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hollowdeath · 8 months

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Oh hello, I just wanted to tell you that what you wrote is amazing! I read it over and over and couldn't stop reading. You are soooo amazing! *((Ugly crying😭❤️))*

And umm.. I would like to share about the imagination in my head about Dark Harry Potter. He joins the Lord Voldemort and betrayed all his friends. When the war ended, the Lord's side Voldemort wins. Everything is in chaos but Harry ignores it all because he only cares about the reader, his old girlfriend. (Harry still loves the reader even though the reader hates Harry.) He might have requested that the Lord Voldemort gave the reader as a reward to him after the war. Something like that, and ummm, a drama that is both bitter and sad and angry at the same time full of longing for each other? A rough and sad lovemaking? 🥺

hi! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy!

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

summary: harry's all-consuming anger successfully tempts him to join voldemort in the war, sending you, his girlfriend, away in an attempt to keep you safe. years later he asks for your return, and is met with bitterness and rage as you struggle to navigate your feelings for each other in a post-war world.

c/w: smut!!! angst!! slow burn! mentions/threats of weapons, violence, abuse, and death/murder. smut is all the way at the end (grinding, oral, penetration, submissive!harry & dominant!reader) lightly edited, not book/movie/canon accurate

word count: 12.6k

a/n: this is giving me manacled x star wars and i love it lol, so so so much fun to write. i tried to make the reader more angst-y and dominant than normal, so if you like this please let me know! sorry if the plot doesn't make much sense. i also started school this week so please be patient with me! going to try and start posting shorter blurbs/headcanons between requests <3

harry was standing at a window in the lord's manor, watching the street below him as people sulked aimlessly by. it was a typical, gloomy day, the clouds gathering heavily above. it had been raining for weeks, maybe even months at this point, and it was beginning to cast a permanent gray shadow across the city. not even the weather could escape the tragedies of the war.

though harry chose to not dwell on the war, he felt its lingering effects. even from his lofty spot in the comfort of the lord's castle, which he barely left anymore. its walls had become harry's second skin. so long as he had everything delivered to him whenever he desired, it was disgusting to him to even think of stepping outside.

yet still, harry could see the abandoned and damaged shops just outside the lord's gates lining the courtyard along the cobblestone streets. the burnt remains of what once was. the sunken-in faces of the remaining people in the city. the lack of light, the lack of life, the lack of magic.

there's a part of harry, a weak cry from deep inside his repressed past, that feels bad. he was once a young wizard with bright eyes walking the streets of these same shops. he once enjoyed the sounds of shared happiness, and found solace in the fact that despite his lack of, there would always be joy in the world around him.

however, as harry grew older, and the circumstances around him shifted, he found himself getting angrier more often. not just on a weekly basis over small interactions or mistakes, but all the time, from the moment he was awoken by his nightmares to the moment he fell back into them. harry simply had no room inside of him left for anything else. it was just anger. pure, unbridled anger that only caused annoyance at first, then small outbursts of irritation after a while, and, eventually, he couldn't look at anyone or anything without wanting to physically destroy it for no reason other than he was just angry.

harry was angry at the world for having magic in it in the first place. he hated the divide it caused between muggles and non-muggles, pure bloods and half bloods. he was angry that divide is what took his parents from him before he could even properly know them. he was angry he had to grow up in abuse and neglect under the guise of 'safety'. he was angry he never received an apology, an admittance of guilt, not even a hint of closure for the past that was still controlling his present.

the boy who used to risk his life to save hogwarts and the students inside of it would eventually be the same one to let them fall.

when voldemort came back, and harry's anger was at its worst, he knew there was a connection. he didn't know about horcruxes yet and he certainly didn't know he was one. and yet he knew, somewhere deep inside him again, that it wasn't a coincidence. there was a reason his anger was consuming him, and the reason was voldemort.

after cedric's death, harry had begun to spiral. the nightmares were worse than before, he felt deathly paranoid constantly, and couldn't escape the intruding memories of the graveyard. though harry had managed well enough afterwards, still suppressing his rage, he couldn't hide the change in his personality from those closest to him. ron and hermione were the first to bring it up, but, of course, harry had snapped and told them to mind the business that pays them. despite his resistance, they tried until the very end to help their best friend see through his anger, to remember what was right and wrong.

however, once sirius was dead, it was all over.

harry had simply lost any hope that was left within him. watching sirius fall through the veil, his eyes lifeless and cold, was like watching harry himself die. he didn't think he could get any lower, and then he watched the only family he had left be cursed just within his reach.

harry was never the same after that. when he sat in bed late at night staring at the marauders map in his lap, he thought about how much he hated this life that's been made for him. the boy who lived, the scape goat, the hero, our only hope. it was crushing. harry was just a boy. he wanted to live a normal life.

but he knew he never could. not after tom riddle, not after cedric, not after sirius. even if everything went away tomorrow and harry could just attend his classes and be with his friends, nothing would change. he would still be alone, he would still be angry, and he would still suffer from his traumas. what was the point in fighting for good or living to see the end when you would always end up alone?

except, harry wasn't alone, really. he had you.

if there was one thing in this lifetime, one thing throughout this entire war that could have saved harry, it was you.

you and harry had been classmates for a year or so before really getting to know each other, and started dating not long after. when you were around, harry knew there was something worth fighting for. though he may feel angry and everything and everyone and everything everyone said, harry could never truly be mad with you. it's like when you looked at him the anger was muted, numb, deep inside him, and as soon as someone would interrupt it was bubbling at the surface again.

you were worried about harry, of course, and saw the effects his anger had on his relationships with everyone else around him. besides you.

he remembers you clearly, still to this day, and just how upset you were anytime he lashed out. if he'd felt anything other than anger at that time, it would've been guilt. guilt for hurting you, for scaring you. guilt, but not guilty enough to stop.

the anger was stronger.

even when you asked him, begged him, please, harry, please stop letting your anger win, and even when he promised, swore on his own grave, that he would try harder to stop for you, he never did.

harry was beyond angry. he was spiteful. all he had ever been was kind, a pushover who gave everyone the respect he was never graced with. he's saved strangers who wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire. he's lost his family in their sacrifice for the greater good that now rested upon harry's 16 year old shoulders.

he was beginning to think the fight wasn't worth it.

not only did the fight for good no longer seem worthy to harry, the fight against it only seemed to become more enticing. why should harry continue to risk his life and sanity when there would always be fights of blood purity? why should he be the hero everyone else has always wanted him to be?

for a long time, the answer was you. you were reason enough for harry to keep fighting, to keep his anger under control. when he looked at you things made sense for just a moment, his suffering was worth it to see you alive and well. until it wasn't.

everyone has a breaking point, and harry felt like he had finally reached his. as the war had geared up to a point of no return, harry had to make a decision. he had always assumed his decision was already made for him since birth, but he soon realized he never actually had to follow this path set for him in the first place. he was free to do as he pleased. he wasn't dumbledore, he wasn't his parents, he wasn't even the hero everyone thought he was. he was angry. he was spiteful.

worse than that, harry was vengeful.

so, when he met voldemort in the woods during the battle of hogwarts to accept his death, harry instead offered him a proposal the dark lord simply couldn't refuse. harry potter, his living horcrux, would become his successor upon his death. harry would fight with and for voldemort, training to become the most powerful dark wizard in history, and to finally let tom riddle rest well knowing the world was in just as dark, evil hands as his own.

though voldemort was skeptical at first, naturally, as harry expected him to be, he could eventually see the darkness within harry nearly consuming him whole. he was as serious as death itself. he no longer had the desire within him to continue fighting for, what he saw as, a lost cause. voldemort was rather pleased with this news, though never expected harry to come around like he did. he hadn't even considered it, really. but who was he to deny his own successor?

upon harry's return to hogwarts with voldemort and his death eaters in tow, every single person who watched was stunned into silence. even mcgonagall, who had been instructing and encouraging the students all night in their fight, had become speechless and teary eyed at the sight. ron had to catch hermione, who nearly fell to the floor.

but nobody was as upset as you were.

you had already been sobbing watching harry walk off into the woods towards his own death thinking you would never see him alive again. only to watch him emerge from the same treeline with the enemy by his side. it's like you got kicked in the gut. you would've almost rather never seen harry again.

"harry!" you had screamed in a broken voice as he crossed the bridge, voldemort's snake slithering at his feet. you were running to him, breaking through the multiple arms that tried to hold you back.

voldemort tried to raise his wand to you, but harry had stopped him, telling him to let him handle it. he was suspicious at first, still not fully trusting harry's intentions just yet, but was reassured by the sinister look in his eyes.

harry looked at you. he remembers feeling a twinge of that same guilt from before, the tiniest spark of hope deep within his rage. he really did love you, at least at some point he did. you would've made all of this worth it, you would've been the reason to keep going. but not even you were reason enough anymore. for so long he had been ready to take his revenge on the world that failed him.

"harry, what are you doing?" you had asked him, voice shaking. you were almost whispering, your eyes nervously glancing towards voldemort every other second in fear for your safety. harry grabbed your hands but you pulled them back, a look of disgust coming across your face.

"come with me." harry had told you. your look of disgusted transformed into shock, anger, confusion, and guilt. there were mumblings coming from the crowd of students behind you. "what?" you had asked, nearly breathless at this point, your eyes searching him for answers.

"come with me, [y/n]. i want you by my side as i become the most powerful dark lord in the world." harry explained, taking steps towards you with an excited grin on his face, his eyes still dark with corruption. you were still in shock when he grabbed for your hands. he kissed your knuckles softly with a quiet, "i love you,"

he had meant it, but not like he used to.

it took a few moments of silence and some tense eye contact before you pulled your hands away, letting the tears fall again as you attempted to gather your words. "you can't do this, harry. i will never join the dark lord. you know this isn't right, why are you doing this? why? why?" you're practically begging for an answer as harry looked away, an irritated expression on his face, clenching his jaw together. your hands reached for his shirt and jacket, trying to shake some sense into him as you grasped them tightly and pulled him closer.

"don't you love me?" you had asked him in the most heartbreaking, soul crushing voice. your words were weak, but your sentiment was palpable. you were bloody, dirty, covered in scars from fighting, holding harry close to you as you begged him with wide eyes. not too much earlier in the year he would've folded immediately looking at you, so innocent and desperate, his last bit of hope in the world.

but it was already far too late.

"take her to azkaban," harry had announced, angling his head back to the deatheaters behind him, keeping his eyes locked with yours. your grip on his clothes loosened and shocked gasps came from the crowd. harry looked at voldemort, who was a bit puzzled by the situation, but backed up harry's real nonetheless. "you heard the boy," he snapped towards the men behind him.

the deatheaters walked towards you as you stepped away from harry. "no, no, no, stop!" you were screaming, trying to back away from them, but they had grabbed your arms aggressively and began dragging you towards the bridge. "[y/n]!" a few students had shouted, running towards you before their attempts were blocked by a wave of voldemort's wand. the students fell to the ground, watching helplessly as you continued to fight your way out of the deatheaters' grasps. harry stood still, emotionless, completely stoic as he heard your desperate wails and calls for his name disappear into the woods behind him.

the rest of that night or day or whatever it was has since been completely blocked out of harry's mind, forever. his rage had reached a level he didn't know was possible. all he could recall anymore is the blood, the screaming, the running, and the light of his wand in his hand. many students and professors died during that battle at his hand, along with voldemort's and the deatheaters'. the castle was then burned to the ground, signifying the end of the battle. hogwarts had never stood a chance.

and, now, harry stands in the dark lord's manor, staring at the abandoned buildings lining his street, and he's thinking of you.

he often wondered how life would have been if you had joined him that day. though his years since have been packed with death, fights, destruction, and chaos, there were moments alone or in peril where you crossed his mind like a gentle breeze. a simpler part of his past, a light in his darkness. your soft, kind eyes, wide with shock as you back away from him, fixated on the deatheaters coming to collect you. your sweet, melodic voice screaming and breaking as you were dragged away, fighting for your freedom. harry could remember the moment perfectly despite everything else in his life being a blur.

he wonders how you would have filled the role as his partner in crime after choosing him. two dark lords unstoppable against the forces of the wizarding world, fighting 'good' and spreading evil just as he had been this whole time. would you have succumbed easily to the temptation? would you be as dark as harry was? could you maybe even be darker?

but harry knew it was a fruitless endeavor from the beginning. he had wanted to ask you anyways, to at least give you a chance to make the decision to be with him, even if he already knew what your response would be. harry was a bit let down at first, hoping maybe there was enough love between you to push morals aside, but he knew he would never be that lucky. part of why he fell in love with you way before his anger began was your commitment and dedication to what you believed was right. that same trait would be the driving force behind his decision to lock you away.

harry knew you. and he knew you wouldn't stop fighting until your body gave out, and maybe even after that. he may have lost you by sending you to azkaban for the foreseeable future of the war, but he'd rather know you were safe somewhere solitary than spend his years wondering where your dead body had been rotting into the dirt all this time. though azkaban was desolate, dark, isolated, and torturous, it allowed harry to sleep at night thinking of your still-beating heart resting safely behind those impenetrable walls.

lately his nights had become more restless, though, as the thought of you still residing in azkaban began to sit with him. he didn't feel guilt, really, he knew it was what was ultimately best for you. but he did miss you.

after the war had died down and voldemort took his place as the rightful dark lord of the world, harry's anger began to subside for the first time in years. rather than rage fueling his insatiable desire to destroy, he felt incredibly numb and disengaged with everything around him. the desolate streets and grim sky and abandoned city outside the windows began to fit his mental state more and more. for the first time since he was a teenager, harry could see past the anger.

and all he wanted was you.

so, harry had reached out to the dark lord, who spent most of his time at his new ministry castle across the country from the old manor he let harry watch over. they communicated every so often, checking in on business and social matters, but otherwise never had to meet in person.

harry sent him a letter asking for your release and direct delivery to his household, barring from reason. he felt after the war he had lead with and for voldemort, he owed harry a singular favor all these years later.

it only took 2 days for a confirmation letter to be sent back to harry, signed by voldemort himself, dating your arrival for the next day.

harry had his house elf, jinx, make up your room, asking her to be sure it was comfortable and clean before your delivery tomorrow afternoon, and to also provide plenty of options for dinner.

harry spent all night thinking about you, wondering what you'd look like after all this time. how similar or different you would be from what he remembers. how you'd react to seeing him. he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't react well, likely needing an extended period of alone time to adjust being here before he'd ever get a civil moment with you. but he was up for the challenge, otherwise he'd never ask for your return in the first place. he was releasing his anger, and instead building his patience, if not just to hold you one more time.

there was a delicious smell filling the mansion as the clock drew nearer to your arrival. harry was dressed better than he had been in years, and had jinx make the usually desolate looking building feel warm and inviting. fireplaces roaring, warm lamps flooding the hallways, and the grand dining table set to perfection for 2 particular guests.

harry didn't want to make it too obvious, but it was hard for him to hide how excited he was to see you again. even if you were different, even if you hated him, all he wanted was to see you in person, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since the day you were dragged away at his command.

once the hour was upon him, harry could hear footsteps and voices on the second floor. his heart leaped, setting down his glass of wine before heading for the stairs.

"let go of me, let go of me," a strained voice was crying down the hall, the sounds of a struggle coming from harry's left. he saw two house elves, rather squat and bulky, holding onto the arms of a frail body covered in a simple striped prison dress.

one elf turned to harry and gave him a devilish grin, "ah, there's the man himself!" he growled, his partner turning as well. "sorry we were late, mr. potter, someone here wasn't too keen on leaving azkaban, for some reason," he apologizes, pulling at the arm he's holding.

you slowly turn your head and stop struggling, your eyes wide with fear and mouth dropped open. "harry?" you whispered to yourself, your knees nearly giving out beneath you before the elves aggressively pulled you back up.

the first elf groans, rolling his eyes at you. "where can we put her, huh?" he asks, his tone impatient. harry pulls a few gold coins out of his pocket and hands them over to both of the elves. "right here is just fine. thank you, boys," he tells them.

the elves happily accept the tips and drop you to the ground, quickly disappearing in a flash.

you're left heavily breathing on the floor of the hall, sniffling and groaning in pain before diverting your attention to harry. your eyes were still wide, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you tried to move yourself further away from him on your hands and knees.

harry gave you your space, but watched intently as you nervously increased the distance between both of you. your hair was long, tangled, greasy, and falling around you like a curtain. you were smaller than he remembered, your eyes sunken in and cheeks more hollowed than before. you were pale, and visibly dirty. the soles of your feet were nearly black.

harry felt a pain in his stomach, his blood pressure rising imagining how you lived inside the walls of the prison. he couldn't identify the feeling. it was different from anger, but it wasn't far off.

as you continued to back up, your eyes shifted to a widow on your right. you slowly gained the energy to lift yourself and reach for the window, throwing it open before attempting to stick your hand out.

your hand hit the open window like you had never moved the glass barrier. you continued trying to stick your hand and head out, hitting at the invisible barrier with all your strength, making frustrated sounds.

"there's a spell on the house, love. you can't leave, just for now, until we can work things out," harry tried to explain gently as you continued trying to escape. he took a step towards you and you stepped away, leaning on the wall for support as you began to cry harder.

"get away from me, get away, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening," you tried to shout at him, your faced turned away and other arm putting distance between you and harry. you were gasping for air, your voice stressed and broken, shaking your head as you tried to continue backing up into the wall.

harry still attempted to give you your space. he hated to see you like this. you were so defensive and scared of everything going on around you. he wanted to give you time to calm down, but felt you needed to know what was going on.

"[y/n]," harry said, causing your head to snap towards him with curious eyes. your arm lowered slightly, your knees still weak beneath you. "listen to me, okay? just for a second," harry tried to ask kindly. he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he talked to someone this gently.

you continued to stand defensively, your eyes scanning harry up and down nervously as your breathing slowly started to still.

harry sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before turning his attention to you again. "i know this is a lot, and i know it's confusing," he starts, his voice unexpectedly shaky. "but i asked voldemort, and i had you released from azkaban. i figured you may like a warm place to stay, so i had you brought here,"

you still looked confused for a moment before you narrowed your eyes, your arm coming up once again to defend yourself. "what are you talking about? where are we?" you asked harry suspiciously, still scanning him from head to toe.

"my manor. well, the lord's manor, but, essentially mine," harry says a bit awkwardly. you gave him a look of disgust, leaning further into the wall for support. "why would i want to be here? with you?" you practically spat at him with hatred in your eyes. harry was unaffected.

"i know you don't. but there's nowhere else to go. i promise." harry tells you solemnly. your eyes widen a bit again, a flash of fear coming across your face, but the anger quickly returns.

"i'd rather live in rubble than prop my feet up in the dark lord's manor," you say sharply, taking a step towards him in attempt to intimidate him. though you weren't much shorter than harry, you were weak, and tired, and he wasn't necessarily afraid of your threats.

he took a step back anyways, giving you more space. "look," he says, his eyes turning to the floor before he can steady his breathing and reply. "it's just for now. if you really don't want to stay, i won't make you." he says softly before returning his eyes to yours. they're not as bright as he remembers them in his dreams about you.

"but," he says, causing your jaw to clench. "you will stay until you're well again. and it's not up for debate." harry tells you firmly, his tone not as gentle as before.

you swallow harshly, your stomach growling audibly as the smell of the food downstairs begins to settle into your senses.

harry notices this and smirks to himself before quickly returning to a neutral state. "now," he announces, straightening out his blazer. "until the food is ready, there's a room made up for you just down this hall and to your left. it has a bathroom, and clothes. take all the time you need." he says before promptly turning on his heels and heading downstairs, his heart still racing from his encounter with you.

sitting in the living room watching the fireplace in front of him, harry eventually hears the door of your new bedroom click open and swiftly close. not long after he can hear the plumbing rumble as you take your first shower. he smiles at the fact that you're finally in his life once more, even if the circumstances were completely unusual.

harry's nearly concerned and wanting to send jinx to check on you after 2 hours of running water before it stops, the sound of the bathroom fan taking its place. harry's relieved.

"jinx, could tell our guest the foods ready," harry tells the elf as she brings the last tray from the kitchen to the dining room. she nods to herself, shuffling up the stairs sluggishly.

harry's pouring another glass of wine in the kitchen and decides to pour you one as well. on his way into the dining room, he sees you standing in the entryway. you're dressed in a large jumper, oversized pajamas bottoms, and your hair is still rather wet plopped into a bun on top of your head. your skin is rubbed raw, your cheeks still flushed pink as you analyze the table full of food in front of you.

harry smiles at your shocked gaze, your stomach growling again as he tries to hand you your glass of wine. you turn your nose at him, taking a step back. he smiles curtly and heads to his seat, setting your glass with his.

"figured you might be hungry," harry says as he sits down, his plate made for him already. he looks at you, arms still crossed, nose turned away, but eyes peeking at the endless food at your disposal. he can tell you're trying to keep your guard up, but your stomach hasn't stopped rumbling since you came downstairs.

he gestures to your chair just across from him, a plate made for you as well. you look at him, your eyes curious but expression still tight. you carefully take a step closer to the table, but you're still weary.

harry gives you a sympathetic smile. "after tonight you can have any meal you want in your solitude. i just thought i'd be nice and host my guest for the first night," he tells you, catching your gaze.

your curious look quickly turns to one of anger. "i'm not your guest. i'm practically a prisoner again." you hiss, your eyes boring into his with contempt. harry can sense the rage building inside of you. he's familiar with the feeling.

though you were different in so many ways, your dull eyes and lifeless voice, you were also similar in your determined attitude. you had always been the type to stand up and take charge, which harry completely admired and was impressed by. he found your beauty to be most potent in your strong will and cunning mind.

he admired you for just a moment, looking down at him with enough hatred to send shivers over his body. you looked so young, your skin supple and smooth under the light of the candles and fireplace, your hair falling loosely to frame your furrowed brow. you were just as pretty as he remembered, even if your expression always contained a hint of sadness and fear around him.

harry simply smiles softly, sitting back in his chair. "i prefer guest," he says teasingly. you suddenly snap at him, grabbing for his steak knife and pushing your arm to his neck against the back of the chair, holding the point of the knife to the side of his neck.

if looks could kill, the knife would've been unnecessary. your eyes were nearly black as you shakily push against harry's throat. "let me out of here now or i swear, harry," your voice cracks saying his name. "i swear i'll fucking kill you," you spit, leaning further into your grasp him on, your jaw clenched tightly.

harry, to your surprise, just chuckles to himself, not even struggling to breathe as he looks up at you deviously. your eyes widen just before you feel your arms start to move for you, as well as your legs. your neck is strained as well, an invisible force pushing you away from harry as the knife drops from your hand.

you're suddenly released from the mysterious grasp, and you choke out a breath, looking back at harry. he's smirking, but trying not to let you see as his pointed hand lowers from you. he fixes his shirt and chair, gesturing again to your seat across from him. "as thrilling as that was, love, not yet. i'd like you to stay here for at least a month before i consider placing you elsewhere." harry states, picking his knife back up to place on the table.

you stare at harry incredulously. "a month?" you ask, your face turning red again. you take another step towards him but you falter in fear of him using the same force as before to stop you. you stumble as your mind races to gather your thoughts. "how…you…i'm not staying here for a month! this is insanity! how could you send me away like that and just bring me back like it was nothing? a shower and a plate of food and suddenly those 5 years in azkaban never happened?"

you're now shouting at harry with a broken voice, your emotions on high as the tears threaten to fall again. harry watches you, just watches, and simply gestures to your chair again. "just join me," he insists.

you go to yell again, but harry sternly interrupts. "we can discuss this another time. please. sit down." he commands from you.

your mask drops for a moment, a look of fear crossing your face before diverting your eyes away completely to your chair. your stomach growls again, your hand covering it to hide the sound.

it takes a few moments until you slowly make your way to sit down, glancing at harry before taking your seat. harry begins eating silently, and, not long after, you're digging into your first real plate of food in years.

harry can't help but smile to himself subtly watching you indulge yourself for a moment, the mask slipping again as you gratefully shovel spoonfuls of food into your mouth with a sigh of relief. he was glad you were eating, even if he had to put up a bit of a fight to convince you.

as harry finishes up, you're still making your way through your second plate. he stands, grabbing your attention and making you curl back into your seat. "jinx," he calls out before sipping the last of his wine. jinx comes to the table and grabs harry's glass and plate, turning to take them to the kitchen.

"[y/n], this is jinx," harry motions to the elf, who gives you a warm smile. you return the smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to ask her. she lives to serve," harry tells you proudly, earning a slight look of disgust from you before returning a smile at jinx.

"this was a lovely dinner, ms. jinx, thank you so much, truly," you thank her honestly. she bows to you slightly before continuing her way through the doors to the kitchen.

you shoot harry a glare. "the harry i knew would've never kept a house elf," you say, your words dripping with disdain. harry ignores your statement, turning to the stairs before ascending them.

he leaves you alone at the dining table, closing himself off in the master bedroom for the night. just as he's finishing up brushing his teeth, he hears your door click shut. that night he fell asleep feeling more reassured than he had in years knowing the pretty girl he couldn't keep his mind off of was asleep just down the hall from him.

it had been a few weeks since harry moved you in, and he rarely ended up seeing you in the mansion. you were often locked away in your room, or taking showers, and harry only ever saw you when you were finishing up a meal with jinx.

you had become quite close with her, it seems, which harry found sweet. he was worried at first that you may be using jinx as a way to find an escape from the house, but after a while without incident, harry realized how silly the idea was. you truly could connect with anyone.

one of the only other times he saw you, though, was when he passed by the open library one night. harry had been restless, thinking about his past in depth, feeling emotions he couldn't place, and decided to watch the sunrise to clear his head. he took a quick glance through the doors before spotting you curled up on one of the couches, a book in hand, fast asleep beside a warm lamp.

harry stopped, taking a moment to admire you from afar. you had gained some weight back being here, which harry loved to see. your cheeks were full and rounded, your hands not as frail, and the color was coming back to your skin. your hair looked impossibly soft under the light, sprawled everywhere around your angelic, sleeping face. harry couldn't help the cheesy smile that overcame his face. he was just happy that you were okay.

outside of that, harry spent most of his time alone, thinking about you. you hadn't reached out to him yet, which he expected, but was surprised when a month came and went and you still didn't confront him. he hadn't made his decision just yet, so he didn't have an answer for you even if you had asked him. he saw you were doing better, but still wasn't confident in letting you go. not just for selfish reasons, of course, but he wanted to be sure you were equipped enough to live on your own.

but, harry had to admit, his heart raced when he heard your soft footsteps pass his door to the stairs. his mind went blank seeing your figure standing in the dining room with jinx, chatting over a plate of snacks together. his blood ran cold when he heard your soft giggle from somewhere in the mansion. like a beautiful ghost haunting his past.

harry knew even before he sent his letter to voldemort that his feelings for you had never truly gone away. deep under his rage, his unforgiving heart, his cold blooded nature, his love for you had always remained. but he was learning to accept your departure if you chose to do so. a final goodbye to the most beautiful part of his unsightly life. harry wasn't sure he could handle the idea.

he was struggling with his thoughts, the constant back and forth he was feeling about you. at first harry was sleeping better with you there knowing you were safe, but now he stayed up late worrying himself sick over the decisions he had to make now that you were actually there.

sitting in bed, staring at the rising sun through his window, harry's mind was exhausting him. he hadn't slept all night and could feel the effects setting in. slowly, he stood from the bed and slipped on his house shoes along with his robe. he quietly leaves his room to not disturb you so early just down the hall.

he walks to the opposite end of the hall towards the balcony, and takes his usual seat facing the sunrise.

harry contemplates here most mornings, but never comes to any radical conclusions. he doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what's best for you anymore. he knows he selfishly wants you all to himself still, but also knows you deserve to live the life you want no matter what his opinion is. it's the same conversation with himself every time, and it leaves him confused and upset for keeping you here like he is. even if his heart is in the right place.

his thoughts are interrupted by jinx, who offers harry a cup of tea. he thanks her, but quickly calls her back to ask a question. "jinx, um…[y/n], how is she doing?" he asks.

jinx, a quiet house elf, gives harry a smile, and pats his shoulder. her smile is warm and reassuring, as well as her hand. as she walks off, harry smiles to himself a bit. he's not completely satisfied with the answer, but he takes what he can get.

finishing his cup of tea with the sun shining over the horizon, harry turns to head inside before being met with the sight of you standing at the open doorway of the balcony.

you're dressed in a simple long sleeve pajama shirt along with comfortable pants, your arms crossed as the morning chill sets into the air. harry's a bit startled at first, but gives you a polite smile, diverting his eyes and walking around you to leave you be.

"harry," you said softly, turning to him.

harry's heart dropped, but turned to you promptly with eager eyes. the way you said his name, your soft voice, he was already so captivated by you.

"can we talk?"

now harry was worried. this is what he's been afraid of since you got here. he's not ready to answer you. he doesn't know what he's going to say when you desperately ask him to leave and never come back.

"of course," he says calmly, gesturing to the balcony so you could sit together.

once you've joined him in watching the sun, you two fall into a somewhat comfortable silence as the soft wind whistles past.

"i never thanked you," you said quietly after a while, almost a whisper in the wind. harry looked at you, looking at the sunrise. your face was radiant. you were brilliant in the light of the sun, your hair still impossibly soft and beautiful, falling around you, following the flow of the air. harry was overwhelmed with the beauty your presence held in this moment. "you never had to."

you glanced at harry, studying his expression, before turning back to the sun. "it's also been a month." you state coldly. harry's gaze drops, sighing. "57 days, technically," he mumbles.

a few moments of silence pass again, leaving harry an anxious mess in his seat. he tried to think of a gentle way to let you know he still needed time to decide what to do. a way to tell you without putting his life at risk to your anger.

"well, as much as i hate to say this, you were right," you say, still watching the sunrise in deep thought. harry was shocked by your words, immediately sitting up in his seat to get a better look at your face.

you were stoic, your eyes fixated on the scene out beyond your reach. "what?" harry asked, not believing his own ears. a small smile crept to your lips, the first one he's managed to see himself since you've been here. his heart aches at just the hint of seeing it again.

"don't make me say it again, potter," you try to say threateningly with that small smile, your eyes falling to your lap.

harry is stunned into silence, watching you with careful eyes. "but, you were right. i needed time to be healthy again." you said to him, your back still turned. harry stayed quiet, allowing you to continue. "i was angry with you. i still am. i don't think it'll ever stop," you inform him, the coldness returning to your voice. "but," he was preparing himself for the rejection, the questions, the begging.

"i'd like to stay, if you'll have me," you offer in a slightly embarrassed tone, your face turned the other way.

to say harry was shocked at your request is an understatement. he was expecting you to have a plan to take him out if he had rejected your request to leave yet. he never considered the idea that you might actually want to stay with him.

"i'll have you forever, if you let me," harry responds, a small smile on his face as well. you shoot him a warning look. "not forever. just until i feel well again." you tell him, your voice cold once more. you turn back to the sun, now completely over the horizon. "figured you owe me that much," you say in an accusatory voice.

harry just smirks to himself. you could never be soft for long when he was around. but he appreciated that you felt you could ask him to stay, though you never had to in the first place. harry really would have had you forever, if you'd let him.

"stay as long as you need to." he says.

you glance back at him again, your eyes softer this time. you're analyzing him for a moment before turning to him a bit. "it took me a long time to understand why you sent me to azkaban," you tell him, your voice steady and emotionless. harry just watches you, admiring the light surrounding you.

"you would've never stood a chance in destroying the world had i been free," you state, your eyes still examining him. harry offers you another small smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes the same way. "you knew you were weak," you say.

harry's now analyzing your expression, your words swimming around in his mind. "i did," he admitted to you. "it was just easier if i knew where you were all this time," he says breathlessly.

your eyes narrow at him once more, the anger returning to your body language. "easier for you. i would've never done the same if the roles were reversed." you snapped at him harshly. harry believed you. he thought about it a lot in his nightly battles with his own mind.

"you're right," harry stated, still admiring you in your anger. you were upset, but gave harry a questioning look. your eyes softened only a bit. "i think about it all the time," he admits to you gently.

you're a bit puzzled by his admittance of guilt, but don't let it stop you. "i hope it haunts you at night the way it haunts me," you say sharply, your eyes dark.

"always has," harry says to himself, only making you more angry. "you poor thing. must've been so tough relaxing in this mansion knowing i was rotting away in solitary confinement." your voice is strong, powerful, a contrast to the broken words you gave harry your first day here.

"it was," harry says simply, sensing your rising impatience with him. you stood from your seat, towering over him as he continued watching you in wonder. "you evil little rat. you're just lucky my magic is restricted by this spell. i would've killed you in your sleep that first night." you threaten him, gesturing to the protection spell around the castle and balcony.

harry wants to stop himself, but can't keep the smirk off his face. this only angers you more, pulling your arm back and slapping harry square across his face.

he doesn't react, instead allowing himself to stay facing away from you. "i hate you," you state weakly, your hands balled at your side. harry looks at you, the smirk still playing on his lips. "i know," he says softly.

you frustratedly sit back down, turning to look back at the sunrise once more.

a long silence settles over you two, listening to the sounds of the city as it awakens around you. eventually, you stand, turning to leave harry alone on the balcony. you pause before you leave.

"i still never thanked you, harry." you speak softly, your back turned to him. he looks over at you, your curves glowing in the morning light. "you never had to," he replies, and you're off down the dark hallway.

for the next few months, you and harry live together amicably. he sees you around more often as you start to leave the confines of your room. of course the library was a place of solace for you, but he started to see you more in the living room, on the balcony, or in the dining room enjoying jinx's company. for a while you two exchanged polite greetings, simple glances and acknowledgements, before asking about each other's days, or commenting on the weather. it was agonizingly slow for harry, but he was breaking through your walls one way or another.

one day not long after you'd slapped him on the balcony, you sat in the living room with harry, across from his seat on the couch. he was surprised by your presence, but gave you a small smile over his book anyway. "jinx tells me you've been acting different," you'd stated bluntly, watching his face for a reaction.

harry put down the book he was reading, giving you his attention. "have i?" he asks. you were always examining him, your eyes critical but curious at the same time. "she says your anger used to be terrible. even worse than i remember." you lead him on.

harry bit his lip thinking about the years where his rage was at its worst. he tried not to dwell on them, and instead tried to focus on the newfound emotions consuming his life. but he couldn't deny the path of destruction he'd left while seeing red.

harry eventually nodded, his eyes distant. "it was," he admits, his voice just as lost in thought. you shifted in your seat. "you let it ruin everything, harry." you said softly, leaving him looking at the floor in disappointment. "i know," he admitted.

the silence between you was palpable. harry felt the weight of it on his shoulders before you spoke again. "i would hear about the things you did while in azkaban. the guard would tell me even after i asked him to stop." you inform him. harry can still feel your eyes shooting daggers at him.

"for so long i fantasized about being the one to kill you, to finally put an end to voldemort." you said wistfully. harry glanced at you, seeing a longing look on your face. "how brave of [y/n] to put her love aside to kill the dark lord's apprentice." you said in a mocking tone, leaning back in your seat.

harry watched you, imagining you in azkaban, dreaming of putting an end to his life, while he dreamed of freeing you. it was a fair trade, he thought, and not one he would argue against at this point. and it didn't go unnoticed that you mentioned your love for him, either.

"you still can," harry says, causing you to snap your eyes back at him. "excuse me?" you ask with a sneer. harry puts his book to the side and sits up, his feet planted on the ground. "kill me, that is. it's not impossible." he tells you with intrigue.

you're staring at him incredulously, your eyes always searching him. "you're…you're kidding, right? i mean, you took my magic while yours seems to be highly skilled. you really think i'd stand a chance?" you ask with a sarcastic laugh.

harry stands from his seat, taking achingly slow steps around the coffee table towards you. "yes, while your magic is weak, you are not, [y/n]. i've gone out of my way to keep the knives, fire pokers, swords, and hundreds of books on potions and charms out for your use, at any time, have i not?" harry questions you, getting closer now. though you would normally pull back from him, you stay seated, trying to process his words.

standing just before you, harry admires the curves of your face against the light of the fire. "with your nimble step and cunning wit," harry lifts his hand to gently put his fingers to your chin. the first physical contact he's had with you. unless you count the time you held that knife to his throat. "you could gut me like a pig before i even have the chance to squeal," harry's voice is soft but dark, your breathing caught in your throat at the contact.

as he backed away, harry could see the physical effect he had on you. your nervous blinking, your jaw tightening, hands trembling; he found it sweet he could still do that to you, even if you claimed to hate him.

after that day, harry felt less tension between you two. maybe being vulnerable around you made you realize he was never a threat to begin with. he didn't want anything from you, and he didn't care if you never wanted anything from him. as long as you were safe, that was all he cared about. he hoped you were starting to understand that.

though conversations between you were still tense and cryptic, there was a sense of unspoken comradery that felt nostalgic to you both. your serious, brooding angst matched with harry's calm, collected coldness made for an interesting match. it was never the same as before, you were both fairly aware it wasn't ever going to be, but there was an undoubted chemistry that still lingered from your teenage years together.

however, something else that always lingered during your interactions is your distaste for harry's actions. at any chance you can, you poke and prod at his past, partly to understand, he assumes, but also to test his limits. you were always cautious and suspicious of his submissive behavior when it came to this kind of confrontation; how could someone who was, at least at one point, so evil, so cruel and heartless, become so nonchalant about their past? who wipes out entire cities just to 'not dwell on it'?

this was always a point of contention between you, even if everything else until that point had been somewhat playful. it never so much upset harry as it riled you up, bringing strong emotions to the forefront, causing you to lash out at him. though he always stayed calm, he also always seemed to listen. he never disagreed with your feelings or sentiments, if anything he agreed with your hatred for himself. it's like that day in the living room when he tempted you with his death, and yet you never took the bait.

harry rather enjoyed watching you work yourself up, and admired how quick you were to defend yourself. he never wanted to upset you, of course, but sometimes he couldn't help his cheeky responses knowing it would get a look out of you that made his heart jump. it might not be the most gentlemanly thing he does, but something about your anger excited him. it was nothing like his vengeful rage from the past, but it had its own potency that ran a chill down his spine. harry was so used to everyone cowering away from him in fear of his power that he relished your open aggression towards him. it was thrilling, and it was exactly what he needed.

harry tried to remain respectful of his guest, but having such a beautiful mind and body occupy his space with him was hard to ignore sometimes. his eyes would wander, as well as his thoughts, and he had caught himself fantasizing about you a few too many times to admit. you were stunning, of course, you always had been, but there was something about you now that elevated your beauty in harry's eyes. maybe it was the dark, unforgiving coldness of your eyes, or the strong scowl that your expression rested in, or the underlying anger that was ready to bubble over at any point, but harry was completely infatuated with who you had become.

he knew how hypocritical it was for him to admire the parts of you that were forced out in your desperation to survive the decision he made for you all those years ago. though you seldom mentioned your years in azkaban, harry could see and feel the effects it continued to have on you. they weighed on him heavily, and though harry wasn't one to regret what's happened in the past, he wished he could've figured out another way to protect you at the time. a way that didn't dim the light inside of you the way that it has been.

but still, that light was there. when you smiled to yourself at your own quips, when you admired the food jinx prepares you, when you lost yourself in your books, harry could physically feel the light radiating within you. it was familiar, like an old hug from a friend, and was unmistakably beautiful.

sometimes he felt like a teenager again, discovering the parts of you that made him fall in love in the first place. your natural charm, your captivating eyes, the innate draw he felt to you simply by being in your presence. it was unlike anything he's felt for another person, before or since meeting you. but rather than two teenagers flirting over study dates, you were now two closed off adults with a complicated history and 'break up', if you could even call it that. it was nothing like the past, yet it was entirely too similar.

you and harry had been sitting in silence together in the living room, reading your respective books, enjoying each other's company. it was one of harry's favorite things to do with you now, and one of the only ways you two could be together without it ending in tension. neither of you talked, neither of you made noise outside of the occasional chuckle or gasp at your readings; it was a peaceful excuse for harry to be near you, and sometimes admire you from over the pages.

this night, however, you broke the traditional silence by asking harry a question you'd been keeping to yourself. "harry," you started. he loved the sound of his name in your voice, it was invigorating to listen to.

harry turned his head to you, his book still in his lap, noticing you've long since placed yours on the table beside you. "[y/n]," he responded with his typical smirk, returning his eyes to his book.

you cleared your throat a bit, your ankles crossing in front of you. "how often did you think of me," it was more of a statement than a question, your tone not as cold and questioning as it typically was.

harry knew what you meant, of course, and waited a moment before answering you. "i'd never stopped," he said simply. it was true, and it still is.

you turned to look at the fireplace, your knees bouncing out of the corner of harry's eye as he pretends to continue reading. "but you never came back for me," you stated. harry's eyebrows furrowed, glancing at you again before looking away to leave you with your words. "you left me there to die," you said, that familiar coldness returning to your tone.

harry let out a sharp breath. "that was never my intention, and you know that." he says without a reaction. you become visibly irritated, your jaw clenching with your fists. "you never thought about me," you insisted, your words heavy with contempt.

harry shut his book and threw it beside him, leaning towards you. you turned to glare at him, your nostrils flared. "i was lucky to sleep one full night in the last 5 years without a singular dream of you." he tells you, his voice as steady as his eye contact. "you haunt me like a ghost, [y/n]. you always will."

you're looking at him questionably as you stand from your seat across from him, now making your way towards him. "good. i hope you never forget about what you did to me. i won't." you hiss at him, your cheeks turning red. harry's mind races with you towering over him, leaning back in his seat to fully enjoy the view.

"how could i forget about you?" he quips, that same damn smirk making you grit your teeth. you take another, heavier step towards him, your fists trembling at your sides. "stop fucking doing that," you spit threateningly.

harry cocks his head to the side, looking you up and down. he likes seeing you like this, even if it scares him a bit. "what?" he asks, pushing you even further.

you step between his legs and lean into his face, only leaving a few inches between you. "that, you fucking creep. is this funny to you?" your voice is raised now, the anger finally starting to boil over again. "not at all," harry says, still smirking at your reaction.

"then wipe the smirk off your face and stop doing this to me, harry." you instruct him, leaning back to cross your arms in front of you. harry's biting his lip, not able to resist the lustful thoughts he's having of you in this situation. "doing what, exactly?" he asks, curious what you mean.

"this, all of this, harry. you look at me like a starving animal. you watch me around the house like a stalker. you say you think of me all the time and yet you've only so much as touched my chin." you rattle off, clearly frustrated with these thoughts you've kept inside. "you bring me back here and have me live like a princess when there's people outside who live like animals because of you and what you've done," you continue to raise your voice at him, now getting yourself completely worked up.

harry just watches you, like always, not disagreeing with any of your sentiments. as he normally doesn't, he knows you're a smart girl.

"and you're still fucking looking at me like that," you growl, your arm coming across his neck once more, like the first night you were here, holding him against the cushions of the couch.

harry doesn't stop you, as he never does, and instead enjoys the feeling of you kneeling between his legs in an attempt to further choke him. "i swear on my own life i'll still kill you, potter. what the fuck do you want from me?" you interrogate him, your dark eyes searching him for answers.

the smirk on harry's face only grows, causing you to push further into his throat. it's ironic how much he wants from you right now that would only further put his life at risk in your hands.

"i…never wanted…anything…" harry chokes out. he knows he's stronger than you and could easily escape your grasp, but he enjoys the feeling of letting you have control over the moment, and over him.

"that's a fucking lie," you say through gritted teeth, getting nose to nose with harry. "tell me what you want." you insist.

harry's heart is racing, his mind going blank from the lack of oxygen, and an inconvenient erection growing through his trousers. he could tell you so many things he wants, how many nights he's spent imagining you on top of him like this once again. he knows it would only anger you more, and he was almost tempted by that thought alone.

after a few moments of harry struggling to keep his eyes focused on you, you could feel something against your thigh that caught your attention. glancing down, your weight on harry's throat lessened enough for him to breathe slightly. you looked back up at his eyes with a look of confusion and shock before quickly returning to anger.

"seriously? are you fucking turned on right now as i'm threatening your life?" you ask him with disgust, slightly pulling away. harry's cheeks flush as he tries to catch his breath, your arm still resting across this collarbone. he stays quiet, his eyes glancing between you and his lap.

you scoff at him. "you're so pathetic, potter. how you were ever a leader of anything is a mystery to me." you ridicule him, an amused smirk coming across your own face.

your condescending attitude only fuels harry's excitement more, trying not to let his expression expose how much he's enjoying this.

"it's almost like you want me to kill you," your voice is quiet but dangerously cold, giving harry goosebumps as your breath falls across his blushing face. he tries to stop it but his body can't resist a low whine being forced from his throat.

your eyes fall to his lips for just a moment before you lean into them, surprising harry with a hungry kiss as you relax your weight onto his body. more moans escape harry's mouth as you roughly force your tongue past his lips. his hand naturally finds your waist, but you slap it away harshly with your free hand. "no touching." you warn him, your lips brushing against his.

"yes ma'am," harry responds.

you give him a look, your other leg kneeling beside his as you straddle his thigh, your skirt falling perfectly over his knee. "i still hate you," you growl, choking him against the couch once more. "i know," harry says breathlessly, staring at you like a helpless puppy.

forcing him into a suffocating kiss, you eventually let harry breathe as your lips find his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin and hands grasping his shoulders tightly. he groans at the pain, earning a slight roll of your hips on his leg. harry wants nothing more than to touch you right now, guiding your hips into his body, pleasuring you like he's wanted to for so long. but for now, he's just glad you're kissing him, and enjoys the feeling of your breath against his bruised skin.

"shirt off." you command, sitting back to observe the puddle harry's become in your grasp. he wastes no time taking off his sweater, throwing it behind him as your eyes trace over his scarred torso. your cold gaze softens at the sight, your fingers tracing the healed wounds carefully.

for a moment, when you glance at harry through your eyelashes, he feels that same love you shared as kids. the soft, innocent admiration that came with inexperience. for just one moment, nothing was complicated, and there was no history. you were discovering harry all over again, like he had been with you.

the moment didn't last for long as your gaze hardened once more looking at him. you stood from your straddling position, much to his disappointment. he was ready for you to end the moment and leave, but you didn't.

"on your knees." you instructed him. again, harry wasted no time as he sunk to his knees in front of the couch, eye level with the hem of your skirt. he looked up at you eagerly, hardly believing the privilege he had to see you above him like this.

harry's heart was racing as you lifted your skirt to expose your panties to him. his eyes never left yours, his breathing hitching at the beauty just in front of his face. his hands were patiently folded in his lap, aching to grab every part of you.

you slowly lifted one thigh onto harry's shoulder, reaching down to take the glasses off his face for him, setting them to the side. "now," you told him, your voice seductive as you lean your weight into him once more. harry holds his shoulders steady, his mouth close enough to your soaked pantines to nearly taste you already.

"let me ride your face," you coo, your hands finding their way to his cheeks as he continues staring at you with hungry eyes. "it's the least you can do for me," you smirk, your voice still chillingly cold and cryptic.

harry lets out a sigh of relief and desperation, eyes glancing at your panties before returning to your gaze. you slowly push his open mouth onto you, not able to hold back a sound of relief yourself.

harry's eyes flutter shut as your hips roll onto his face, losing himself in your smell and taste. your fingers tangle into his hair to keep him in place, soft, breathy gasps falling from your lips as you watch from above.

after a minute you become too desperate and pull your panties aside, instructing harry to hold them as you force his mouth onto your dripping pussy. harry listens like a good boy and holds the fabric, his hand also taking the chance to grip your inner thigh. a deep moan escapes your throat at the feeling.

harry's tongue quickly works its way across your arousal, enjoying every part of you as he pushes himself further into your pussy. your hands try to pull his hair back to relieve some of the overwhelming feeling, but harry doesn't let you control him for once. he's desperate to please you, his hunger growing the more of you he's allowed to have.

harry's other hand grabs for your skirt to hold it above his head, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. your face is twisted in pleasure, lips bitten, eyes glazed over as you watch harry disappear between your legs.

harry moans at the sight of you, sending shivers across your skin. you moan, biting your lips closed, your hips stuttering against his mouth. "fuck," you mumble, earning another moan from harry as his tongue circles your sensitive clit.

a hand rushed to your mouth as you attempt to hide your filthy noises, the feeling making your eyes roll back. you're trying to mask your pleasure, but harry can see right through you.

you finally successfully pull his mouth off of you, lips swollen and wet as his head rests in your grip. "good," you say breathlessly. your voice falters a bit. you take your thigh off harry's shoulder, again, much to his disappointment.

"sit," you tell him, gesturing to the couch once more. harry complies, returning to his spot on the couch behind him. you reach forward and unbutton his pants, pulling them down a bit with his assistance. you can see his erection through his briefs, causing you to smirk a bit before returning to your neutral expression.

"no touching," you remind harry as you position yourself to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. harry's sure you can hear his heartbeat racing under your control.

you start grinding your soaking wet panties against harry's clothed cock, your mouth falling open with his at the sensation. the light of the fire behind you leaves harry with the beautiful sight of you glowing in his lap, your warm skin pressed against his as your breathy moans fall into his neck.

harry can hardly take the teasing any longer, his moans becoming needier the harder he gets under you. "fuck, [y/n]," his voice is deep with desire, his head rolling back once your roll your hips into him harshly. you moan at the sound of your own name, your hands returning to his shoulders as your nails dig deep into his skin.

"that's right, say my name," you smirk, grinding into harry at a faster pace. "so pathetic," you remind him.

harry continuously lets your name fall from his lips as you watch him, a helpless, desperate mess beneath you. he loves the feeling of letting you use him any way you want to.

soon you can't wait much longer, and you pull out harry's cock from his briefs. the feeling of your hand grasping his shift makes harry's hips buck up involuntarily, silently asking for more.

you can't help but chuckle at just how eager he is. you're more than enjoying the control and effect you have over him.

"now," you say again, causing harry to look back at you with needy eyes. "you're gonna let me use you until i cum," you tell him, teasing yourself with the feeling of him against your wet pussy. harry's eyes nearly roll back again as he nods for you, his lips parted with uneven breaths.

you slide harry inside of you, adjusting to the feeling as harry's head falls back once again in pleasure. "so fucking wet," harry sighs softly, nearly whining. once your hips lower completely onto his length, you start to ride harry slowly, still adjusting to him. he's a full blown whining mess beneath you, his chest flushed and heaving as your pussy tightens around him.

you take in the sight of him, your eyes exploring every sweaty part of his body as you continue riding at a slow pace. you unwrap your arms from his shoulders, leaning back into your hips. "take my shirt off," you tell harry.

his eyes open again, looking at you eagerly. his hands nervously begin lifting your shirt, holding the fabric carefully between his fingers, and savors the sight and feeling of pulling it off of you, his eyes glancing at your chest before locking with yours again.

"so beautiful," he tells you, your skin looking deliciously soft in the warm lowlight. "i know, now be quiet," you shut him up, picking up the pace of your hips.

harry's eyes narrow at you, the intoxicating feeling of you wrapped around his cock only making him hungrier for your pleasure. the sight of you bouncing in his lap, your breasts just in front of his face as you lean your hands next to his head on the back of the couch.

"open," you tell harry.

he doesn't have to be told twice before his lips part, his tongue eagerly waiting for you. you guide your nipple into his mouth, your hips rolling onto harry's cock in circles. his teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin, your pussy gripping harry even more and earning a low growl from his chest. his hands remained at his sides, but he wanted nothing more than to feel you everywhere on top of him.

you start riding harry once more, his teeth still gripping your nipple making you whine at the feeling. "fuck," you let the word slip out, your own teeth sinking into your bottom lip. harry's more than aroused at your reaction to him, his cock aching inside of you to release.

you pull harry's head back by his hair, forcing him to look up at you. you reach for his glasses that you sat down earlier, returning them to his face delicately. harry appreciates the gesture and can better see the pleasure in your eyes, a soft smile falling across his lips.

"so pretty," he whispers. he can see the blush you try to hide, looking away from his eyes and down at your hips.

you start groaning in frustration, your grip on his hair tightening, causing harry to wince. "you're gonna make me cum," you tell him through broken moans, your thrusts becoming uneven. harry can feel you tightening around him again. he groans at the feeling, your name slipping from his mouth again and again. this only makes you fall apart more, high pitched whimpers coming from you as you chase your high.

you soon sink into harry's neck, your cries of pain and pleasure falling across his skin as your legs start to shake. you can't even form words as your body feels the waves of intense pleasure from each thrust onto harry's cock. your hands move to his shoulders again, holding onto him for stability as you continue to ride out your climax.

harry grows impatient at the feeling of your orgasm and watching you break down into him. he finally grabs for you, moving your hips to the couch beside him, staying inside you while you gasp at his movement. he kicks off his pants and adjusts himself between your legs.

"harry," you try to protest, your voice weak and shaky. "just let me do this, darling," he growls, his hips becoming flush against yours as he pushes his cock completely inside of you. you let out a gasp, your hand slapping over your lips once more.

harry hungrily digs his cock deeper inside of you with each slow thrust, his hands holding himself up above you as he watches his cock easily slide in and out of your soaking wet pussy. he folds your legs back as he sinks even deeper into you.

"holy fuck," he groans, his breathing heavy, hands gripping the back of your thighs to keep himself steady. "so beautiful, [y/n]," harry tells you again, his droopy eyes focused on your face twisted in pleasure.

you look at him, your eyes full of lust, but still cold as ice. "i…hate you," you remind him through strained breaths, struggling to take his entire length, still glaring at him.

this pushes harry over the edge, his hips quickening until he feels himself start to unravel. he pulls out of your warm pussy and cums on your stomach, groaning at the sight of you below him.

you gasp at the feeling, looking at harry with shock. "did you just cum from me saying i hate you?" you ask, your tone mocking his desperation. harry nods, still stroking his cock slowly, his other hand remaining on your thigh as his moans quiet down.

"you're disgusting," you tell him coldly, but harry can see the smirk on your face and the lust in your eyes. he watches you below him, smirking in return.

"and you love it."

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gatorbites-imagines · 3 months

Note

Can you write jason todd with ftm reader where he defends him from transphobia in public? I need my big beefy boyfriend to beat up transphobes for me pls. Thanks and happy pride ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Jason Todd x FTM reader

Headcanons

idc what anyone says, gotham knights Jason is beautiful to me

Hallo zusammen. Happy pride. My teacher decided last second to change everything about my next exam, so ive been stressing. So to make myself feel better, here’s some Jason going to pride with his BF.

As much as Gotham is a shithole filled to the gills with crime, its got a large demographic of LGBT. Even the heroes and villains are somewhere on that spectrum, which also means none of them target the local pride parades.

But like any pride parade, there are bigots at the sidelines. Now, Gothamites don’t do stupid well, so most are sent packing before they can even start up with their usual theatrics. Are you gonna yell homophobic slurs at poison ivy? Or when Killer Croc is walking by wearing rainbow streamers?

That doesn’t mean there aren’t stupid that sticks around. They are rarely locals, since even the most hateful locals know not to be dumb enough to cause a ruckus the one place the villains and vigilantes get along and have the same goal.

Not every hero was suited up though, seeing as you and Jason were walking side by side along with everyone else. Jason was wearing a less flashy outfit, mainly because he doesn’t do bright colors too much, but your sexuality and gender were more out in the open.

At least obvious enough for some hateful person to spot that you’re trans. And since you look like an easy target, amongst Gothamites at least, they decide to focus on you with their hateful rhetoric.

Insults weren’t anything new slung around Gotham, a city where you would get called a bad nickname more than your actual name. but it was never focused on something like your gender, your sexuality, or your race. It would be something like the fact that you wore ugly shoes, or that you ate weird.

which was why it catching the attention of more than just your boyfriend when the transphobic slurs get thrown at you. Apparently, you freezing up at the slurs seem like a win to these people, as they start yelling and jeering at you even more.

Surprisingly it isn’t Jason that throws the first punch. Its some random chick wearing a lesbian flag over her shoulders and purple ladder laced boots. Her punch seems to unleash what everyone had been holding in, not wanting to give these bigots any attention.

Jason gets his own punches in of course, specifically targeting the people that had been yelling slurs at you. And as much as you hate this city sometimes, seeing people from all across the board come together to beat up bigots seems like its as unified as Gotham is ever gonna get.

Some other people wearing pride flags or colors come to check up on you, but you are honestly too busy watching Jason throw a guy with an offensive sign across the pavement.

The other people nod approvingly at your boyfriend. Fun to think Jason, the most Gotham guy you know, gets the approval from the Gotham gays.

When Jason comes back, he’s still jittery, his blood clearly rushing from the confrontation, but a couple of kisses and thank you gets him to settle down for the most part. He ends up more colorful than he would like, being given flower crowns and different lanyards and sashes. But hearing you laugh is enough to make him put up with it.

And if you’re wondering where the heroes were? Well, they just happen to have been busy with something else, even if Red Robin had been sitting on the ledge of a building, wearing his own pride flag the entire time.

You and Jason can both tell he won’t hear the end of this when you guys get home later. At the end of the day, the hateful speech doesn’t weigh too much on you, knowing that not just Jason, but Gotham as a whole, would chew up and spit anyone out who tried it.

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xjulixred45x · 7 months

Note

If you don't mind me can I request male reader who like Akaza from Demon slayer with the Hazbin Hotel.

Bonus: respect woman.

Hello! Normally i would Say no bc My Requests are Closed but you're lucky that i'm in a good mood to write and also i am a fan of this Man✨ 😭

Thanks for the Request ❤️

(to the other Readers, don't take this as something usual, the Requests are still Closed, i'm just in the mood to write THIS for now)

Akaza! Reader in Hazbin Hotel

Genre: headcanons

Reader: male

Warnings: Reader is a fighter, violence(?), hell, slight change in Akaza story so its not a Copy-paste and make "more sense",idk, I MAKE THIS IN A RUSH OF ✨INSPIRATION✨SO ITS NOT PROFFHEAD!!

You were born and raised in the Edo era, in Japan. and it was a nightmare.

You lived in poverty all your life, practically alone with your sick father who could barely take care of himself, but he always tried to take care of you above all else.

You spent a lot of your life trying to take care of him back, but it was difficult because of money, you couldn't afford it. so you did the only thing you could think of: steal medicine.

Obviously many times this didn't turn out well, and they ended up catching you and taking you to be beaten and tattooed like a criminal, but it was the kind of life you led until your father died.

That was when you hit rock bottom, but you met certain people who helped you move forward. a martial arts master and his sick daughter (who reminded you a lot of your father).

And it was the time when you lived better, you took care of your teacher's daughter and you learned from him, you had a good life.

you and his daughter even fell in love!

everything had fallen into place in your life...

until conflicts broke out again.

You don't remember much about your last days of life, it was a cycle of going, killing whoever got in your way, returning with whatever you wanted from your group, and whatever followed...

You just wanted to go home.

but you died before that.

and just as you expected, after everything you had done wrong in your life, you ended up in hell.

It wasn't exactly like the hell you had imagined growing up, but it was definitely difficult to adjust, knowing that you were dead, in this hole of misery, far from them...

but you didn't waste your time. You discovered quite quickly that several of your physical abilities had stayed with you, so you took advantage of them and became a quite formidable demon.

You wouldn't say you were an Overlord, but you were definitely an anomaly to Hell's QUO status, a demon who had become powerful without the need for owning souls.

something very strange.

so many Overlords, feeling threatened, tried to go after you, only to never be seen again...

As for the Hotel issue, I think that Akaza! reader would be skeptical, I don't think he would have a problem offering himself as a test subject for the hotel because 1- there is Alastor, someone very strong, and 2- he has a small hope that the hotel will work and maybe, just maybe he can redeem himself and go. to heaven with his love and his teacher, what he loves most. although he wouldn't say the last thing out loud.

Speaking of relationships, Alastor and him can actually get along in a very ambiguous way, Alastor is not happy with someone who is so strong without even having souls of their own, so he is cautious, but not in a threatening way.

Although there is something these two have in common, THEY RESPECT WOMEN.

Alastor can definitely introduce him to Akaza! read several of his female friends to be more "social" and get possible blackmail material.

Alastor secretly knows of the possible motives behind why Akaza! Reader would like the hotel to work, he thinks he is naive, but he doesn't make fun, Alastor partly understands why he feels that way. leaves him alone in that sense.

...but it bothers him in every other way! using it as an armrest, innocuous phrases, crushing it with things out of nowhere, etc. He always has something up his sleeve to piss him off.

but they can ally if women get involved ;)

Charlie is so so so so so happy to have Akaza! reader as another participant alongside Angel and Sir Pentious! She constantly thanks him for his collaboration and tells him how much it means to her.

Lots of encouragement during the trust exercises! she realizes that Akaza! Reader is not very talkative, and although she does not force him to change, she "subtly" encourages him to be more open with the exercises.

Although that does not mean that she admits the fights, she tries to encourage Akaza! reader to find another way to get out his anger and energy in less destructive ways.

I think she would be the only one who knows through Akaza! reader why he wants the hotel to work, and she is SO MOVED by him because Reader wants to redeem himself and that gives him a lot of motivation to do more exercises.

Even if is sometimes a double-edged sword because she feels pressured not only by wanting to help her friends, but also by Akaza's cute motive! reader.

Akaza! reader is very protective of Charlie even if she is the princess of hell, he is like a bodyguard! or a very loyal pitbull. Charlie finds it endearing (but please don't rip that demon's head off please---)

Vaggie is scared of Akaza at first! reader for his aggressive nature.

She is afraid that he will end up directing that destructive energy towards them if he is very angry, so she is very cautious at first.

but eventually she can relax more and more with him as she realizes that (at least with women) he's not going to explode on anyone who doesn't deserve it. and that in fact he is a good man.

sparring together! Vaggie feels kind of bad that he doesn't have a gun, but is surprised at how tough he is.

If she finds out his reason behind going to the hotel, she supports him a lot in his journey of redemption, more than before, she empathizes with him.

They both have similar motives.

Vaggie really appreciates when Akaza! reader defends the female staff against Angel's out-of-place comments. she may even allow him to hit him.

You two are the main people in charge of protecting the hotel.

Let's be honest, Angel dust at first was just "flirting"/sexually harassing Akaza! reader until he beat him up and never did it again.

He thought he was simply bitter about life until he remembered that on one occasion he told him that "he was taken" and he didn't take it so personally.

After the duet with Husk, he went directly to apologize to him and they were on bad terms.

Angel occasionally likes to prank him like everyone else in the hotel, but he's considerably less annoying with Akaza! reader because he knows what he is capable of.

When he eventually finds out why he is "taken" and why someone like him is in the hotel, he can't help but empathize with him a lot (from his sister in heaven), and tries to be his "Husk" at his lowest moment. .

Even if technically Akaza!reader is stronger than him in every way, he takes care of him in his own way, watching his drink, not being robbed, etc.

Angel is definitely not used to so much respect when it comes to his gender identity, which is why he respects Akaza a lot! reader.

They generally start off on the wrong foot but manage to be friends.

Husk likes Akaza! reader, simply because it gets on Alastor's nerves and because he knows that he won't kick the ass of someone who doesn't deserve it. He knows everyone is safe with him.

He definitely knows about his reason for being in the hotel and pities him, respects his privacy a lot after that and doesn't let him talk drunk.

Husk may get to have his "loser baby" moment with Akaza! reader but in a platonic way, helping him when it is especially difficult to stay away from violence.

They can even have a father-son relationship, Husk is very similar to Akaza's teacher! reader in many ways EMOTIONALLY SPEAKING so Akaza! reader feels comfortable with him.

she definitely tells him things about her past as Overlord to entertain him.

Sir Pentious at first was TERRIFIED of Akaza!reader, his reputation was as a tough guy who went after evil people and Pentious (having his poor self-image) thought he would kill him as soon as he saw him.

but fortunately it was not like that!

but he was definitely avoiding it for DAYS before he heard from the others that Akaza!reader wasn't that bad and was actually quite nice. to give him a chance.

and Pentious did just that. and he was VERY surprised.

Akaza! reader has had to dismantle several of Sir Pentious's evil machines using his enormous strength, and although Pentious was heartbroken to see his machines destroyed, he was also VERY surprised by Akaza!reader's capabilities, even giving me more things to do. break and test their strength (imagine this pair getting to know the Rage Rooms).

Pentious Minnions occasionally go to Akaza! reader when P. is not there, which is fun to see because Akaza!reader would try to get away from the Minions that come after him like ducks.

Akaza! reader clearly notices Pentious's crush on Cherri, and encourages him to do something now that he has time.

(Can you imagine Akaza! reader's Koyuki becoming friends with Pentious in heaven? It would be Epico).

Mononeuronal pair.

Niffty is strange.

but I can definitely see Akaza! reader protecting it constantly. so Niffty likes him. But I wouldn't really say they are friends.

In general, everyone has some kind of respect for Akaza! reader. They hope you can reach your goal.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Again, this DOES NOT MEAN that orders are open again! I'm just taking a break and deciding what things to write and what not to. thanks for the request ✨❤️

#headcanons #male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel charlie #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel sir pentious #kny akaza

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fabled-fiction · 1 year

Note

Hiii!! I saw ur across the spiderverse update and I was wondering if you could do Hobie Brown headcanons for maybe a reader in his Earth who’s more techy, and works in like DJ or Techno themed music. It’d be pretty kool

Soundwaves

Hobie Brown x Techy!DJ!Reader Headcanons

Summary: Headcanons for a Techno DJ reader on Hobie’s Earth. How y’all go from strangers, to friends, to something else entirely ❤️💙

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: N/A (could possible have SPOILERS for ATSV but Im pretty sure there isnt)

A/N: I KINDA WENT OVERBOARD??? I had alot of fun writing this and hope it meets expectations!! ☺️

— When you live on an Earth thats as messed up (politically) as Earth 138 you have to find an out. Something to keep you from going crazy.

— For you that was music.

— More specifically techno.

— It was just, easy for you to sit down and plug yourself into your already well loved computer and not come out until you had produced at least one or two songs.

— Soon after you realized you could do so much more with this music.

— It start out small. You would show a few friends, who would show other friends. And soon after that it started to snowball.

— You were starting to hold “shows” if thats what you could call it. After Dark DJ sessions and Midnight rave rallys.

— It was just the beginning of the role you would take though.

— After a while you had started to spread this message through your music. Your flyers for your shows started to also be flyers for change.

— And soon enough you caught the eye of a certain spider. Who’s message wasn’t so different from yours.

— Especially when you were holding an exclusively inclusive rally in an old abandoned Fisk tower.

— He was curious how the hell you were gonna get in the building, it was guarded per say but it had locks even he couldn’t break.

— But as he watched you, he was impressed with how you worked your way around the keypad.

— You had this small little mechanism, which he could tell was homemade, that you plugged into the devices. All you had to do was press a few buttons and reprogram it.

— With two zaps you were in, and the keycards with your calling-card that were on the flyers handed out on it made much more sense now.

— The show itself was probably the hardest you had put on. The music and the lightshow alone were impressive. He especially had a good view from above in the rafters.

— You were in your element. You were moving to the beat, your stage presence alone told him that you truly loved what you were doing.

— After everything was said and done, you stayed on that stage till the very last person left

— Or so you thought

— As you were breaking down your equipment (also all handbuilt, he’d have to figure out how you made all this bulky equipment compactable) he decided to make himself known

— Slowly, he lowered (upside down) till he was technically in front of you. You had your back turned to him though as you were clipping a particularly difficult suitcase closed

— “Need help?”

— Needless to say you were caught off guard, because you whipped around holding what looked like a keyboard ready to smack him

— Luckily he had caught your wrist, and watched as the electronic face on your own mask turned from an angry emoticon to surprised.

— Were you surprised that THE Spiderman was at your show? Yes and No.

— While you’re sure your music wasn’t his style, based off his spike hawk and battle vest, you were sure that your views matched up.

— “Ive got it, thanks though.”

— With one more press of a button, everything else collapsed down. You were left with only two suitcases to carry.

— “‘ow you do all that? Its quiet impressive.”

— “Its quite simple, I could show you sometime.”

— That small little interaction would later spiral into an interesting friendship between the two of you

— While he never called you his person in the chair, he did find himself often coming to or contacting you whenever there was a code he couldnt crack or a person he needed identifying

— And whenever you needed a little extra help spreading the word about another one of your rave rallys there was no doubt he would have a handful of flyers accidentally falling out of his arm as he was swinging

— The night you both showed each-other your faces definitely solidified your friendship

— You were working on a new track, headphones plugged in when your phone started buzzing.

— SPIDEY P: open the window

— When you opened said window, (mask on btw) he had rushed in and then slammed it shut

— He had drew your curtains shut and grabbed your dresser, sliding it infront of your window

— You were very confused

— But when he had explained to you that Osborn had gotten wind of him and your friendship he apparently raced right over to your place

— While you were now a little scared for your life, you were more flattered

— It seemed like he had raced right over, cause he was huffing and puffing as he leaned on the edge of the bed

— “What if I…showed you my face? That way you could know like…who to look out for?”

— You could tell your question had caught him off guard, but he didn’t hesitate to reach for the edge of is his mask. And your were just as quick to reach to the clip on the back of yours

— Maybe this is also when your relationship…changed

— Not only because you both were seemingly breathtaken by both of eachother but…the fact the fact that you both had without question went to rip your masks off

— It was a raw…personal type of respect that had been shown that night

— Afterwards Hobie (whos named you had learned literal seconds after the mask off) started coming over more

— It was usually in the after hours, he would come and relax. You both would start getting to know each-other more personally.

— He started giving you samples to include in your sets, and you EVENTUALLY got him to download some of your songs

— The first time he takes you web swinging you swear you almost lost your life

— Despite the fact that he was holding onto you with dear life

— Because at this point he wouldn’t know how to react if he accidentally got you hurt

— Thats why he rushed over as fast as he could when he saw a screencap of you at one of your shows

— Whenever he went to your place, and your curtains were open he’d take a moment just to watch you in your natural element.

— He loved it when he was listening to one of your songs, and he heard his sample mixed in perfectly

— Your medleys and his always seemed to blend into each other perfectly, despite being from almost two completely different genres

— You started to notice how your heart would flutter whenever you saw him in the rafters of yourshow

— Especially if he shows up as Hobie?? OH BOy does your heart pick up

— You noticed he started being…closer? He would put his hand on the small of your back or between your shoulderblades whenever he would lean over to look at your computer

— He would “accidentally” leave one of his spiked cuffs behind, and lemme tell you he knew you would wear it so you wouldnt forget to give it to him

— So when he sees you wearing it at one of your shows (since it had become almost a tradition for him to help you pack up after a show) his heart always feels like its gonna jump outta his chest

— You guys dance around each other for a while. You both know theres gotta be SOMETHING there. You’ve both noticed the how soft you’ve come around each other

— Both your smiles become sweeter. You hug him for longer, you grip onto him just a bit tighter when he takes you out swinging to his favorite spots.

— Those are your favorite hang out nights. When you just go to sit ontop of whatever building or tower Hobie decided to take you too. Sometimes he even takes you to a tower thats right across from an art piece he had dabbled with.

— It all comes to a boiling point though, one night when you were on a call with Hobie as he was slinging around.

— You’re talking his ear off about some new sound board you were thinking about getting. He was eating it up.

— But then he starts breaking up, and you hear alot of scuffling. When he completely cuts out you lose it.

— You cant go out there, you dont have any weapon of any sort. You also know Hobie would lose it if you put yourself in danger because of him

— So all you can do is keep restarting his tracker and hope he’s okay

— You’re on your apartment fire escape in an instant just waiting for him to come back after a while, to keep yourself from going crazy

— You knew he would, especially since you cut out

— So when he slowly comes into your view, with his mask half down he smiles at you.

— He…SMILES?? SERIOUSLY??

— You don’t know what to say as you stare at him with tears in your eyes, but he does apparently

— He was always a man of action, actions do speak louder than words

— He had pulled the bottom of his mask down just enough to show the bottom half of his face

— And then he’s kissing you, his gloved hand coming to hold the side of your face. It takes you a second before you react, but then you go to hold the edge of his mask and really just sink into the moment

— After that your dynamic changes. You two become MUCH closer physically, share more private kisses and nights actually spent together.

— Those late night swings turn into dates on top of buildings, where he will sometimes (usually every time) play a song for you

— You are permanently always wearing one of his cuffs

— And suddenly the infamous Spiderman has a new patch on his battle vest, that has your stage name on it

#marvel x reader #x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #headcanon #hobie brown headcanons

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

Text

⁙ tv taught me how to feel; now real life has no appeal

jjk boys and men as k-drama boyfriend archetypes, ft. yuuji, suguru, megumi, kento, satoru and sukuna.

▸ seperate character x gn! reader headcanons and/or scenarios; 4.3k wc; use of gn! nicknames; fluff [the tooth-rotting, butterfly-inducing kind]; implied smut in case of suguru & sukuna; implied war in case of satoru.

▸ my shoulders are hurting from typing for so long, ow, ow, ow!!!! got the inspiration for this from so many posts floating on my dash and 'for you' page; though i'm pretty sure this kind of post has never been done before. ▸ also, the author [blehhh, that's me!] knows very little to almost nothing on the k-dramas quoted in the link used for reference [this], apart from what info's on the wiki page. so this piece of writing might bear similarities to the original k-drama plot; it might bear differences to it. please don't be mad or upset with me! 🥰 ▸ anyways, the title's from the song 'oh no!' by marina. neither the characters nor the image nor the divider used are mine. [the divider is by @benkeibear.] please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

itadori yuuji as 'the above-average country guy'

[c'mon, are you really surprised?]

the day you leave the city life for the tiny town your grandpa lives in, because your mom loses her job, you think that's exactly when everything good in your life reaches its end.

the school is far and you've got to walk to it; the students are weird and kind of old-fashioned; the town is sooo boring... ugh.

or was, before you meet the grandson of one of your grandpa's old friends. itadori yuuji - or yuuji-kun, as the boy insists you call him.

studying in the same year as you, your new friend acquaintance is nothing less than an angel, a pure beam of sunshine.

from greeting everyone - even you, the titled snob of the school - with a grin so wide, it dimples his cheeks;

to assisting those needing help - be it getting your cat off the tree or sharing the pretty heavy load of notebooks you are originally tasked to carry back to the class [while ignoring your protests the entire duration];

to accompanying you to the school and back home after one off-handed remark of yours of you missing travelling with your friends...

you're more than a little surprised, why's the supposed golden boy of the town being kind and friendly with a grump like you?

however... what's more surprising than his cordial manner with you is... as you spend more time in his company, you find the way you perceive the world changing, bit by bit.

the walk to school is no longer strenuous and dreaded, thanks to yuuji's constant chatter and not-so-funny-as-silly jokes.

your classmates too seem to be more open and welcoming of you, and you find yourself smiling more and more with them and slowly getting involved in many of their shenanigans. [gosh! who the hell ever said village people are boring? they're so freaking fun!]

and guess what? even the town slowly grows brighter in your eyes.

thanks to your best friend [yes, now you accept him as so] showing you so many 'awesome' places in the town!!

the ice cream shop which supposedly sells the best ice cream in the world [the claim isn't really wrong, you guess];

the scariest haunted mansion on the far end of the town [it isn't scary; but you don't tell him that. you act scared just so yuuji'll hold your hand throughout the tour];

the tallest tree in the woods nearby, perched on a branch of which, you can get a clear view of your idyllic little town below and of the tiny twinkling stars above [you fall in love with the spot the second you experience the sheer beauty of the sights from it].

[you reckon, your feelings for your companion too solidify into 'something more' the second you tear your eyes away from the visual feast before, to the boy beside, only to find his gaze not on the scenery but on you, a soft smile in place of his usual boisterous grin — yet you don't say anything.]

[not 'cause you feel insecure or worried, he might not return your affection; but 'cause you realize yuuji does. the look on his face tells you enough... that, and the way he silently asks for permission, shy gaze darting between your eyes and lips – a permission you're all too eager to grant with a nod and a meek smile of your own.]

geto suguru as 'the k-pop star'

attractiveness = 100. singing skills = 100. attitude = 0.

[or, maybe, 10. the group's visual - wtf is his name? oh, yes, sukuna. that guy's getting get a solid zero in this.] [anyways–]

the first time you meet geto is when you're accompanying your elder brother, satoru to the auditions.

you're simply standing there, trying to cheer your brother up before his number is called [he might appear to be unafraid but you know your nii-chan better than that], when a smooth voice interrupts you followed by a sharp angular face appearing with even sharper eyes, glancing at you for a beat before falling on satoru.

that's the first time you meet him and that's the last time you view him in a light which isn't tinted with hatred.

you reckon it begins the evening of the party celebrating satoru's selection into the band. [it isn't a big matter; kind of small, in fact, given it's just you, your brother, your best friend shoko and satoru's new teammates - bubbly haibara, serious nanami, irritating sukuna and fucking bastard geto.]

to be more precise, it begins the moment satoru dozes off after his fifth glass of beer [you wonder, how, being your brother, he is such a lightweight] and sukuna, sensing the sliver of opportunity, starts flirting with you — a situation, annoying, yes, but one you're more than capable of handling — if only not for that long-haired bastard 'new best friend' of your brother.

the said asshole strolls in with a condenscending smirk, saying how one must never go for someone like you, so plain and boring.

now, generally, you don't let other's opinions of you get to yourself, but when it's from a guy you might've got a mild crush on... it's so infuriating, you can really feel your blood boiling within your veins.

and to your greatest chagrin, you find your blood boiling so many more times in the future, you think it's a miracle you haven't turned into a pressure cooker yet.

from an informal get-together to a launch party to an award show, geto never fails to get under your skin. sometimes, it's a concealed smirk; sometimes, a fleeting touch; sometimes, a lilting whisper - and you're left, fuming and flustered.

yet, just like everything good and bad, this hatred of yours towards the leader of your brother's band too reaches an end — yet not the way you might have expected it to be – with an apology [certainly not by you, but to you] and a clinking of two wine glasses.

it reaches an end with the two of you in a dimly-lit corridor, away from the crowd of the party, your hands grabbing on geto's coat lapels for dear life while his hands roam over your back, leaving a scorching feeling in their wake.

a thought rushes to the forefront of your mind and you break the kiss, panting. geto's brows furrow a tad from behind his mussed up hair; silencing the voice calling him cute, you ask, "so what's next? hate sex?"

a bright blush floods into his cheeks, you observe, as he opens his mouth to answer, then falters. "hate sex?" he gapes at you, "why on earth would it be hate sex?"

"'cause you and i hate each other...?" the answer leaves you, less as a statement and more as a question; you watch geto take a second to let it sink in before a chuckle erupts from him. "oh, sweetheart," he croons, placing a warm palm on your cheek, "i don't hate you. i never have. what made you-"

"you once told sukuna i'm plain and boring, and that no one should date me," you cut him off, feeling irritated again. [what the hell? is he gaslighting you??]

a short beat passes, wherein you glare up at him while he simply peers down at you, before a contrite smile flits onto his lips. voice dropping to a mere whisper, he says, "i'm sorry i made you feel that way, but i swear, that wasn't my intention. i was simply lying to get sukuna off your back. i was scared he might get you to fall in love with him, before i ever got a chance. i'm so very sorry."

this time, a long beat passes and ultimately, a loud whoosh of air leaves you.

you don't know whether it's the glimmer of sincerity in his feline eyes or your feelings for him which you've filed away for so long, which prompts you; whatever it is, you find yourself saying, "hmph, okay. that's stupid in a twisted way, but still, okay. however..."

you narrow your eyes at him.

geto blinks back at you, attentive and patient.

you let the anger melt away a bit from your expression. "don't expect me to forgive you after a couple of sorry's. i need a lot more than them to forgive you entirely."

"and a lot more, i promise to give you, oh divine being from above," geto responds with a cheeky smile and a kiss to your knuckles, "starting with some real nice loving tonight."

you beam back at him - not upset but kind of happy, for the very first time in your life, with the flutters in your chest elicited by that your smooth bastard.

fushiguro megumi as 'the supportive co-worker'

[you might've seen a grumpy x sunshine couple; but have you ever seen a grumpy-and-sunshine person? no?? well, continue reading!]

first impression: rude.

the only response the boy gives you, when you greet your cute new co-worker at the coffee shop you just joined, is a nod. no name, no 'welcome', not even a single 'hi'. just. a. small. nod. [huh?]

second impression: quiet.

you strike out your 1st impression of fushiguro megumi [thank god, name tags exist; anyways-] with your 2nd impression of him.

a week or two after you join, yuuta and maki call you into the break room after your shift ends and ask if you can decorate the room, since it's toge's birthday today. they explain they want to help you, but with the sudden rush of the customers, it's nearly impossible to leave the counter.

being the polite person you're, you obviously say yes, without even considering for a beat, just how much you might have to decorate.

and this is where you form your second impression of megumi.

ten minutes might have passed since you started working, before the boy strolls into the room, the ever-present frown on his face, gives the room one long look and joins in decorating, wordlessly.

you're astonished, to say the least; yet you don't breathe a word in return.

some help is better than no help, and if we're being honest here, you're more than a bit pissed at the boy.

thus, this is the way the two of you continue working, silently, and before long, you find your work done, the room prettily decorated.

a smile on your face, you twist – to find megumi hurrying out the room, soon followed by your other two co-workers entering it, confusion etched on their faces.

"megumi didn't leave for his baseball practice yet?" yuuta inquires, gaze darting from the door to you. your brows furrow. "baseball?"

"yeah," maki hums, "the kid's got some important match tomorrow morning, because of which we did not even consider asking him for help. plus, with how reluctant he always is in these matters..."

"the boy always makes an excuse to worm his way out of these parties and stuff," finsihing for her with a chuckle, yuuta throws you a curious look. "did you ask him for help?"

"nope!" comes the instant reply from you. the two colleagues share a knowing smile between them, you observe - however, before you get a second to process it, both of them sling an arm around your shoulders and thanking you for your efforts, drag you to the front of the now-empty coffee shop, where you see nobara and yuuji enter, carrying a large rectangular box.

a call of your name breaks your focus on the bickering duo and you turn to find yuuta smiling down at you. "megumi is actually a sweet boy, deep inside. give him a chance, please."

"more like a sweet coward," maki pipes in from the other side with a grin, "but, yeah, giving him a chance won't hurt you."

at that point of time, you wonder why the fuck your two seniors are blabbering this nonsense to you — yet now...

after weeks during which you silently watch the boy open up to you, first with a smile to you greeting him [you initially don't want to talk to him, but something the other two said leaves a mark and you find yourself treating him the same way you treat others]...

... which slowly grows into a smile and a question on your day, which grows into a smile, a question and lessons for the bumbling newbie you, on the ins-and-outs of working in a café, often paired with a pretty long, refreshing conversation...

... which slowly but steadily furthers beyond the confines of the coffee shop and your shared working hours...

..into now, the present moment, where you find megumi dressed to a tee, a shy smile on his lips and a lovely bouquet of roses in his hands, waiting to take you out on your first date—

yeah, now you realize why they were 'blabbering' to you that day, something you'll always be thankful to yuuta and maki for.

nanami kento as 'the hardworking entrepreneur'

your ken-chan has always been the best in your eyes.

the best in studies, the best in sports, the best neighbour, the best friend to you – one you're desperate to stay in touch with when you shift abroad for your higher studies.

time, however, is unforgiving and despite your wish, the weekly-thrice phone calls and emails dwindle down to weekly-once, then monthly-once, then to customary e-mails on special occasions like birthdays.

so, imagine your surprise [and joy, obviously] when one morning - a good eight years since you left for the states and a good month since you returned home - you open your laptop to find an e-mail from a nanami kento waiting in your inbox, the subject being 'let's meet up? :)'.

meet him, you do – except for the fact your ken-chan is no longer your ken-chan, yet is so much your ken-chan. [confusing, isn't it? you too feel really confused on meeting him after ages.]

the cute boy you knew has grown into a fine man - more than fine, if you're speaking the truth, given the way his facial features are sharper, shoulders broader, voice deeper – but with the same old personality as in high school.

frowning, solemn, no-nonsense – just, this time, your friend isn't discussing the science project but an idea to start a new company.

with him. the two of you. right from scratch.

you reckon you've never said 'yes' faster in your life!

and how can you not actually?

your ken-chan's genius has always awed you... and now that you're getting an opportunity to view it in all its glory, again, after so many years - how on earth can you not agree in an instant?

within a pretty short time [wow, efficient!], your company is set up and good to go; and you begin to witness a... not-really-new but... let's say, a better side of your friend.

kento has always been extremely sincere and hard-working since your school days together; yet now, as you watch him do overtime, day after day after day – inspite of his claimed vehement hatred for it – you realize the intensity of his dedication towards his work.

then, add to that, his communication skills.

utterly flawless.

you've worked with many amazing companies before and you're being unbiased here [no joke] but this man's got some insane skills in communication.

be it securing a deal with the clients or addressing a problem with the employees, there's nothing kento can't handle in perfect poise.

however, what steals the show for you, is neither of these but your ken-chan's golden heart.

the company goes through more than its fair share of troubles – yet, you don't see him, not even once, compromise with any ideals or ethics of his. be it with the clients, or with the employees, or with you - his company's co-founder whom he agrees to give a respectable exit, with a decent pay, when the company is passing a particularly rough patch – he never deviates an inch from his moral code.

needless to say, you deny his request firmly in an instant.

a decision you know you'll always be proud of – not for the fact the company is now one of the largest in the country and making huge profits regularly; it was a given the company will be successful with kento at it's head [the man says you deserve the equal amount of credit as him, but being who you are, you're wont to shush him; anyways-]

– but because you will never have forgiven yourself for abandoning an angel-like person like him in his time of need; something you deem kento never deserves after years of being a wonderful friend to you.

though... now, as you watch him approach you with a tiny smile and two bags of take-out for a late dinner [meetings, ugh]... you can't help but hope he'll become a friend plus someone else to you in the future...

'cause, after all, your ken-chan has always been the best in your eyes.

the best in studies, the best in sports, the best neighbour, the best friend, the best colleague - and the best person ever, you know you can entrust your heart to.

gojo satoru as 'the brave soldier'

[*sigh* where should i even begin...]

the first meeting the two of you have is less than ideal.

it's less of a meeting and more of a crash, to be honest — and i ain't even being metaphorical here.

you're on your morning jog for the day, smiling and listening to the song you're currently obsessed with, when out of thin air, a bicycle appears and comes careening down the slope you're at the base of, right into you — not giving you the time to react, or at the very least, process what the fuck just happened.

the deities above must have been pleased with you that day, you guess, 'cause you're discharged from the hospital with merely a wrist sprain and a few scratches on your arms and legs.

though... you reckon they must have been harbouring a grudge on you too... for if they aren't, why is the cause behind your injury such an annoying, obstinate, dumb manchild, hm?

a sigh leaves you, the umpteenth time in the last hour, as you limp back to your home. the whining from the broken bicycle beside you doesn't stop one bit.

"c'mon, sweetheart-" "don't call me that-" "fine, c'mon, babe-" "ew, don't call me that either-" "ooh, playing hard to get, are-" "fuck off!"

reaching an abrupt stop, you whirl on your feet, face contorted in a furious scowl. the stranger takes a step back from you, shrinking; you know you must school your features a bit, this is a public place for heaven's sake—

utterly uncaring, you begin, "listen, mister. i've been telling you for a good half an hour, from the hospital till now, that i don't wanna go on an apology date with you. it was an accident for fuck's sake," your voice grows louder with wilder hand gestures.

the man keeps staring at you in response, rooted to the spot. you don't even stop to breathe, "just say sorry for it and get on with your goddamn life. why the hell you ain't leaving me alone, man? don't you understand the meaning of 'no'? single word – n, o?"

a long beat passes in silence after your tirade, post which the man recedes, shrugging, with a mumbled apology and nothing more, leaving you confused and a little contrite(??).

whatever!

with time and tide and the woes and worries of your daily life, that odd little encounter slips to the back of your mind before it resurfaces, two years later, while you're posted in a foreign country.

"sweetheart!" the endearment rings through the military camp. the cameraman beside you stifles a shocked gasp; sharing a confused look with him, you send your interviewee a small smile before turning your gaze in search of the source of the noise.

the same white-haired goggles-wearing man from long before rushes tumbling down the dirt track, you watch, appalled, bringing unpleasant flashbacks to your mind, then stops, a good distance from you.

brows a tad pinched, you see him brush his bangs away from his forehead and open his mouth to speak; but another person beats him to it. you twist back to face your interviewee.

geto gives you a harmless grin. "aha! so you're the mystery person gojo here fell in love with, huh?" a series of indignant sputters and coughs sound from behind you, accompanied by giggles from next to you. you seriously consider elbowing yuuji.

the black-haired man, meanwhile, continues with a request, "hey, can you please rethink your decision of not wanting go on a date with him? please- it's just one date," he adds in a hurry when you open your mouth with a glare, his grin falling to a helpless look. you close your mouth, willing your glare to go away and return a neutral expression.

"satoru's my best friend and brother-in-arms but at times, at night especially, when he starts lamenting over how he scared you off... y'know, at those times, i just wanna kill him, frankly speaking," the man pleads guilty.

a sigh escapes you as you cast a glance at gojo, noting the poorly hidden apprehension in his eyes. yet another sigh escapes you-

"of course," yuuji's energetic voice pipes in.

you stamp his foot pretty hard; that idiot, undeterred, proceeds to rattle, "this person here too wouldn't shut up after that incident. on how one should be more polite, more considerate, more tolerant, more forgiving. even going as far as to say that one date would've been fine; it was just a date that, that poor man asked for— isn't it so?"

"really?" gojo's voice wafts over to your ears; you squeeze your eyes shut and open them, cheeks feeling awfully warm.

"yes," you grit out, pinning your alleged admirer down with a glare, which softens when you catch the spark of happiness in his eyes. you decide to relent.

"if the two of us survive this, let's go to that patisserie you were speaking of that day. how does this sound to you?"

said man rewards you a dazzling beam with a thumbs-up. "sounds like the perfect way to waltz into my heart, sweetness."

ryomen sukuna as 'the cold chaebol'

[c'mon, are you really surprised?]

utterly cold, utterly ruthless, utterly a monster – is what one might- nope! one 'will' call sukuna.

and they aren't really wrong, you muse as you watch the man in question talk business with two executives from another company, the latter looking one step away from fainting.

you muffle your expression beneath the guise of a cough, earning you two startled looks and a frown. a polite smile flits onto your lips as a soft apology leaves them, and you return to your silence–

which lasts till the second you step out of the room, accompanying the pair of men and one of them turns to you, sheer terror in his eyes.

"take this," he mumbles, pressing something into your palm; you look down to find it's a business card. forehead creasing into lines, you look back up at him.

the other man sighs. "listen, kid, that man sukuna ain't good news. before anything wrong happens, just quit this job and come to our company. we'll pay you well... okay, maybe not as well as they pay you here, but at the very least, an axe won't be hanging over your neck every minute of your working hours there."

you blink, then press the button to the elevator.

gratitude floods your expression. "thank you. i'll keep your words in mind," you say, bidding them goodbye.

the men give you a smile, then with one last petrified look at the closed doors of the ceo's room, file into the elevator and shut it in an instant, too scared to spend even a millisecond more here than what's required of them.

your secretarial smile burns away into a majestic scowl.

"again?"

you click your tongue, closing the doors you opened behind you and go and plop on the sofa. a sigh sounds from next to you, soon followed by the weight of a heavy head on your shoulder. "what do we do?"

"you're the boss here. you tell me."

sukuna makes a noise of disapproval in his throat before nestling a little closer to you. you open your arms a bit, oddly reminded of an overgrown kitten, then bite back your words. the teasing can be for later.

an annoyed grunt reaches you in response. "as the boss, i'm asking you. c'mon, tell me. what do we do?"

the answer arrives from your end within a fraction of an instant.

"we cut our ties with them, obviously," you say. "anyone who can be so insolent as to think they can steal me away from you can do just almost anything. too bold for my liking," you tsk.

"oh, you don't like someone bold, kitten?" a crimson eye opens at you, mischief shining in its depths. your nose wrinkles in distaste.

you shove him away. "firstly- ew, never call me kitten; secondly- careful, mr. ceo or people might think we're fucking."

a deep chuckle with an 'okay' are the only response sukuna gives you as he drags you close to himself and you let him; letting your thoughts too to drown you in them.

yeah, sukuna is the utterly cold, utterly ruthless, utterly monstrous person everyone makes him to be.

yet, what they overlook is that the man's got a leash, one held by the demure personal assistant always at his side–

the assistant being none other than 'you'.

the fearsome businessman's other half in every sense of the term except the fact the two of you have never shared a bed.

[though... you think... if you decide to listen to uraume's advice to get your shit together and make a move on their master – one whose gaze, you note, has been fixed on your lips for a duration too long now to be decent – you reckon the unfulfilled criterion will be fulfilled way before tomorrow.]

▸ masterlist

▸ taglist: @afortoru, @guccirosegold, @heresan, @luckimoon, @megu-meow, @nanamikentoseyebags, @pupkashi, @ritsatoru, @softsatoru, @sweetdreamssatoru, @nkogneatho, @sugies, @poe-daydreams, @sukustar. :))

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angelatmidnight1 · 11 months

Note

I just started Baldur's Gate 3 and would love some ler! tword hesdcanons for Astarion if you're feeling inspired? I saw some of his lines on YouTube Shorts and he's literally the reason I'm now playing, Lord help me. 😭🤣 I'm super early game(like, just met him, Shadowheart and Gale) but I do know what species he is, and know a certain something he tries at camp at some point- 👀

I will definitely write a tword fic for him at some point because the need for him to wreck me is strong, but some headcanons to encourage me to keep going to see the story, as I adjust to the gameplay and how it works would be so appreciated! ❤️ Again, only if you feel inspired for it though, no pressure and I hope you're staying hydrated lovely! 😊

A/N: Sure! Astarion's the reason I bought the game too. I saw a few clips of him on TikTok and added the game to cart 😅 I have a reader/Astarion fic somewhere in my drafts, but please tag me whenever you create yours. I'd love to see :D

Anyways, here's ler!Astarion. I hope I captured his personality okay. I'll add a tiny warning that this may come off a tad spicy, cause it's Astarion haha, but it isn't NSFW.

Ler!Astarion Tickle Headcanons

“Darling, you’re ticklish? Aha, how adorable.”

Astarion’s had a couple centuries to practice the art of gentle, and sometimes ticklish, touches. Of course he takes up the opportunity to work his craft.

He’ll say the sweetest things to beckon his lee closer, with fleeting touches along sides and hips. “Come here, my dear. I promise I’ll be as gentle as a babe. Just a bit closer, hm?”

More words, sweet as honey, until he has his lee pinned under him. No matter the position, he wants physical contact the whole time. “Mm, I always did enjoy how you looked beneath me.”

He loves it when his lees become shy and flustered. It encourages his flirtatious antics even more. But, if they don’t? That’s okay. He loves a good challenge.

Astarion’s touch is deliberate, but light and teasy. He takes his time to find the spots that make his lee squeal, and claws over it with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “My, you are a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?”

Eye contact is huge with Astarion; he drinks in his lees’ every reaction to his tickles. Every little giggle, gasp, squeak. His lee has never looked more beautiful, and he’s sure to tell them just that.

Speaking of drinking, it’s too tempting not to think about all of the blood pumping through his lee’s veins while he tickles them. He won’t drink without permission, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge in other ways.

“I could eat you right up, darling. And you know what? I think I will..”

Astarion knows how to use his fangs with just enough pressure to tickle, and if he’s especially close with his lee, nowhere is safe from his nibbles.

His favorite place to nibble are necks, but he’s also fond of ribs, hips, and thighs. He’ll love if his lee is especially sensitive to his light biting. “Gods, you are delectable. And those precious little giggles of yours just make you all the more sweeter.~”

He could tease and tickle his lee all night, but if they truly need a break, he’ll ease off…just expect him to be a lil’ pouty.

“Stop? Already? But, I was having so much fun. And I can tell that you were, too. Must we end our playtime so soon? …Oh, fine. Just promise I won’t have to wait too long before I can have you again.”

Of course, Astarion doesn’t always have to have an easy time with his lees. He loves it when they’re stern or, if anything, when they don’t want to admit how ticklish they are.

“Pft, if you’re not ticklish, then I’m not a vampire. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find it rather cute. You can look a beast dead in its eye, so long as it doesn’t wiggle its claws at you, hah.”

He, like most, if not all vampires, loves a good hunt. He can and will pursue obstinate lees for fun. Having stealth on his side is a huge advantage.

His fancy, airier voice turns growly when he’s on the hunt. And, those honeyed words become devilish taunts.

“You might want to run faster, darling. I’m right behind you.~ Perhaps if you surrender, I’ll be merciful.”

Astarion gets a huge ego boost if he manages to get a stubborn lee laughing. "My name sounds wonderful on your lips. But, I would love to hear a 'please'."

If he has to hunt his lee down, it'll be awhile before he lets them go. "You're all mine, tav. Laugh for me~."

#astarion acunin #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 tickle #bg3 tickle #ler!astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion

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regamoth · 1 year

Note

Can I make a hobbit request? Could you do Thorin, Bilbo and Elrond (maybe Beorn if you can write him?) with an S/O who talks in their sleep? Maybe they say something funny or something. Idk its up to you :) Tysm! Have a good day ❤️

⋆ Masterlist

⋆ This is only Headcanon.

⋆ Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x gn!reader, Bilbo Baggins x gn!reader, Elrond x gn!reader, Beorn x gn!reader.

⋆ TW: None I think, it's just fluff.

⋆ Note: fun fact about me: when I was a kid I had a massive crush on Legolas, but growing up I found myself being more of a Thorin person. Idk he's just so special.

Thorin: I think he would secretly love it and find it really cute and funny. But the grumpy dwarf he is will just tell his s/o that he had trouble sleeping because of that (even if he notes what they're saying every night). He might tell them it's cute sometimes if he's feeling soft.

Bilbo: The "Before journey Bilbo" would need his good night's sleep to be up and ready to... do nothing, just be a cute lil hobbit. But anyway he'd be quite annoyed at first. But I think he'd realize that his s/o talking in their sleep just comes with the package of loving them, so he'd become softer and just let you be.

The "After journey Bilbo" would not care AT ALL. I mean, he slept for over a year next to thirteen tractor-like snoring dwarves. So a s/o that just talks in their sleep is one of the cutest things he's ever seen. He'd be so cute and understanding about it, even sometimes telling you what you said if you're okay with it.

Elrond: Even if Elrond seems to be someone who's quite serious and uneasy to amuse, he'd find it really funny to listen to his partner talking while they're sleeping. I think he'd tell them as soon as they wake up (in a sassy voice ofc), along with the exact words that they said. If it makes them uncomfortable he'd reassure them and tell them it's okay, that he thinks it's cute.

Beorn: This man is literally a giant teddy bear, and even if he may seem serious and impressive, he's really soft. I think he would not care at all like- I'm not even sure he'd tell them. I feel like he's a heavy sleeper so I think he might take a lot of time to realize that his s/o actually talks in their sleep. And honestly, he might talk in his sleep too lol.

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rottenpumpkin13 · 6 months

Text

*drops down from the trees by grappling hook with a birthday cake*

Dedicated to @altocat, who brightens everyone's day with her wonderful writing and headcanons 🎂 ❤️ Here's my attempt at bittersweet Glenn and Sephiroth fluff.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Sephiroth liked the smell of what Hojo was quick to label as 'dirt and grime'—the damp earth beneath his boots, the smell of fresh morning raindrops dripping from the trees overhead, the crisp mountain breeze that carried notes of pine and flowers.

It filled his lungs and reminded him that he breathed, as any other human being, and that there was more to the world than his obligations and Shinra's conquests.

Glenn and Sephiroth sat perched atop a rugged cliff, their backs against the cool, weathered rocks overlooking a sprawling ravine that stretched far below. Sephiroth's gaze wandered over the expanse before them. Gently letting his eyes flutter shut, he wished he could drink it all up, treating it like an addictive drug he would consume forever if he could.

Glenn extended a glass soda bottle towards him, its oddly-colored contents gleaming in the sunlight as he gradually opened his eyes. The whimsical label was adorned with a cheerful moogle proudly showing off its drink, and the words Kupo Pop! Secret Flavor!

"I don't understand why the ingredients can't be labeled on the bottle," Sephiroth, ever the skeptic, remarked as he accepted the glass bottle.

Glenn rolled his eyes as the younger boy began turning the bottle around, reading the scattered words for any hints as to what it contained. "Go ahead, give it a try," he encouraged, twisting the cap from his own blueberry soda. "Part of the fun is in the mystery, you know. Maybe the secret is that it's just irresistibly delicious."

Sephiroth looked up, his lips a thin line as he stared pointedly ahead. "Secrets aren't fun.”

"But they can be," Glenn countered, pointing his bottle at him. "They're fun to keep, fun to share, and most importantly, fun to savor." With a light clink, Glenn tapped his bottle against Sephiroth's.

Sephiroth's lips would have easily been confused with a squiggly line drawn by a child on paper. He frowned, staring down at the bottle with unease, his choppy hair falling over his eyes. "Aren't there supposed to be… orange flavors? I've heard about orange soda.”

Glenn nearly spat out his mouthful of blueberry as he pulled it from his lips. "Woah, you've never had soda before?"

Glenn's surprise was evident as Sephiroth shook his head in response. He tried not to let his jaw fall slack as he lifted his hand to his face, scratching at his stubble. “Huh…. How about that. Well don't worry. I'd never give you something you wouldn’t like."

Sephiroth arched a single eyebrow, looking mildly annoyed. "That's what you said about the marshmallows.” His hands clenched around the glass bottle. “They tasted funny."

“Ha!” Glenn nudged him. “Hey, it's not my fault you're a weird little dude who doesn't like marshmallows.”

As he drained the contents of his soda, Sephiroth looked back down at his own. Determined, he grabbed the bottle opener from the dusty ground and hooked it to the cap.

Gradually, Sephiroth braced himself and took a swig of the mysterious soda. Glenn watched, unblinking as Sephiroth squeezed his eyes shut and gulped it down.

Instantly, a sharp sensation tingled and bubbled in his throat. Acid? Not good. He instinctively spat it out, hacking and coughing.

Glenn erupted into laughter, letting his bottle fall to his lap as he clapped. Sephiroth cleared his throat twice, water lining his widened, green eyes.

"Is it supposed to burn?" Sephiroth spluttered, wiping his lips with the back of his wrist. His voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and discomfort, which would've made Glenn feel horribly guilty if it weren't hilarious.

Sephiroth The Great, defeated by a mystery Kupo Pop flavor. Matt and Lucia would never believe it.

Leaning back against the rocky ledge, Glenn's laughter subsided as he regarded Sephiroth with amusement. "Well, what does it taste like?"

Sephiroth paused, gathering his thoughts after the unexpected attempt on his life.

"I don't know. I was caught off guard by the burning. I forgot to notice the flavor."

Reluctantly, Sephiroth took another sip—small this time, less overwhelming. He was cautious as he contemplated the taste lingering on his tongue, his face twisting along with his flickering thoughts.

"Passion fruit," he declared after a moment of contemplation.

Glenn arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Hm. Is it offensive that I doubt whether you know what passion fruit tastes like?"

His tone was teasing, but he was serious. He barely knew what passion fruit tasted like. Exotic fruits were hard to come by in Midgar, and when they did, he wasn't willing to break open his wallet to succumb to expensive curiosity.

Sephiroth shifted uncomfortably, averting his eyes as he traced patterns on the bottle's icy condensation. “When Professor Hojo has my dental impressions done, the alginate has a passion fruit flavor.” He shrugged. “Or at least it used to when I was very young. Now it tastes like nothing."

Glenn's unease at the mention of Professor Hojo flickered briefly across his features, but he hid it well for Sephiroth's sake.

He suppressed the urge to make a joke about the mundanity of adult life— “Hey kid! Welcome to the real world, where everything is bitter and sweetness is rare.” That's what he would've said had it been anyone other than the boy sitting by his side, the child who should be able to taste passionfruit—and soda—and marshmallows. And freedom.

Glenn reached around, patting Sephiroth on the back as he masked his discontentment with a subtle grin. "Remind me to buy you a real passionfruit when we're back in Midgar.”

Sephiroth's smile held a touch of gratitude, but he said nothing else. His gaze lingered on the bottle in his hand, lost in thought.

Back in Sephiroth's mind, the passion fruit soda now tasted like a suffocating hand shoving itself down his throat, forcing him to throw everything good and whole he had digested back up in hopes of feeding him misery.

Glenn didn't like it when Sephiroth went quiet. "So!” He promoted, stretching his arms. “Secrets aren't fun? How come?”

"No," Sephiroth replied solemnly, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "They're barriers—walls built to control and keep you happy."

His conviction weighed the air around them. Glenn needed to distract him. "And do you have any secrets?" he tried gently.

Sephiroth looked up, his gaze translucent, unblinking. "There's nothing I haven't told you," he confessed. “And there's nothing I wouldn't tell you.” He pressed his lips together and straightened his back, probably trying to sound mature but cracking under Glenn's wiser gaze. “Not that I keep anything. From anyone.”

A quiet, almost inaudible “It's not like I can” reached Glenn's ears, but he chose to ignore it in favor of an idea that arose just as it was needed.

Glenn huffed. “Alright. How about I tell you one of mine then?”

Sephiroth listened intently, the cold glass of the bottle pressing against his reddened, ungloved fingers.

"Okay so. A few years ago when I was a rookie…I was a part of this mission out to the Gongaga region. I was supposed to be watching over our materia stash, since the group was small and we were camped out in the jungle. I thought it was a good idea to bury them in the dirt by the river. Little did I know how rainstorms are a daily occurrence in the jungle.”

He paused for dramatic effect, savoring the way Sephiroth's eyes went wide along with his smile.

“They all got washed away.”

The reveal was punctuated by a sudden fit of laughter from Sephiroth.

“But I didn't get in trouble,” Glenn continued, laughing too. “I blamed it on a random bandit attack and told a story about how I valiantly fought them off, but they took the materia.”

Sephiroth doubled over with laughter, leaning back. His bubbly cries echoed throughout the ravine. His cheeks were rosy, the sunlight caught in his silver hair just as the breeze messed it up, making him look every bit the kid he was.

Glenn pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "Now that's my biggest secret, so don't go around telling anyone, alright?"

Sephiroth's laughter faded. His demeanor shifted gradually. While he still maintained a small smile, he swung his legs over the rocky drop, looking down into the ravine.

"Don't worry. I don't have anyone.”

Glenn's heart sank, a pang of remorse gnawing at his insides.

After a few moments where they were both enveloped in a cloud of guilt—Glenn with his foot in his mouth and Sephiroth’s desire to eat his own words—Glenn mustered the courage to break the tension.

He turned his body to him fully. "You know, Sephiroth, you're such a great kid," he began, sounding as earnest as he could.

Sephiroth looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. "I am?"

Glenn grinned. "Duh. You're the coolest kid I've ever met. You're responsible, and fun to be around, not to mention smart as hell."

Sephiroth’s reddened cheeks complimented his smile. He opened his mouth to reply, but was inside of what to say. He wasn't used to being paid any compliments—at least, none about who he was as a person.

But it didn't matter. Glenn wasn't finished. The older boy's expression turned playful as nudged Sephiroth. "So watch out, because one day you'll have a lot of people to tell my secret to, and if you do, I'll kick your ass.”

Sephiroth looked down, clearly unsure. “I don't think…ah…I don't know.”

Glenn knew. He was certain of it. "Tell you what," he said. "When you find those people—and you will—promise me you'll tell them my secret. I'll probably be too old to care anyway."

Sephiroth's gaze softened, a flicker of mischief in the tone of his subsequent hum. "Older?"

Glenn rolled his eyes and responded with a playful punch to Sephiroth's arm, the impact light but affectionate.

"Promise me,” he pressed, his gaze locking with Sephiroth's. He was dead serious.

Sephiroth's expression softened, his resolve firm as he met Glenn's gaze.

"I promise," he nodded.

Sephiroth would only come to realize Just How naive he was at that age years later. Sometimes he could hear Glenn's satisfied “I told you so” whispering to him, and Sephiroth would give anything to have heard it from him.

Years passed since that day.

Sephiroth found himself seated on that same exact cliff overlooking the ravine. The warm, late April sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow, the gentle breeze carrying with it the scents of pine and earth. Just as it had been back then.

Although there were some key differences. In his hand, Sephiroth held an unopened bottle of Kupo Pop, raspberry flavor—since the secret flavor had been discontinued long ago.

He still found no appeal in fizzy drinks, but he hoped the memory concealed within the burn would be bittersweet.

“Hey,” Genesis approached from behind with a bottle of orange soda and a small smile. "Do you want to trade? I'm not nearly as not fond of orange as you are.”

Sephiroth nodded in agreement, accepting the offer and exchanging bottles.

Genesis plopped down on his left, muttering something about the dirt sticking to his coat. The clicks and flash of a camera signaled Angeal's arrival at the rocky cliff edge.

He excitedly snapped as many shots as he could of the trees, the ravine, the waterfall, and several keepsakes of their trek up the mountain.

Sephiroth looked up. "I don't think you got enough pictures" he quipped with a teasing smile.

Angeal settled down on Sephiroth's right—side-eyeing Genesis, who began shaking his soda bottle absentmindedly.

"I can never take enough.” Angeal settled the camera around his neck. “Pictures only do so much. They don't exactly encapsulate the memory you're trying to preserve.” Angeal’s tone was thoughtful as he gazed out at the breathtaking view.

Sephiroth nodded in agreement, his gaze drifting to the horizon. "I guess it's all in the special moments.”

Genesis twisted off the cap of his bottle, only to be met with a sudden eruption of fizz. The red soda sprayed all over them, prompting a chorus of startled reactions. Genesis let out a shriek, his expression shifting rapidly from embarrassment to frustration. Angeal screamed a swear as he covered his camera. Sephiroth laughed, wiping the red drink from his face.

"Is Genesis being an idiot a special moment?" Angeal snapped.

Genesis attempted to deflect blame, his face a mix of embarrassment and indignation as he flicked a soaked lock of hair from his eyes.

"Hey, it's not my fault! Sephiroth handed me the bottle like that.”

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, then uncapped his orange soda. "Genesis, I just watched you shake the bottle.”

“But—!”

“Don't gaslight Angeal.” Sephiroth took a swig of the drink.

Meanwhile Angeal let out a violent snort. "He thinks it's an apple juice can," Angeal chuckled, punctuating his words with a mock shaking motion with his fist. “You know? The kind you have to shake first?”

Sephiroth snorted, pulling the bottle away from his lips quickly before he spat it out.

The pair fell into a fit of laughter, leaning on each other. The moment was definitely made funnier by the way Genesis was completely drenched in the soda.

Genesis shrugged sheepishly, acknowledging his blunder with a self-deprecating grin. "Shit. Muscle memory, I suppose," he admitted, his laughter mixing with theirs.

Once the moment faded into a comfortable silence, they each became lost in their own thoughts as they savored the serenity of their surroundings. Genesis contentedly sipped the remainder of Sephiroth's orange soda, while Angeal focused his attention on capturing the beauty of the waterfall below with his camera.

Sephiroth's mind wandered, his thoughts drifting back to that day, to Glenn, to their conversation and the passion fruit soda.

He was fortunate enough to have to keep his promise.

With a sense of resolve settling over him, he broke the silence. "I need to tell you both a secret.”

#sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #glenn lodbrok #ffvii ever crisis #final fantasy vii #crisis core #writing #ff7

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