need anythin', my love. Like if you feel sick or somethin'. I love you. Sleep well." Though he hopes the two glasses of water he made you drink before you got into the shower will help lesson the chances of you getting sick.
"Love you too, H." you manage to say before you're knocked out cold, loving the way his bare skin feels pressed against yours along with the alcohol in your system.
(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)
(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )
tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe14  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran
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______________
My Masterlist Masterpost
188 notes · View notes
alltoowelltom · 2 years
Text
Who'd You Rather
Tumblr media
tom holland x reader
summary: if there's one thing Ellen is known for, it's exposing secret relationships
a/n: this was written so quickly and not proof-read. also, i picked Ellen because if anyone would do this, it would be her lol
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July 2019
"So Y/N, are you currently dating anyone?" asks Ellen, taking a sip from her mug.
You shake your head.
"Not currently, no."
Ellen nods.
"Well, please don't worry anymore. We're going to help you find someone in a little game we like to call Who'd You Rather?"
"Oh God," you laugh, twisting slightly in your seat to glare at your manager for agreeing to this who laughed and poked her tongue out at you.
"So all you need to do is look at the photos I show you and pick between these two options, alright?"
"Okay, if you insist." you roll your eyes, facing the large screen.
"I do. So to start off, Timothee Chalamet or Dylan O'Brien?"
"Oh, wow," you laugh. "Starting off strong. Well, I was an absolute hoe for Maze Runner when it came out so I have to pick Dylan. Plus, I know Timothee better so it would be kinda awkward if I chose him."
The picture of Timothee fades away and is replaced by a new photo.
"Dylan O'Brien or Harry Styles?"
"Harry fucking Styles." you say without hesitation and the audience cheers. Ellen nods.
"Harry Styles or Florence Pugh?"
You bury your head in your hands.
"How could you ask me that, Ellen? That's like asking someone to pick between cookie dough and mint chip ice cream! Impossible."
Ellen mimes tapping at her watch and tuts at you.
"Time's ticking, Y/N. Make your choice."
You sigh.
"It's absolutely Florence then. Sorry, Harry."
"Florence pugh or Chris Evans?" Ellen asks.
"Flo."
Ellen's eyes gleam as she quickly reads the next pair of names, rubbing her hands together in a comically evil fashion.
"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?"
You slide down on your chair, laughing and covering your face with your hands.
"Ellen!" you shriek. "I've just come off my second movie co-starring with Tom and he's literally my best friend. You can't ask me this!"
Ellen grins.
"Florence Pugh or Tom Holland?" she repeats.
You pout at the camera.
"Flo, I am so sorry. Please still be my friend. I pick Tom."
The crowd roars in approval and you wave a hand at them, laughing.
"Shhhh, guys."
"Tom Holland or Jake Gyllenhaal?" asks Ellen.
"Tom Holland."
"Tom Holland or Hailee Steinfeld?"
"Tom Holland."
"Tom Holland or Niall Horan?"
You hesitate, biting your lip as Tom's frozen grin stares down at you from the photo.
"I…fuck. Tom?" you say, almost as a question.
"So it's Tom?" Ellen grins. "Speak now or forever hold your peace."
You nod, sitting up straight and crossing your legs.
"It's Tom."
Ellen stares straight into the camera as an assistant signals an upcoming ad break. She rests one hand on your shoulder as she addresses the audience.
"Tom Holland, you'd better act quickly. Y/N is currently sitting by her phone, waiting for your call. Don't mess this up."
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
April 2021
You relax into the plush cushion of the chair on Ellen's set once again. You are paying attention, sort of. You nod and laugh in all the right places, offering stories and jokes when needed but your mind is miles away. Ellen can pick up on this and she shifts in her seat.
"Y/N." she says, holding eye contact. "Can I have your phone please?"
Your eyes widen as you reach into the pocket of your oversized blazer, following her request and placing the unlocked device in Ellen's waiting hand.
"I wonder," she says out loud, "who we can get to answer your call?"
"Oh God," you laugh, covering your face. "If no one picks up I'll be so embarrassed."
"The Watermelon Man?" Ellen questions, reading off of the screen. "Shall we call the Watermelon Man, whoever that is?"
You cover your face, laughing.
"Jesus. If Harry Styles doesn't pick up I think I'll throw myself off a cliff."
The phone rings three times before a voice rings out from a noisy background.
"Y/N! How are you?" laughs Harry. "This is a surprise, I have to admit."
"Harry!" you call out, before he can say anything else. "Ellen's hijacked my phone and started ringing people, I'm so sorry."
"Oh, she has?" Harry asks mischievously. "I'll make sure not to mention anything about our upcoming collaboration then…" he trails off and you can practically hear him winking through the phone as he hangs up.
"That absolute fucker," you laugh, rolling your eyes at his spoiler as Ellen is already scrolling through your contacts list again.
"Oh!" she exclaims, eyes bright. "Y/N, I thought you told us you weren't dating anyone? May I ask who 'My Darling 💖' is?"
You freeze on the spot, mouth drying out as you blink at Ellen, desperately trying to jump start your brain into snatching the phone back. You glance over at your manager who is sat stock still, just as shocked as you are.
The phone rings five times and you breathe a sigh of relief. It's 3AM in London right now, he's not going to pick up.
Just as you've collected your heart off of the floor and smoothed your hair down, ready to make a self deprecating joke about this mystery person not picking up, there's a pause and the a collective gasp from the audience as the phone connects.
"Hello my love, is everything alright?" asks Tom in his groggy, raspy morning voice.
Ellen's jaw hits the floor so quickly you're shocked it doesn't fall off entirely.
tysm for reading! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3
✧・゚: ✧・゚:✧・゚: ✧・゚:
part 2
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pippytmi · 9 months
Note
spy!au + meet messy + you never saw me ? If not that's fine, I just thought it would be cool. :)
spy!au + meet messy + you never saw me 
“So on a scale of 1-10, how much do we hate the fiancée?”
A wry laugh escapes before Kara can even try to quell it, and she briefly removes the unlit cigarette from her mouth to muse, “You know, I've heard a saying that goes ‘never judge a book by its cover.’ Fascinating stuff, I might have to send it to you.”
“Ugh. Journalists—so idealistic.” But Nia is grinning as she snags the barstool at Kara's right. “Where is the elusive Lena Luthor anyway? Do we finally get to meet her?”
Kara shrugs. “Beats me,” she says. “Last I heard, she was running late.”
“Late to her own engagement party? Finally, someone I can get along with,” Nia says. Before Kara can even get a word in, Nia's attention is immediately stolen by the bartender coming over. “Hey M’gann, can I get an amaretto sour?”
“Sure thing,” M’gann says absentmindedly, her gaze otherwise zeroing in firmly on Kara. “Danvers, you better not smoke in my bar.”
“I won't,” Kara swears, raising both hands in a show of innocence, and M'gann rolls her eyes.
“Journalists,” she echoes Nia's earlier sentiment, but with an entirely exasperated deeper meaning. “I'm putting Nia's drink on your tab.”
“Well in that case…” Nia twists around, already waving her hand as if to beckon someone over. “Make it two, Kara's buying a drink for the bride to be. Alex! Don't—I know you can see me, come here.”
For as much as Alex stressed the importance of everyone showing up tonight, she doesn't seem very…well, happy. And while Alex is not typically one to gush, Kara had expected at least a smidgen of joy on her sister's face, not the harried expression she's currently sporting.
“What?” Alex asks, eyes them both suspiciously while fidgeting as if she’d rather be anywhere else.
“Um, hello to you too,” Nia says. “Clearly, you need this. Where's your soon-to-be better half?”
Alex accepts the drink when Nia presses it in her hand but frowns, however slight, at the question. “She's—on her way,” she says, pausing to take a sip from her glass before her gaze falls on her sister. “Oh, gross, Kara. Since when do you smoke?”
“I don’t!” Kara pouts, feeling like a broken record. “Can’t I be edgy and have a cigarette to look cool?”
“That’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Nia says, delighted, while Alex just groans.
“Come on, Kara, not tonight. Just be normal for once in your life,” Alex sighs, already distractedly glancing back to the front door like she is willing her fiancée to just walk through any second.
“You guys don’t understand the intricacies of being a method actor,” Kara argues, waving her cigarette in the air to make her point. (And also, because it is kind of awkward to keep it in her mouth without doing anything with it, not that she’ll admit that). But it’s clear she only has half the audience she had a second ago; Alex is half a world away the second her phone starts to ring.
“I’ll be back,” Alex says, handing off her glass to Nia who is more than happy to finish it.
Kara dejectedly puts the cigarette back in her mouth. “I just realized something.”
“What?”
“I don’t actually know how to smoke. What if someone expects me to, like, smoke with them?”
Nia presses a fingertip to her chin and  ponders the question seriously. “Either you're screwed, or they will just think you're a dork. The reaction will depend on the person, really.”
Kara's shoulders slump. “So I won't be cool?”
“Journalists generally aren't cool,” Nia unhelpfully offers. “But I'm sure you could make it work for you. You'd be like…one of those grizzly story-seeking sleuth journalists.”
Kara groans, thumping her forehead on the bartop. “That seems more like a private investigator thing,” she says. “Darn it. I'm going to have to start from scratch.”
“I'm all in favor of quitting method acting for one night,” M'gann chimes in, still eyeing Kara's cigarette distastefully. “Now do you need a refill or are you going to fall asleep here?”
“Yeah, sure,” Kara says, lifting her head in order to sheepishly push her emptied club soda over. “Pour me a double.”
That joke never lands—M'gann just rolls her eyes and refills the glass, wiping her hands off before moving down to another patron. Nia scoots her stool closer to Kara once she's gone to reassuringly say,
“I like the pretentious cigarette. It makes you look like a hipster…they’re coming back into fashion, you know. Just like leg warmers.”
Kara wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think anyone really liked leg warmers.”
“That’s how I know you were unfashionable in high school,” Nia says. Then, apparently already bored with the topic at hand, she turns around in search of their former company. “Hey, where did Alex go? I haven’t even bought her a round of shots yet!”
“That’s a good question,” Kara says thoughtfully. “Maybe Lena showed up?” But when she swivels her chair to aid Nia’s search, she can't spot her sister either; considering Al’s Bar is a hole in the wall with not many patrons, that can only mean Alex has stepped out. “I'll go find her.”
All things considered, the night is pleasant—when Kara emerges without her jacket, the air isn't quite cool enough to make her go back in to retrieve it. She walks around the corner to the alley where everyone goes to smoke, but Alex isn’t there. Alex is also not in the 7-11 across the street, nor is she two doors down at the diner. (Kara orders a donut to go just to be 100% sure Alex won’t emerge from somewhere inside, of course, like a diligent sister).
Eventually, her pointless search leads her right back to Al’s. Nia has apparently had enough alcohol to drag Kelly to dance; Winn and James have begun a spirited game of pool; Querl has commandeered the jukebox and is studiously adding 80’s dance music to the queue. Alex, however, is still notably missing.
With a groan, Kara collapses at the bar again. “Can I get a water, M’gann?”
“You got it,” M’gann says, filling a fresh glass from the tap. She moves on immediately after to another customer, and Kara’s question about whether M’gann has seen Alex dies before it even forms. Kara sighs, takes a much-needed sip of her water, and resolves to just melt into her stool when all of a sudden she hears:
“Is this seat taken?”
It should be noted that, in the past, Kara has encountered situations far worse than this one. Moments where her life was in danger, even. She likes to think she has mastered the ability to remain unfazed in the face of the worst surprises at this point of her career.
But then again…she’s never actually met her sister’s fiancée before. And in a truly horrific turn of events, Kara ends up spit-taking all over her shoes.
“Oh crap, I am so sorry,” Kara says, making a mad grab for napkins off the bar and crouching down to pat at Lena’s heels. “Are you—okay, can I get, er, anything—” She doesn't even know how to apologize at this point, so tongue-tied she is just about to offer her own shoes off her feet.
Lena Luthor doesn't answer right away. She takes a delicate step down, and her hand covers Kara's in order to make her pause. When Kara musters the nerve to cautiously meet her eye, Lena gives her a small smile.
“It's fine.” Lena looks much more <i>vivid</i> than the photographs. Everything about her is sharp; the angles of her jaw, the eyeliner she wears, the intensity of her green eyes when they're trained on Kara. Even her voice edges on the sharper side, not quite cold but almost. “Kara, right? I recognize you from Alex's pictures.”
Kara barely remembers to nod. “Yes, I…recognize you too,” she says. “It's nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Lena draws her hand away immediately after, and Kara hastily rises up in order to put some space between them.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Kara asks quickly. “M'gann makes a great…sour.” She cannot for the life of her remember what it is that Nia ordered, and from the strange look on Lena’s face, she has 100% gotten the name wrong. “I don’t really drink.”
Somehow, that awkward confession makes Lena’s face twist, like she is trying not to smile. “Alex mentioned you’re sober,” she says. “I hope it’s alright, that she did.”
“No, yeah, it’s not a secret,” Kara says, but in her mind she’s thinking Alex and Lena talk about her? About what? Hopefully not embarrassing stuff. Shoot, knowing Alex, it’s 100% embarrassing stuff. “And I wouldn’t expect you to have any secrets with Alex either way, so.”
“Right.” Lena takes a careful seat besides Kara, her expression since gone entirely blank. She orders a scotch, Kara sticks to water, and they immediately maintain an awkward silence that M'gann raises a judgmental eyebrow at Kara for.
Kara clears her throat, desperate for any attempt of making nice she can muster. “So have you seen Alex?” she says.
“Today?” Lena has her glass raised to her lips, but she doesn't drink. “Not yet.”
“Oh. Well, I'm sure she's around here somewhere,” Kara says, and tries not to find it weird that Lena and Alex did not see each other at all today despite apparently living together.
This time Lena takes a long, thoughtful sip of her drink, and she turns her head to regard Kara silently. “Kara,” she says, as if testing the name all-too-carefully, practiced and halting like she wants to call Kara literally anything else. “Would it be a fair assessment to assume you don't like me?”
Kara’s grip on her glass falters in a single blink-or-miss-it second before she manages to control her surprise. “What?” she says weakly. “I know we don’t know each other, but, if Alex likes you of course I like you.” Flustered, she backtracks to say, “I mean Alex loves you. Obviously.”
Lena doesn’t put Kara out of her misery. At least, not right away. No, she just smooths out the imaginary wrinkles of her form-fitting dress that she has chosen to wear to this dive bar, drums her fingertips against the sticky wood of the bar counter, and gazes pensively beyond her company in a way that can only be described as lost. Then,
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant to be an accusation,” Lena says. “What I meant is, I'm sure you must despise the idea of me.” An attempt at a smile crosses Lena’s lips, but it’s a sad one. “Today was mostly about putting your mind at ease over any misconceptions you might have.”
“Well, I’ve only known about you for like a week, but I can honestly say I have zero thoughts about you,” Kara says quickly. Then frowns. “Wait. That was supposed to sound reassuring. Can I start over?”
The engagement ring on Lena’s finger shimmers even in the poor lighting, and she rests her cheek against her palm, gazing at Kara with a curious, half-amused kind of look in her eyes. “The floor’s yours.”
“I’m not the kind of person who assumes the worst about other people,” Kara says, reaching for her water again, if only to tip it towards Lena reassuringly before taking a quick sip. “And if you make Alex happy, then I can only assume you’re a good person. Also, you might be a saint to even put up with her.”
Lena’s mouth twists into a proper smile, however small. “The way you two talk about each other is so…” She shakes her head as if she can’t quite finish that thought. “You two are clearly very close.”
“Unfortunately, yeah, I'm stuck with her,” Kara quips, and that at least feels normal—talking about Alex is a safe topic. Even if she hasn’t bothered to come back to her own engagement party. “Do you have any siblings?”
“A brother.” Any semblance of a smile vanishes entirely at that, and Lena hastily finishes the remainder of her drink.
Kara gets the feeling she has said something horribly wrong. “And are you two also…close?” she finishes her train of thought awkwardly, even if she already knows the answer.
“No.” The stony way Lena clenches her jaw suggests that Kara isn't winning any brownie points, here, and she has to bite her tongue to stop from pushing on. “Excuse me, can I get another?” Lena beckons M’gann over when she has a second, and M’gann gives Kara another questioning look but doesn’t say anything to her directly.
“I’m sorry,” Kara feels the need to say. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Oddly enough, I believe you,” Lena muses. “You did mention your sister has hardly talked about me.”
“I'm sure she would've,” Kara tries to reassure her. “I just don't see her too much nowadays, with my work.”
“Mm. You’re a journalist, right?” Lena asks, and there is something in her gaze that makes Kara feel hot under the collar. “Or was it a kindergarten teacher? I know you and your sister have an affinity for switching careers.” Something about the calculated way she pauses to take a sip of her drink, gaze expectant over the rim, causes Kara's heart to plummet into her stomach.
Kara, in turn, promptly chokes on air. “What? You—you know? About—” She stops. “I’m not sure Alex was allowed to tell you that.”
“Not even if we're going to get married?” Slowly, Lena begins to smile. It's a real smile, one Kara hadn't realized Lena was capable of until now. “Your sister might be the most by-the-book person I've ever met. Unfortunately for her, I was able to connect the dots about you myself.”
“Ah.” Kara drums her fingertips against the bar counter, feels her cheeks warm slightly with embarrassment.
Lena places a hand on Kara's forearm—a warm, gentle heat Kara can feel through the thin sleeve of her T-shirt. “That was no fault of yours,” she says reassuringly. “She slipped up talking about your job. It was fairly easy to connect the dots.”
Somehow, that does nothing to dissolve the dread slowly building up in Kara’s chest. Alex never slips up. Kara is the resident Danvers sister fuck up (Alex’s words exactly), and all at once Alex’s disappearance tonight becomes decidedly unsettling.
“When did she tell you about my job?” Kara blurts out. “Do you remember?”
“Yesterday, I think,” Lena says, and she regards Kara questioningly. “She was telling me about everyone who was going to be here today and what your friends do for work. Why?”
“Was she working? Looking at her computer or her phone or anything?”
“Yes, that’s all she ever does.” But it’s odd, the way Lena says it, like she’s not bothered in the slightest.
It could be nothing. It probably is nothing. But Kara still scans the bar with a renewed vigor in search of that familiar scowl that she cannot find. “She was just here,” Kara mutters aloud. “She wouldn’t have left without telling someone.”
“Alex?” Lena watches Kara carefully, no doubt trying to decide what to say. “Has she not told you if she’s running late?”
“No, she was here already,” Kara says. “I don’t think she would have—” She shakes her head to herself, cursing inwardly. She can’t assume that Alex has been dragged away for a work reason. Maybe it has something to do with Alex getting cold feet. Either way, telling her sister’s fiancée that the woman she’s supposed to marry has abandoned her engagement party doesn’t seem like it would do Alex any favors. “I’m sure she’s just in the bathroom or something. Uh, I’m going to just…” She pulls out her cigarette in a poor cover and says, “Go outside, for a smoke break, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Lena says. Then, “Would it be alright if I joined you?”
If Nia knew that Kara’s stupid cigarette would have led to this moment, she would laugh her ass off. Repeatedly. Kara supposes it’s a small mercy that Nia is still dancing with Kelly, so she is spared of any and all jokes at her expense.
It’s not until they’re outside that Kara sheepishly confesses: “So full disclosure…I don’t actually smoke.”
Lena doesn't look particularly surprised at the fact. “It's an odd thing to lie about,” she says, and tilts her head, surveying Kara with a sharp look. “Oh,” she says afterward. “I’m sorry. Clearly, you lied to get away from me, and here I am following you around.”
Kara swallows. Hard. “It’s not that,” she says, even though it kind of is. 
“It's okay.” Another touch, this time gently to Kara’s shoulder. Lena has a strange, half-wistful look on her face. “Take your break. I’ll go inside…I should introduce myself to Alex’s friends and keep it convincing.”
That is such a peculiar way to phrase an otherwise normal statement, and Kara feels her brow furrow subconsciously. “What?”
But Lena has turned away by the time Kara even forms the word, and Kara watches, bewildered, as Lena takes two steps forward before immediately whirling back around. There is no other way to describe it, but—Lena has gone sickly pale in the moonlight, as if she’s seen a ghost. Before Kara can ask what’s wrong, Lena has hurriedly bridged the gap between them and grasped Kara’s face with cold, shaking hands.
“Can you turn around?” Lena asks quietly.
Kara does, but she knows her cheeks have gone hot and red by now, so unaccustomed to both the proximity and the specific person before her. “Lena, what’s—”
“I have something very urgent to ask you, and please don’t overthink it,” Lena rushes to say.
“Okay.” Kara tries not to fidget; she has had a gun held to her head several times before and yet, this is the most overwhelmed she has felt in years.
“Can I kiss you?” 
Kara blinks. “What?”
“Please,” Lena adds on, as if that makes the question any saner.
And maybe it’s the desperation in Lena’s voice, in her eyes, in the way she keeps on trembling, but Kara recognizes someone in danger. She doesn’t understand what on Earth is going on, but she slowly nods, and trusts that if Alex kicks her ass later it will be for a good cause.
(Kara is not, however, prepared for Lena to immediately kiss her like she’s starving, hands still tight against Kara’s cheeks, dragging Kara so close that Kara is essentially caging her against the wall). 
It feels like forever, but not in a bad way. Kara hasn't kissed someone in so long that she feels clumsy, almost like she is outside of her own skin, hands falling against the gravel of the bar’s outside walls in order to stop herself from grabbing at the inviting curves of Lena’s waist.
When Lena gently pushes her away, Kara hastily steps back, digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands to keep from doing something dangerous (like reaching back in). Lena looks as if she's calmed down enough at least; she blushes when she meets Kara’s eyes, glancing down at the floor for a brief moment.
“Thank you,” Lena says. “God, if I was recognized out here of all places Alex would have lost it.”
“Recognized?” Kara echoes. She follows the way Lena jerks her head to the right, where the shadow of a man is disappearing into the alleyway. “I…don't follow.”
“That man used to work for my brother,” Lena sighs. “I don’t know if he would have remembered my face, but better safe than sorry.”
Kara opens her mouth, pauses, and then shuts it when she realizes she has no clue what to say. Her phone buzzes in an all-too-welcome distraction, but her blood runs cold when she sees it’s from Alex.
SENTINEL:
Can you tell everyone the party’s cancelled? Lena’s sick. Also let the cat back in before the night’s over.
“Shit,” Kara involuntarily curses when she sees that familiar code phrase. Suddenly everything makes sense: the secrecy, the mysterious brother, the fact that Lena cannot be recognized in the streets outside of a dive bar used as a front for the average spy (or average drunk that security allows in for the cover). “Lena, are you in witness protection?”
Lena squints at Kara like she is the one dropping a bombshell. “Yes? Did you not know that?”
“No! What the—why would Alex bring you here?!” Kara frantically texts her insane sister back.
SUPERGIRL:
Is there a curfew?
SENTINEL:
The sooner the better. I’m at Dad’s house right now or else I would do it myself.
That next coded message makes Kara exhale, finally, to at least know Alex is safe. Something big must have happened if she is dragging Kara into this without so much as a briefing, sure, but Kara also knows that Alex would not have trusted her with anything less.
“Lena,” Kara says, “can I ask you something urgent now?” She pauses when she immediately remembers the firm pressure of Lena’s lips, and quickly adds, “It doesn’t involve kissing.”
“Fair enough,” Lena says, enough amusement coloring her tone that Kara briefly flushes all over again.
“Can you trust me to get you home tonight?” Kara doesn’t wait for an answer before she goes on: “I know you don’t know me. But you know Alex. And I swear on my life, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for Alex, and by extension that means there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Lena nods along with every word slowly. “You take your job very seriously.”
“I do,” Kara says firmly. (And, hopefully, comfortingly).
“Then I trust you, Kara Danvers,” Lena says. “If that’s even your real name.”
And for a brief moment, Kara’s not a spy fighting a clock on a mission she knows nothing about; she is, instead, a normal person who is capable of seeing the humor of her almost-sister-in-law who definitely knows more than she has clearance for.
“It is,” Kara says—even deigns to smile before she can quell it. “By choice.”
“That sounds like there’s a story somewhere.”
“I’ll tell you all about it sometime,” Kara promises. “Maybe even tonight, if in exchange you tell me your real name.”
“Unfortunately, Lena Luthor is my real name,” Lena says. “Alex said it was fine to tell her friends, so, this party was her idea. She even came up with the marriage idea so when my last name is changed, no one will care.”
The cogs finally start turning in Kara’s head far slower than she cares to admit. “Hold on. So you and Alex aren’t actually engaged?”
Again, Lena stares at Kara like she’s grown two heads in the last thirty seconds. “No. You seriously didn’t know? I thought you were just being weird, Alex says you get really into your method-acting stuff.”
“No.” Strangely, the first thing Kara feels is relief; she doesn’t have to actually tell her sister that she kissed her future wife. The second thing is, quite reasonably, alarm. “Okay I don’t know what the hell is going on with your case, but you mentioned someone who used to work for your brother, right? How bad is the threat?”
Lena hesitates. “It’s…kind of a long story.”
“So really bad,” Kara fills in the blanks. “Crap. We need to go.” She quickly shrugs off her jacket and presses it into Lena’s hands. “Put this on. There are no cameras in this area, but we’re going to hit some when we get to the parking lot.” 
“Is everything okay?” Lena asks, though she hurriedly does as Kara says.
“I’m sure it is,” Kara tries to assure her. “But it’s just a precaution until we can reunite you with Alex and confirm.”
Lena doesn’t seem like she believes Kara entirely—or at least, the way her expression remains a fraction confused definitely indicates as much. But at the very least, she does not argue, though she does make a point to ask, “Where is Alex?”
“She just got tied up at work.” Kara leads the way to the parking lot, careful to hover at Lena’s side on the off chance any threat might  materialize. “I don’t know where your current safe house is or if it’s been compromised, so I’m going to take you somewhere else. Is that okay?”
“Not like I have any choice,” Lena says wearily. “So am I not allowed to know when everything’s gone to shit? Or will everyone just keep telling me it’s okay when it’s not?”
Kara swings open the passenger side of James’s car (he’ll forgive her for this later) and waits for Lena to sit down. Lena doesn’t. “It’s—complicated,” she says.
“How so?” Lena crosses her arms and still does not move. Kara is still holding onto the car door, inadvertently standing too close; she feels strangely helpless when Lena looks right at her with eyes dark and determined.
“Full disclosure,” Kara reluctantly admits, “I…have no clue what’s going on with your case. I’ve been in the dark and Alex can't exactly  share the details through a text, so, the truth is I have no idea if everything has gone to shit. I know that is the very last thing you want to hear since I’m supposed to be protecting you, but—”
“Actually,” Lena says, and her look has softened, “that makes me trust you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I appreciate that you will tell me upfront you don't know,” Lena says. She sways slightly closer, enough that Kara stiffens, but it's only to duck into the car after all.
Kara shuts the door only after a very brief pause. This should not be as hard as it feels. For a week she has been associating the idea of Lena Luthor as her sister’s fiancée and it’s tough to wrap her head around the fact that the opposite is true.
(And it has absolutely nothing to do with how attractive Lena is. Or that kiss. For the record.)
The dashboard of James’s car reads 7:19 PM; his radio is playing a news station; the gas tank is half full. Kara makes note of everything and decides she will drive as far as she possibly can before it hits empty.
Lena is quiet, at first. And while there is nothing special about the bumper-to-bumper traffic or the hazy street lights or the clouded night sky, Lena keeps her gaze trained outwards, head resting against the tinted window.
But then, “My brother killed twenty people.”
Kara grips onto the wheel and tries not to outwardly react. She has, of course, always had a terrible poker face. “Oh.”
“It gets worse,” Lena says uneasily. “I designed the technology he used to kill them.”
There is no possible response Kara can imagine which might be appropriate. In the end she settles for: “That actually doesn’t seem like a long story after all.”
“I assumed Alex would have told you that, at least.” Lena begins to drum a pattern with her fingertips against the center console. “Do you think the worst of me now?”
“I guess that depends,” Kara says slowly, “on whether you designed that technology for the purpose of killing people.”
Lena gives a curt, kind of disbelieving half-laugh, half-scoff. “They were nanobots,” she says. “I was trying to use them to cure cancer. But my brother…well, he didn’t see half the potential I did.”
Kara casts a quick glance at Lena, finds her staring straight ahead with a stony expression on her face. “Lena,” she says gently, “that doesn’t sound like it was at all your fault.”
“Everyone tells me that.” More rhythmic drumming, each beat more hesitant than the last. “I don’t know when I’ll start to believe it.”
When she was a kid, Kara had been thrown into the foster system with little more than heartache and a wish to find the cousin she never would. She had never felt so helpless—so unsure—and something about Lena’s guilt right now brings her right back to that moment. Like she’s just a little kid, knees pulled up to her chest, waiting for a sign that would never come.
“It’ll be hard,” Kara says softly. It has begun to drizzle rain, and she mindlessly sets the wipers, watching them flick back and forth as they wait for the light to turn green. “But it will get easier. I promise.” 
“Odd thing to promise,” Lena notes, but Kara can feel her gaze burning against the side of her head, and Lena sounds…lighter, somehow. “Can I change the station?”
“Sure.” James will hate it, but Kara doesn’t mind. Lena chooses a jazz station that frequently breaks with static, and it’s by far the most peaceful hour-long drive Kara has had in a while. 
They pull up to the safe house when the clock reads 8:34 PM and the rain has petered out; the air feels damp and thick with residual humidity, but otherwise, the tranquility of the quiet gives Kara a good feeling. Lena has fallen asleep in the passenger’s side, and Kara softly nudges her awake.
“Here,” Kara says, handing her James’s emergency bag once they make their way up the house steps. “This should have a change of clothes. They’ll be too big, but better than your dress at least…if you’re hungry there will be granola bars in the pantry. We can’t risk ordering anything else right now, unfortunately.” She digs into her pocket for the batch of safe house keys she has on all times and locates the right one, pressing it surely into Lena’s hand. “Until we know for sure if I’ll be briefed on your case or not, just…assume you’re going to be moved tomorrow. Also, you never saw me. Like, officially.”
Lena wipes at her eyes with her palm, absentmindedly smearing her mascara. “You’re going to leave me here?” she says, hugging James’s bag to her chest.
“No, of course not. I’m going to be sitting in the car, out here,” Kara says. “I just mean like in general, you know, if I don’t end up getting briefed on your case it would be all kinds of not-allowed to be talking to you. So if anyone asks…”
“Ah,” Lena says, “right. I’ll just make up a cover story for my cover story.”
“Yeah, you know, we need to protect the bureaucracies and all that,” Kara says. “If I'm even using that word the right way.”
“And you're supposed to be a journalist?” Lena smiles ever-so-slightly. “Good thing you're decent at your day job.”
“Only decent?” Kara feels her own mouth twitch with the promise of her own smile. 
“I'd give you five stars on Yelp,” Lena says confidently, and Kara laughs, unable to stop herself from full-on grinning.
“Well if you need anything,” Kara says, and gestures over her shoulder to the car. “You know where I'll be.”
“Thank you.” Lena places a hand over Kara’s wrist, and just squeezes there briefly, her hand slightly cold but her touch overwhelmingly gentle. “Um. Would it be—would it be allowed to ask if you can stay with me inside, instead? I don't really want to be…alone.”
“That would make plausible deniability much harder to fake,” Kara tries to protest, but Lena is biting her lip and looking at Kara underneath mascara-smudged lashes and really, there is no other option but to cave. “…but I guess I could break a rule or two. Or twenty-seven.”
Lena smiles fully this time with obvious relief. “And here I thought I'd have to work harder to corrupt you.”
Kara pushes her glasses up her nose and says, “I’m a little concerned you were planning to corrupt me, but I mean. It’s one night.” She follows Lena inside when she opens the door, surveys the untouched room with a quick, satisfied glance. “Just as long as you don’t get me into trouble.”
“I’ll try my best not to,” Lena says, making a beeline for the couch to inspect James’s emergency bag; she pulls out an oversized T-shirt with an exhausted sigh. “Can you unzip me?” Already she’s pulling her hair off her shoulders, exposing the graceful slope of her neck, and Kara almost forgets to lock the door behind her.
“Y-yeah,” she stammers out, once again fiddling with the glasses that she doesn’t need, and she knows it right then and there: Lena Luthor will undoubtedly get her in trouble. And judging by the way Lena gazes so shyly at Kara over her shoulder, she knows it.
(But, well. In the grand scheme of things, Kara figures a little trouble never hurt anyone).
238 notes · View notes
lukesaprince · 1 year
Text
Roommates Part 5
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summary: Harry and y/n celebrate his first show in their own way... with mutual gratification.
warning: slight exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, gentle domrry
word count: 6k+
author’s note: it's finally here! For those saying that this series is dragging, I hear you and I agree lol. But hopefully, this satisfies you a little bit, and trust me there's sooo much more to come. Now that they've finally given in, it's only going to escalate from here 👀 Happy Reading xoxo
- series masterlist here -
- Find my General Masterlist here -
The rest of the group wanted to stay at the bar and celebrate, but you and Harry were both too excited about what awaited you at home to even think about joining them.
Alex was going to be working until late, which was a blessing since she absolutely would've questioned why you weren't staying out to celebrate Harry's show.
You never declined a party. It was a key personality trait that you’d be up for a party even if you had work at 7am the next day. The number of times you showed up either severely hungover or still drunk from the night before was countless.
But this time the celebration you and Harry were going to throw at home was something even better, and you had no intention of telling Alex anything.
You didn't even know what was going to happen, or how it was going to happen. Telling Alex about your mutual masturbation pact with Harry would've only opened a can of worms and made her question your entire personality.
You loved touch to the point of needing it daily otherwise you'd go crazy. Hell if you could be in the arms of someone, or touching someone in any way at all times of the day you'd do it.
So this no-touch deal would've confused Alex to no end. You knew why you were doing it, but Alex wouldn't have understood you at all.
She loved love, even though it had failed her many times. She had a way of bouncing back from relationships and leaping into a new one way too fast. Macy was the exception. Alex took her time with her because she saw real potential.
But before Macy, Alex loved hard and lost it equally as hard. She did it over and over again barely giving herself any grace period before she was with another lover.
You were similar in the way that you opened your heart to friendship and romance very easily. It didn't take much to become your friend, and even shorter to become your partner. As long as someone was nice and had good intentions, you were more than happy to let them into your life.
It had burned you many times, which is why for once you were trying to stray from your usual choices. Harry was your exception, just like Macy was Alex's. Except this time you were trying to protect a sacred friendship, rather than something that would blossom into more.
Hooking up with Harry may be a mistake, but you weren't totally going to give up on your love for affection... and sex.
When trying to leave as quickly as possible, Harry had no issue claiming that he was tired and should get home since he had to work a double tomorrow. It was partly the truth which is why everyone was willing to let him go home.
You on the other hand? No one was letting you off easy. Now that you were between jobs and didn't begin your training until next week, you really didn't have an excuse.
"Come onnn y/n, don't be boring. Stayy, have a few drinks. I brought weed" Macy nudged, trying to convince you to stay out with her, Mitch, Sarah and Pauli (to who you had officially been introduced). You could already tell Pauli was going to be a wonderful addition to your group, but tonight wasn't the night for you to welcome him.
You needed an orgasm pronto.
"Honestly my last shift was so exhausting, I'm really sorry but I'm just not up to it" you apologised, "besides, someone has to walk pretty boy home and make sure he stays safe. I'm sure someone would take one look at those luscious curls and want to mug him" you joked, tugging on his hair.
"Heyyy, I can walk home by myself just fine" he frowned, pinching your side and making you yelp.
His hand had been loosely around your waist from the bathroom to the bar, where your group had congregated to discuss the after party to Harry’s show. That wasn’t really abnormal, since Harry seemed to love touch as much as you but it definitely was touchier than usual.
He’d usually guide you somewhere by holding your hand or with a hand at your back, but he never kept it there for long. He was always so cautious about being handsy with you, never wanting to cross your boundaries.
But you hadn’t brushed his hand away, and frankly he wanted as much physical contact with you as he could. The second he saw you naked he was going to be craving his hands and mouth on you like crazy, so until then he needed as much physical touch as possible.
“Okay okay, geese violent much?” you replied, giving his hand a little swat, but didn’t him take it off your waist. You liked his hand there too much for him to let go, and it seemed he felt the same because he didn’t attempt to remove it.
Mitch’s eyes flickered to his hand at your waist, then between your two faces but never commented on what he saw. He shared a knowing look with Sarah who noticed the same thing, and already mentally agreed to talk all about it with her fiancé the second they were alone.
“I guess that’s an okay excuse, next time though you better be partying double hard to make up for it” she pointed at you, knowing exactly why you and Harry wanted to ditch the party. It was pretty obvious to her and Mitch, but you and Harry were oblivious to their discovery.
“Of course! Come by on the weekend and we’ll have a games night. I’ll make sure to invite Talula so she can bring her famous brownies” you smiled.
Harry’s hand dropped from you as you both said your goodbyes, making sure to talk to Alex very quickly before you pulled Harry away. You didn’t need her asking questions that you didn’t have the answers to.
Outside felt cooler than the hot stickiness of the bar, but you knew that it hadn’t really dropped in temperature since the beginning of the night. Harry didn’t return his hand to your waist again, opting to stick it in his pocket as you both began walking in the direction of your apartment.
You could’ve taken the subway to shorten the journey home, but with how hot it was outside the chances of the train being free from weird smells was quite low and you didn’t really want to ruin your sex drive by ingesting body odour.
Besides, Harry smelt so good, even despite just profusely sweating on stage. How could you ever want to compromise that and risk a smelly train?
“Which song was your favourite?” Harry asked suddenly, filling the comfortable silence that fell upon you two. It was rich with tension like in that bathroom earlier, but there wasn’t one hint of awkwardness between you.
“Wild Thoughts” you answered seriously, peering at him to see his shocked facial expression at the zero hint of humour in your voice. “I’m just kidding, idiot” you laughed, shoving his arm a little.
“Fuck off, that’s not funny” he whined, grabbing at your waist to try and drag you into him. Your hip bumped into his and you wiggled out of his grip to walk ahead.
“I’m sorry” your laughter continued at how sensitive he seemed, twirling around to walk backwards as you faced him. “Wild Thoughts was my favourite cover, but Woman was my favourite song… I mean, that performance” you whistled, still walking backwards.
“Yeah? Knew you loved that one, you were practically drooling while I was performing it" he teased making you scoff with widened eyes.
"Was not!" you exclaimed.
"Was too" he shot back, before his eyes suddenly widened in alarm, "hey, watch out" he caught up to you quickly, grabbing onto your waist before you had the opportunity to trip right over a tree planter that you weren't watching out for.
You stumbled backwards and let out a small yelp, grabbing onto him tightly as he steadied you. His warm hands against the exposed skin where your t-shirt had ridden up made nerves swirl in your stomach. You loved his touch, even something as innocent as his hands on your waist.
You barely had anything to drink but you couldn't help but burst out into a fit of giggles at how you had nearly fallen over. You were clumsy with or without alcohol, but the second one sip touched your body you were 10x more so. “My saviour!”
You clasped your hands together behind his neck and swung a little to test his grip as he guided the two of you out of the way from pedestrians and between two buildings.
You didn't really realise what was happening until you were nudged against the brick wall of the building closest to you, just in the shadows and hidden from anyone walking past unless they were looking right into the laneway.
Your giggles quietened pretty quickly when you realised just how close he was to you. "What are you doing?" you breathed, your hands slowly dropping from around his neck, down to rest on his pecks.
It was like there was a sudden change in Harry, his expression going from cheery and teasing to something darker. Being hidden away from the public and so close to Harry you could feel his heat radiating to you was making you nervous. And horny.
Fuck, were you horny.
"How far can I go tonight, y/n?" his eyes looked between yours, darting from left to right before dropping to your lips for barely a second. You never would've noticed it if you were so close to him.
All of Harry's reserve had dwindled to something deep and sizzling. He didn’t know what caused it to be honest. He was horny during his performance and when he visited you in the bathroom, his mind plagued with images of what he imagined your naked body to look like. Sounds of pleasure and sighs of contentment, scents of your arousal and sweat as you approached orgasm.
He imagined it all, and yet he had plenty constraint for most of the walk. But your giggle unleased something carnal in him, the way you grabbed onto him making him feral with need for you.
Your reaction to him catching you was so innocent, yet he suddenly couldn’t contain himself anymore.
Harry knew he couldn’t touch you. Yet you let him touch your waist and you let him press you against a wall without complaint, so how far could he go? Would you let him undress you? More importantly, could he start playing with you now?
He needed to know your exact boundaries, because the second you both returned home, he didn’t want to waste any time.
How much control were you going to give him? Or did you prefer the control? Something told him that wasn’t the case, even despite the way you had teased him and alluded to sex many times since he knew you.
“What-what do you mean?” you swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling your body heat up at how deep and raspy he sounded.
You knew what he meant, at least you thought he did. But the suddenness of the question sent your head through a loop, and it felt like you couldn’t comprehend anything.
“I want to know your exact boundaries, your likes, your dislikes… how far I can go. Because the second we get home I want to get you naked, and I need to know what I can and can’t do to you once that happens”
Your heart fell to your fucking pussy, thighs clenching to try and relieve some of the built-up tension between your legs. His words were filthy and nothing like you had ever heard come from his mouth. He was a tease and a flirt, but he was so blatant with his intentions, and it was such a turn on it made you nervous.
You were never this nervous during sexual encounters, and you always, always knew what you wanted and how you liked things. Yet Harry was like a spanner thrown directly into the cogs of your brain, making everything malfunction. You didn’t know how far you wanted to go, or what you wanted to do.
You had never had a sexual relationship like this before.
“How about you tell me what you want to do, and I’ll tell you if I’ll let you?” you posed, sliding your hands back up to clasp behind his neck again. You hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous you truly were.
A devious smirk curled on his lips, a hand moving from your waist and upwards, gliding up the side of your body. It was slow, like he was trying to memorise your body with his hand.
“I want to take your clothes off for you, can I do that?” his thumb plucked at the end of your t-shirt as his hand kept moving.
“Only if I can take yours off too” you replied, making him chuckle.
“Could think of nothing better, love.” He grinned.
Your breath hitched when his fingers grazed the side of your breast, only there in passing, but enough to have your toes curling in need. “Can I touch your bare skin?”
Your eyes fluttered shut as his palm flattened on the side of your neck, wrapping loosely around it so he could lean in close to brush his lips against your ear. “Once I’m naked…” you released a shaky breath, “only my arms and legs”
If he touched anywhere else, you would’ve died. Legitimately. Even your legs would’ve been teetering on the edge of too far, but you loved his touch and couldn’t force yourself to go no-contact completely.
“Can I control you?... tell you where to touch, how to touch… when to stop?” he whispered, his fingers flexing slightly against your neck. His body still wasn't pressed against yours, but the heat radiating was enough to feel like he was.
You utterly loved his hand around your neck, loose, and not constricting in any way, but enough of a reminder of what he could do to you. He could squeeze and make your head spin in that delicious way, and you knew he’d do it the second you asked.
The thought of Harry being dominant, even in a situation where he wasn’t touching you nearly made you pant with need. You loved the idea of him watching you, hell, you told him about it his first night living with you.
But this? Him watching you, his gaze burning along your body while he tells you what to do? While he commands every action and movement? You nearly moaned out loud, right there against the brick wall.
"Yes... I'd love that" you breathed, refusing to open your eyes even though his cheek was still pressed to yours, his lips ghosting your ear. You could feel the smirk curl on his lips at your reply, his hand tightening on your hip.
"Good. Any other boundaries?" He pulled his head back so he could look at you, your eyes opening to make eye contact with him.
"No kissing, anywhere" you stated firmly.
Mike always kissed your body and you loved it. He never kissed your lips because it was never going to go further than friends with him, but your body was open to him. With Harry though, your feelings were dangerously swaying on the line separating friends and more and anything intimate like that would've pushed you into the more zone.
Hence the no-touching rule in the first place.
"Done, I can do that" he replied without hesitation like your boundary was a no-brainer to him. He always had a way of making you feel comfortable in your wants and desires, and in your boundaries. "Final question, can I start now?"
He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his eyes dark and pupils dilated. You wished you could feel if he was hard because his eyes told you exactly how turned on he was.
"Yes," you answered without thinking, the thought of someone walking by and seeing you and Harry do, whatever he wanted you to do, making you unbearably wet.
Every single one of your answers made Harry's cock harden in his pants, just enough for it to ache with need. He had been looking forward to this since he first proposed it, and now that it was happening he wanted to take full advantage of it.
He hadn't experimented with too much exhibitionism in his time but you were the perfect opportunity for him to do just that.
"Take off your underwear f'me"
You could feel your heart pounding in your ears at his request, yet you didn't question it or hesitate as you nodded and tucked your thumbs in the sides of your underwear. You turned your head slightly to look out onto the street to see if anyone was looking at you, somewhat fearful because someone could easily see what you were doing if they were looking for it.
The fear is what got you off. The adrenaline and butterflies in your stomach at the riskiness made you drip with lust. Even if someone was looking directly at the two of you, you probably wouldn't have stopped unless they looked like they were going to call the cops on you.
It wasn't like you were anything too bad anyway.
"Ah" he tutted, gripping slightly firmer on your neck and using his thumb to tilt your head back towards him. "Look at me, don't look out there"
You bit your lip and nodded, the intensity of his eye contact making you sweat slightly. You slid your underwear down your thighs, your hips bumping against Harry's as you tilted them away from the wall. Harry remained close the entire time, but let you move freely to collect your underwear and step out of them before they touched the ground.
"Good girl, y/n" he praised, voice low and only just audible over the traffic.
Your underwear was drenched, completely soaked in your arousal. This became evident when you balled them up in your hand, the damp material only reminding you of how truly turned on you were. With nothing to collect your arousal anymore, you could practically feel it begin to mess up your thighs.
"God, they're fucking soaked. Turned you on that much, huh?" he smirked, grabbing your underwear and tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans.
"Mhmm, you gonna do something about it?" you raised a brow, grabbing onto the collar of his button-up shirt.
"Let me take you home so I can show you exactly what I'm gonna do about it" he mused, gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him.
"Lead the way, rockstar"
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The rest of the walk was short and silent, Harry returning his possessive grip to your waist and keeping you close to him for the duration of it. Now that you were completely commando under your skirt, he felt a need to keep you close to him.
You loved how tight he held you against him, even despite how hot it was outside. His touch warmed up your insides and you couldn't wait to get home.
There was no awkwardness between you two for the rest of the journey home, only silence thick with tension that felt too dense to break up with any talking. You both knew what you wanted, your minds equally preoccupied with how the rest of the night would go.
Harry couldn't even wait to get inside the apartment before his hands were grabbing onto your hips, pressing himself to your back as you tried to unlock the door. It was severely distracting, his chin propped onto your shoulder while he resisted the urge of exploring your body with his hands.
"Need a hand with that?" he asked, amusement laced in his tone as the key bumped around the keyhole due to how shaky your hands were.
"Fuck off Harry, you're the one distracting me" you huffed, slightly annoyed at how funny he found your clumsiness.
"Well that's not very nice, is it?... Too bad I can't spank away your attitude" he hummed, squeezing your hips a little harder as a warning.
"That right there is why I can't open the door! Just shut up while I open it" you shot back, trying to ignore the pulsing of your clit at the thought of him making your ass all bruised and red.
He chuckled again, finding the side zipper of your skirt, and fiddling with it like he was about to unzip it. If he did that the skirt would fall instantly, which made you even more nervous.
You managed to get the door unlocked quickly after, Harry guiding you through the door and turning on the living room light “Where do you want to do this? Your room, my room, right here on the couch?”
Marty let out a loud bark and came moseying down the hallway, his tail wagging despite his clear tiredness. You left your lamp on in your room, so it wasn’t totally dark for him, and it was clear he had just woken up from sleeping on your bed.
“Hey stink” you cooed, picking him up from the floor to give him a kiss and hug while Harry removed the key and closed the front door. “Your room, you’ve got the pretty lamp” you continued the conversation, spinning around to face Harry.
“Of course, gotta have mood lighting-hey buddy” his tone switched from sarcasm to your lamp response, and baby talk as he scratched Marty’s chin.
Marty was a clear distraction from the tension between you and Harry, but he was your baby and you hated leaving him alone in the apartment all by himself. Talula usually takes care of him if you were going to be out all day, like today when both Harry and you were gone for a while, but she must’ve gone out tonight and had to drop him home before you got back.
“Mood lighting was literally designed to make a room feel nice. What other reason do you have a perfect mood lighting lamp on your bedside table?” you pointed out before putting Marty back down on the floor. He seemed happy with your greeting and took himself back to your room, leaving you both alone again.
Now that Marty was gone, the tension built back up quickly. Harry’s hands ghosted your hips as he spun you around so the two of you could walk faster towards his room.
“Now that you mention it, I bet you’d look gorgeous naked in some mood lighting” he rasped, spinning you back around to face him once you had passed the threshold of his room. Harry waited for you to turn on his bedside lamp before closing the door, leaving you both in the dimply lit room.
“Why don’t you find out?” you breathed, looking at him with a taunting look.
“Oh y/n, I will”
He closed the gap between you, his hands returning to your hips like that was their home now. “You’re so beautiful” he whispered, gliding his hands up to slide under your t shirt.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, “thank you” your voice was equally as quiet, your heart warming with his genuine compliment. He hadn’t even taken your clothes off, yet he looked at you with such fondness it made your heart beat erratically.
You lifted your arms up above your head to help Harry pull off your t-shirt, the material dropping to the floor without care. Harry’s eyes scanned across your chest; breasts still covered by a black lacey bra. He kept his eyes trained on them for a moment, noting how beautiful they looked as they rose and fell with every single breath you took.
Your nipples grew hard at his stare, and that was all it took before Harry’s patience wore off again, the third time tonight he snapped and took what he wanted. He removed his shirt quickly and dropped that next to your skirt before guiding your hands to the button of his pants.
“Take them off”
You wasted no time in unbuttoning them while Harry worked on the zipper of your skirt. You couldn’t help but stare at his chest, a sheen of sweat illuminating it and highlighting every hair and ridge of muscle.
You wanted to lick him and trace every tattoo with your tongue and create marks wherever he'd let you. You were practically salivating the lower your eyes went, landing where you had unzipped his pants and his hard cock was practically bursting out of them, still constrained by his boxers.
"Fuck" Harry whispered as he undid your skirt zipper and it fell to your ankles just like you knew it would. You froze momentarily, looking at the raw lust evident on his face as he took in your newly exposed flesh.
Harry felt his entire body ooze with need the moment your pussy was exposed to him. He could practically see how wet you were, your folds shiny with arousal, even in the dim light. He barely even registered the way you tugged his pants and boxers down in one go, a similar 'fuck' dropping from your mouth in reaction.
You were both enamoured with each other's bodies, Harry's hands ghosting up your arms before he quickly unclipped your bra and dragged that down also, leaving you both standing naked in front of each other.
You took a few moments analysing each other, allowing the other to freely gaze at ridges and curves that you both had been dreaming about.
Harry's body was something you thought about often. You had seen him shirtless more times than you could count but seeing him fully naked was an entirely different experience.
His v-line was defined, leading to trimmed hairs at the base of a large and gorgeous cock, standing straight out due to the sheer weight of it. His tip was swollen and pink, just like his lips.
And like his lips, you craved the taste of him. You were practically salivating at the thought of his precum on your tongue and you wanted to drop to your knees right then and there and bring him into your mouth.
Harry had to remove his hands from you completely because of how badly he wanted to drag them all over your body. From your breasts and pebbled nipples, down to your hips and thighs, and finally to your pretty little pussy which he wanted to dive into and eat like a fine dessert. He wanted to touch everywhere.
"Harry..." you breathed, voice borderline whimpering at how badly you needed to touch yourself.
"I know... fuck, get on the bed" he ran a hand through his hair before taking steps towards you. You stepped backwards until your legs met the bed and you were forced to sit down.
Harry kept moving towards you so you scooted backwards until your back was against his headboard, Harry now kneeling in front of your legs from where he had followed you onto the bed.
Your legs were pressed tight together, your body covered in goosebumps from how intensely Harry was staring at you.
You never thought you’d be naked in front of Harry, yet here you were basically laying under him with no clothes on and it felt so… comfortable. You felt slightly exposed, but only in a way that turned you on.
Harry made you feel completely comfortable, and you loved that about him. He had a way of making you feel safe in whatever situation you were in.
Harry rested his hands on your knees and gave you a look of ‘is this okay?’. You weren't sure what he wanted to do exactly, but silently nodded anyway and let him spread your legs, pressing them open against the bed.
“Gorgeous, such a pretty pussy... knew it would be though, belongs to a gorgeous girl" he breathed, staring directly at it with raw hunger.
"Shut up Harry" you blushed. It wasn't even the way he was staring directly between your legs that made you blush, it was his compliment of you that did it.
You loved the way he was looking at you, hungry like you were a piece of cake. That's what you loved about having someone watch you, the heat of their gaze and knowing they wanted to touch you even though they couldn't.
Harry's compliment, however, made you nervous. He was still complimenting you even while you were completely naked in front of him.
"It's the truth y/n. You're gorgeous inside and out" he whispered, finally looking up at you as his fingers rubbed soothingly on your knees. "Now are you ready to start?" he asked, confirming that you actually wanted to do this.
Your boundaries were always on his mind, as were your thoughts and desires. While he wanted to get straight into it and watch you come, this was the first time you were doing something sexual together and he wanted to make sure you were okay.
"Yes, please" you smiled, shifting your hips a little to show him just how ready you were.
You would've climbed him like a tree if you didn't think it would lead to you falling in love with him.
"Okay... touch your body for me y/n… slowly” he commanded after taking another look at your pussy. He took a deep breath at the sight of you spread open for him, your lips parted and exposing your dripping entrance. He could practically smell your arousal from his knelt position and it made his mouth water.
You glided your hands down your body, maintaining eye contact with him as you took your time in tracing your nipples with your fingers. A small gasp of appreciation left your mouth as you pinched both nipples between your forefinger and thumbs, kneading your breasts at the same time.
You were already getting wetter if that was even possible. Just having Harry watch you touch yourself was getting you all riled up and ready to orgasm.
“Good… go lower”
You followed his instruction again, sliding your hands further down your body until you met your thighs. Goosebumps rose on your skin wherever your hands went.
Your fingers trailed along your thighs, breath deepening as they glided against your inner thighs, close enough to feel your arousal that had coated there.
You were so turned on it felt like you could explode, and the fact that it was Harry causing it instead of someone else only made the entire thing more pleasurable.
Every cell in your body was thinking about Harry, every nerve and sense acutely aware of his presence and what it meant for you.
“Tease yourself, and don’t touch your clit” Harry’s fingers rubbed circles on your knees, moving a little closer to your mid thighs and keeping them pinned open so he could see exactly what you were doing.
You kept your left hand on your thigh while the other met your pussy, tracing your outer lips and never going further in. Your fingertips were already soaked, your feather light touch sending shivers down your spine. “Good girl… such a good listener” he praised.
“Harry…” you whimpered, desperately needing friction against your swollen clit. You couldn’t tense your legs together, and while you could’ve just gone ahead and touched yourself like you wanted, you wanted to follow Harry’s instructions more.
“I know love, I know" he coaxed, "run a finger through your folds for me, show me how wet you are"
You did just as instructed, collecting your wetness on your finger and holding it up for Harry to see. He licked his lips at how shiny your finger was, resisting the urge to bring it to his mouth and taste it.
"Good girl, you wanna touch your clit now?" he asked softly, leaning forward to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he returned back to sitting back on his heels.
"Yes... please" you whimpered, digging your nails into your inner thighs.
"Go on y/n, touch your pretty little clit for me” he coaxed, licking his lips again as you began rubbing circles on your clit immediately. You let out a little moan of contentment, touching softly, but hard enough to send pleasure through all your nerves. “Feels good, hmm? God, you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”
“Touch your cock Harry, I want to see” you panted, finally breaking eye contact with him to look down at his cock, still hard and begging for attention.
“Wanna get my hand wet f’me?” he asked, holding his palm out towards your face. You nodded eagerly and grabbed his wrist, spitting directly onto it. “Thanks baby” he grinned, “‘m so fucking hard for you, have been all night” he groaned, finally wrapping his hand around the base of his cock.
“Good, I’ve been wet ever since you got on stage” you responded with a breathy laugh, mesmerised by the way he started jerking himself around his base, squeezing upwards towards his swollen tip.
“Have you now? Should’ve ended the show early so we could’ve done this earlier” he looked up at you momentarily before his eyes returned to where your hand was between your legs.
You had increased the pressure exponentially, rubbing harder and in faster circles against your clit in a way that had your thighs twitching. You were so beyond wet; every circle of your fingers made a distinct wet sound echo through the room.
“Then I wouldn’t have found out how obsessed you are with me… that’s what ‘Woman’ was wasn’t it, a declaration of your obsession?” you teased, hips shifting upwards towards your hand.
You were really trying to keep this back-and-forth thing going with Harry, but you knew it wouldn’t be too long before you were orgasming and so overwhelmed you couldn't talk.
Harry wanted to agree right then and there because you were right. He was so fucking obsessed with you, it was driving him mad. Not touching you was driving him mad. Not making you come was making him mad. Not kissing you was driving him up the fucking wall.
He knew seeing you naked would change things, how could it not? And he was right. Seeing you laying here before him was like every wet dream of his come true, and he was nearly bursting just at the sight of you.
But he couldn’t exactly say that, could he?
“Use your other hand to finger yourself, just one at first” he commanded, completely ignoring your question.
“That’s not... oh fuck-” your words were interrupted by a moan as you slipped a finger into you, hooking up into the spot you had memorised since the first time you found it. “-That’s not an answer Harry” you managed to stutter, your eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the combination of your finger against your g-spot and your others right at your clit.
“We can talk about your theories later y/n, for now, I want to watch you come…” his sentence ended in a groan, the sight of your eyes shut in blissful pleasure spurring his own orgasm. He was already close the second he wrapped his hand around himself, wet with your saliva.
“N-need another finger Harry, please” you begged, needing to feel the burn of your pussy stretching around something. You craved cock, a dildo, or something more than one finger.
“Go on y/n, add another. Fuck, add two. Fuck your pretty little pussy just how you like baby… that’s it. You’d be so pretty with my cock in you, don’t you think? My big cock stretching you out and fucking you just, right?” he cooed, keeping his eyes trained on how easily your pussy welcomed a second and third finger.
“Oh god, yes” you moaned, back arching and eyes screwed shut as you fingered yourself much faster and kept a steady pace on your clit at the same time.
Your arousal was dripping out of you and covering your fingers, your ass becoming wet with your cream the harder you fucked yourself. The sight of your pussy swallowing your fingers and your cream coating them all and dripping down your ass made Harry's mind spiral.
He was so close to bending down and licking you completely clean that he was having a hard time stopping himself from doing so. Your moans were so pretty and sweet, and your cunt so wet and messy he was properly frothing over you.
“Open your eyes y/n, watch how fucking hard I am for you… how close I am to coming for you” he commanded, squeezing your mid-thigh to try and return your attention back to him.
You were so close to coming already, that familiar build-up of pressure in your stomach appearing very quickly. “I-I’m close” you gasped, eyes opening and unsure where to look.
Harry was staring at you so intensely it made your nipples hard. Between that and how gorgeous he looked with his hand around his cock your orgasm was only coming faster. There was so much to look at it was overstimulating.
You didn't know whether to look at his face, lips parted with heavy breaths and soft moans escaping it, or his cock oozing with precum as he jerked himself off with his gorgeous hand that you had wrapped around your neck not so long ago.
You wanted to look everywhere. You wanted a second pair of eyes so you could look at him from every angle and memorise every feature of him.
“So am I baby, you're so fucking gorgeous I can't help myself" he replied, gripping a little tighter with how close his high was. He could already feel his balls ache for release, his core tight with tension.
But he didn't want to let go just yet, he wanted you to come first.
"Your cock is so pretty H, god Ijustwanna..." your words tumbled out of you as your high became in reach, thoughts spoken out loud unconsciously.
"Yeah, you wanna what? Tell me, y/n" he pressed, his ego inflating massively at your compliment.
"I wanna... oh god, Harry I think I'm gonna come!" you whined, thighs shaking and threatening to shut. If it wasn't for Harry's hand still pinning one down and his knees in the way, they would've clamped shut instantly.
"Ask baby, always gotta ask for what you want" he murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your leg.
"Please, please Harry let me come" you begged, back arching and pushing your chest outward as you tried to hold it off as long as possible.
"Go on baby, I'm right behind you"
It felt explosive, the initial wave of pleasure the strongest and most intense. You let out a cry of his name, your hand leaving your clit and gripping onto his wrist tightly as your body lurched forward.
Your thighs were shaking violently, hips jerking as you tried to carry yourself through your orgasm with slower and less frequent thrusts against your g-spot. =
"That's it... oh fuck baby, so fucking gorgeous when you come" Harry praised, his own head tilting back as he reached his own high.
He gripped onto your thigh hard, a deep rumbling moan filling the room as come shot out in spurts, painting his stomach and dripping down to cover his fist and balls. He jerked himself through it all, forcing himself to look down on you as his deep moans turned into pretty little whimpers and sighs.
His orgasm was even prettier up close, and you found yourself panting and needing a second one of your own just by watching him. Orgasming only made you hornier and left you needing a second and third one to feel satisfied.
Harry looked utterly exhausted as he collapsed beside you, grabbing a few tissues from his bedside table to clean himself up. He passed a couple to you as well, the two of you cleaning yourselves up in comfortable silence.
"Why didn't we do that sooner" you breathed after a few minutes of silence, turning your head to look directly at him.
"You thought it would ruin things between us" he shrugged, gaze flickering down to where your chest was rising and falling quickly before returning to your eyes "...Has it?"
He didn't feel like it had ruined things between you two, Harry honestly thought the opposite. But he was more concerned with how you were feeling, especially since you were so hesitant about the entire thing.
You thought something like this would make things awkward between you two, and yet it was completely the opposite. If anything, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The itch was partially scratched, and you found yourself just wanting to do it again and again.
You shook your head quickly, "No. I wanna do it again"
"God, already?" he chuckled, eyes widening. He ruffled his hair a little and ran a hand through it, "give me a few minutes to cool and we can go again"
He didn't expect that answer at all, and if his cock weren't still sensitive from his orgasm it would've gotten him hard immediately. A round two, already?
He could've fallen in love with you based on that alone.
"Orrr, I can start without you" you grinned, trailing your hand down to your mound in a teasing manner.
"No!" he exclaimed, grabbing your wrist to stop you. "God, you're going to kill me. Mutual masturbation means we do it together, y/n"
"Yeah, me, my hand and my pussy. Sounds pretty mutual to me" you stated in a matter-of-fact way.
"Oh, you wanna bet? How about I go jerk off in the shower far away from you and your beady little eyes then" he threatened, narrowing his eyes at you.
"Beady eyes! You were just saying that my pretty pussy belongs to a gorgeous girl and now you're calling my eyes beady!" you gasped, slapping his forearm.
"Yeah, a pretty pussy for a gorgeous girl with beady eyes" he grinned.
"Oh fuck you then! I'll go have a round two by myself" you huffed, turning on the bed to leave.
"Ah ah" he tutted, his large hand gripping your thigh and dragging you back across the bed so you were sitting pressed against him. "Round two happens here and now... see, didn't take too long for Harry senior to perk back up" he smiled proudly, looking down to where his cock had begun to harden up already.
"You're going to make me dry up if you ever refer to your dick as Harry senior again" you rolled your eyes.
"Oh really, then why can I see how wet you are, hmm?" he teased, squeezing your thigh where his hand still was and leaning in close so his nose brushed against yours.
Your stomach felt like it was doing loops again, your naked bodies pressed side by side and his face so close your lips could touch with any subtle movement.
"How about we get you to come again then you go get your vibrator and we pull an all-nighter?" he smirked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You nodded and did the same in return, tucking a fallen curl behind his ear.
"If your dick falls off because you can't handle my stamina, don't come crying to me about it" you gloated, tugging on his hair just to annoy him.
"If anyone will end up crying it's you and your sore little pussy, now be a good girl and shut your mouth so we can get started"
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gurugirl · 1 year
Note
Could you please write something with Professor Harry telling the reader off or hurting the reader and then comforting the reader
A/n: Thank you anon for the idea! I know you asked for this over a month ago so I'm sorry for the delay! I hope you enjoy!! 2k words
Pairing: Professor!Harry x College Student!reader
Warning: Angst, fluff (no smut in this one you guys)
Professor!Harry masterlist
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You really felt like you and Harry were becoming a little more serious. He wasn't sleeping with anyone else, though he'd occasionally invite your friend to join you two, he wasn't going to anyone other than you.
So when you suggested that you and he go to the beach for a night one weekend at your aunt's beach house, you figured Harry would be on board. That he'd want to spend some time with you away from the campus and his house, lying on a beach where no one would spot you. Plus it would only be for one night.
"Are you fucking insane, Y/n? Why would I do that? Go find your little friends and take them with you. Or some other guy you can bother with that bullshit."
You were stunned. Yes, Harry sometimes would talk to you like this but it was usually when you were being naughty and he was punishing you or degrading you during sex. Not like this. And what he said hurt you. Some other guy you can bother?
"I... why would I find another guy? I thought you and I were sort of..." you swallowed your words when Harry lifted his glasses off the bridge of his nose and looked up at you.
With a laugh he spoke, "You thought we were what? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Baby, if you thought that you're dumber than I imagined."
You just stood in his home office with your mouth dropped open. Not twenty minutes earlier he fucked your brains out and held your hand while he sucked your clit, and now this?
Wrapping your arms around your middle you turned and felt your tears burn down your cheeks. You were embarrassed. You had been wrong about his intentions and well, if he wanted you to find some other guy to take to beach, perhaps he had been sleeping with others.
You grabbed your sweater and your bag and slid your shoes on and left. Walking back to campus would only take thirty minutes. You'd rather walk yourself than ask Harry to drive you. You were too embarrassed to show him how upset you were and the tears he'd pulled from you with his careless words.
That evening was strange. You hadn't felt so out of it and sad in a long time. Harry had really done a number on your confidence with what he'd said. You had some soul-searching to do. It was still early so sleep wouldn't find you to put you out of your misery just yet. You made tea and took a shower and cried. But you couldn't stop thinking about what Harry had said.
When you put your moisturizer on your face and body and wrapped your wet hair up in a towel you sat by your window that faced the courtyard. The sun had gone down but there were still some students milling about. The more you thought about what Harry had said the angrier you got. It was laced with sadness, but now anger was the forefront emotion. Yeah. You were pissed now.
You got dressed and blow-dried your hair and decided you were going to the college bar down the street. You knew some of your friends were there tonight. You were going to live your life and move on from Harry.
You never needed to drink much to get tipsy. When you arrived Shay had already ordered you a mojito (they were on special). You danced with your girlfriends and drank a little too much but you had a good time. There were even whole minutes that would go by that you weren't thinking about Harry.
When Ted showed up you immediately gave him a drunk-girl hug and pulled him to the table where you were with your friends. Ted had been a long-time friend. He was attractive and outgoing and kind. He even asked you on a date last year but you declined for some one reason or another. And now your drunk mind was buzzing with the idea that he could be the one you bring to your aunt's beach - like Harry told you.
So in a moment of alcohol-induced clarity, you texted Harry, who had not once reached out to you after you left his house, by the way, to tell him you took his advice and found the perfect guy to take with you to your aunt's beach house. Then you sent him a photo of a selfie you'd taken of you and Ted together. The one where Ted was kissing your cheek and had his arms wrapped around your middle holding you tight.
Of course, the truth was, that you hadn't actually asked Ted about that yet. You just thought you'd let Harry know. Drunk clarity and all.
The night ended not long after. Ted did ask to see you again and this time you said yes, of course, though official plans weren't made, you told him you'd call him and set something up.
The following day was Monday. You dragged yourself out of bed and realized your hangover wasn't that bad. A glass of orange juice, a warm shower, a large coffee, and some sunshine, and that was all it took to feel okay by your first class. You also wore a cute little revenge number to get Harry's blood boiling. You would ignore him when you got to his class and leave without staying behind like you normally do.
Harry's class was the final one of the day. You walked in and took a seat toward the front, so he could see your outfit. A short light blue dress that hugged your middle and your breasts and showed plenty of thigh. You had your hair in a high ponytail and wore white Keds. It was actually a really simple outfit but this dress was cute and you knew Harry liked it.
You crossed your thighs and swung your leg and kept your eyes on your book as Harry entered the class. You pretended you didn't care about his presence. Normally you'd be sitting up straight and watching him closely with a small smile and waiting for his eventual glance at you. Not today.
The interesting thing was, that when you were feeling sassy and tried to act casual in class to pretend you didn't care about what Harry had said to you the night before, your note-taking skills were impeccable. Hell, you remembered the lesson and everything. When you weren't fawning over the hot professor, you were actually paying attention.
When the bell rang you stuffed your notebook into your bag and made a beeline for the door, not even once looking in Harry's direction.
"Y/n... come here, please," Harry spoke loud enough that you'd hear him before you could step out of his class. You stopped in your tracks as other students pushed passed you to exit. When you turned to look over your shoulder at Harry it was the first time you really looked at him. He wore a frown on his face but you were trying to stick to your resolve.
You sighed and turned to walk to his desk. You stood a few feet away and raised your brows at him, but didn't speak.
Harry sat at the edge of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest, "Are you mad at me?"
You huffed and rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest to match his body language. You responded with sarcasm, "No. I'm fine, professor. Why would I be mad?" You were fuming. You knew he knew and it was dumb to address it.
Harry chuckled and shook his head as he looked around the class, "Don't lie to me, Y/n. I can see right through you. Let's go to my office and talk."
You shook your head, "No. I'm busy. Can't," you stood up straight and felt your heart beat wildly. You didn't want to talk to him alone. You knew you'd buckle and forgive him or cry and embarrass yourself. You didn't want to give him a chance to see you cry or find out how weak you were.
"Yes, you can. I know your schedule. Let's go," Harry stood up and plucked up his cell phone and a notebook and took you by your elbow, and led you to his office.
Once he closed the door he walked across the room to sit in his chair at his desk. You stayed by the door and put your hands on your hips. You were trying so hard to be tough and appear unbothered.
"Sit down, Y/n. Stop playing this game. We need to talk. Don't be stubborn."
You shook your head and took a deep breath. You could already feel the warm tears trying to break out of your lash line.
Harry shook his head and sighed as he got up from his chair and walked to where you were standing.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said to you yesterday," Harry kept his arms at his sides as he looked at you, only a few feet away.
You bit your lips into your mouth and looked down. You closed your eyes to stop yourself from crying. You hated how big of a sensitive wuss you were. His apology shouldn't have made you feel so warm and so tingly but it did. You hated how he had so much power over your emotions.
"Hey, look at me. Please, Y/n," Harry's hand found your fingertips and he softly brushed the pads of his fingers over yours.
You refused to open your eyes for concern of the tears you knew were about to spill out. Also, just looking into his clear green eyes was like looking into a clean soothing brook that made you feel safe and calm. You didn't want him to evoke any more emotions in you than he already had.
You heard Harry sigh again and his fingers dragged up to your wrist and he pulled you gently toward himself. He wrapped his arms around you and suddenly your cheek was pressed into his warm, wide chest where you could hear his heart beating and smell his cologne.
"I'm sorry, Y/n. I mean it. I don't know why I said what I said. I think I'm just worried about what's going on between us. You're my student and we've crossed so many lines but things are deeper than just sex, aren't they?" His hands moved up and down your back in soothing touches that were eating away at your determination to keep him at arm's length. To keep mad at him.
When you still didn't respond he kept going, "I'm scared that I'm in too deep and that you're going to realize I'm too old for you and move on as soon as I'm no longer your professor. That the magic will wear off for you."
You felt your tears raining down. There was no stopping it. His deep, slow voice and the way he was holding you against his chest had completely erased the anger you felt toward him.
"I don't want you going to the beach with anyone but me. I didn't like seeing that photo last night, but I guess I deserved that."
You hummed and nodded, your first real response to him.
Harry kissed the top of your head, "Are you really going to the beach with him? Did you replace me already?" His arms were tight around your body, he squeezed harder after he asked if you'd replaced him.
You sniffled and shook your head, "No."
It was quiet for a moment. Harry's strong arms around you and his hands rubbing over your back had you melting completely. You had totally surrendered.
"Baby, look at me, please," Harry loosened his grip and looked down at you. You slowly tilted your head back to finally look up at his eyes. The ones that you knew would pull you right back in.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said yesterday. That was my insecurity speaking. Okay?"
You nodded and let yourself smile the smallest smile before you put your face back into his chest. You were relieved and the ache you'd felt since he told you all those awful things the day before had completely vanished.
Harry kissed the top of your head again and squeezed you tight, "Let's go to the beach together. You and me. I love that idea."
You nodded into his chest and smiled, your tears still wet over your cheeks. Harry hummed into your hair when he felt you nod.
"Good girl. C'mon. Let's sit and make plans. I want to make our beach getaway a good one."
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oflights · 10 months
Note
oh this is so exciting! happy pride! You've reblogged a number of pretty bejeweled things today, and I wonder if they could be a prompt, perhaps as a gift, or an item in need of cursebreaking? no stress at all if this doesn't spark the muse!
hi!! thank you for this prompt, i kind of loved it. i chose to use this as a reference point and honestly had a lot of fun with it!
as i said yesterday, this wound up being thematically appropriate for a certain blond someone's birthday, which is why it's posting now!! i'm still working on other prompts, and feel free to keep sending some if you'd like!
this is about ~1100 words (sooo close to under 1k 😭) and features curse-breaking partners harry and draco, very jealous harry, and cheesy gemstone/eye comparisons. 💎🎈
“He bought them at auction,” Draco says in a hushed sort of voice, beaming down at the dangly gold earrings Harry is frantically casting on. “I can’t even imagine the price—not that that matters, of course, it would be thoughtful either way, but look—those are genuine pearls, Harry. Byzantine! Sixth century!”
“Sure,” Harry says through gritted teeth, not pausing in his casting. His hand is starting to cramp a little, so he drops his wand and takes a breath to gather his magic up in his spread fingers, ignoring Draco rolling his eyes and muttering something about showoffs. “Too bad they’re cursed.”
“They’re not cursed!”
“They’re definitely cursed,” Harry says, flexing his fingers over the earrings nestled in their ornate wooden box. He could cast the magic he’s working over them in his sleep—the perks of being a rather competent Curse-Breaker—and it’s no trouble at all to cast a few more times, just to be sure. More than sure. He’s absolutely certain that there’s something magically wrong with these earrings, and he’ll prove it. “And they’re ugly, beside.”
“They’re not—you have no taste.”
“They wouldn’t suit you at all, either; you’ve only got the one ear pierced,” Harry says, glancing up at the tiny diamond cuff glinting over Draco’s cartilage and the even tinier moonstone stud in his lobe, easily overlooked unless you make a habit of looking. Harry thinks he could point them out in the dark, blindfolded and spun around, but that’s not anyone’s business but his own. “Are you sure they were for you?”
“Of course they’re for me,” Draco huffs, shaking his head. “The box had my name on it, and Edmund left a note that he’d been called away but he wanted to make sure I got my present on my actual birthday instead of waiting for the party on Saturday—” The party that Harry had planned with absolutely minimal help from Edmund, who he thinks has a low chance of actually showing up, the bastard. “And, as I already told you, there are pearls.”
Harry just glares down at the stupid earrings, shaking his head.
Draco sighs. “Pearls are my birthstone.”
“Since when?”
“Since I was born in June, you nitwit.”
“They don’t even look like pearls,” Harry says, trying not to swear out loud. He’d gotten Draco a moonstone and diamond cuff so he could switch out his piercings. He’d never even considered birthstones, only that little stud that always catches his eye, and the shimmery moonstones on Draco’s watch; he’d learned about adularescence and thought about what light looked like reflected in Draco’s eyes.
At least, Harry knows, his gift is actually wearable. He can’t imagine Draco in these earrings, dangling there as he chats away with their clients and tosses his head back in laughter at Harry’s scant, interjected jokes. They’d agreed early on in their Curse-Breaking partnership that Draco was more of the natural at client relations, but Harry never feels as good as he does when he can join in and make Draco laugh. And the client, of course. That’s fine too.
He wonders if Edmund ever makes Draco laugh like that, when he’s not Portkeying off to another auction, standing Draco up for dinner with his parents, or gifting him absurd, assuredly cursed earrings. Certainly not, Harry thinks.
“I assure you that there are pearls,” Draco says, reaching out for the box. Harry smacks his hands down over it, shaking his head.
“No way, you know the rules. No touching, not until I’m sure there are no curses,” Harry says. “And I’m sure there are, so—”
“That rule is for both of us,” Draco says, swatting at Harry’s hands, laughing a little as Harry swats him back, their hands fluttering against each other over the top of box.
Harry traps both of Draco’s hands in his for a moment, grinning triumphantly, then yelps as Draco grips his hands back and slams them down on the box.
“You can’t keep me away from my birthday present,” Draco says firmly.
Before Harry can argue—before he can say he’s just protecting Draco, he’s just showing him who Edmund really is, and he could show him so much more, he could prove that Edmund is a dunce who has no idea what he has in Draco, who takes him for granted and thinks Draco would wear yellow gold and pearls and garnets and dangly, ugly, obnoxious, definitely cursed earrings in a pair when he only has one ear pierced—before any of that can come out, the door to their office bursts open to reveal a panting, red-faced Edmund, practically doubled over.
“Edmund?” Draco says, standing up from where he’s been perched on Harry’s desk and whipping his hands back.
Edmund wheezes at him, slowly straightening, his eyes widening as he holds up a very similarly-shaped wrapped box in one hand. “Wrong—present—”
“What?” Draco squawks as Harry grins broadly, triumphant.
“Don’t—open—oh—” Edmund continues, eyes going impossibly wider as he stares at the box still under Harry’s hands. “Don’t—touch—”
It’s Harry’s turn to squawk, “What?!” and whip his hands away, just as Edmund chokes out, “Cursed.”
Harry’s grin drops, staring down at the box—which is now devoid of earrings. He realizes this at the same time that Draco does, at the same time he feels a suddenly pinch in his left earlobe, jumping in his seat and yelping, “Ouch!” at the same time Draco’s hands fly up to his own ear.
He feels a weight near his cheek and gapes, wide-eyed, as he sees one of the earrings is now in Draco’s unpierced left earlobe. The other, he realizes as he cups his hand over the side of his face, is in his ear.
Harry and Draco stare at each, something charged and heated building up in the air between them, tingling where the earring is and spreading out to the tips of Harry’s fingers.
“Right,” Draco says as the moment builds, his eyes never leaving Harry’s—wide, bright, beaming with something that would be adularescence if his eyes were the moonstones they resemble. “What kind of curse, exactly?”
The earrings jingle, the magic tingles, and suddenly Draco drops into Harry’s lap, Harry’s arms going around him with little choice, their breaths quickening and a flush spreading across both their faces, as Draco’s horrible boyfriend watches.
“Erm,” Edmund says. “Right. That is to say, ah—well, you see, it might not be a curse so much as a—a bond, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” Draco says, pants out really, staring down at Harry, who stares back, until they can’t stare any longer because they’re kissing instead.     
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Text
When at the Oscars After Party
harry styles x fem!reader
Trope: love at first sight
Warnings: uhhh none I think
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You were twelve years old when your best friend, Josie, told you she would take you with her when she became rich and famous.
"I'm gonna have a huge mansion and a Mercedes Benz, and you can come with me to Hollywood or New York and we'll live together and travel the world. You won't have to work either, and you can come hang out with me on movie sets and it will be so fun," she rambled off. The two of you had sprawled out on your trampoline after some intense tumbling.
"Okay yes on the car and the mansion and everything but the me not working. I still wanna curate museums. That's like the perfect job," you responded, staring up at the sky.
"Fine, you can work with art and stuff, and I'll be a movie star," she agreed.
"Can I be your date to the Oscars?" You asked, hoping to secure the spot ahead of time.
"Only if Zac Efron isn't up for it," she shrugged.
16 years later and Zac Efron was not up for it.
So, now you were at some high end bar or something, mingling with an insane amount of wealthy people. One of the night's winners' costars offered to get everyone's tabs for the night, so you'd strode right to the bar while Josie chatted up Chris Evans in the corner.
"Could I get a martini, please? Three olives," You asked, dropping your forearms on the bar and putting your weight on it, rather than your heels.
For college, you and Josie had run off to Los Angeles with your savings and the assurance that you would both eventually be successful enough to pay off your debts. During your junior year, you'd scored an internship at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and worked hard enough to score a job with them after graduation.
Josie went for audition after audition, scraping by in school but scoring smaller roles and appearances in movies before getting the job of a lifetime in a Marvel movie sophomore year.
After almost ten years in LA, you were offered a position at the Met in New York, coincidentally at the same time Josie decided she was 'over LA' and 'NYC would suit her'.
The money from your new job was great, you were very hardworking and very lucky. Maybe you didn't come close to Josie's wealth, but you did more than well enough for yourself. Enough to buy your own expensive shoes, even if you were wearing a dress from the rack of free clothing Josie was given but doesn't plan on wearing. No shame in it, someone's gotta wear 'em, right?
The bartender returns a minute or two later with your drink. You gave him a grateful nod before plucking the toothpick from the glass and sliding an olive off with your teeth, careful not to ruin your lipstick.
Sipping from the glass slowly, you started running your eyes over the crowd. You and Josie had arrived only fifteen minutes ago and there was an entire half of the room to get through still. The bar was in the shape of a circle, planted in the center of the floor. There were dark wooded booths with red velvet cushioning lining the walls, and an area in the back with upper level seating. Apparently there was even a hierarchy for the societal elite.
Your eyes danced over the faces in the room. Andrew Garfield was talking animatedly with Oscar Isaac, Ariana Debose and Daveed Diggs were telling some story to Lin Manuel Miranda in a booth across the room. As you looked around at everyone else, you could feel someone looking at me. you slowly glanced around at the other people surrounding the bar top, searching for the culprit.
Across the bar and three people to the left you spotted him. Sunned skin, soft brown hair, and green eyes that were planted right on you. When he realized you'd caught him staring, he didn't relent. He just gave you a small smile.
You stupidly closed your eyes for just a split second, to figure out if you were dreaming. You had been attending these events for years and you were rarely noticed by anyone other than Josie's coworkers and friends. When you opened them again, he hadn't looked away. Your eyes ran over his Gucci adorned shoulders and back up to his eyes. Your stomach whirled and you felt a wave of comfort and contentment wash over you. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks and ears.
You flashed a timid smile back at Harry. You watched him grab his glass of tequila and step back from the bar. Then, a flashy gold cocktail dress glinted in the corner of your eyes and you turned around to see Josie's dark skin glowing brilliantly in her dress.
"What was that?" She immediately asked, eyes wide.
"I honestly have no idea," you knocked back the rest of your martini and bit off another olive.
"You look like you're in love!" she laughed, earrings swinging as she twisted excitedly.
"Do I?" You stood straighter, heat rushing to your cheeks again.
"Holy shit. I know he's hot but god you look like you're actually swooning right now," Josie's eyebrows were raised to heaven and she looked at you in gleeful awe.
"I swooned for sure. Like I don't think I'll ever be the same. I would follow him anywhere," you spoke in complete seriousness. Josie said nothing else, just shook her head with a grin. "What?"
"Nothing," she stated.
"Something. What? Do I look stupid? Am I insane? Is there something on my face?" You rattled off questions.
"He's coming this way," she said smugly. Your heart jumped in pure panic.
"No he's not. Why the look? What was the look?" You refused to turn around to confirm her statement about Harry approaching.
"No he's definitely coming over here. The look was because you just fell in love after ten seconds of dreamy gazes between the two of you," Josie said with a smile.
"He can't come over here. There's no way, what do I even say?" You asked her, hanging on to her wrist as she backed away. You grimaced once she was out of your reach.
Play it cool.
Play it cool.
Play it cool.
Okay.
You twisted back around to your original 'leisurely leaning on the bar for maximum shoe relief' pose. For three seconds you could feel the left side of your arm tingle as he got closer, like your body new he was near. At the fourth second, the tingle exploded and shot to your chest, flipping your heart around.
"Hi," you heard his voice. Your peripheral vision was taken over by him as he leaned forward onto the bar beside you.
"Hi," you repeated, finally turning to look at him.
"I'm Harry," he said, his eyes dancing between yours.
"I know, I mean Y/n, I'm Y/n," you failed a little at playing it cool.
"It's nice to meet you," he said, smiling as he reached his hand out. You rose from the bar, straightening your self out as he followed suit.
"It's nice to meet you too," you stuck your own hand out this time, watching as he shook it gently.
"I like the feathers," he lifted his other hand to run over one of the feathery pieces on the front of your dress.
"Thanks," you breathed out. He paused for a moment, like he wasn't sure if he should say what's on his mind.
"Will you run away if I tell you that I feel like I already know you?" He brazenly asked.
"Funnily enough, I feel the same way," you said, not oblivious to the fact that his fingers were still holding on to your own. His lips quirked before he spoke again.
"Do you believe in love at first sight, Y/n?" He questioned. His eyes hadn't left yours, and if it weren't for the sight of Zendaya just like twenty feet ahead, you would've forgotten anyone else was there at all.
"I do now," you nodded, meaning it.
☺︎
Harry Styles Trope Series Masterlist
149 notes · View notes
ujiin · 2 months
Note
why are you running
does this have anything to do with the iconic vine
yes 👍
crack cocaine tomarry time travel
this is so not serious 😭 and so old
hope you enjoy why are you running's snippet:
...
"Take this, Riddle!"
A loud, drawn out battle-cry emerges from the seventh-year transfer student, drawing the attention of everyone who's sat in the Great Hall.
"Oh, my," sighs Professor Slughorn. "They're at it again."
"Could they not have at least waited until their free period to do this?" another Professor tuts. "Such a kerfuffle, this early in the morning."
"And they never clean up after themselves. The poor house-elves." another one chides.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkle, gleam, shine, glimmer, sparkle, shimmer and fulgurate simultaneously.
"...are you alright, Albus?"
"I think he's had a stroke."
"Yes, he is getting to that age, isn't he?"
With a window-shattering worthy screech, the green-eyed boy flings an ominous glass bottle with a skull logo plastered on the front, as it misses its mark entirely, and splatters its contents on half the Slytherin table.
"Ugh, gross." a fifth-year complains. "I was gonna eat that." They point at their now contaminated plate, corroding in on itself and making a questionable hissing noise.
"I apologize on this imbecile's behalf," the Head Boy of Slytherin--aka Tom Riddle says with a twitching frown, trying not to laugh. "I can give you my plate, if you'd like." He offers it to the pouting fifth-year, like the excellent Head Boy he is.
The student only scowls, and smacks the older boy's plate from his hands, much to the displeasure of said older boy. "It had my weed, you cocknose! I was going to save it for later!" The younger student begins to cry. "How will I get through the day without blowing a fat doobie?"
"Merlin's tits, that sounds so wrong." someone unimportant says in the background.
"Oh, I have some on me!" The murderous seventh-year exclaims, seemingly given up his murder attempt for the morning. He takes out a lumpy pouch that didn't smell dissimilar to what the Narrator could only imagine the smell of Merlin's expired jizz gave off. Whatever that smelled like. There's definitely some freak out there who's pocketed that shit  "Sirius and I smoked quite a few of them, back in the day. I believe these are..." The boy pauses, sniffing them dubiously. "...egg flavored." He smiles nostalgically, chucking the horrifying pouch over to the rapidly paling fifth-year.
Riddle sighs, completely besotted. "What a fucking dumbass."
"I don't want this shitbag of shite you shitting shitter!--Agh!" The unfortunately, very sober student is interrupted in yelling expletives when the Head Boy himself sends a colorful spell their way, causing their head to explode.
The corpse collapses in a pool of it's own blood, still twitching a worrying amount.
"No one is allowed to call my Harry a shitting shitter other than me." Riddle hisses, bit too possessively, to be quite frank. He turns to the rest of the students and staff in the Great Hall, more than half of which having already tuned out this overfamiliar conversation. "In fact, if I catch any of you speaking to Harry at all, I'll tie you up with your own intestines and hang you off the rafters."
The green-eyed boy gasps in horror. "Oh Gods, no!"
He drops to the floor.
"No, no, no! My egg-flavored doobies!" The messy-haired boy--Harry--cries out in anguish, picking up the bloody pouch from the bloodied body. It was terribly bloody, you see. "Fuck nuggets."
"Professors! Shouldn't they...shouldn't they be doing something about this?" a rather unfortunate first-year asks awkwardly, to the rest of the Great Hall who quite literally do nothing about the literal murder that they all witnessed.
"Professor Slughorn, did you see anything happen here?" Riddle asks charmingly with his usual charming Prefect charm. Charming motherfucker.
"What? Did something happen?" Professor Slughorn looks up from his Witch Weekly issue that morning, with an exasperated expression. "Ah, Collins was it? Tut, tut. Just take 'em to the mediwitch and they'll be fine."
"But...the Head Boy attacked them!" the foolish first-year continues, unaware of the danger they've placed themself in.
The Potions Professor looks at Riddle smiling innocently, wand drawn, completely drenched in the fifth-year's blood. He snorts. "Sure, he did. Now then," He looks back to his Witch Weekly. "Oh, goodness me. Those stripes are simply horrendous, my dear. Why in Merlin's name would anyone put stripes on a Kitty Foyle dress of all things? Might as well put on some cuffs and a knit cap and advertise in a Thanksgiving special! You'll fit in right with the rest of the pilgrims, I say!" The Professor chuffs, totally engrossed in the magazine.
"wha..." the first-year gapes at the ridiculousness of this situation. What in sweet Morgana was everyone doing??? Had everyone lost their damn minds??
The unfortunate first-year unfortunately did not have much longer to gawk and gaggle at this ridiculous situation, as Tom Riddle had casually slid over a hip new curse that glowed the same color as his precious Harry's eyes--his words, not the Narrator's.
"Avada kedavra or whatever." He intones with perfect enunciation, spelling the best to ever spell with a spell. Damn spelling speller.
"Oh Gods, no!" The seventh-year himself cries out, experiencing a sudden trauma induced panic attack. "PTSD! Agh!" The boy hisses like a cat that got sprayed with bleach the owner accidentally mistook for water. It was that traumatizing.
"Oh no." Riddle deadpans. "I know how exactly how to cure you, my sweet Harry. Don't you worry."
With a swagger in his step and a flourish in his robes (what) the Head Boy swooped in rather dramatically (as he was a rather dramatic mini dark lord in the making) to deliver his darling boy a true love's kissᵀᴹ, without consent of course. Naturally. Really, what else did you expect?
Rather surprisingly, the younger boy suddenly lets out a gasping breath, sputtering every curse to mankind. The normal kind of curse--er, the muggle kind of curse. He seems to be doing just fine, the Narrator thinks.
"Holy shit," a random person who happened to be witnessing this assault(?) says. "That worked?"
"Wait that worked--" Riddle echoes their sentiment, before coughing. "I mean, yes, of course it did. I'm a rather talented and powerful wizard--the best in fact--of course it worked. My magic is so omnipotent that it awoke my dear Harry from his slumber--"
"I wasn't asleep you damn todger I had a panic attack--"
"--it's clearly a sign that we're meant to be. Together. Romantically. Possibly."
The younger boy stares incredulously at the Head Boy. "Wait, did you just say--"
"No, it was actually your imagination. An illusion even. Wasnt real."
"Oh. 'Cus I could've sworn you said--"
The older boy takes Harry by the hands, shushing him. "Shh, sh, sh. I'm trying to gaslight you, darling."
The other boy raises a brow. "Is it working?"
Riddle pauses. "Is it?"
"And you kissed me," the boy continues, regardless of Riddle's manipulation tactics. "What was that all about, Tom?"
Fuck, Riddle thinks to himself. He's hot.
"Your arse is looking bootylicious today." He tries to change the subject to no avail.
"Oh, does it really?" Harry says in shock. Well, shit. Perhaps it was to an avail, after all. "I had no idea."
"Yes, why don't we go to my Head Boy room to solve your arse problem. Maybe even give Boy Head, if you know what I mean." He smiles charmingly, completely distracting from the context of his words.
Harry nods dumbly, completely distracted from the context of his words.
"Professors, I'm going to take the day off of classes today, as well as dear Harry here. He's in desperate need of head. Which he will both aquire and give, to and from me." The older boy gives a smile so blinding, a few students lose their eyesight.
"AHH--!"
"OH LORD HAVE MERCY--!"
"MY EYESSS--!"
"Yes, yes. Go on, now. Youngens these days, I tell you. Always thinking about head," a nameless Professor sighs.
"Haha 69," someone else laughs. The previous Professor glares at them.
"Is Albus alright now?" another Professor asks, disinterestedly.
"No, he's still in the midst of a stroke, I believe."
"Ah, a pity that."
"Indeed."
"...why are his eyes still twinkling?"
i didn't know where to stop so i just stopped there
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jiabeewrites · 1 year
Text
He'll Never Be Prince Charming (2/?)
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(aesthetic by @aesthetics-and-fuckery, yeah, that's me. do NOT steal this!)
Harry Potter/Wizarding World x DC
Pairing: Klarion Bleak x Fem!Reader, Lilith Bleak (OC) x Fem!Reader
CW: romance, past breakups, use of she/her, language, shitty attempt at angst, author attempted to not use y/n and i think i succeeded but who knows, klarion & lilith are being lil bitches who doesn't know how to romance, playing with feelings, wizarding relations are really weird, toxic relationships probably, pining, i think that's it but if there's more tell me!
Summary: Reader is an exchange student. She's a witch, but not the kind that hogwarts is used to. She uses pentagrams and incantations instead of wands and spells. She uses poisons and candles rather than potions and charms. She practices moonlit summonings instead of defense against the dark arts. So what happens when not one, but two lords of chaos appear in the middle of the great hall, both claiming to be her lover? (this is part two of a multi-part series, so look out for a pt 3!)
SONG: Devil Doesn't Bargain by Alec Benjamin
A/N: I'm sorry if I offended anyone! I just tried to portray traditional-ish(?) witchcraft in the way that I've kinda seen it portrayed in fiction. Please don't take this seriously, this is a work of fiction and isn't meant to portray witchcraft seriously.
HOW TO READ: Each set of lyrics is kinda like a divider! each section of words/blurb between the lyrics are their own moment, and this particular piece has multiple little moments. Definitely timeskips. You can find more stories like this one by looking under the tag #ryn writes songfics
<Prev ~ Next >
Previously...
"Klarion and Lilith Bleak get your asses down here right now!"
The two stopped arguing and grinned. With a pop they appeared in front of her, smiling like kids in a candy shop. One had a lovesick expression, the other had a flirtatious smirk.
"Hello, love."
I'm not one to lecture Talk down to a friend I don't mean to pressure Mean to condescend
She rolled her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, frowing.
"We're here to settle a little...disagreement of sorts between us." The female, Lilith, stretched her mouth into a cheshire cat smile.
"Oh really? And what is this disagreement?"
"Your heart, my love," the male, Klarion, replied.
She facepalmed. Noodle hissed at them both. The cat, Teekl, and the Raven, Deirdre, hissed right back. That was when the teachers *cough*umbitch*cough* decided to butt in.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Umbridge shrieked.
"This? Well, 'this' is used to identify a specific person or thing close at hand or being indicated or experienced. It can also be used to refer to a specific thing or situation just mentioned," Lilith said, cackling.
Klarion just rolled his eyes.
"Nobody likes a smart assault, Lily."
She sighed.
"It's smart-ass, Witch Boy."
"Whatever you say, my love." Lilith glared at her twin.
"Who said she's yours?"
"ENOUGH!" Umbridge screeched. "Who are you and why have you tresspassed onto these grounds?!"
The duo glared at Umbridge.
"You don't know us? How rude," Klarion said.
"Yeah, you'd think a magic user would know us," Lilith added. "Even if it's baby magic."
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Professor, this is Klarion the Witch Boy and Lilith the Witch Girl."
"Lords of Chaos, at your disservice!" The two said in unison. Umbridge's nostrils flared.
"I demand you get off this property at once!"
"Uh uh uh! We still need to settle our agreement!" Klarion exclaimed.
"Yeah!" Lilith turned her attention towards her. "So? Which of us do you love? Klari or me?"
"It's obviously me," Klarion said, scoffing at his twin's attempts.
"Puh-LEASE, you have zero game."
"Excuse you?!" He glared at his sister.
"Klarion, Lilith-" She pursed her lips at the chaotic twins. Umbridge decided she had had enough.
"So you're the cause of this!" Umbridge exclaimed triumphantly.
"Wha-You think I can control two people who are literally the embodiments of chaos?" She turned her attention to Lilith and Klarion. "Look, the two of you better get out of here."
"Wha-" Klarion cut his twin off.
"Do you want her to get into more trouble, Lily?" The female huffed and the two (along with their familiars) disappeared in a burst of red dust.
And the whole school was staring at the red-faced witch.
But I just want what's best for You in the end I know you don't want to let go
"So who are they?"
The whole school seemed to want to know the answer to that question.
Klarion and Lilith Bleak were twins. A chaotic duo, spreading destruction and mischief wherever they went. At times, they seemed like complete opposites. Lilith was the more mature one out of the two, sarcastic and flirtatous. Klarion was childish and disruptive, constantly bothering everybody he met. But when the two decided to cause trouble together, they showed the world exactly why they were twins.
Klarion "worked" for the Light, an organization that constantly plagued the JLA and the covert team. Since she dabbled in almost every corner of witchcraft, she met with the junior league on a normal basis to fix their magical maladies. Lilith, however, preferred to stay untethered to anything, wreaking havoc on either side depending on who she felt like helping.
"They're lords of chaos. Both have been around since the beginning of time and both are eternally confusing. But I can't exactly get rid of them, since they're immortal and a lot more powerful than I am," she finished.
"Was that cat and that raven their familiars?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah."
Harry grinned at her.
"So two of the most chaotic, powerful magic beings in the universe have a crush on you."
She groaned.
"Shut up, Potter."
A group of girls passed them, and shot her terrified looks.
"The whole school thinks you summon demons on a normal basis," Ron said.
"I mean, I've done it before but I'd never summon those two. I see enough of them as it is." The trio laughed, and they pushed open the door to potions.
And just like before I can see that you're sure You can change him but I know you won't
"Hey! Demon-girl!"
She groaned at the nickname and turned around in her seat.
"The hell do you want?" She grumbled.
"What was that in the Great Hall? Did you summon them?" He asked. She just scoffed in response.
"Trust me, I would never summon those two."
A malevolent purple mist appeared next to her. It cleared to reveal the same girl from the Hall.
"Never? I think never's a bit too long, sweetheart."
Lilith Bleak had infiltrated Hogwarts. Again.
She sighed.
"What do you want, demon?" Lilith frowned.
"Demon? You and I know full well I'm way more powerful than just a pitiful demon," she scoffed.
She sighed.
"Whatever, but Lilith, you need to leave." The lord of chaos pouted at this.
"Leave? But I just got here!"
"Do you want me to get into trouble?" Lilith huffed.
"Fine, I'll leave. But I'm leaving Deirdre with you."
Her eyes widened.
"Lilith...what if you get attacked and she's not with you?"
She regretted saying that as soon as a smirk appeared on the other woman's face.
"Aww, looks like somebody does care!"
She rolled her eyes, then shooed her away.
"Go perish."
"Anything for you, sweetheart!"
And she vanished in a puff of purple smoke.
She faced forward, only for Professor Snape to glare at her.
"Detention."
"What? But it's not even my fault! They just appear and I can't do anything about it!"
He frowned, but turned back to the board.
"If they disrupt the class again I will have to give you detention and take away house points. No matter whose fault it is."
She groaned. Deirdre cawed out a laugh.
"Oh shut up you stupid bird."
The devil doesn't bargain He'll only break your heart again It isn't worth it, darling He's never gonna change
The same blond boy sat next to her during Transfiguration.
"You never answered my question"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Why do you want to know?" He shrugged.
"I'm just curious."
"They're lords of chaos. Uncontrollable, destructive chaos. Over a trillion years old and freakishly annoying."
He scoffed.
"I've never heard of such a thing."
"That's 'cause you people practice baby magic."
"Baby magic?" He asked incredulously. She nodded.
"Real witches don't need wands or spells. Incantations work better and summoning demons or fae are superior to wandwork."
"So you do summon demons," he sneered.
"They're not all evil, if that's what you think." He just sent her a dark look and moved to another seat. Harry took his place.
"Malfoy bothering you?" She shook her head.
"Nah. Just being a nosy prick."
Deirdre cawed loudly, and she rolled her eyes.
"Go away, you lousy bird." The raven looked at her with utter contempt, and vanished with a poof of lavender smoke.
He'll never be Prince Charming He'll only do you harm again I don't mean to meddle But the devil doesn't settle
Elsewhere...
"Wha-Deirdre!" Lilith glared at her familiar. "You were supposed to look after her!"
The raven just cawed in response.
What am I, your servant?
"No, but you should be looking out for her anyway."
Creepy laughter echoed throughout the room.
"Ugh! Go away, Klair!"
The male witch laughed.
"She liked you, y'know." Lilith whirled around.
"What?!"
"Yeah. A couple years ago. When you hated the Justice Babies because they killed Amaranth." Lilith smiled.
"Ha! I told you she-"
"Liked, Lily. Past tense. Her feelings are gone now." Klarion grinned while his twin looked enraged. "She won't love you again."
No, the devil doesn't bargain
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lastwave · 6 months
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Hello, if you have the energy, time and will, would you expand on the recent post you made on how people in fandom talk about the skills and how harry feels about them? Like, what kind of things people say are hurtful/inaccurate/uncomfortable, in relation to disco elysium?
I do not mean to pressure you to educate me on this topic, as it is not the responsibility of the affected to educate unknowing people just because they are affected, of course. I just have not found many sources discussing the microaggression regarding the way some people talk about the skillset in disco elysium and the way that they might differ from the general microsaggression about psychosis and systems.
I ask this because I am curious about the way other people experience the world (though I know I will not always get my curiosity sated and this might be a selfish reason) and I want to know what not to do or say in talks about the skillset or in depictions of the skillset in art or writing. I want to be able to discuss and use the skillset as a game mechanic, narrative device and characters in a way that minimizes harm to marginalized groups. I also know that venting or talking about frustrations can sometimes help make one feel better, (but I also know that that depends on the person, problem and the relationship between the venter and the person listening) so maybe this can help relieve some feelings? Those are my intentions with this ask.
I apologize if my careful wording is too overly careful or if this question in other ways causes you unnecessary strife. I just try to be a careful person when it comes to these topics. If you'd rather only respond to me personally instead of the ask, feel free to message me. Whatever way you wanna handle this, if it be publicly as a post, a private message or if you do not feel like you want to answer at all.
Whatever you choose, I wish you the best day that you can have today. Kind regards, Chromatophorium
hiii thank u for asking!
im gonna preface the system bit with whether or not harry & his skills are a system is never explicitly stated, so take this all with a grain of salt
the rest is under the readmore so i don't clog up peoples dashboards
so what gets me is a lot of works imply the skills are less as people than Harry. i understand where the assumption comes from tho, because a lot of media likes to purport the idea of an "original" alter, which isn't how the disorder works. harry is the current host, and he identifies with the body, but the host isn't any more or less person than the other alters.
& we know the skills have independent thought from harry and their own, even if some (or a lot) of them share similar goals (see electrochemistry and volition, two very different personalities w/ different thoughts on how to go about things, but share a goal of keeping the system experiencing joy, though echem has considerably worse coping mechanisms). hell, they even have different political affiliations (see different routes) and a method of coming to a consensus on information (thought cabinet.)
and, as implied in the name, the skills have different talents from harry. *harry's* talent is connecting with people. i interpret the red checks with other skills as trying to let another alter front. i know ive had moments where i've had to let a way more socially adept alter take over. this would be a slightly different conversation if he was implied to be polyfragmented, but hes not soo.
that's why im less inclined to believe theyre a delusion or supernatural thing (shivers excluded, shes definitely supernatural), bc on the most part the skills just act like people, and all display signs of did/osdd (amnesia, distinct personalities, dissociation, etc.) if u want i can make a separate post going into individual skills and how i think they fit how certain alters form, but thats off topic
ANYWAY. it irks me when people boil the skills down to "this is the one that wants good things and this is the one that wants silly things and this is the one that wants bad things" bc it really falls easily into the negative stereotypes applied to systems & by extension psychotic people
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tinydestinybear · 2 years
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Hi, I’m not sure if you’ve already done this but I can’t find it on your masterlist so I’m assuming not! I would love an NSFW version of the Candid Photos collection!
hellooo, thank you for sending in the request! i hope you enjoy reading, please send across feedback! this is a collab with @watermelonlovershigh because i absolutely love their ideas and wanted to do this together with them 💕 
warning: 18+, nsfw content
w/c: 910 words
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1. I think it’s pretty much evident that Harry has a lot of recordings varying from soft, casual morning sex you have to pure filthy ones too. They don’t make up for your absence when he’s on tour but definitely help him out whenever he misses your touch.  
2. Whenever you send unsolicited nudes to each other, he’ll probably have the best reactions. Let’s say you send him a picture of you in bed wearing a lace teddy  *** and here’s how it goes:
Haaaang on a second I love this You’re so sexy m’love Now please, pick up my call baby gotta see you for myself. Miss you so so much
3. There are some days Harry feels like edging himself and the best way to do that is by watching videos he took of him edging you. The videos contain him rubbing your clit until you're seconds away from coming and then he'd remove his fingers, leaving you very much edged. Or in some videos, it's of him holding a vibrator on your clit, sometimes dipping it into your dripping cunt, and then removing it before you come. So as Harry watches these videos in his hotel rooms, as soon as he edges you in one of the videos, he'll remove his hand off his hard and throbbing cock to edge himself. It can last hours or minutes, just depending on his mood or schedule.
4. Harry absolutely loves taking pictures and videos with you, of you so there are hundreds of them, even candid ones when he just sets up the phone at a corner - one where your head’s resting on his chest or his resting on your boobs on the couch or on the bed on a lazy day or even his rings print on your ass after a hot night. He’ll probably have short videos of you kissing with soft background music and he’ll watch it when he feels extra lonely and misses your kisses.
5. Harry has to self pleasure a lot when he's away on tour and the only way he can manage to get off is either looking at photos or videos of you during sex that's he's taken for this purpose. When he has a little extra time to unwind and masturbate, he enjoys looking at this specific video of you where it's just your face. Harry loves seeing how your face scrunches up in pleasure and the way your eyes gloss over. It really gets him going.
6. You both enjoy recording and don’t feel pressure coming with it so when you try out new toys and film a few days later when you’ve adjusted to the toy, it brings even more pleasure. Rather than just giving pleasure when you’re both away, it also highlights your relationship journey with him and how you’ve explored different boundaries with him. 
7. Sometimes Harry never actually filmed you during sex but more so had his phone picking up the audio only, screen black. He enjoys listening to this audio when he has some time to take an extra long shower, including some self pleasuring. He'll connect his phone to a speaker and while he's in the shower, the sounds of your beautiful moans echo through the hotel bathroom walls, helping him to jerk off.
8. Typically Harry watches a video of you giving him a blowjob before one of his concerts if he's got a raging boner and needs it to go down before going up on stage. If you were physically there with him, you'd be giving him a blowjob in person. But without you there, the video Harry took of you on your knees, deep-throating his cock will work. He'll sit on the toilet in the dressing room and with his lubricated hand, tug his foreskin up and down his shaft until ropes of warm, sticky cum shoots out his head.
9. Most of the videos saved in his camera roll are filmed in the comforts of your home but when you both wanna enjoy the thrill, you film it in public, especially bathrooms. Maybe he’s carrying a vibrator with him and he’ll put it on for you before you leave and adjust your outfit, “Love you, you’re so pretty. Will make you feel good at home if you get through it today.” And when he sees them while on tour, he misses you even more because as much as he wants to give you pleasure and enjoy that thrill again, you’re not there by his side. But well, you both make up for it when you reunite.
10. Being on tour without you is tough and sometimes Harry feels sad and horny, leading him to wank off to his most favorite video of you. A video that barely has any picture but mostly sounds. And it's the sounds of your love making. The love making you had right before he left for tour where you shared your love for one another in sweet kisses and sensual touches. Soft praises and loving words. He'll have the phone beside his head, on his pillow, and have his hand under the duvet, masturbating his cock off while tears run down his face. It may not be the most euphoric orgasm to come out of this session but it's one that will temporarily fill the void in his heart from missing you. Harry just can't wait until he sees you again because he's going to make love to you over and over again.
watermelonlovershigh’s masterlist | tinydestinybear’s masterlist
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