#what the FUCK do you MEAN you liked the new jean grey spin off?? 'it was a good character study' if you have shit for brains! i guess!

[transwomencallthatxmen]

Marvel Comic Authors Write A Jean Grey Story that Doesn't Paint Her As A Villain for the Crime of Being Powerful Challenge (IMPOSSIBLE) (GONE WRONG) (GONE MISOGYNIST)

[positivelybeastly]

💋 [Okay their Xavier/Young Days because I feel there could be a saga of Shenanigans here]

It's probably not the kind of cross-pollination between classes that Xavier had intended, if indeed that had ever been the plan.

After the game of spin-the-bottle had died down (mostly once Carmine had been threatened that he would be the one dying down if he didn't just shut up about it), Hank had turned quiet - which, in reality, just meant he swapped his ten dollar vocabulary for a five dollar one - before suggesting that the Special Class had made him welcome, so why not have the First Class do the same for them?

They had all pretty much waved it off - that would mean hanging around Guinness World Record level buzzkill Scott Summers, to say nothing of infinitely annoying Bobby Drake, literal airhead Warren Worthington the Third, far too perfect to be true Jean Grey, and . . .

Well, yeah, Hank was fine. He didn't know how to shut up, was the opinion of the Special Class, but he was fine. He was probably just a blunt away from being okay, even.

But whatever, a repeat of what had just happened was not on their dance cards - save for Tess, oddly enough. She took him up on his offer, said it was so she could see how the other half lived, and gave Hank a spectacularly unimpressed look when he'd protested that they weren't the other half, they were all equals, they just had different -

All right, he'd stopped pretty quickly there, she looked like she might punch him.

But regardless, plans had been made. Coffee A Go Go, 3PM next Tuesday. Does that sound agreeable? Sure. Great. Excellent. Cool. Buzz off, McCoy.

Tess had been a little late, naturally. Naturally. Mostly so she could judge their reactions when she did turn up. Scott had looked annoyed, his scrawny features and predisposition to squinting and making intense eye movements making for the kind of reception that had Tess wanting to tell him to shove it. But Jean had done her best to be polite and nice, and Hank had sprung up to try and pull her chair out for her - the operative word being tried because like fuck was she letting him do that - while Bobby and Warren just sort of stared.

A girl. One who wasn't Jean.

One who was . . . kinda . . . cool?

Oh, that was just the actual worst eventuality, wasn't it? Because now Tess had to deal with Hank trying to be normal in one ear, Scott and Jean pretending that they didn't want to dip wicks in the other, and right in her face were a child (and yes, Bobby Drake was a goddamn child) and a pretty boy practically pawing at her. Bobby was the worst, actually, mostly because he kept trying - and the word was trying, almost as if his heart wasn't in it but he felt like he had to - and kept just making an idiot of himself. It was sort of charming? In an, I would put a bullet in you to help you stop your suffering, sort of way.

And then, naturally, things had gotten worse, because Hank had neglected to mention the beat poetry filling the coffee shop from the little stage in the corner.

"A dozen eggs, feel you're always scramblin', bag of macaroni, days like crazy pavin',

New pocket mirror, oh so humblin', pack of cigs, satisfy that cravin',

Shopping list of a housewife, take a look, ain't this the life - "

Tess fixed Hank with a look, and he just sort of. Pressed his lips together and pretended to drink from his coffee cup, briefly wondering if he should just tip the scalding hot liquid over himself to escape this self-made hell. Oil and water really should not mix -

"Hey, so, Tess, is it true you kissed our boy Beast here?" Warren quirks a perfectly plucked eyebrow at her, and suddenly the entire table is staring at her, except for Hank, who's just staring directly forward. Probably dissociating. She's a little envious.

"Yeah."

Bobby positively shrieks with laughter. Okay, yeah, there's definitely something going on with slushy over there, he's acting weird about this, though everyone else seems not to have noticed. She idly wonders how long it'll take. Probably too long.

"Hank?! Seriously, you kissed Hank? Naw, there's no way - what did he taste of, ink and hot air? There's no way, just no way - "

And if she's honest, it's a really dumb way to navigate her way out of the situation, but it. Kinda works? She reaches over, grabs Hank by the lapels of his dorky ass suit (all the guys in the First Class wear them, for whatever weird reason), and kisses him.

Again.

For the second time in two days.

Seriously, the fuck is their life? The fuck is their life that this has felt like the most normal part of having superpowers, kissing dorks and making Bobby Drake look like he's about to piss himself?

Eh. Could be worse, she supposes.

At least it means she gets to slap a punchdrunk looking Hank on the shoulder, tell the table that that's about all she's got time for, and leave before anyone can try to talk to her about it.

He tasted like coffee. No fucking duh, Drake. Why does everyone always think kisses let you taste people's souls and not just what they last ate or drank?

Hank thought she tasted just plain confusing.

[kitausuret]

A , D , J , O & Z for the ask game :)

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

Hmmm... for this one, I'm going to try and say a ship I don't talk about a lot - Liz Allan/Betty Brant! Honestly, for this one I have to give credit to @softgrungeprophet because they're the one who really gave me the brainworm. I have a few ideas for them rolling around in my head that will probably get incorporated into the world of Dust to Dust, maybe a couple spin-off one shots or something. I just think rivals to lovers is fun, you know? Maybe they go to the same coffee shop. Who knows!

I've also been rotating Wanda/Jericho in my brain a lot, too. I don't even know what their status is right now. I'm so far behind on comics it's not even funny. But I remember when they first started getting together they were soooo cute. Can you even believe how good they are?! Please tell me if there's been anything more with them so I don't have to make it up.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

Hmm... honestly, just because of how iconic they are, I wish I was more into Scott Summers/Jean Grey. I wish I was more into Scott/anyone. But up to this point I just haven't been that interested in knowing Scott better or getting really into any of his relationships. I like all the women he's been with (though I don't know Emma real well)! I'm just pretty meh on Cyclops.

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr.

Oh, gosh, Our Flag Means Death (which I did get kinda into) and Interview With the Vampire (which I have no interest in getting into). Especially the latter. I know IWTV is iconic. I know that. I just don't care about it at all. But I can't escape it. It's fine.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

I hit shuffle on my playlist for "all songs" and "That's All" by Genesis came up. Hilariously, I don't know if it's on any of my character playlists, but that's my Sonyverse!Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote song, especially after Venom: Let There be Carnage. It's like, idk, it's their breakup song. It amuses me. It's also really fucking catchy.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go!

Uh, uh, uh, I don't know!! All I can think about is Harry Osborn and Venom stuff. Oh! I know! I'm really excited but really nervous for what the new Spider-Man game for PS5 is gonna do, because I'm pretty sure it's gonna throw any kind of interesting take on Venom out the window, bUT, Tony Todd as the voice of Venom is going to be amazing even if the writing sucks. I already have 50,000,000 ideas about Harry as Venom. Something something shared/mutual trauma. Two beings who ultimately just want to be held and appreciated. I don't think they'll be good for each other but they could potentially have a lot in common. I'm pretty sure the symbiote won't even be sentient in the Insomniac Spider-Man universe but wow! What if!

[earlgreydream]

rings.

| bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. bucky with rings

mafia au, soft!dom

cw: sliiiiight dubcon if you squint, but not actually

“You’re running the money through here?” Steve asked Bucky, and he nodded.

“Yes. We have a few other sites we launder through, but most of the money comes through here. Police don’t come poking around a locally owned Romanian restaurant on the upper east side,” Bucky explained.

“Boss is very... careful.” Zemo explained, referring to Bucky.

They were trying to make a deal with Steve and Sam, the two American bosses of another mafia they were trying to sell their illegal weapons to. One of their bases was raided, all of their drugs and weapons seized by the DEA.

They had come to Bucky, looking to buy more weapons to arm their dealers and “soldiers”.

“And who is this exactly?” Sam eyed Zemo suspiciously.

“Zemo. He’s security, and my weapons expert,” Bucky answered.

“Do you have connections?” Steve continued, trying to ignore the Sokovian’s unsettling stare.

“Yes. The head agent of the Manhattan DEA is one of us. Half of the local precincts are in our pocket, and I own the NYPD.” Bucky’s tone was impatient, he didn’t appreciate the questioning of his authority.

Bucky was the most powerful man in New York, and also the most feared. He demanded respect, dominating every space he entered. Steve and Sam wanted to be under his protection, and be supplied by him.

The men stopped talking when they heard a noise, and the four men burst into the front of the restaurant, guns drawn.

“Did you not lock the fucking door?!” Bucky snapped at Zemo. Zemo just rolled his eyes, and they stepped out into the dining room, where you stood.

You loved the Romanian restaurant just a few streets down from your building. You frequented it, their papanasi your favorite comfort food.

You’d had a rough week, a lot of family drama, and you were craving the Romanian food. You found the door unlocked and a back light on as you were walking home late, and you’d gone inside to try to get a snack.

It was empty, but four men had come out, three of them pulling guns and pointing them at you. You’d heard voices and had begun to walk to the back hallway, where they’d been talking in an office. You’d heard “I own the NYPD,” and nothing else. You’d started to leave when the men had appeared.

The man who didn’t have a gun pointed at you was in an all-black suit, silver eyes matching silver rings on his fingers that looked like they costed more than your Manhattan rent.

You were frozen, staring down the barrels of three guns, fear robbing your lungs of air.

“Get your fucking guns out of her face!” Bucky shouted, making you jump. Zemo obeyed immediately, but Steve and Sam kept their guns pointed at you.

“She’s-”

“She’s unarmed and terrified. Put down the fucking guns!” The other two slowly lowered their weapons, and you were shaking.

Bucky looked at you, a frightened girl who clearly had just ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. You stared back at him, your hands trembling. You didn’t understand him protecting you from the other men, but you were thankful. 

“Please, I didn’t hear anything, I haven’t done anything... I just wanted some food,” you pleaded softly, looking at Bucky in hopes he’d take more pity on you.

“I believe you, doll, but we can’t let you leave,” Bucky spoke, and you bit your lip.

“I won’t do anything,” you promised.

“I know. You came for something to eat? Let’s get you some food. Zemo.” Bucky pushed the Sokovian toward the kitchen.

“Barnes, we can’t just-” Steve turned to Bucky, starting to object.

“You will respect my authority, Steve.”

You looked at him, and Bucky held his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, and his silver gaze softened.

“I’m not going to hurt you, doll,” he said quietly, and you carefully put your hand in his, the metal rings cold against your warm skin. Bucky pulled you toward him, his other hand going to rest on the small of your back as he led you to his office, sitting down with you on one of the brown leather couches. You began to smell the food Zemo was cooking, growing hungrier. Sam and Steve sat across from the two of you, and you shifted under their intense gazes.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked you, and when you didn’t answer immediately, he introduced himself.

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky,” he felt bad that you’d gotten caught up with them. Under another circumstance, he probably would’ve sent you away, but he couldn’t let you go in front of the two Americans, and not risking what you may have heard of their conversation. 

Your mind was spinning. You’d never been in the presence of four men as beautiful as the ones in the restaurant. Bucky especially, was incredibly gorgeous. His stern, dominating personality made him far more attractive somehow, and you found yourself growing warm in your jeans.

“Your name, doll?” Bucky’s voice was soft as he called you back to attention, snapping your mind out of your wandering thoughts.

“Y/N,” you whispered, pulling at a rip in your jeans, letting your eyes fall down to your lap.

“That’s a pretty name,” Bucky said, repeating it, and god it sounded so much better falling from his lips.

“Here,” Zemo returned, setting down a plate for you. A small gasp left you as Bucky hauled you closer to him on the couch. You realized it was so that Zemo could sit down on your other side. You picked up the plate, eating quietly, trying to ignore the stares from the men across from you. 

Zemo and Bucky didn’t stare, and Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your leg. They began to speak in Romanian, and you didn’t understand, so you kept eating. You nearly choked when Bucky squeezed your thigh a bit, his rings glinting from the movement. 

You wondered how the cool metal would feel against your heat.

“Y/N? I asked if you were alright?” 

“Hm? Yes,” you blushed furiously, and Bucky had an amused smirk on your face, practically reading your mind, or at least recognizing filthy thoughts as you stared at his large hands.  

“Her cheeks look a little rosy,” Zemo hummed, his fingers brushing lightly over your cheekbone. Your chest rose and fell heavily, and Steve leaned forward and took the now-empty plate from your lap. 

“Are you nervous?” Bucky teased, his deep voice soaking into you, surrounding you and blocking out everything else.

“No, sir,” you shook your head, swallowing hard.

“Sir? So sweet,” Zemo chuckled darkly, and you felt his fingertips ghost down your spine.

“I am sweet,” you said, looking up at Bucky, and he tilted his head to the side a bit, running his hand up and down your thigh. You squeezed your legs together without meaning to, just needing to alleviate some of the sexual frustration that was building inside of you. 

You were overwhelmed by the two men speaking softly and sensually to you, their hands on you, the dominating personalities, and the tension in the room. You were focused on Bucky, and he helped you onto his lap. You let him move you to straddle his hips, your back to the other men. 

“Want to show me how sweet you can be, doll?” He asked, his hands resting on your ribcage, and you could feel him through your thin top. You nodded shyly, and he kissed you to get you to relax a bit. 

“My friends here are going to watch, okay?” Bucky’s voice was dangerously soft, and you nodded. He kissed your cheekbone lightly before slipping your top over your head, your breasts barely covered by thin, see-through lace.

You blushed, looking to the side and seeing Zemo shift at the sight of your chest.

“He’s admiring you,” Bucky hummed softly into your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the skin there, just above the curve of the lace on your breast. His hands slipped down into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing you and pulling a breathy noise from you. You couldn’t see Sam or Steve, but you felt their gazes on your back, watching the way Bucky balanced softness and dominance with you.

“I want to make you feel good, I want to hear your little moans of pleasure,” Bucky spoke quietly, mouthing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Please,” now, instead of begging to leave, you were begging for him, the mafia don you were on top of.

“Let’s let these poor boys behind you see. I want them to know who’s in charge here,” Bucky said, and you nodded in consent. You felt like you could collapse as he got you to stand up off of his lap. You looked down at his rings as he smoothed his hands up your belly to tease the raised peaks under your bralette. 

“So pretty, doll,” Bucky praised you, kissing just above your navel. His eyes gazed up at you, and your trembling fingers threaded through his dark hair as you got lost in the stormy grey. 

Bucky wanted to tear you apart, but he took it slow and was gentle for you, the sweet girl under his protection.

He kissed the space between your hips as he undid the button on your jeans, sliding them down your legs. He reached a hand up for you to take as you stepped out of them, holding you steady. He smiled at the lace bottoms that matched your top, nearly see-through. 

You heard a soft throaty noise from behind you, and you looked to see Sam and Steve with their hands down their trousers, stroking themselves as they watched Bucky undress you. Zemo was doing the same, but less shy than the other two, his suit pants down around his knees, giving you full view of his cock.

You blushed shyly, feeling exposed but somehow safe with Bucky, who was squeezing your ass, leaving imprints of his rings against your skin. 

“Look, they’re all touching themselves because of you, how beautiful and sweet you are,” Bucky turned you around so your back was to him, making you watch Steve and Sam. Your skimpy underwear showed how wet you were, and you were unable to hide how turned on you were any more. 

Bucky’s hands were on your hips as he kissed down your spine, shivers shooting through your body. He slid the lace down your legs, leaving it discarded on the floor with your jeans, but not bothering to get you fully naked. 

A soft squeal escaped as you were suddenly dragged backwards, falling onto Bucky’s lap, your back pressed against his suit-clad chest. 

“You can rest on me, doll,” he coaxed you to relax, his hands smoothing down your body. 

Steve and Sam were overwhelmed by the sight in front of them, and Bucky knew it. He was doing this to assert his dominance, and to establish a level of trust between them. They watched him part your legs, keeping them open with his knees. Zemo was much more unphased than the other two, enjoying the show as one of Bucky’s loyal friends.

Bucky could hear your soft, unsteady breaths, and he stilled when your smaller hand grasped his. 

“Leave them on, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look him in the eyes before he could remove his rings.

“Of course, sweet girl.” Bucky planted a gentle kiss to your lips, deepening it to hear your soft moans. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” one of the men moaned as they came, seeing your sex glisten as Bucky licked into your mouth sensually. 

Bucky gently trailed his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were. He began to stroke your clit softly, listening to you whine.

He eased one of his large fingers into your tight entrance. You shuddered, your breath stuttering as you felt the cold metal against your hot pussy, your muscles squeezing around his finger. 

“Does that feel good?” Zemo asked you as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, still teasing your clit to keep you relaxed.

“Answer him, doll,” Bucky commanded you sternly. 

“Yes, sir,” you turned your head to look at Zemo, watching his hips fuck up into his hand. 

“No, you keep touching yourselves. You’re not done until I’m done.” Bucky’s order was directed at Steve and Sam, who’s noises rose in pitch at the forced overstimulation. They were too afraid to disobey Bucky, knowing the consequences would be dire. Zemo knew this ahead of time, and was taking it much slower, still enjoying himself as he watched you writhe on Bucky’s lap. 

Bucky kissed along your shoulder and neck, three fingers pumping slowly in and out of you. He expertly drew whines and moans of pleasure from you, and your legs were beginning to shake from the intensity. 

The cold metal against your heat was driving you mad, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Your back arched off of Bucky’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you against him. He still managed to stay calm enough to continue being gentle with you, leading you quickly toward a powerful orgasm.

“You must ask him before you let go, sweetheart,” Zemo informed you, and your broken whimper filled Bucky’s ears. He watched the other three men writhing in their own mind-blowing pleasure, all under the instruction of him. 

“Please, Bucky, I need-” you cut yourself off with a strangled squeal as he curved his fingers forward inside of you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” He said, kissing your cheek as he murmured the soft words. Your screams of white-hot pleasure filled the room, shaking and falling apart on his lap. A choked sob left your chest as he pulled out of you, his digits soaked in your come. He’d waited until you had fell down from your high, becoming relaxed in his arms. 

He was whispering gentle praises in your ear as he slipped his fingers into your mouth to clean them off. You hollowed your cheeks, obediently cleaning him up and feeling the metal rings pressed against your lips. You were soothed by sucking off his fingers and the praises, melting into the mafia lord.

“I think I want to keep you.”

[aetheternity]

Stripper levi ackerman

Y/n and levi have been dating for a few months now. While he was working you were in the crowd amongst many women watching your boyfriend. So y/n decides it would be funny to tease him and wear something y/n knows will get him aroused. So after his shift levi grabs y/n and hurries her to the VIP room and fucks her.

(Ok so I'm super sorry about how long I took to write this but I wanted it to be good and life has just been terrible lately)

18+ content

"Oh.. oh wow." Connie huffed, eyes tracing your curves without a hint of awkwardness. 

"Connie stop staring, Levi will kill you if he finds out.." Jean quickly interjected, sneaking a couple peaks up your thighs himself. 

"I know but.. oh wow.." 

Jean took another quick glance before looking up into your eyes. His own self consciousness hitting him almost immediately. He quickly turned his head around like a fearful child.

"Aww thanks boys." You giggled, not being able to stop yourself from doing a small twirl in your far too small black skirt. Connie's eyes tracing your every movement. "It's ok." She giggled "I mean if you guys like it then Levi hopefully will too." 

Jean took another glance but then shut his eyes and turned back around. "I can't believe you're wearing that.. I mean weren't you scared to walk outside in an outfit like that? Does Levi even notice these kinds of things?"

"I'd notice if it were me.." Connie said with a soft (a little creepy) smile. 

"Shut up, no one asked you." Jean replied 

You snickered at their banter. "Don't worry Jean I'm fine." You replied "Fingers crossed that he loves it." You said with a little bounce. 

You looked over at Connie giving him a little wink which instantly turned him into a flushed mess. Jean rolled his eyes in agitation. Almost aggressive in the way he twisted Connie's head around, forcing him to briskly walk away. 

"Geez Connie calm your boner before you have to go on stage!" Jean practically yelled as he pushed Connie along by his shoulders.  

"I don't have a boner!" Connie replied 

A hearty chuckle came from behind you and you turned just in time to see Eren leaning in the doorway. "That for Levi?" He asked with a little smirk and a gesture of his hand down the expanse of your body. 

"I don't know what you mean." You said with a smile.

Eren rolled his eyes, coming close to give you a small kiss on the cheek. "Normally it's the strippers who wear provocative outfits." He swiftly nodded to the other guys in the room. 

"I felt like spicing up our relationship a little." You shrugged

"You guys have only been dating for a couple months. How is it not still spicy?" Eren set his bag down slipping off his jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. 

You felt your lips twitch up into a smile. It was always hard not to get swept up into conversation with Eren. He'd always been your best friend even when he was just your friend. Not that it ever made sense when you explained it that way to anyone else. But it made sense to you two. 

You'd both gone to the same high school but he'd graduated early and when you guys met again during your first semester you had become instant friends. 

"Oh Eren, you know nothing of love." You grinned from ear to ear. "So is he with you?" 

Eren gave you another soft eye roll as he applied his lip balm. "Parking the car." 

"If it works even half as good on Levi as it did on Connie I think you'll be all set." Jean said, grabbing his water bottle from his table. 

You hummed, readjusting your socks where they stopped on your thigh smoothing out your shirt so that the v-line showed just the right amount of your cleavage. 

It was like the opposite of a surprise party when Levi finally walked into the room. Gym bag in tow and a casual white t-shirt on with the black sweatpants that made you want to get on your knees every time. Levi's face looked scrunched for a couple seconds. His lips pulled into a tight line and his brow furrowed but it all just sort of melted away when he caught the first glimpse of you. 

Not even bothering to hide the lingering gaze over every inch of you. And he didn't have to. You loved every bit of it and he'd known from the start. 

He blinked. Once. Twice. 

Gaze syncing with yours as you came close wrapping your arms around to the nape of his neck. Thumb stretching over his undercut as your other hand sifted through soft black hair giving it a soft little tug. 

You could see his eyes waver a bit as you smiled at him and you hope that little hint of nervousness never left him no matter how long the two of you stayed together. It was far too cute to lose. 

You heard a snicker that you knew without even having to look was Jean. Eren walked past with a quick thumbs up and a smirk before trailing through to go get changed. 

"Hey sweetie, how has your day been?" You asked, hooked on the way Levi stayed transfixed. His hands curving over your sides then around your waist to properly embrace your hug and the kiss to his cheek. You could almost swear you heard a little growl too. 

The little whispers behind you were hard to ignore but you pushed into his chest a little further, squeezing one hand around his bicep before you leaned back. Taking your warmth with you. 

"What are you wearing?" He asked, no  demanded. 

His face stayed completely undeterred but his gaze continued to wash over every bit of you that he could see. Stripping you down for every thin layer of clothing hugging your body. Virtually making you shiver from his deep stare. 

"What? Do you hate it?" You questioned innocence laced in every word. 

Blink and you would've missed the way his adam's apple bobbed. His darkened grey completely devoid of amusement. Though you could see hints of lust peaking their way forward like the sun after a rainstorm. 

"Well.. I should leave so everyone can change comfortably." You said, pulling yourself from Levi's dangerous observance. 

A quick scoff sounded across the room. "Oh please." Reiner rolled his eyes. "Raise your hand if you're uncomfortable stripping in front of Levi's sexy girlfriend." He stated with a grunt, his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

A couple of the guys chuckled, some pretended they didn't hear the question and a few shook their heads as a reply. 

Levi glared daggers into him before turning to you with a slightly softer expression. "I'll see you after my show.." He said with a heavy exhale. 

You could feel his thumb on your thigh and you smiled. "Yes you will." With a soft kiss to his forehead you were heading outside. 

~~~~ 

You'd been on the edge of your seat for a while now. Partially because you were waiting with bated breath for the moment Levi would finally take the stage and partially because you could sense some slightly judgy looks from some of the older women surrounding you. 

Reiner had finally finished his performance or as he was called on stage: The Armored Warrior and you sucked in a breath as the announcement from Erwin came that Levi would be next. 

You threw a glance behind you at one of your best friend Historia. 

She gave you a little eyeroll. "Are you parading around with that 'fuck me' face because Levi hasn't given it up in a while?" 

You returned her playful eye roll. "Can't a gal just wear a short skirt to her boyfriend's workplace?" 

"Not this gal and not this workplace." She replied, setting a clean glass down behind her before quickly moving across the bar to a new customer. 

Just as she did the first beats of Levi's song started and he waltzed out on stage. His feet hit every beat until he paused at the edge of the stage. His knees quickly meeting the ground and turning the crowd into a frenzy. 

He spread his thighs, running a hand down his bare chest. And just as soon the girls were tossing money over his body. It was almost cute how they got so worked up over the body you saw all the time. 

The skull crushingly strong thighs that spread only for you and the perfectly taut ass that you could never stop yourself from smacking. All hitting the floor in front of women who would only see Levi here. 

Never getting quite the same view you got whenever you teasingly worked a hand under his shirt or kissed the sweet spot just behind his ear. 

Thinking about it now made you squeeze your thighs together. Bottom lip curling under your teeth. 

He scooted his body back against the stage, curving his legs up and out till he was in the split tearing the pants he'd been wearing off his body like it was paper before tossing it into the awaiting crowd. Instantly causing a whole new uproar. 

When he inched forward again it was to grab the pole, to hoist himself up off the floor and to do a quick little spin with one foot on the ground while the other helped him whirl around smoothly. 

Fuck he was always so graceful. All of the guys were. And yet every time you'd tried you'd bussed your ass. And he was spinning himself up off the floor in a matter of seconds like it was easy. A sort of grace you would never tire of seeing. The music blasted against your rib cage but Levi's spins were what really made you weak. 

You heard a little giggle behind you but you didn't look away. "Your boyfriend's amazing on the pole." Historia teased, poking your shoulder but your only reply was a nod. 

The smallest remnants of the song seemed to fade when Levi's eyes bored directly into yours. You swore you could see the gentle lifts of the corners of his lips. Felt his warmth as if it was pressed against you like it had been so many times before.

Watched as he circled the pole upside down in a perfect split till he'd touched the ground again and still his eyes never left you. 

The dance had been and always would be for you. His hair was tousled and glistening with sweat when the music stopped. Body glitter completely slick on his skin, making him look as though he might actually be glowing. 

He carefully returned to Earth both feet, flat on the floor. Money piled into just about every crevice of his underwear. And he was still looking at you. He turned and walked off stage while the crowd continued cheering his stage name. 

The announcement for him ended and the next dancer (Eren) was immediately announced. Before you could think about it you were racing backstage. 

You slipped into the backroom almost slamming into Eren as you went. "Oh shit.. sorry." He chuckled after realizing it was you. 

And you didn't have to say a word because he smirked, nodding his head down the hall. "He's in the rainbow room. Told me to tell you to come to him when you came back here." Eren informed 

The soft ooh's and ahh's and chatter of everyone in the room caused a flurry in your already butterfly ridden stomach as you tried to hide your blushing cheeks. 

"Th-thanks Eren." And you quickly turned before anyone else could make it worse. 

You turned a corner trying not to run down the corridor at full speed and when you made it to his door you knocked twice in the special way that only you did when you knocked on Levi's door. 

"Come." He answered almost sternly 

The door squeaked open then shut behind you as you pushed it close with your back. Your blood pooling to your feet when you caught a glimpse of Levi sat on the bright red sofa in the corner of the room. The faint smell of dirty money littering the room more and more with every step. 

Any remaining clothes he'd been wearing were now tossed aside while his hand worked slowly over the shaft and tip of his hard cock. He let out a hitched exhale as he curled his fingers slowly up and down. 

You pushed yourself down onto your knees between his thighs. Your eagerness presenting itself in the way you flicked your tongue forward to wet your lips. The cold hardwood stinging your ankles and feet but you bore it with innocent eyes as you took the reins where Levi's hands had been. 

His thick cock leaked for your mouth. And he sighed deeply as you gave his tip a painstakingly soft couple licks before inching it into your mouth with a deep slurp and curl of your tongue. Lips curving smoothly over the thick appendage. 

He shifted to get a little more comfortable just as you popped your mouth off looking up at him with a faux pout. "You started without me." You whispered up at him giving his cock another loving lap. 

"You wore that napkin around your waist." He grunted in reply. "Seems like karma to me." His voice was almost teasing as his hand reached up to brush away any stray strands of hair from your face before pulling your head a little closer. 

He let out a little hiss of pleasure as every inch of his thick cock pressed itself between your soft lips and slid over your tongue. You shifted your weight to allow him to slide in easier. Fixing your skirt to cover the draft running over your ass. 

One of your hands came up to trace deep circles into the slender skin of his thigh while the other took position at the base of his dick. Rubbing your saliva over his thick cock as a lubricant. Tears were beginning to form in the corners of your eyes with every bob of your head. But it was so worth it to hear a couple of Levi's deep groans. 

And fuck were they gorgeous. Gorgeous like everything else about this man. Your man. 

His abdomen clenched and the hand on your head gripped so tight you were surprised he wasn't touching your scalp yet. Soft whispers of expletives beginning while you eased into a smoother pace. 

You watched the flicker of his eyes in the dim light until the deep grey had completely faded and you could tell he'd shut his eyes. His hips jerked forward and in the shadows you could tell his head had fallen back. 

"I missed that cute face.." You smirked up at him tugging at his cock with quick strokes that had his knees jerking. 

He looked down at you with half lidded eyes. Hair frenzied against his forehead and sheens of sweat glistened as they trailed down his neck. He let out a little moan through gritted teeth from the back of his throat. One that pushed you forward just a little deeper till you gagged. 

His hand had finally let up. Settling for resting atop your head. It was impossible not to notice the way he was coming undone as you squeezed his cock in your throat. 

"Fuck.. f-uck.." He tensed 

His head slipped over the back of the couch but you didn't need to be looking at his face to know his lip was pressed tightly between his teeth. 

Well Historia hadn't been wrong it had been a while. And you were itching to have his dick sliding deep inside you. Have the full view of his face as every inch of him sunk into your pretty cunt. Every bit of it making the wetness between your legs that much worse. 

You repositioned yourself a little so that your free hand could squeeze at his balls. Pumping his dick briskly while your mouth went to work layering marks into the inside of his thigh. 

"Sh-it.. hey!.. did you forget people w-ill see those bites." He panted, pulling you away from his thighs with a loud grunt. "Fuck.." 

"I'd love that." You chirped, splaying your tongue over the underside of his cock. "Let them know you belong to someone." 

"Dumbass.." Even in the dim light the soft color of his cheeks was unmistakable and the heaviness of his breath made all the soreness of your throat dissipate. 

His thigh shook. A breathless moan escaping from between unclenching teeth. Definitely the fucking prettiest noise you'd ever heard. The veins on his cock slowly becoming more prominent as you pressed his tip against the back of your throat. 

"Sh-it.. shit.." He pushed your head up a little so that your eyes could meet his lust filled grey ones. "I'm not gonna cum in your mouth tonight." He huffed 

With an almost forceful yank he had you off the floor. Practically tossing you against the arm of the couch. The soft curve of his thumb etched against your wetness and immediately made you tense where he was groaning into your neck. 

"A fucking g-string huh." He growled 

"Only for you." 

His fingers had electricity sparking over your skin as he pushed a hand up your shirt. His quick kisses making you giggle and shift beneath him. 

"Off." He grunted, thrusting the hem of your shirt up and just as quickly you were slipping it off your shoulders allowing it to fall to the floor. "Why the fuck would you wear this shit to my job?" 

His voice echoed against your soft skin, pulse heavy against his mouth. 

"Wanted to be fucked?" 

"Yes.. so badly." 

He pulled you a little bit closer, slipping your bra straps off your shoulders. Back arching as he roughly kneaded your breasts. 

When he pressed close again it was to nip and curl his tongue over your areola. His breath so hot against your already sweltering skin it could practically melt you. 

"Levi.. please." Your ankles squeezed around his back as his thumb pressed between your lips and inside your taut pussy. 

They could probably hear the gasp you let out on stage. Your toes curling even through such minimalist pleasure. His thumb delved a little slower with a couple easy strokes. Unraveling each whimper, each shake and shiver from you.  

"Oh my god, Levi.." 

"Say it.." He groaned into your ear. Giving the shell a little bite that made you flinch. "Fucking say it." 

"I want every inch of your cock stretching me out Levi. Pl-please." You whimpered 

"Should've started with that." 

When he pressed inside it filled an ache you'd been longing for, for too long. Massaging all your weak spots and curving so easily into your wet cavern. Till he'd bottomed out with a graze of your g-spot. 

Your head fell back as one of Levi's hands came up to rub your stomach then quickly down to flick at your clit. He was never slow when he massaged your clit but he still always knew what he was doing and right now it was an intense euphoria unlike anything else. 

"L-levi.." 

Your shoulders were pressed into the arm of the couch and you whimpered looking into Levi's sparkling grey eyes as he pulled back and slammed inside so hard it jolted your entire body. 

"Want me to slow down?" He asked driving his hips in deeper as if it were a threat. He quickly pressed soft kisses to your ear and you shook your head. 

"No-no.." You gasped, tugging Levi's hips closer. 

"Good girl. Take the whole thing." He hummed 

He spread his legs as far apart as he could, driving his dick in a little harder and a little deeper. His hands shifting first to your ass to give it a squeeze and then to your waist pulling your pretty cunt in with every slam of his hips. 

Your mouth hung open and you arched where your back was against the arm of the couch. The material so rough and uncomfortable under your skin you knew it would leave marks tomorrow but Levi's thrusts felt so good you couldn't care. 

A cacophony of Levi's name, the couch scratching up the hardwood underneath you two and every slap of your mixed skin bounced impressively off the walls only making your urge to cum that much more intense. 

"You know where I'm gonna cum?" Levi's hands jumped up on each side of your head. He groaned. "Know where I'm gonna cum babe?" He sneered, eyes so dark and intense coupled with the sweat pooling on his forehead. He yanked at your skirt which had become thoroughly wrinkled and almost too uncomfortable against flushed skin. 

You let out a whimper, trailing your hands over the small of his back. Eyes fading into the depths of your skull. 

"Y-eah, I'm gonna paint your skirt with my cum.." 

"Wh- L-levi.." Your head was swimming and you let out a long moan that was cut off by Levi driving in deeper, his nails disappearing where they gripped the furniture knuckles white. 

A chant of "cum for me" and "be a good girl and finish." All fell off his lips. His eyes shut tight and you knew at this point you were drawing blood but Levi was so deep inside and your head was practically off the couch as well as your back. 

You tensed up then sighed, toes curling that sweet ache finally being filled. As you jerked and shivered through your intense orgasm. 

Levi's hand slammed down next to your head and now you were shaking for a different reason. "Fuck don't-don't squeeze me l-ike-" 

His hips had a mind of their own and he let out a loud gasp that honestly surprised you. The vein in his forehead looking as though it could pop any second.  

When his pupils disappeared you expected his eyes to fall shut but he just continued his wild assault of your pussy as you screamed his name. 

"Sh-it." He was breathing so hard as he pulled out. Holding on to the couch like it was a lifeline as he pumped roughly at his cock. A couple more moans later and he was finishing. Cum dripping over your bare belly and onto your skirt. 

A breathless giggle crested off your lips as you shimmied your hips back and forth repositioning his cum where it dripped down your stomach. "Fuck." You huffed 

"You look satisfied." He rolled his eyes 

You lifted a finger over his cum swiping a bit up to rub over your lips and tongue. "Don't act like that when you came all over my skirt! I have to go home with your cum stains all over me." You fake pouted 

Levi rolled his eyes again. "You'll live." 

"Levi." 

He finally turned, tongue swiping over his lips quickly. "Actually I'd like to add some more on the back." 

"Wh-" 

"Bend over." 

[wandsandwheezes]

My Protector | G. W

T/W ; mentions of mudblood, fighting, aggression, angst, SMUT (incl. oral - male receiving, fingering, sex, choking, thigh riding) drinking/mentions of alcohol

A/N - In honour of reaching 200 followers (I’m literally in shock) I wanted o to present you with my boy in the longest fic i’ve ever written (3.9k) - I hope you love it as much as I do 🧡

taglist (let me know if you want adding or removing) - @whiz-bangs78 @hufflepuffgirly @witch-and-a-half @theweasleysredhair @weasleysflowr @sarcasticallywitty15 @wand3ringr0s3

You hated this feeling, the heat of a hundred pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of your head. The decision to make things official with George was a massive step in your relationship. Months of sneaking around in hidden corridors, holding hands under tables and stealing kisses in the moonlight wasn't enough for the proud boy. It wasn't enough for you to just be his, he wanted people to know and more importantly wanted to make Malfoy know. 

The platinum haired boy had his eye on you the moment you stepped into the great hall on the evening of the Yule Ball, in a stunning baby blue gown that accentuated your gorgeous curls and perfectly done makeup. The one problem Malfoy had with you, however was that you were muggleborn. From that day on, he made your life a living hell. 

You took your seat in the great hall, across from Hermione, who was all too engrossed in the book she had her nose in, to notice that you and George had sat down. You immediately lent into his side, his arm slung around your shoulder. You had dazed off, and before you knee it, you had been absentmindedly staring over at the table of Slytherin boys for about five minutes. You hated the sight of him, Draco Malfoy was a smug prick who had nothing better to do to bide his time other than pick fun at other people. 

"Hey, Love are you alright?" George whispers sweetly in your ear, you nod and lean up to press a small kiss to his cheek, he gives you a reassuring squeeze before getting up, "I need to pee, plus I'm sure Fred's off getting himself into trouble." you grab his hand before he rushes off, pouting up at him, he chuckles a little, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leaning to whisper in your ear. "I really won't be long, Princess, I promise."

Draco watched George leave with piercing eyes, before standing up nand grabbing Crabbe and Goyle by the backs of their robes to force them up also before making his way over to you, "Oh look, isn't it nice for the filthy mudbloods to all group together." he sneered, his harsh gaze never leaving you. Hermione scoffs, forcing her book closed, "Oh look, Is someone back to get punched again? I can arrange another broken nose for you, Malfoy, now shove off and find something better to do." 

Watching Hermione stand up to Draco every time he has something mean or hurtful to say was an amusing sight to see, but watching poor Malfoy run off with his tail between his legs was even funnier. "I don't know how you have the courage to stand up to him like that." you admit, grabbing a pastry from the platter, pulling a piece off to pop into your mouth. She smiles up at you, "You really get the confidence when you've already broken his nose once."

George returned back to you, with Fred behind him, In time to see Draco running out of the Great Hall, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. "What sent those foul gits running off?" fred jokes, filling up a cup with orange juice. "It was nothing, just Malfoy being precious about blood purity, as usual, I set him in his place" Hermione stated plainly, George squeezes your thigh under the table, causing you to look up at him, having a small conversation just in glances 'you okay?' you nod, arm linking around his before holding his hand that was on your thigh. 

It was an awful day for a quidditch match, it was thunderous and grey outside, each lightning strike made the whole pitch light up and erupt with roars of students supporting their teams. You were stood in the Gryffindor stalls, wrapped up in one of George's coats and a warm scarf, but not even the best outerwear could protect you from the torrential rain. 

The way the team played was absolutely phenomenal, Fred and George being star beaters as always had helped the team be up 30 points against slytherin. Harry and Malfoy were both nowhere to be seen, no doubt fighting over the golden snitch way above the low clouds that made the visibility during the match absolutely dreadful. 

Harry came barrelling down from the clouds, clutching the golden snitch in his hands, meaning that Gryffindor had won the match - news you were overjoyed to hear as now you could finally get into some warm clothing. You made your way down from the stands to the pitch where you'd promised George you'd meet him. 

"Good game, Harry! That Malfoy give you any issues above the clouds?" George joked, pulling Harry into a half hug before he was interrupted. "Seems you can't keep my name out of your filthy little mouth can you, Weasley?" Draco was storming over, clearly agitated by yet another slytherin loss to the Gryffindor team. "after all I'm not surprised, you have been fucking that mudblood Y/L/N for god knows how long, you don't know where that mouth has been."

"George, Leave it, let's go." Angelina turns the red haired boy away from the slytherin team, but Alicia, had already spoken up to fight your corner, "How dare you!" Harry pulls Alicia away before retaliating at the Slytherin boy "Go find someone else to inflate your ego" Draco laughs, slicking his wet hair back with his gloved hand "Finally grown a backbone have we, potter? Or did Mummy finally teach you to stand up for yourself… sorry my mistake, mummy's dead, isn't she?" 

This was enough for Harry and George, who had broken free of Angelina's grip, there were yells and screams as the boys brawled, the Slytherin team landing a few punches before George loses it , grabbing Malfoy by his quidditch robes, throwing him to the ground. He lands one clean punch to his ribcage, squatting down to get close to his face. "If you say one more thing about my girlfriend I will not hesitate to end you, don't look at her, don't touch her or even breathe the same air as her ever again, understood?" George's large hand had clamped around Malfoy's chin forcing him to look into his eyes, Draco was petrified, or at least he felt that way. 

All you could hear were yells and screams as you approached the two teams and you got the gut feeling that something wasn't quite right. You picked up your pace to run over to the group, seeing Harry and George bent down next to Malfoy, your eyes widening when you saw Harry had a bloody nose and George had a cut across his lip. Your hands wrapped around George's bicep, pulling him away from Draco, you looked back at him as he was still on the floor, he had tears in his eyes and his hand was clutching his side. 

George's arm was wrapped around you protectively as the team headed back to the changing rooms. “What happened, George” you whispered. “Later.” he replied quickly - you assume to stop himself from going back and doing any more damage. You were shivering as the rain had soaked you down to your skin, trying not to focus on how cold you were as you sat on one of the benches, waiting patiently for George to collect his things. He looked down at you, standing shirtless while he balls up his quidditch robes,only to shove them in his bag. He gives you a gentle smile, turning around to place some of his things into his lockers, as much as he was smiling, you knew he was still riled up, as the muscles across his back were tensing and untensing. You couldn’t help but think about how toned he was getting, your mind travelling to a more intimate space with him. 

You were only pulled from your thoughts as his warm hand pressed to your jaw, thumb running over your cheekbone, “Ready to go, Love?” he asks softly, you look up and notice that his lip was still bleeding, you frown standing up to wipe away the blood, he hisses a little dabbing his middle finger against the source of the sting, he looks down at the small amount of blood on his finger before wiping it against his jeans. “Fuck’s sake...” he mutters under his breath, you grab his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I’ll patch you up, Georgie, just tell me what happened.” He sighs, pulling your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s go then.”

You decide on avoiding the common room until you’d patched him up, making your way towards the prefect’s bathroom. He explains that Malfoy was being absolutely vulgar with his poisonous words, not only joking about Harry’s late mother, but speaking ill of your blood purity, saying that it was enough to push him over the edge. You’d had him leaning against one of the sinks, as you work to mend his split lip, muttering ‘Episkey’ as he rambles about how out of line Malfoy was. “You know he said pretty much the same thing to Hermione and I over breakfast the other day, it’s been like this all year.” He moves to get up, but you stop him, pushing him by his chest to sit back down. “I’ll fucking kill him.” you shake your head, giggling and pressing a kiss to his cheek, only for him to wrap his arms around your waist, picking you up and spinning you around, causing your giggles to turn to full belly laughs. 

A loud cough caused you both to look toward the source of the sound, seeing Myrtle sitting on the top of one of the stall doors. “Oh how beautiful it is to watch you two!” she giggles “I wouldn’t mind seeing this Weasley shirtless!” your eyes widen, holding in a laugh as you look up at George. “He’s still my boyfriend, Myrtle” she gasps, dropping down from the stall, looking over at you both. “Fine! I promise it’ll only be a peek… no? I guess I’ll give you some privacy then” she rolls her eyes before whirring off to dive into her toilet.

“There he is!” Fred yells as you both finally enter the common room, “You should’ve seen him and Harry, it was like lightning how quick they were on that snake… Nobody speaks like that about Y/N and Lilly and gets away with it!” the older twin was gossiping to the rest of the weasley family, as well as some of their friends. The celebration was already in full swing, many students already tipsy off the firewhiskey and others huddled in groups talking. “Alright, Fred, It’s all well and good until they go and get themselves banned, or even expelled for brawling like that” Hermione adds, Ginny shakes her head, looking over to Angelina and Alicia for support, “he definitely provoked them, honestly the foul git brought it on himself” Alicia responds.

The more the night went on, the more obvious it was that George was basically undressing you with his eyes. You could tell the pent up anger was getting to him, he was sat in the corner by the fire, brooding, his posture was awful but he was sat with his legs spread, elbow propped up on the arm rest, biting at his nails. You had to admit he looked glorious, his hair had now dried up from the rain, leaving a small wave to the ginger locks in its absence. You’d changed earlier in the night to a pair of leggings and a sweater that used to belong to George, key word being used because you had zero intent in giving it back. He was looking you up and down as you danced with Ginny, Angelina and Ron. 

George pictured you walking over to him, straddling his hips and pulling him into a deep kiss. All he wanted was to run his hands slowly up your spine because he knows it drives you crazy, he wished he could pull your hair to expose your neck to him, he wanted to mark you so people knew you were his. He pushed the emerging thought of strangling Draco to the back of his head, replacing it with the image of choking you, his whole hand wrapped around your neck, and just squeezing as he’s fucking you into the mattress. Then he remembered the sounds you’d make, how your breath would shudder and how you would beg  him for more. He was driving himself insane, he muttered a low “fuck…” under his breath when you locked eyes.

Unknowing of his thoughts, you wave him over to the group with a pout, of course he concedes, pushing himself off of the chair, and walking over to you, he smiles innocently at you, grabbing your face with both hands as he kisses you. You go to deepen the kiss, after all you’d been watching him all night and you knew that the inevitable would happen; the way he'd started by cupping your cheeks, fingers threading to the back of your head, threatening to pull at your hair, he wanted you to moan into the kiss, but not here. He wanted that sound to be for him and him only. You pull away, saving your friends and his family watching the show he was putting on. He was restraining himself from throwing you over his shoulder as you look up at him with your begging eyes, that’s how this game started. Begging. 

He’d gotten into the rhythm of dancing with you when he leaned down to whisper on your ear. ‘Be a good girl and go wait for me upstairs will you?” you press a kiss to his cheek, before walking away from him, your fingertips being the last thing to leave each other. George’s eyes immediately shot to Fred, walking over to him with his hand shoved into his pockets. “My dearest Freddie-” Fred cut him off, rolling his eyes “I’ll keep them out of the room, it’s all yours… just no sex on my bed, I’d like to keep at least one of them sacred” George rolled his eyes, “It was one time, Fred” he goes to walk away, causing his brother to raise his voice “That’s one time too many!”

You’d practically jumped onto the redhead when he entered the room, pressing another kiss to his lips, glad you’d taken the time to heal it earlier on, he muttered a small ‘jump’ wrapping your legs around his waist. He did contemplate fucking you on Fred’s bed for a moment, but decided against it quickly. His hands found your ass, grabbing it with a sense of roughness, he wasn’t going to let go this quickly. After all you’d hardly been begging at all. Your soft moans against his lips told him that you knew it was game on, sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs straddling his thighs. He’d had an idea, It was filthy - he wanted you to be a whimpering mess while you were both fully clothed. He was craving it now, he wanted you whining mercilessly and he wanted it now. “How do you feel about riding my thigh, princess?” one of his hands was cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your swollen lips, you instinctively took his thumb between your teeth, licking at the pad of his thumb, you nodded slowly, moving so that your hips were straddling his right thigh. 

You’d started off, curling your hips ever so slightly, you were only testing the waters but you didn’t expect it to feel this good. “That’s it baby, you’re doing so well.” he praised, his hands slipping under your shirt, his fingertips tracing the line of your spine, causing you to shiver, he had you in the palm of his hands as you began to quicken your pace, his eyes were locked on yours as he began to bounce his leg ever so slightly. Your moans were growing louder and his eyes were growing darker. “Mmh. George, that feels so good, baby.”

Your head was buried in the crook of his neck as you were getting yourself off on his thigh, It was truly sinful, you knew you were getting close, but he did too. His hands gripped your hips in a way that you knew would leave bruises, but you didn’t mind, not in the slightest. He pulled you off of his thigh, denying you an orgasm. If this was the game he was playing, you’d play along, sinking to your knees, nestling between his legs. Your hands felt his bulge, eyes fogged with lust as you palmed, using the other hand to help free his cock from his jeans. 

‘I’m so fucking lucky,’  he thought as your tongue darted out to lick at his tip, teasing him ever so slightly, you knew you were pushing your luck but you continued to tease him. “Don’t do that, Princess, It won’t end well for you.” he warns, hands tangling in your hair to pull it out of the way, guiding you down his length, he knew you could take it all. His good girl.

It didn’t take him long to give in, you’d managed to get him almost completely naked yet you were still fully clothed, he had let you lie back against the sheets, they smelled uniquely of him and you breathed in the scent, it sent your eyes rolling back, as he slowly pulled down your leggings along with your underwear. “I don’t think you’re ready for cock quite yet, are you?” his fingers ghosted up your legs. “Fingers or tongue, your choice angel… use your words for me.”

You whimpered, “Fingers please, Georgie,” you mewled, he smirked nodding “They were always your favourite weren't they?” he brought his fingers up to your lips, instructing you to suck, which you obliged in doing, taking two of his fingers past your lips, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl.” he removed his fingers from your lips, using his middle finger to trace over your entrance before gently pushing in the one finger, “already taking one so well, can you handle another? I think you can” 

He was fingering you at an agonising pace as his thumb circled your clit, he knew he had the ability to make you come undone in minutes if he just curled his fingers up a little more. He could let you cum now, on his fingers, but he could’ve let you find your high on his thigh earlier on, but he didn’t. He wanted you to Beg. “I’m so close,” you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers in hope for release, instead he shakes his head, pulling his fingers from you, taking them into his mouth, licking them clean “I bet you want to cum, don’t you baby?” he was smirking, now “I haven’t heard you beg once, you clearly don’t need it.” you grab the back of his neck pulling him into a swift kiss, pulling his lower lip between your teeth as you pull away. “Fuck me please, George, I need you so bad.” you’d used his weakness against him as you bit on his lip and he had to oblige, you were still left in his sweater, but seeing you in just that was enough for him.

“Anything for my girl.” His finger circled your clit again for a few moments, teasing you with the tip of his cock. When he finally started fucking you, he had to adjust to just how tight you were as your pussy begged for release. The air was a mix of moans and grunts as he set his relentless pace. You were scratching at his back as he fucked you into his mattress, only one thing left to complete his daydream. His hand wrapped around your throat, restricting your air for a few moments before releasing, your airy breathy moans were enough for him to feel his release coming. “Are you close, princess? Can you cum for me?” 

You came together with one long grunt from him, his hands were massaging your thighs as you came, his demeanor switching completely, pulling on a pair of underwear before scooping you up into his arms, letting you rest against his chest as your legs wrap around his waist, he pulled his duvet up, allowing you to crawl under the warm covers, him joining you in the single bed, “Mm I’m sleepy,” you pouted, leg slung over him and your head against his chest. “Then sleep here, angel.” His hand was smoothing over your hair, listening to your breathing regulate “My Protector.” You mused, leaning up to press a kiss to his clavicle.

Greeting your friends the next morning with groggy eyes, you slumped into the bench in the great hall, grabbing a slice of toast. Fred wiggled his eyebrows at you, causing you to throw your crust at his head “I take it you and George had fun last night?” he laughed, “Why, Jealous are you, Freddie?” he rolls his eyes, scoffing. “No, pfft, I had a FANTASTIC night thank you!”

You notice Malfoy sat at the slytherin table arm in a sling, pandering to girls like Pansy attempting to make his life ‘easier’. You nod into the direction of the nonsense “He’s absolutely milking it.” you laugh, as George slides into the seat next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek “He did the same thing a few years ago, what a little bitch.” Ron adds, the group erupts into laughter, it was true. Draco was a little bitch and suddenly you felt the confidence to say something about it. “Watch this,” you say, standing up but George grabs your hand “You’re not going over there.” you place a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be fine, Georgie.” 

“Aw, Malfoy do you need all the girls around you to fill the whole now mummy isn’t here to patch you up?” The girls snigger with each other, Draco goes to speak up but is met with George’s glare from across the room, making him shut his mouth for once in his life. “cat got your tongue?” you laugh, recognising the glint in his eye, it was the same look George used to give you before you were together, and you realise why he’d been acting so harshly towards you, he was crushing. You laughed at the thought, rolling your eyes.  “Honestly, I expected better, the Quidditch team is right, you really are a little bitch.” you spin on your heel, heading back to your friends with another eye roll and a smile back at them as they laughed from their table. 

“I don’t think we’ll have a problem with Draco for a while.” you joke, sitting down, to enjoy a peaceful breakfast surrounded by your friends. “Well done for standing up to him, I’ll reward you later if you want.” George whispered in your ear, you grabbed his thigh under the table with a small nod. You were in for another treat tonight.

[navegandoaciegas]

A long way

Kinktober 7/31: creampie

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: trucker!bucky, hitchhiking, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, hair pulling, one slap on the face, oral sex, alcohol consumption, degradading praise kink.

Summary: A broody and rough truck driver stops for you when no one else does. What happens when you spend a few days together?

A/N: day 7 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober. Thank you @buckycuddlebuddy for inspiring this and helping me out, ily baby!

You suppose he’s a nice guy under all the brooding, frowning, glaring; there must be some gentleness buried underneath all the roughness, some kindness hiding behind his steely eyes.

He’s got a hard exterior for sure, with his burly body and intricate tattoos, but he’s the only one who’s pulled over for you, all soaked, crying and alone on the side of the road, while other drivers sped past you, hitting potholes and splashing even more water and mud over you.

You have to admit, you would have done the same, because who the hell stops for hitchhikers in the middle of a thunderstorm? Bucky the trucker, apparently. At the same time, who in their right mind hitchhikes in the 21st century? Someone desperate enough. You.

The 70s and the Santa Rosa murders haven’t taught either of you much, it seems.

So either he’s a serial killer, or a sullen good samaritan.

“I’m gonna pull over in a couple miles, I need to rest a little.” he announces, voice flat, tightly gripping the steering wheel of his truck.

You have a feeling he doesn’t particularly like you. Nothing specific about you, just that you’re in his space, in his clothes, breathing his same air, and he can’t sulk on his own like he’s probably used to.

“It’s okay for me.” you mumble, fidgeting with the sleeves of his thick, grey sweatshirt. It wasn’t a question, but what else were you supposed to say?

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

Despite his murderous looks and apparent annoyance, you trust your gut feeling.

The guy could split your skull in half like a pistachio, but he doesn’t seem like he’ll actually go through with it, unless you change the frequency of that radio channel he’s listening to, or move around the pictures on his dashboard. Both of which you don’t intend on doing.

You observe his side profile, the delicate slope on his nose, chiselled jawline, high cheekbones, buzz cut chestnut hair, the tattoos snaking from his arm to the side of his neck, ending just below his ear.

He’s hot and menacing, and the idea that he could bang you like a screen door in a hurricane and kill you with his bare hands makes a shiver go down your spine and straight to your core.

You squirm in your seat, clenching your thighs, cursing you and your horny brain for the dirty images you’ve conveyed.

“You alright there, sugar?” he asks, and you think you see a little smirk dancing on his plush lips, “You seem a little bothered.”

The endearing name and the teasing are a new development, one that you don’t mind.

“Never been better.” you grumble, shooting him a glare of your own.

10 hours in his truck, and his mannerism is rubbing off on you already.

-

It’s a long way from Oregon to Florida when you have no money on you and you depend on a trucker’s route, a trucker you’ve been bickering and flirting with for hours.

45 hours later, you find yourself at a truck stop a long way from home, your feet propped against the dashboard, the seat reclined slightly.

It’s not the best setting, you’ll be honest with yourself.

Take out containers are littered around you, and Bucky keeps digging in the fries propped on your lap. You smile lazily at him, tipsy but still conscious on your second beer.

45 hours together is a long time when you spend it with the same person, in a small space. He’s still brooding, just looser. And drunker.

“So I said, fuck you and that two faced bitch, and spilled a wine bottle on his suit.” you hiccup, a hysterical laugh bubbling in your throat, “Red fuckin’ wine.”

Well, maybe you’re not as sober as you thought.

“No way.” he deadpans, taking a sip out of his beer. “Is that why you looked like a drowned rat hitchhiking in the middle of the night?”

“Mean, but yes. That cheating asshole. I hope his dick falls off. Not like he knew how to use it anyways.”

That seems to catch his attention.

“He didn’t?” he hums thoughtfully, with all the seriousness a drunk man can muster.

“He never got me off. Had to lock myself in the bathroom and do it myself.” you slur, “Never ate my pussy either.”

“God, suga’, that sounds tragic.”

Your lips twist in a disgusted expression, but you giggle when a thought stikes you.

“What about you? When was the last time you got any?”

He winces when he thinks about it, the frown on his forehead permanently etched there.

“A while ago.”

It’s silent for a moment, and maybe it’s the sexual tension that’s been building for a while, or the heat in his steely eyes, but you feel yourself grow warmer.

Your itch to touch him, taste him, feel him inside you. On your tongue, in your cunt, everywhere.

“Tragic.” you mumble, eyes boring into his.

It’s a rebound, or maybe it’s just that he’s hot and you’re both adults who can do whatever the hell you want.

It doesn’t make sense, the way you jump on him, slanting your mouth against his like you’ve never done before. The way his lips mold against yours, his tongue moves in sync with you, his hands on your body leave you feeling scorched. Your clothes and his sweater are discarded somewhere.

He tastes like beer, and tobacco, and his beard grazes against your skin, making you feel ticklish and giddy.

You’re drunk, and not on alcohol.

His touch is bruising, possessive, controlling. His teeth bite on your skin, he pulls on your hair, kneads the flesh of your ass, rolls and pinches your nipples.

Rough, just like him, and if the slick leaking out of you is any indication, you like that a lot.

“I’ll fuck you all the way to Florida babygirl, fuck you so good you never want to leave this fuckin’ truck.”

It’s embarrassing the way you’re panting, debauched already. Heat is pooling in your lower belly, and you want nothing more than for him to go feral on you.

“God, Bucky, I need you so much, need you inside me.” you whine, palming his cock through his denim jeans, feeling how hard and throbbing he is for you.

“Fuck.” he groans, quickly undoing your belt, freeing his cock.

It springs out of his briefs, standing against his stomach. He’s thick, and leaking with pre cum.

You bite your lips, shooting him a mischievous smile as you lower your face to his groin, ready to suck him off.

“No, I want to be inside you now.”

He grabs underneath your arms and lifts you up, maneuvering so that you’re straddling his lap.

You’re tipsy, about to let a man you barely know raw you in his truck, surrounded by containers of junk food.

It’s trashy, maybe, but who cares. Fuck trashy, and fuck your ex too.

You feel like all your breath has been knocked out of you when he pushes inside you, his cock stretching you out almost painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” you whimper, steadying yourself on his broad chest, nails mapping out the outline of his tattoos.

“God baby, you’re so tight, I can feel that pretty pussy of yours squeezing me.” he moans, hands tightly gripping your hips, “Why don’t you show me how good you can ride my cock, yes?”

You grind yourself on his groin, rolling your hips in circular motion, feeling his cock hit all the sweet spots inside you. He suckles on your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

Your pussy flutters around him, clamping down hard each time a wave of pleasure hits you.

“Look how good you’re doing, taking my cock so well like the little dumb slut you are baby.” he grunts, and his words shoot straight to your cunt, “Pretty cockdrunk whore, aren’t ya?”

You feel lightheaded.

Bouncing your ass up and down his cock, you feel yourself get closer.

“Fuck Buck- I’m-”

He cuts you off, swallowing your moans as you cum.

Your body shakes, your head spins and every nerve ending on your body is on fire, but he doesn’t give you time to come down from your high.

You slump against his bare chest, and he starts pounding inside you, holding your waist.

He pummels into your abused cunt, pulling one orgasm after the other out of you, until you’re sobbing. His sweaty skin slaps against yours, his balls against your ass. It’s so lewd it’s driving you crazy.

Tears and drool stream down your face.

“Look at you, messy girl, so eager for my cock. I can’t wait to fill you out with my cum baby, watch it drip out of your cunt.” he groans, balls getting tighter, thrusts messier. You feel him swell inside you. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Being filled with my cum to the brim.”

You’re lost in your own pleasure, and don’t answer until he slaps your face. Hard.

“Yes, please Bucky, I want you to fill my pussy, fuck-”

He bites down on your shoulder as he cums, painting your walls with his hot load as your pussy milks him dry.

“You did so good.” he hums, holding you close to his body as he comes down from his high, “Think you can give me one more?”

You nod, and lie on your back on the seats.

He watches entranced as his cum drips out of your cunt, and pushes it back inside with his fingers, smiling at the small noises you make.

He surprises you, latching his mouth around your swollen, overstimulated clit, sucking hard. He delves in your folds, circling his tongue on your bud, slurping up your juices and his, enjoying your taste mixing in with his as he keeps pumping his thick fingers inside you.

You’ve never felt this amount of pleasure before, and when you cum, your vision blacks out for several seconds, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or just the best orgasm of your life.

You clamp down on his fingers, your release gushing on his mouth as the pressure in your cunt finally snaps.

He looks up at you, face covered in your slick.

“Don’t think I’m done with you baby.” he smirks, “I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy.”

You grin, and pull him down on you, ready to start all over again.

It’s a long way to Florida, and you’re not sure you ever want to reach your destination, after all.

—-

Not proofread bc i like living on edge like that. Please leave some feedback!

You can add yourself to my taglist on my pinned post 💓

[wormstacheangel]

Day 2 of @spnprideweek and part 2 of sobrenatural fic

Dean ended up coming home a little sooner than he should have, but he didn’t want to lose the shower to Sam. He didn’t want to be sweaty and cochino for his not date with Cas.

Maybe he should have cooled it with the cumbia, making it too obvious that Dean was in a good mood because as soon as he was heading out the door—smelling great, he may add—su Tio called him over to the kitchen.

“¡Oye! ¿A dónde vas tan cambiado?” Tio Bobby was by the stove, smashing the beans for dinner, as he raised his eyebrows at Dean. Sam was standing by the sink peeling tomatillos as he cranes his neck to look over at Dean.

“Dude, what did you do? Break the damn cologne bottle?”

“Es mucho?” Dean lifted his arm to smell himself. “It’s fine!”

“¿Me vas a contestar?” Bobby threw in some whole chiles into the beans and let them simmer away. “¿Quieres que te hable en inglés? Where are you going, niño feo?”

“Estas siego, viejo!” Dean walked over to the small mirror that hung on the wall. You can barely see yourself in it because of the Jesus painting on it, but it still worked. “I’m just going out with some friends.”

“Mmm.” Bobby hummed in reply, going back to turn off the beans once they looked how he wanted it. “Llévate a tu hermano.”

“Tio!” Dean turns around, wide-eyed and heart racing. “I can’t take Sam!”

“I’ll go get my coat!” Sam rinsed off his sticky hands and started to walk out of the kitchen, but Dean grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in close. Pinning him down against his chest, which was difficult considering the kid is a damn giant.

“You aren’t coming with,” Dean mutters to him before begging Bobby again. “Tio, I’ll take Sammy with me tomorrow! Nomas hoy no.”

“¿Y porque no?”

Dean looks between curious eyes, not knowing how to explain himself. He can’t say he’s going out with a friend cause then there would be no reason why Sam couldn’t tag along. But he didn’t want to come out to his Tio and brother now! Fuck that shit; he’ll just lie.

[continue reading under the tab or on ao3]

“I’m going to meet up with Cassie.” Technically true.

Bobby’s eyes widened, and Sam’s grin grew while he wiggled himself free from Dean’s grip. They both liked Cassie and were mad at Dean for breaking things up between them. However, it wasn’t tough when Cassie rarely gave him any attention, always busy with work and school. She had to know Dean was holding her back, so he broke it off. She was mad at him for a while but ultimately thanked him for doing something she didn’t have the courage to do. Rumors still spread, though, because of course, they do, about Dean cheating, but he didn’t care much about those.

Su Tio, though, cared a lot. Dean has to constantly remind him that Dean didn’t cheat on her, and he just broke it off cause Cassie was too smart for him.

Cas is probably too smart for him too.

“Okay, pues, have fun! Bring her home to say hi.” Bobby practically pushed him out the door with Sam happily towering behind him with the same annoying grin.

Dean wondered how disappointed they would be if they found out he was going out with a guy instead.

Dean drove to Cas’s house, waiting outside a few minutes before seven. He wasn’t sure what he should do. Does he honk the horn, or is that too rude? Should he park and get out of the car to knock? That seemed too much like a date thing. And he still wasn’t sure if this was a date or two not-strangers hanging out.

He stayed in the middle of the street, unsure of what to do until finally, the front door opened, and Cas stepped out with a jacked hanging on his arm. He stood outside and squinted at the car before tilting his body down to check if that was Dean.

Dean’s panic from before melted away while he nervously waved at Cas. He saw Cas’s eyes widen with a slow-growing grin before he practically ran over to Dean.

As soon as Cas opened the door, Dean felt so sure that there was nothing more right than having Cas sitting in his passenger side.

“You ready to go, Angelito?” Dean looked Cas over; he’s dressed in dark jeans and a grey long sleeve. He has never seen Cas in anything but that rumpled old suit. He never minded the suit, but now he wished he could burn it because all that suit did was hide Cas’s muscled body. Dean couldn’t stop the whistle that escaped his lips as he said, “Mira! You look good, Cas.”

The compliment was shocking to them both, for Dean especially. He awkwardly cleared his throat while trying to think of an excuse. Maybe even use the whole English as a second language excuse, but Cas quietly responded with a, “Thanks, Dean. You look pretty good yourself.”

And maybe those words broke him. He knew he was attractive but having Cas say that made his head spin.

“Your car is beautiful, by the way. I wasn’t sure if that was you in here.”

“Did you expect me to come in that bike?” Dean jokes before slowly driving away from the house, Los Angeles Azules playing softly on the radio did not make things any less awkward.

“I don’t know what I expected. I’m just glad you came, Dean.”

Dean stopped at the end of the block and turned towards the guy sitting beside him. Cas was already looking at him with puppy dog eyes and a beautiful, hopeful smile. His breath catches in his throat as his mind gets overwhelmed with wanting to reach out and touch Cas. Just to make sure the beautiful boy in his passenger seat was real and make sure que su corazon isn’t just playing games with him.

Instead, he tightened his hold on the steering wheel, fingers burning in protest, as he melts into Cas’s smile. Wanting to relax and just be with him for tonight, not caring que alguien lo va mirar. Enjoy this non-date that looks like it has the chance to become an actual one.

But is that what Dean actually wanted?

“Dean,” Cas reached over to gently touch his arm as if knowing that Dean’s mind had wandered off. He looked hesitant, as if not sure if he was allowed to. “Do you want to go eat? We can if you want.”

Dean looked down at the hand that was burning him through his clothes, knowing damn well that Cas was giving him the chance to make this into something more. Algo que se sentía que iba a ser cósmico en su vida. Y Dean quería eso en su vida.

“Yeah,” Dean answered both questions. His hand loosened on the wheel before he reached over to take Cas’s hand in his. Hearing Cas’s breath catch in a gasp, but he didn’t look up at him; instead, Dean twined their fingers together before letting them sit in the seat between them. Dean focused back on the road before turning left to his side of town. “I got the perfect place. Te va gustar! You’re not like vegan or anything, right?”

“No.” Dean turned to catch Cas looking at him still and knew they were both feeling the same excited electricity that clouded the car just by the giddiness in his voice. “Where are you taking me on our, oh um…Oh! primero! Primero date, Dean?”

Ahi esta! La confirmación que necesitaba. This is an actual date! Pero, las palabras no le dieron pánico. No. Instead, Dean squeezed Cas’s hand as he laughed, feeling like he would just fly away if he didn’t hold on.

“You passed high school Spanish, Cas?”

“I did, but google translate did most of the work.”

When Dean parked outside the familiar food truck, he squeezed Cas’s hand once before they got out. They walked together, bumping shoulders while their hands stayed buried in their pockets. Cas didn’t question their lack of touch; instead, he smiled up at Dean as he listened to him rave about his friend Victor’s food.

“Not as good as mine, but it’s good,” Dean adds as they make it to the front of the window, where Victor can hear him.

“Cabron!” Victor said with no fire in his tone but a growing grin across his face. He held his hand out for Dean to take for a handshake. “Nice to see you, primo. Where’s Sam?”

“Lo deje en la casa!” When Dean took a step back, he put his arm around Cas’s shoulder to squeeze him close. “Pero, I brought a new customer.”

“Hi.” Cas looked a little shaken up, and Dean just wanted to lean closer to leave a kiss on his cheek, but he restrained. No necesita mas chisme circling around about him. “I’m Cas.”

“Victor.” Victor raised an eyebrow at him but reached over to shake Cas’s hand in response. “What can I get you and the pendejo around you?”

“Oh. Dean isn’t-” Cas frowned over at Dean, but Dean just shook his head, letting him know that it was okay. Cas squinted at him before he gave a small smile, not understanding but accepting. “You order for me?”

“Sure, Angelito. Anything you don’t like?”

“As long as it’s not so spicy, I don’t mind anything.”

Cas stayed stiff under Dean’s arm as they ordered and waited for their food. Eventually, Dean couldn’t help himself; the street light and the neon sign were the only things keeping this place lit, but it was still pretty dark, so he turned his face to press his nose against Cas’s temple.

“¿Qué pasa, Angelito? What’s wrong?”

“Dean.” Cas sounded shocked as he started to move back, but Dean held him a little tighter. “Someone is gonna see you.”

“Que miran. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Cas sighed but relaxed back into Dean. “I just didn’t like him calling you that. You aren’t stupid, Dean.” Dean chuckled, and Cas turned to look at him, glaring. “I don’t see how this is funny.”

“Ay, mi Angelito, he didn’t say it in a mean way. It’s just the way we talk to each other. He’s my friend.”

Cas blinked at him a few times before he fell back against Dean, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, I don’t like it.”

“Trust me, Cas, it’s fine. Quedate conmigo long enough, and you’ll be calling me the same thing.”

Cas didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and Dean wondered if he said the wrong thing again, but then Cas clicked his tongue before turning to Dean. “I don’t know what…um, that word you said means. Que..que-?”

“Quedate?” Cas nodded, looking back at Dean, waiting for him to explain. It brought warmth to Dean’s chest, knowing he’ll have to repeat it in English when before it came out as a joke. He swallowed hard as he looked back at those baby blues. The words barely came out in a quiet whisper, “Quedate. Stay. Conmigo. With me. I said, stay with me.”

“Oh.” Cas looked down at Dean’s lips as he talked. “I can-I can do that.”

Dean hummed a response as his eyes traveled down to Cas’s tongue poking out to lick at his lips. His heart was hammering in his chest until it came to a stop when he heard, “Dean! Oye, cabron! I ain’t calling your name again!”

They pulled apart, and Dean jogged over alone to grab their bag of food. Dean decided to get a few of his favorites and drinks.

“Victor,” Dean called his friend over again. “No le digas a nadie que estaba aquí. Okay? Or I’m gonna steal all your customers otra vez.”

Victor’s eyes traveled from Dean to Cas, who was waiting where Dean left him looking angelic under the streetlamp, before falling back to Dean. He wondered what could be going through Victor’s mind right that moment, but then he heard his friend let out a heavy sigh.

“Whatever you say, primo.”

“Thanks. Call me tomorrow, and I’ll work for you this weekend!” Dean starts walking backward, back to Cas.

“Shit! Really? ¡No juegues conmigo, Dean!”

“Llámame mañana!”

Dean makes it back to Cas, who automatically reaches for the drinks to help, and motions for him to walk back to the car.

“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.”

Dean drove them somewhere nicer, more private, but still a parking lot.

As soon as Dean parks the car, he opens his door, “Come on; we can sit on the hood. You might wanna put that jacket on.”

Cas looks excited when he opens the car door and walks out into the parking lot that faces the beach. “Dean! Won’t we get a ticket?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just bring the drinks.”

They sat on the hood of the impala, eating and talking, as the sounds of the waves crashing to the shore mixed with la musica norteña coming from inside the car. Dean soon finds out that Cas doesn’t know how to dance, so he puts on one of his favorite mixtapes, and cumbia plays loudly through the speaker.

They danced in front of the headlights, if you can call it dancing. They always ended up bursting into fits of laughter as they fell into each other because Cas did have two left feet. Eventually, Dean just took Cas from around the waist, and they just spun around in circles.

Feeling Cas wrap his arms around Dean’s neck to hold him as their grins were so close together made Dean’s heart leap. Eventually, Cas’s forehead fell against Dean’s, and the dancing slowed to a nice sway even though the beat was only getting quicker.

“Cas?” He answered Dean with a soft hum. “Me estas gustando mas cada segundo.”

“I don’t know-”

“I like you.” Dean’s eyes closed as he leaned in to brush their noses together. “Mi Angelito.”

Dean never thought he would be here in this situation with a guy, but he has never wanted anything more in his life. Feeling strong hands run through his hair as a strong and firm body pressed against him. He loved the intoxicating smell of Cas’s woodsy shampoo that he would have never smelled on a girl. The stubble of beard rubbed against his chin as Cas turned his head until finally, fucking finally, he had those pink lips on his.

He should be scared. Esto no es algo que debería hacer con El pinche Sonidito playing in the background. He shouldn’t have one hand behind Cas’s neck to deepen the kiss, and his toes shouldn’t curl up when he feels Cas’s heavy sigh inside his mouth. He shouldn’t become so quickly addicted to Cas’s hands reaching under Dean’s shirt to press firmly at his back, feeling the familiar slight burn become a damn forest fire in him.

Esto no es algo que debería querer. Cas no es alguien que debería querer pero aqui esta. Queriendo a nadie más pero a Cas. Cas. Cas.

Cas pulled away just enough only to have their noses touching, their breaths still mixing, as he whispered. “I like you too, Dean.”

And yeah. That was it. That was all it took.

Las cadenas del maldito miedo that held him back from even thinking of wanting Cas this way, se rompieron. Dean ya pertenece completamente a Cas.

Cas grinned as he looked back at Dean, his hand reaching to cradle his face gently. His thumb was caressing Dean’s freckles on his cheek before he happily announced. “¡Me gustas mucho!”

Dean laughed, his arms reaching down to wrap around Cas’s waist and spin him around. Both of them laughing as they continued dancing and kissing until it was late enough that they had to go home.

[smokahuntis]

Don’t want to run around

Pairing; Poe dameron X reader

Song: Joji ~ Xnxx

Warnings: SMUT, fluff actually really fluffy for me. Dirty talk, cream pie

Summery: Poe and (y/n) everyone knew they were sleeping together, it was no secret, but it also wasn’t a secret the commander was a playboy. It was usually just a distraction at night or in the morning. But after the war Poe realized it was more.

Authors note: i do not know who owns these gifs, I’ve had them for awhile from Pinterest and there was no credit, I’m sorry, feel free to tag them if you know! Also reblog!

I don’t really want to run around

It had been awhile since they’d seen each other, after everything was settled and they could relax for a bit they went back to their families. It was much needed for both of them, time away from the base and spent with their parents and siblings. But that time away made Poe realize a lot, he needed her.

“So, how’s (y/n)” his mother asked happily, she’d met the girl multiple times and always urged Poe to make a move but he never did, so she decided she’d bug him to death.

“She’s doing great, she took a bad hit awhile back and her arms in a swing but she’s healing quickly” Poe said looking up from his food with his charming smile.

“She was always a strong girl, head strong, physically, mentally” his mother said with a smile, Poe thought it was a normal conversation so he didn’t mind.

“She’s be great to have kids with” she smirked, he nearly chocked. All he could do was smile and nod in shock of his mother’s words.

“It’s about time we had grandkids” his father added causing Poe to shake his head.

Time is going slow and I don’t mind.

“She’s not really a relationship person” he finally said, looking between them. “Plus, I have all the time in the world” he said and they nodded. It was his last night there before he went back to base. So after dinner, when he was laying up in his bed he couldn’t help but let his mind roam. What would it be like if he actually settled down with her, he could do it now after all. Only thing to worry about would be, well, rejection. But she can’t really deny him, can she?

Come on, who would deny Poe dameron, leader of the resistance, best pilot in the galaxy.... she would, it’s (y/n)

Tell me if you know I’m really found

She never cared for titles or reputations, she cared about the soul, who you were inside. She actually hated Poe when they first met, thought he was a cocky asshole, of course she was right. But she humbled him since then, he’s been better. She made him sweet and honorable. He wouldn’t admit it tho, he was still stubborn as a bantha.

However they hadn’t really talked much, both of them busy taking care of others and helping other planets, sometimes she thought Poe was mad at her, always sending her away when she had free time. Of course people needed help still, they needed to recover but it seemed anytime she could be with him he pushed her away now.

Fuck around a bit and get it right

She felt almost abandoned by him, so she started avoiding him too, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about him. They thought about each other constantly.

Soon, they would see each other again, be able to work again, and now that (y/n)’s arm is all healed she could work again. But first, she had to see Poe.

Now his ship was landing and she couldn’t wait, she was tired of staying away and having a cold bed, the only thing waking her being the sun. She was tired of opening her eyes to white sheets. He was tired of reaching over and finding nothing.

I don’t really wanna run around

Neither of them really knew why they were so distant, not on the surface anyways. Deep down they both knew why, they were scared, scared of admitting to themselves and each other that it’s not just sex anymore. Not now, not ever again, it’s not just sex. Never had been.

Poe was ready to confront her, say something, he planned the whole thing in his mind, what he’d say, how he’d say it, he knew. He had it together, calm, cool, collected. Then he saw her, he froze, but she didn’t. She smiled that beautiful smile that made his insides feel warm as she walked to him.

She was beautiful, even in just a simple pair of brown pants and a white shirt wait, is that his jacket? That’s his jacket, he’s been missing that. That’s not the point, the point is.

“I missed you” she smiled and hugged him tightly. Taking in his scent of leather, space and cedar, a faint apple smell from where his mom washed his clothes. His arms wrapped around her quickly, around her waist tightly, picking her up and spinning her softly.

Round’ round’ round’ round’

“I missed you too, sock monkey” he teased her and set her down, smiling at her.

“Hows your family” she asked dusting off his shoulders with a smiled. She was so excited to see him she couldn’t keep her excitement.

“They are great! Oh-um mom sent this for you” he said grabbing a medium sized box from his ship. Handing it to her, she smiled at the red ribbons before untying them. He eyes lit up seeing the lovely grey blanket she knew his mother handmade. She’d been asking for one of her chunky knit blankets forever now.

“Oh my gosh! Thank you- tell her I said thank you” she smiled up at Poe as she hugged the blanket.

“I’m sure she knows” he smiled at her and messed up her hair “it’s a queen size just for you” he chuckled, she wrapped herself in it, she moved it so much already. It faded from light to dark grey and smelled of apples and Poe’s ship. It made it more special.

“She didn’t have to do this” she said doing a spin with it like it’s a cape.

Round’ round’ round’ round’

Poe smiled at her and sighed contently before picking up the red ribbon she dropped, as she stopped he gently tied it up into her hair. She was a strong girl, like his mother said, mentally and physically, but around him she was so soft, like a flower. He loved it, she was comfortable with him. So after he tired they bow in her hair she quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him to the captains quarters, or rather, Poe’s room.

She made quick work of getting him their, no running this time, specially since she had the door locked as she looked at him, laying the blanket over his desk. “I missed you...” she whispered walking towards him

“I know you missed me” he smiled at her “I missed you too” he whispered as she got closer.

Her hands ran up his chest slowly, her little fingers starting to undo his shirt as she looked into his chocolate eyes. “How much did you miss me?” She asked quietly before his hand lay on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, leaning down and placing hot long kissed on her neck.

Saying all the rhymes that make your world go round’

“I missed you so much” he whispered against her skin, coating her neck in his thick saliva as he gripped her her back, his other hand running down her thigh in search of skin to touch. He felt starved now, even with her in his hands he felt so hungry. “I could tear you apart right now” he whispered and tore the front of her pants trying to get them open.

“Fuck- Poe” she whispered finally pushing his shirt off his shoulders as they stood in the middle of his quarters. “I liked those”

“I’ll buy new ones” he moaned and pushed his hand in, past her panties. He started on her clit quickly, rubbing it

Round’ round’ round’ round’

It made her let out a gasping moan as she started tearing his belt off, backing him up to the bed hungrily placing kissing on his skin. She pushed the rest of her jeans off along with her black panties, letting his hands go back to her needy clit as he moved to lay her on his bed.

“Let me show you” he moaned kissing down to the collar of her shirt

“Show me what?” She asked a little confused before he smirk and sucked on her clavicle.

“How much I missed you” he tore the shirt open, taking her bra with it. His lips attached to her right nipple quickly, his other hand massaging her perky breasts, his leg rubbing against her wet cunt with his rough jeans. She couldn’t keep her moans quiet, not now, not after how long she waited for him again.

Cupid pass another my way

Poe looked up at her with his big doe eyes as he sucked her nipples till they puffed up, switching back and forth till she was begging to be touch. “Poe! Poe please” she whined and tugged his graying hair, her hips aimlessly grinding on his thigh as he pressed it to her core.

“Please what?” He smirked and started his dissent down her body. “Go on tell me sock monkey” he chuckled and slowly pushed her thighs apart more as he kissed just over her slit, teasing bastard.

“Please eat my pussy- please- touch it- fuck it - anything just let me feel you” she whined looking down at him, he didn’t need to be told twice.

Another night, a lot more days

Quickly he sucked her clit into his mouth, sucking on it like an octopus on a rock. He smirked internally knowing her loud moans belonged to him. He took so much pride in knowing he’s the reason she made a symphony.

He held her thighs up the best he could but quickly they watched around his head like she was trying to suffocate him, he was okay with that. If he died here Poe Dameron would be a happy man.

“Poe!” She moaned and tugged his hair, pulling him closer before he pushed two fingers into her core, pumping them quickly in and out, massaging her G-Spot each time he pulled out. He knew her body like the back of his eyelids, he dreamt of her body. It was hard to think about her without needing to ‘be’ with her.

Hard to think about you anymore

(Y/n) soon arched her back and gasped for air as she tugged on his thick curls “I’m going to fucking cum” she whined and he pulled away from her clit, moving his fingers faster.

“Yea, baby? You gonna cum on my fingers or my tongue? Tell me baby, tell your general what you want” he purred in his cocky tone, she was putty, she melted in his hands like butter.

“Your tongue! Please!” She whined pathetically before he removed his fingers and gripped her hips tightly, shoving his tongue as deep as it could go, spelling his last night inside her, hopefully her future last name.

He knew by the way her hips shook she was blissed out before she screaming out in pleasure for him and lifted her hips to get away as she came. He wasn’t even done with her and she was painting his face. God she was gorgeous.

But I keep you in my mind always

It’s hard to look at her right now and not want to keep her like this always, shaking on his tongue as she came down. He worked her down from it as he kissed her up body, she needed this, but now they both need something a little different.

“Think you can take my cock baby?” He asked pushing her messy hair back.

“Y-yes- please give it to me” she looked up at him with her watery eyes. He chuckled and tapped his two wet fingers to her lips, this was a form of consent they shared for her second round. If she denied it she was done, if she opened her mouth and tasted it they continued.

She smiled at him and slowly opened her mouth, taking his thick fingers into her mouth and sucking the juices off them. She moaned at the taste as he smiled.

“Good girl” he praised undoing his pants, pushing them down with his boxers. “Always so good” he whispered to himself as he watched her, lifting her left leg to his shoulder as he got ready.

Called you on the phone last night

“Ready sock monkey?” He asked with a smiled, one hand holding her hip, the other on his cock.

“Yes general” she whispered and bit her lip, soon his thick cock was pushing past her entrance and into her needy cunt. They moth moaned and she grabbed her breasts quickly. Tweeting her nipples as he licked his lips, leaning down and kissing her lips deeply, slipping his tongue in for a heated kiss.

Quickly he pushed the rest of his fat veiny cock into her, right where it belongs. He let her get comfy as his hand moved from her him to her stomach, feeling over the little place it poked out. He loved seeing it bulge, he loved knowing that was his cock, and soon it would be his baby. What? Why is he thinking that right now.

“You feel so fucking good princess” he whispered and started moving slowly, she couldn’t even form words, she just laid their and tried not to cum again just from the pressures.

Couldn’t hear your voice, I fight

“Speak to me baby, let me hear you” he groaned and grabbed on of her hands, holding it above her head as he moaned. Going faster slowly.

“You-you fuck me so good” she whined in a pathetic whisper, he chuckled at her.

“Poor girl can’t even speak” he groaned in her ear and sped up. His balls slapping her ass as he fucked her tight little pussy into his mattress.

I won’t be around you anymore

He fucked her like it was his last time, he knew it wasn’t, he knew he’d always have her but something about this moment made him worried. Not about now or before, but after, when he tells her how he feels. He’s scared.

So right now all he cared about was fucking her like he was loosing her. So that’s what he did. He starting going to quick and leaving hickeys all over her she couldn’t even process, and the only thing she had to hold onto was his hand and his back.

“P-Poe! Poe I’m going to cum!” She screamed and clawed his back

“Cum- cum for me, let the whole base know” he whispered in her ear and kissed her again before she was busting all over him. Her moan was muffled for a moment before he pulled away and she screamed in such pleasure it probably woke The dead Jedi from their thousand year slumber.

I’m a dream where you feel alright

He was following close behind, drilling into her in a few rough thrusts before he came inside her, painting her inside like a diy Christmas ornament as he moaned her name.

Heavy breathing followed, until he laid beside her and held her hand. It was silent for a moment after they caught their breathes before they looked at each other and laughed. They can’t believe how loud they were, and that they couldn’t wait 5 minutes before tearing each other apart.

He smiled and leaned over kissing her after their little laugh, she smiled and gladly kissed back before looking at him. “I missed you” she whispered

“I’m glad” he chuckled and sat up in his elbow, looking down at her, pushing her hair back and kissing her head, nose, then lips.

I don’t really wanna run around

“There’s something a need to tell you” he whispered looking at her, her finger tips danced gently on his cheek as she smiled at him.

“What is it...?” She asked.

“I love you...” he admitted, she stopped moving her fingers and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Really?” She asked, looking over him for any signs he’s lying.

“Yea- I... have for awhile and I just never admitted to myself and - I thought... if I hide it I’ll never tell you and you’ll move on and find someone better and forget about me and run away- and have a family- and a husband- and two kids - and a spatcha farm and-“ she shut him up, leaning up and kissing him deeply.

Time is going slow and I don’t mind

She pulled away slowly and smiled at him, looking him in the eyes “I love you too, Poe” she admitted with a smile “Ive lover you for what seems like forever I just- I knew you were a relationship guy so I... I pushed it back”

“Oh- I thought you didn’t like relationships” he said

“Oh I don’t, but I liked you that much”

“Liked?” He asked offended

“Yea, liked, I love you now silly” she poked his nose and giggled, he smiled and kissed her lips happily.

Tell me if I’m really found

“ can I ask you something else then?” He asked getting you and grabbing the blanket and his pants, digging in his pockets for something.

“Yea, anything” she smiled at him, sitting up on her elbows as he got back in bed with her. And pulled something from his pants pocket she thought she’d never see, not now at least. A small ring, in the center was a large pink tinted diamond, paired with two smaller diamonds on the side, all set on a silver band.

“Poe...” she whispered

“I know it’s- odd timing but in reality we’ve been together for years without a label and I’d like to label that’s now as engaged and soon we will label it as The Dameron’s ... if you’ll let me, I’d like to marry you... and share the rest of my life with you and whatever the galaxy has to offer...” he smiled at her and grabbed her hand. She smiled at him happily and nodded

“Yes! Yes I’ll marry you! Of course I’ll marry you!” She hugged him tightly and kissed him. She didn’t feel any happier then in this moment with him. Finally she could officially be with the man she loved and she didn’t have to hide any of it in fear of rejection, it was them against the galaxy now, and they were proud of it. They got it right.

Fuck around a bit and get it right

Tag list: @a-dorin @everythinggeeky @onabouteverything @blxwjobsforclones @jediminddicks1000 @poeticandors @thisis-theway @petalsrdead @cedric-and-zukos-wife @patersonshoney @obiwkenobi

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fade in, fade out - part four

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***

The Catalyst

December 2009

During her fourth and final year at Townbridge, Nora is hardened. She spent her summer reviewing her college applications in between shifts at the beach, picking through each individual essay and making sure her grades were the highest they could be.

Nora was sick of small towns. Newport would always be home, but with growing up comes the all-encompassing need to find a new home somewhere else—which was why Nora was applying for schools in New York City. A place where she can start over without the stinging burn of high school rumors following her every step.

Luckily, Nora still had Lydia and Margot and a few other girls on the swim team, and that was all she really needed at the start of her final year. She didn’t even look at Harry and his friends in the hallways, and whenever they would snicker behind her back or approach her if they were feeling bold, Nora would just spin on her heel and completely ignore them, similar to the way they treated her at the beginning of her first year. And when she would share a classroom with Harry for their AP classes, she would make sure to sit in the back corner of the room where she couldn’t feel his lingering gaze on her frame.

On her eighteenth birthday, Lydia and a few girls took Nora out to dinner at Margot’s family’s restaurant on the water in East Lyme. They paid for her meal and took pictures out on the docks by the ocean and it was the happiest Nora had felt all year at Townbridge.

Nora was riding that high all the way up until Christmas break where she was actually excited to go home and spend the Holidays with her mother. But just like most things in her life, Nora’s high came crashing down when her mother informed her that she couldn’t come home for break, leaving her to spend her ten-day vacation away from school completely alone in the empty halls of Townbridge.

“I’m so sorry, Nora. Mrs. Clemonte is really sick and Warren is already on his way to Aspen with Willy. I can’t just leave her alone! Especially during Christmastime. Please don’t hate me,” her mother grievously said through the speaker of Nora’s brand new LG Rumor cell phone.

“I could never hate you, mom,” Nora replied honestly, curled up in her comforter on her twin bed on the eve before her mother was meant to pick her up from school.

“You’ll be okay though, right? Other students will be staying on campus with you?” Nora could sense her mother’s worry from over one hundred miles away, and before Shannon could hear her daughter sniffling through the phone, Nora took a deep breath and convinced her that she’ll be fine—even if she wasn’t completely sure of it herself.

In all honesty, Nora wasn’t even certain if any students stayed on campus during break, considering her classmates usually booked trips to Aspen or Vail or the fucking Swiss Alps for all she knows. So after confirming with her guidance counselor that the facilities will be open and she’ll be safe to walk around the practically barren campus, Nora’s shocked that the first person she runs into is none other than Harry Styles.

Nora had to blink a few times in the entryway of the dining hall to make sure that the figure hunched over the wooden table sipping a porcelain cup of tea and shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth was actually him. But when she squints and takes into account his discernible curly locks, his signature black trench coat, and his cotton grey soccer sweatshirt with his last name embroidered on the front layered underneath—there’s no denying that it’s him.

She looks around and notices that there are a few other students scattered about, eating their breakfast wearing thick sweatshirts and conversing amongst themselves. Before she can be detected, Nora buries her chin in her thick knitted scarf and walks around the edges of the room towards the kitchen to grab her own helping of eggs and pancakes.

Nora’s gotten quite good at keeping a low profile, so when she finds an empty seat in the corner of the room, completely far away from Harry’s slumped figure, she lets herself breathe for the first time. She unwraps her maroon scarf and unbuttons her navy parka before digging into her breakfast, flipping through her battered copy of The Princess Bride. Every year, Nora rereads her favorite books that were turned into films, and she figured now was as good a time as any to pick up where she left off.

Halfway through her breakfast, Nora realizes a moment too late that she picked the seat that’s closest to the tea and coffee station when she hears her name gruffly fall past Harry’s lips as he stands over her, a completely shocked look on his face.

“Nora?” Harry repeats after a minute has passed with the two of them just staring at each other, wondering what in the hell the other is doing spending their winter break at school all alone.

“Hi,” Nora says awkwardly, avoiding Harry’s gaze and choosing instead to look at the rolled-up paperback sticking out of his jacket pocket. She can’t quite make out the title of the book from her position, but the light blue coloring of the title page is familiar to her for some odd reason.

“What are you…” His words fall from his mouth without any clear purpose. She realizes then and there that the last words she spoke to him were a broken “fuck you” one year ago in Dr. Forrester’s AP Chem lab, and that thought is enough to cause her to stand up abruptly from the wooden bench, grabbing her tray in one hand and her parka in the other, trying her hardest to get out from under Harry’s intense gaze.

“Wait, Nora!” Harry calls after her as she scrambles towards the trash bin to clear her half-eaten plate. She ignores him, the need to get away from him much stronger than her urge to stick around and hear what he has to say to her. And before she knows it, she’s running through the snowy campus with her parka barely buttoned, recognizing a moment too late that she left her maroon scarf on the table in the dining hall in her mad sprint to the exit.

For two days, Nora skips out on breakfast—too terrified to run into Harry again. She eats the rest of her meals by the old fireplace in Millikan Library at odd times in the day, growing far too comfortable with the eerie solitude floating through the towering ceilings.

Most of her afternoons spent in Millikan are quite peaceful, considering the foot traffic is practically nonexistent save for the two librarians working the research desk and the small handful of students searching through the fiction aisle for a new book to read to keep them preoccupied during the break. Her spot near the fireplace is hidden in plain sight, somehow giving her the perfect view of the lower floor of the library while staying comfortably concealed from wandering eyes.

Luck isn’t on her side, though, and while she’s finishing up the last quarter of The Princess Bride, her focus is broken when a familiar maroon scarf drops in the middle of her lap, obstructing Nora’s spot on the page.

When she looks up she sees Harry, dressed in familiar black jeans and a simple white t-shirt underneath his trench coat. Snowflakes dust the tips of his curly hair, and when Nora squints she can make out the purple bags underneath his dull green eyes.

“You left that in the dining hall,” he says slowly, sitting down in the chair across from the matching one Nora is currently curled up in.

“Uh, thanks,” she mutters, scrunching the thick material up and shoving it into her backpack resting on the floor below her. A crinkled Pop-Tart wrapper comes fluttering out of her bag as she attempts to zip it up, and Harry notices it instantly.

“Have you been living off of those instead of eating real food?” he asks. Nora can’t tell if he’s actually concerned or if he’s teasing her, because his eyes are still dull and his face is still blank and she can’t read Harry Styles for the life of her.

When she doesn’t answer, he states simply, “You’re avoiding me.”

“Can you blame me?” Nora responds quickly, looking at him with a layer of sadness hidden underneath her cerulean eyes.

“No, suppose I can’t.” He’s quiet for a few minutes, shifting his gaze towards the carpeted flooring below them. He looks as if he’s thinking very hard, and Nora wonders if he’s trying to figure out how to apologize to her. And when he’s still sitting there, a massive indent in the middle of his eyebrows while his lips pout downward in a frustrated frown, Nora thinks that a person like Harry has probably never had to apologize for anything in his entire life.

That realization is enough to keep her from running away from him again.

Harry lifts his eyes from the floor then, moving his gaze from Nora’s face to the book in her lap. She looks comfortable, wearing thick leggings and a woolen turtleneck, her blonde hair twisted into a low bun behind her neck, allowing her fringe to fall wildly against her forehead. He notices that her snow boots are on the floor, and her socked-clad feet are tucked underneath her thighs on the big chair she’s nestled in. For the first time in a long time—probably ever, if Harry really sits and thinks about it—he feels as if he’s looking at Nora Priestley for the first time, observing every freckle on her pale skin and every line and curve of her face. He’s not quite sure what that means entirely, but he’s sure that it has to mean something, in the grand scheme of things.

If she’s grown uncomfortable under his stare, she doesn’t show it, and Harry’s a bit grateful for that. Without really thinking about it, Harry reaches inside his jacket pocket, revealing his curled up copy of The Call of the Wild.

“D’ya mind if I sit here and read with you?” he asks quietly.

“No,” Nora says, her voice pitch wavering, “Not at all.”

What normally would take Nora less than an hour to read, ends up being much longer, because she had suddenly grown extremely distracted with Harry’s presence across from her. It first started when he took off his black trench coat, revealing a threadbare white t-shirt that didn’t seem appropriate with the falling snow outside and the frigid temperature in the air. But it wasn’t the thin material that captured Nora’s attention. Instead, it was the various etchings of black ink swirling up and down his left arm. She tries not to stare, but she honestly can’t help it, because the images of shaded roses and thick anchors and anatomically correct organs is causing her head to spin. Nora never thought that picture-perfect Harry Styles, with all his splendor and daddy’s money, would brand his skin with outrageous tattoos. But it somehow fits, and Nora finds that she suddenly wants to know what every picture means, and its significance to the boy adorning them.

She tries to bring her attention back to her book, but it’s practically no use, considering her eyes keep falling towards his, watching the way he reads the old book in his large hands. From this position with the big bay windows behind her and the light flooding through, Harry’s green eyes almost seem blue. She’s not sure if he’s aware that he’s doing it, but his fingers keep constantly picking at the dry skin on his lower lip, and if there’s nothing left to pick, his fingers just push and pull at the skin as he flips to the next page. Whenever he seems to read a particularly interesting passage, Harry’s brows furrow as he concentrates on the words bleeding off the page. And just when Nora thinks she’s gotten used to his presence, he would absentmindedly fidget in the seat, changing which leg would be crossed over the other, bringing his foot up to rest on the seat so that his elbow can lean on something new, or even moving his body completely, so that his legs fall over the arm of the chair and his head rests against the other.

And when Nora’s no longer distracted by Harry’s existence, she finds that her thoughts linger on the hundreds of questions floating through her brain. She wonders what he’s doing here, all alone during Christmas break when he spends his summers in the south of France or the Hamptons or some other luxurious location. She wonders why, of all places to read an old copy of The Call of the Wild, he chooses to sit near her, a girl he’s supposed to hate. And she especially wonders why she doesn’t mind his proximity to her body, considering he’s done nothing but hurt her since they first met.

Nora finds this entire afternoon to be distracting, and without even finishing the book (even though she acts like she has, because let’s be honest, Nora’s read The Princess Bride enough times to recite the last page), she closes it and throws it in her backpack, exchanging the paperback for her maroon scarf and beginning to lace-up her snow boots. Harry looks up from his book and notices her getting ready to leave, and without saying anything, Nora watches as he dog-ears his page and begins to pull his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

“I’m gonna head to the dining hall,” Nora explains, even though she’s not entirely sure she wants Harry to follow her. But when he stands up from the chair and slips his book into his pocket, Nora finds that she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, other than to follow him down the stairs and out the front door into the snow.

Townbridge covered in a thick blanket of snow is quite a sight to behold, and momentarily, Nora can forget that Harry Styles is standing near her. Because the snow is falling lightly from the sky, dusting the tips of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, and she thinks it’s probably the calmest she’s felt in a very long time.

But then Harry’s elbow knocks against hers as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets, and suddenly all of the distracting thoughts and the endless questions from before come rushing from her brain to the tip of her tongue, and Nora finds that she can’t hold it in anymore.

“Why are you talking to me, Harry? Aren’t you supposed to hate me?” Nora’s words aren’t spiteful in the slightest. In fact, there’s barely any emotion behind them—just a statement that’s been at the forefront of her mind ever since he first approached her in the dining hall two days ago.

“I don’t hate you, Nora,” Harry chooses to say, looking down at her briefly as they continue the short walk to their destination.

“You certainly don’t like me,” Nora replies back, keeping her head down to avoid more snowflakes accumulating on her eyelashes.

“If this is about last year, I really am sorry. You were right to say those things to me in Dr. Forrester’s lab, I deserved it. All of it.” Nora waits a minute to speak, because she’s curious if Harry Styles will grovel in front of her, if he’ll beg for her forgiveness the way she’s dreamt about him doing for the past twelve months. He stays quiet, kicking his boot through a particularly thick segment of snow, and when Nora chances a look towards his face, she can see through his eyes that this conversation is torturing him. The dullness is tenfold, and his lips are in a very straight line and she’s never seen a jaw so clenched in her entire life. And even though he doesn’t say anything else, Nora accepts his apology, because although words have failed him (as they usually have in the past), his eyes give everything away.

The word pushover comes to mind, but Nora doesn’t think it’s a negative aspect of her personality. She was always taught to find the best in people, and if Harry’s apology consists of a handful of words and green eyes twisted in utter agony, she’ll take what she can get.

He holds the door open for her as they approach the dining hall and she gives him a quiet “thank you,” and Harry’s not sure if it’s for his chivalrous act or his bare-bones apology, but he takes it in stride. They grab chicken noodle soup and turkey sandwiches and steaming cups of tea and sit at the table near the large row of windows and for the first time, Nora doesn’t mind sitting across from him.

“So, why The Princess Bride?” Harry asks after a mouthful of soup, watching the way her mouth quirks at the mention of her favorite book.

“It’s one of my favorite movie adaptations. Movies are kind of my thing, I guess,” she explains, holding her warm cup of tea against her hands and she looks so damn cozy.

Harry nods, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“What about you?” Nora counters, watching the way his head tilts in confusion.

“What about me?” He echoes.

“Why The Call of the Wild?”

Harry grins, taking a long sip of his tea before replying, “I like classic literature. Guess it’s kind of my thing.”

Before Nora can say anything else, or tease him about copying her phrase, Miss Flaherty approaches their table with a bright grin. She’s one of the guidance counselors at Townbridge, an older woman who reminds everybody of their Nana. So when she places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezes, Nora’s curiosity is piqued to the fullest.

“Harry! There you are, lovie. Will you be joining us tomorrow for the Toy Drive again? I’m sure everybody will be happy to see you.”

Sheepish has never been a word that Nora would think to associate with Harry Styles, but when his cheeks begin to flush and his eyes look anywhere but at Nora’s, she can tell that he’s nervous. And when she thinks back to Miss Flaherty’s question, more importantly, the word again, Nora’s wondering who on earth the boy sitting across from her truly is.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he tells her, smiling awkwardly.

“Amazing! How about you, Nora? Will you be joining us as well?” Nora’s suddenly aware of two sets of eyes on her, and when she glances at Harry and sees that his face is void of irritation, she nods her head and looks back towards Miss Flaherty.

“Of course! Count me in.”

Miss Flaherty smiles brightly and looks between the two of them happily. “Lovely! I’m sure Harry here will tell you all about it. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

After she walks away it’s quiet again, just the two of them slurping from their bowls of soups, trying to figure out how to address what just happened. Surprisingly, it’s Harry who speaks first.

“Uh, you don’t have to come if you don’t, er, want to.” He’s anxious and Nora wishes he would stop looking at the wooden table and would look at her, instead. Because she’s never given him a reason to be nervous around her, and the fact that he’s suddenly grown so small in front of her is all too confusing for her to understand.

“I don’t mind, really. Sounds cool, actually,” Nora admits, meaning every word.

Harry looks up at her then, observing her to see if there’s any teasing on her face. But when she looks back at him with nothing but a warm expression, Harry can tell that Nora actually means it, and he gives her a gentle smile in return.

Once they finish their lunch, they begin to walk back to their dorms. Nora lives on a different floor of Granary Hall and Harry lives in Quinby House, which is just across the small quarry outside of her building. It’s a comfortable silence, and Nora really wasn’t expecting him to walk her to the front door of her building. She’s not at all mad that he does, though, and when she turns towards him to say goodbye, he looks as if he’s trying to say something to her.

“I can drive you tomorrow to the Youth Center if you want. Easier than taking the bus,” Harry says, pushing his hands against the bottom of his pockets as he shuffles on the pavement in front of her, avoiding eye contact.

Nora nods, smiling softly before saying, “Sure, sounds good. Thanks, Harry.”

Before she can even mutter a goodbye, Harry’s already spinning on his boots towards Quinby House, and Nora’s left watching his figure disappear through the snow, thinking that out of the four years she’s known him, this is the most words they’ve ever spoken to one another.

Nora’s not even sure if she’s aware of it, but when she wakes up the next morning and chooses her nicest pair of jeans and applies a generous amount of mascara to her eyelashes, the idea of impressing Harry is barely even a thought in her mind. But there’s a reason for everything—and the fact that she brushed through her knotted hair and stuck her cherry-flavored lip balm into her pocket before rushing out the door, means that subconsciously she’s thinking about him.

They meet in the parking lot near his black Range Rover, and when he offers her a small smile and opens the door for her, she’s not quite sure what to think. He’s wearing his trench coat again with a grey thermal top underneath, and his curls are stuffed under a bright blue knitted beanie and he looks unbelievably warm. They don’t really talk much but they do listen to Big Star, and when “Thirteen” comes on and Nora starts to sing the words to herself, Harry snaps his head over in her direction with a wide-eyed look of astonishment.

“You listen to Big Star?” he asks, flitting his gaze between the road and Nora’s face.

She smiles, content that she’s shocked Harry, before adding, “Yeah, they’re one of my mom’s favorites.”

He nods, an impressed look on his face. “She’s got great taste.”

The rest of the ride is filled with more of Harry’s musical repertoire to which Nora sings along to the songs she knows. And if she listens close enough, she can hear the low tone of Harry’s singing voice, and she almost finds herself leaning closer towards him so that she can listen more clearly.

When they reach the Youth Center, Harry pops open his trunk and reveals two boxes filled with toys. Nora helps him and grabs the other, peeking inside and seeing wrapped presents of various sizes. They enter the room and greet Miss Flaherty, who immediately delegates Harry and his strong arms to deliver all of the presents underneath the tree, and Nora is sent to pass out homemade cookies and milk and read to the younger children.

It’s a blur of activity, and in between reading A Christmas Carol and making sure the younger children don’t choke on their cookies, Nora almost forgets to watch Harry. She mainly notices him in passing—a quick glimpse of a grey long-sleeved arm passing out presents, an electric blue beanie bouncing up and down in her periphery, a peek of brown suede boots running around behind her. It’s only once Nora’s begun reading the fourth stave, in which the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come visits Scrooge, when she notices denim-clad long legs sitting cross-legged in front of her, with a five-year-old blonde girl perched on his lap.

Harry sits there and listens to Nora finish reading the book, watching the way she acts out each character so that the kids in front of her are completely entranced. Her hair looks shinier today than when they were nestled in the library, and her blue eyes glisten whenever she hears a small child “ooh” and “aah” at the sentence she just read. And whenever her gaze falls on Harry’s, he can’t help but mirror the grin on her face.

When it ends, the little girl in his lap whispers into his ear, “Can we give Nora a cookie? She did a good job reading,” and Harry begins nodding excitedly.

“I think that’s a great idea, love. Up you go, let’s go pick out the prettiest sugar cookie on the table, yeah?” When she latches her small hand into his, Nora can’t help but watch in adoration as he lifts her up and brings her to eye level with the cookie tray, pointing at certain ones and waiting for her little nod of approval.

And when the pair approach her, the little girl holding up a paper plate with a snowman sugar cookie on it, Nora’s smile couldn’t be wider. “Is this for me?” Nora asks, bending at her knees so that she’s eye-to-eye with the small girl.

She nods, bashfully. “To say thank you. Harry said you should get the prettiest cookie.”

When Nora grabs the cookie, she looks up at Harry to find that he’s already looking down at her, shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing. But to Nora, it was practically everything, and she spends the rest of the afternoon in a blissful state, a smile permanently gracing her features.

When they get back to campus with both their stomachs filled with cookies and eggnog and Christmas breads, the sun is just starting to set past the horizon. Harry pulls into his parking spot but waits a moment to shut off the ignition, noticing how Nora’s gaze is focused on the sky as it turns from a cornflower blue to a prepossessing tangerine hue. The snow reflects the sunset perfectly, and even though it’s one of the prettiest winter sunsets Harry’s seen in a long time, he can’t stop looking at the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

She finally turns to him just as the sky changes from violet to indigo, “I had fun today.”

Harry nods, agreeing instantly. “Yeah, it was a good day.”

“Do you do that often? Is that why you stay here during Christmas break?” Nora’s not quite sure if she’s overstepping, but when Harry’s jaw doesn’t clench and his eyes stay rooted on her own, she can tell that he’s not as nervous to tell her things anymore.

“I’ve been doing it the past two years. My dad’s been going on work trips during the Holidays, so I just stay here.” It’s a version of the truth that he feels most comfortable sharing, and he’s grateful that Nora doesn’t push him.

“I’m assuming your friends don’t know,” Nora offers quietly, watching as Harry chuckles to himself, the sound being anything but funny.

“Yeah, they think I’m in the Alps.” He looks sad all of a sudden, and Nora wishes she hadn’t said anything. Because the fact that Harry’s father chooses to work during Christmas, thus leaving him no choice but to stay at Townbridge by himself, is a shitty thing to do. But instead of moping, he chooses to donate presents to children so they can have some sort of a normal Christmas, even though he doesn’t get the same in return. That’s quite admirable.

If it were Nora, she would be bragging to her friends about the Toy Drive, begging them to join her and spread more awareness. But Harry—Harry can’t do that. Because his friends would never understand, and that realization strikes Nora hard in her chest.

Giving him one last glance, she asks him, “Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?”

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his nose scrunched up in confusion. The sudden change in conversation is a bit jolting, and when he tries to figure out her intention, she giggles uncomfortably before rambling. “I nicked the DVD player from our common room and set it up in my dorm. Nobody really noticed, so I’ve been watching movies on it all semester.” He’s still looking at her, but instead of confusion written across his face, his lips begin to form a smirk and Nora begins to squirm in her seat, much like the first time they met three years ago in the Great Hall. “So, uh, have you seen it?”

He shakes his head once, twice, the smirk growing into a smile.

“Would you like to?” Nora’s not quite sure why she’s nervous, or more importantly, why she’s even inviting him up to her room in the first place. Maybe she pities him in the slightest, or maybe, just maybe, she’s found that she actually enjoys his presence for once in her life.

“Sure,” he replies easily. Nora watches as he turns the key in his ignition to shut the car off, before hopping out and waiting for her by the trunk. They walk inside Granary Hall together, ride the elevator up to the eighth floor in silence, before entering the fourth door on the right.

The room is moderate, practically identical to the one he had last year with Will, but for some reason, it just screams Nora Priestley. He can already tell which side of the room is hers due to the mix-matched comforter set, the thick homemade quilt, the generous stack of books leaning precariously against the wooden desk, and the collection of polaroids stuck to the wall above her bed nestled in the corner. While she takes off her parka and snow boots, Harry leans towards the photographs, smiling to himself when he sees the happiness radiating off of each one.

His eyes seem glued to the images of Nora and who he assumes to be her mother, with their arms wrapped around each other and their long hair tangling in the ocean breeze. They seem to have done everything together—various images of the two of them on beaches and hiking trails and in the front seat of an old car. Harry’s never seen pure happiness before, and he wishes he could burn these images underneath his eyelids so that he never forgets what that feeling looks like.

“That’s my mom,” Nora says from behind him, almost startling him. He turns around with flushed cheeks, an apology at the tip of his tongue for so obviously intruding. But when he sees her face and notices that she’s not angry at all, he feels his shoulders relax.

“You guys seem to do everything together,” he says softly, choosing his words carefully as to not overstep. The topic of family has always been a difficult one for him in the past.

But for Nora Priestley, she seems to have no qualms about the topic, with the way she’s nodding easily with a nostalgic grin on her face. “Yeah, it’s always been that way. Just the two of us.”

Harry doesn’t say much else, but the look on his face says it all. Some mixture of sadness and jealousy, because even though Nora only has one parent, it’s more than the two he’s known his entire life.

Nora fills her arms with the pillows from her mattress and creates a makeshift pallet on the floor against the end of her bed. Harry takes the seat closest to the door and watches amusedly as she begins to microwave popcorn, opening the door with ten seconds to spare so that she can mix in a package of M&M’s.

When she joins him moments later, she flicks the light off and hits play on the remote. Just as the opening credits begin, she plops down next to him and holds the bowl out in his direction.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, completely serious. He’s looking at the bowl with fascination, wondering what sort of salty-sugary concoction Nora just created.

“It’s the ultimate cinema snack,” Nora explains, grabbing a handful of chocolatey kernels and dropping them into her mouth, munching quietly as Harry looks at her with a glimmer in his eye.

When he pauses for a second time, looking between the movie and the bowl in Nora’s outstretched hands, a sudden realization falls over her.

“Have you never done this before? Gone to the cinema and eaten enough sugary sweets to give yourself a guaranteed stomachache?” The opening scene has already begun but Nora’s too focused on the boy next to her who shakes his head solemnly and looks into the bowl, avoiding Nora’s gaze. She wonders what else the boy she thought had everything in the world has seemingly missed out on.

She turns back around to face the screen, unknowingly scooting closer towards Harry so that their sides are nearly centimeters apart. He can feel the heat of her body against his own, and just when he’s about to say something, Nora announces, “Well, Harry Styles, there’s a first time for everything. Eat up.”

And he does just that.  

The next morning at breakfast at their usual table, Harry finds that he’s nervous. And not in the way that makes him angry and quiet and want to run away, but the kind that usually is caused by a girl. His stomach feels fluttery and his palms are sweating and he’s consistently overthinking, and he’s not even sure why—because he’s Harry Styles, for fuck’s sake. And the girl in question is none other than Nora Priestley.

But she’s wearing a beanie with a bobble on top and her cheeks are pink from the cold and there’s still snow clinging to the ends of her hair and he can’t help but feel out of his element. And he shouldn’t, truly, because he’s been with enough girls to know that these feelings don’t exist and that he’s probably fallen ill or something, most likely caused by the cookies they ate all afternoon and the popcorn-M&M monstrosity he inhaled during their movie.

They haven’t really said much, and Harry finds that he doesn’t mind, because he’s not really used to comfortable silences. Alyssa talks enough for the both of them and Grace and Erin are practically human echoes. Carter always has something new to say and Will answers him because he knows Harry won’t, so the fact that he can sit in the dining hall with somebody and read from each other’s books and talk about things that actually matter—it’s refreshing.

“These buildings are quite eerie when they’re completely empty, don’t you think?” Nora asks after they’ve disposed of their dirty plates.

“I think it’s kind of cool. Have you not been anywhere else besides here and the library?” Harry asks, grabbing his scarf and knotting it around his neck.

When Nora shakes her head, Harry’s hand reaches out to grab her own and he’s dragging her through the exit before she can even button up her parka.

“Harry!” Nora squeals, nearly tripping over her own two feet when she tries to keep up with his obnoxiously long strides. His hand still has hers in a vice-like grip and he doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon, and it’s only once they’ve appeared in front of the English building when Nora digs her heels into the ground, causing Harry to turn around abruptly.

“What?” he asks, noticing the way her head shakes aggressively and her eyes are blown out as if she were completely and utterly afraid.

“No way. We’re not going in there, are you crazy?! It’s the most haunted building on campus, and it’s empty. No fucking way, Harry,” Nora says, standing her ground.

But with one roll of his eyes and some gentle prodding falling from his lips, Nora finds that she’s somehow ended up inside the stairwell of the empty building, laying next to Harry on the marble staircase. It’s silent, save for the sounds of their hearts beating in their chests and their even breaths falling from their parted lips. The window over the second-floor landing paints a pretty light through the surface, and Nora finds that she’s oddly comfortable in this haunted building she’s so terrified of.

She wonders if it’s because of the boy lying next to her.

“Where are you off to next year?” Harry asks suddenly, his head tipped towards the ceiling four stories up.

“Columbia, hopefully,” Nora says, focusing on the rays of light creating illusions along the stone walls.

“New York City?” Harry asks, sounding quite impressed.

“Yeah. How about you?” she asks, twisting her fingers absentmindedly in her lap.

Harry’s quiet for a moment and when Nora looks over, noticing the way his eyes close slowly and his jaw clenches harshly, she wonders if he’s okay. “Oxford,” he finally spits out, his eyes blinking towards the ceiling once more. “As expected.”

Nora thinks of how to respond, but before she can string together a cohesive thought, Harry suddenly turns his neck so that he’s facing her. “I hate expectations. I wish they didn’t fucking exist, if I’m being honest. How are you supposed to grow if you’re forced to do certain things that are already mapped out for you?”

Nora looks back at him, unexpectedly understanding a good chunk of who Harry is. How even though he’s Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the perfect boy who seemingly can get whatever he wants, he’s missing one thing. Happiness. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

“What do you want to do when you get to Columbia? Like if you had the choice, and nobody was making it for you, and you didn’t have to worry about anything else—what would make you happy?” Harry asks, a shocking hint of vulnerability laced in between his words.

When Nora stops and thinks about it, the answer is literally right in front of her face. It’s what she’s always wanted to do, what she wishes she could do—but knows deep down that she can’t do. Because it’s not stable and it’s not why Nora went to Townbridge in the first place.

“Scriptwriting. I’d want to write screenplays and work on sets and help construct films that people like me can watch over and over again and never get tired of,” Nora whispers, thinking that if she says it quietly in the stairwell with just Harry around, she can still keep it locked up buried deep inside, away from people who would ridicule her over it.

“What would you do?” Nora asks before Harry can comment on her dream. She’s still not sure she’s ready for that.

His answer comes easier than hers. “I’d want to teach. English lit, preferably.”

Vulnerability is a scary thing. It’s even scarier when it’s shared between two people who, up until five days ago, were practically strangers. As they watch each other, heartbreakingly realizing that these dreams of theirs are just something they’re supposed to chase—a sudden sadness washes over them on the stairwell.

“I can’t do that, though,” Harry says, turning towards the ceiling just as his voice breaks. “Because it’s not in the plan.”

“What is the plan?” Nora asks curiously, eyes still locked on Harry’s side profile, watching the way his jaw moves as he speaks.

“Business Administration at Oxford. An internship at my dad’s company during my second year, and then a full-time job there once I graduate. Board of directors by twenty-five, until I fully take over by thirty. That’s it. That’s my life.” Harry’s voice has never sounded so broken before, and Nora feels her heart splinter a little for the boy lying beside her. Because right now, he’s eighteen, and he’s not supposed to be feeling this inordinate amount of pressure. But he is, and that thought makes Nora incredibly sad.

“And you?” Harry asks suddenly, looking towards her again.

“What about me?” Nora asks cautiously.

“What’s stopping you from becoming a scriptwriter?”

It’s a simple question if Nora really thinks about it. But things aren’t always that easy, and explaining to Harry how his anguish is not too far off from her own is quite a terrifying thought. Because they come from two separate worlds, and finding common ground in the fact that the things they truly yearn for are just not tangible is a sobering experience.

“My mom has higher expectations for me. I mean, I’m The Scholarship Girl. I’m not even supposed to be here. But my mom pushed for me and Mrs. Clemonte supported my application and before I even had a say in it, Townbridge was my plan,” Nora starts, feeling Harry’s eyes on her as she looks anywhere else but in the green of his. “My mom had me young, so she never got to go to college. She’s always telling me to do the things she couldn’t do, make better decisions than she made, be the best version of me I can be. And I do try, constantly. Because she works endlessly and she does everything she can to make sure I don’t end up like her, and that’s a lot of pressure for one person to take, because how can I repay her by studying performance arts and joining an industry that’s already extremely difficult to get into?” Nora’s eyes fall from the ceiling towards Harry, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face. “I can’t do that to her. It would break her heart.”

Harry nods like he understands, and for a brief moment, Nora thinks that he truly does. Because even though their situations are different and they come from two completely separate walks of life, they both have fallen victim to an excruciating amount of pressure.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, sounding more sincere than he ever has in his entire life.

Nora just shrugs, turning her face back towards the ceiling. “Not your fault.”

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, I guess,” Harry whispers, and Nora almost misses it over the sound of her own breathing. But when she feels his eyes warm her left cheek, she looks back at him and sees that he’s suddenly overridden with guilt.

“It’s okay, Harry—”

“—No, no. It’s really not.” He’s staring at her intently, and Nora’s suddenly found that she can’t look anywhere else. “What Carter did was wrong, and I didn’t do anything about it. And you lost all of your friends and he just went on the same as he always did, and the whole thing is just so fucked up.”

“I didn’t lose everybody,” Nora adds sheepishly, wishing this conversation would end. She doesn’t want to relive last year, she wants to forget its existence entirely.

“Still, it was wrong,” he frustratedly repeats. “You shouldn’t have just one friend at school.”

“It’s okay, though,” she says one last time, her voice urging him to understand her so that they can ultimately end this dreaded conversation. “I’d rather have one true friend than a bunch of fairweather ones.”

Harry nods and turns back towards the ceiling, and she knows that he isn’t going to say anything. Because this conversation is over, and what Nora said is unquestionably true. But he doesn’t want to face the harsh reality of his empty friendships, so instead, he stares at the ceiling, wondering how his life would have turned out if he fell into a different group instead of the one he has now.

Once Nora’s back starts to ache against the stone stairwell, she sits up and peers through the window on the second-story landing. The snow is falling down a bit harder now, coating the campus below in a thick, billowing white blanket. She thinks it’s beautiful. She thinks it’s far too inviting. So without thinking (something she’s been doing a lot of this week), she reaches for Harry’s hand and heaves him up, dragging him out of the English building and into the empty quad.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, confusion and amusement weaving together beautifully in his voice. Without answering, Nora reaches down and makes a snowball through her fingerless gloves, before hurling it straight towards Harry’s chest.

He looks at her with his jaw practically on the floor, faking his anger even though Nora can see right through it. She’s giggling loudly, almost hunched over at the shocked expression on his face. And before she can even comprehend it, Harry makes a snowball faster than her own and hits her right in the shoulder.

“Hey!” she calls back, wiping the leftover snow off her parka. Harry’s mischievous grin is clear as day through the thick snowfall, and when she mirrors it back, they’ve suddenly found themselves in a snow war.

Their laughter echoes through the quad and bounces off the stone buildings, and once Nora’s beanie is submerged in the snow and their jeans are soaked through and the only sound they can hear is their teeth chattering together, Harry calls a truce and drags her towards the direction of Quinby House. It’s closer than Granary Hall by at least five minutes, and when he holds the front door open for her, Nora enters without really thinking of the repercussions.

“Our floor’s empty and we have a private bathroom, so, er, if you want to shower first you’re more than welcome to. I’ve got warm clothes you can change into,” Harry offers quietly, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. Nora can’t tell if the blush coating his cheeks is from the snow clinging to his body or something else entirely, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she nods, following him to the last door on the left of the third floor, removing her snow boots in the hallway outside and beginning to walk towards the adjoining bathroom.

Nora closes the door without turning the lock, and immediately turns the shower on to its highest setting as she removes each soggy layer of clothing. She steps in just as the steam is clouding the small room, and when she notices the citrus body wash in the corner, she grabs that one instead of the Irish Spring bottle, knowing that it’s Harry’s.

Just as Harry’s pulled out a tight pair of joggers and his freshly washed soccer sweatshirt, he hears the distinct sound of the door creaking open. When he looks over his shoulder and finds that Nora isn’t peeking her head out from behind, he immediately gulps, knowing that the old door and the hot room caused the hinges to loosen.

As he approaches the door to close it securely, he can’t help but look up and notice Nora’s bare back through the mirror. Luckily he doesn’t see anything else, but still, he finds himself not being able to look away. Her milky skin is slightly red from the hot streams of the shower hitting her back and her blonde hair is sudsy and a part of him hopes that she picked his shampoo instead of Will’s. And when she moves her hair from the nape of her neck, Harry notices four black letters tattooed into her skin, and suddenly he closes the door before he can make out the blackletter script.

He sits on his bed across the room, his elbows resting on his thighs with his head in his hands as he tries his hardest to regulate his breathing. It’s a fucking back for Christ’s sake! Harry’s seen far more amongst other girls, and the fact that her hidden tattoo is causing his heart to beat erratically is giving him a migraine. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley behind that door, and he’s Harry fucking Styles. And he needs to remember that before he embarrasses himself any further.

But when the door finally opens fully and she’s standing there in a tiny towel barely covering her legs and her wet hair framing her blushing face, Harry knows he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley. And she’s standing there naked underneath terry-cloth and he doesn’t try to ignore the fact that his thumping heart and his staggered breathing are all because of her.

“So those, uh, clothes you were talking about…” Nora says awkwardly, staring at the carpeted flooring of his room instead of his face. Because she’s very clearly naked and very clearly uncomfortable, and when Harry points towards Will’s bed where the articles in question are resting, she barely mutters a thank you before the wooden door is shut again and she can finally breathe properly.

When they exchange places, Nora’s grateful that Harry has the decency to bring his change of clothing into the bathroom with him, because if she had to stare at his wet torso, she’s not quite sure she could bear it.

She snoops through his dorm room once she hears the water running, and finds that his side is practically barren. There are no pictures of his family, no personalized anecdotes to distinguish Harry’s side of the room from Willy’s, nothing except a collection of books in the open section underneath his nightstand. She reads through the titles, realizing that Harry does, in fact, have a thing for classic literature.

Just as she’s moved on to Willy’s desk, observing the stoic photograph of him and his parents that must have been taken recently, Harry emerges from the bathroom in comfy sweats and wet curly hair, and Nora looks away before she’s caught admiring his figure.

“What are you looking at?” Harry asks, dropping his wet clothes into his hamper before turning towards Nora’s position against Will’s desk.

When she holds up the frame, Harry looks between the picture and Nora’s face. As Harry studies her expression, noting the way her eyes are clouded with familiarity and a hint of sadness that lingers underneath, he can tell that she knows this family quite well.

So he asks, “You know Will, don’t you?”

“Knew would be the appropriate term,” Nora says quietly, placing the frame back where she found it before leaning her backside on his desk so that she can face Harry properly. “My mom was his nanny.”

Before Harry can comment, Nora quickly adds, “But please don’t tell him that. I don’t want him to think I’ve ruined his reputation or anything.”

“Why?” Harry asks, stepping towards her slowly. When she looks up at him with confusion, he continues, “Why would you let him lie to everybody?”

Nora just shrugs. “He obviously didn’t want anybody to know. But I know the truth, and Willy knows the truth, and he’s the one who has to live with that, not me.”

Harry looks at her from the middle of his room, thinking it’s quite remarkable that her brain works like that. Because Will had embarrassed her clear as day in front of all of his friends, and not only that, he lied, too. Harry thinks that if he hadn’t said those words, and if Alyssa and her friends hadn’t reacted that way, and if he just had a moment to talk to Nora before they had interrupted—maybe things would be completely different.

But Harry doesn’t like to think about what if’s. So instead, he grabs his laptop from his desk and powers it on, laying down on his twin bed in the spot closest to the wall, pulling up his movie library and patting the empty spot on his mattress.

When Nora lays down next to him, her back propped up on his headboard as her left side is flushed with Harry’s right, she asks, “Are we watching your favorite this time?”

Harry grins, shaking his head. “No, I’d rather watch another one of yours.”

Blushing, Nora grabs the computer from his lap and types in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, a classic that she’s sure Harry will enjoy. And when she hands his computer back to him, she tries to ignore the fact that Harry was watching her face instead of the screen.

“Have you seen this?” Nora asks, trying to break Harry out of whatever weird trance he fell into.

“Nope,” Harry admits, balancing his computer in the middle of their thighs so that they can both view the screen properly. Nora tries to ignore the fact that she had to move closer towards him to fill in the gap, but the redness flushing up and down her neck practically gives her away. “Why is it one of your favorites?”

His question is simple in hindsight, but it makes her heart bubble when she realizes that he’s actually interested in the little things about her that seem meaningless. “Well, it’s a classic, and I know that’s sort of your thing,” she says, smiling when she pulls a chuckle from his mouth. “And it’s one of my favorite examples of breaking the fourth wall in a screenplay.”

“What on earth is that?” Harry asks, clicking play once the movie has finished loading.

“It’s sort of like metafiction in literature. Basically, it’s a plot device that scriptwriter’s use when the main character speaks to the audience. Ferris does it, like, all the time.” When Nora realizes that she sounds extremely nerdy divulging scriptwriting plot devices and intricacies about film that nobody really cares about, she shuts her mouth, turning crimson.

Harry doesn’t say anything though, and she’s grateful for it. Because even if he thinks it’s weird and nerdy (which he doesn’t, of course, but he’d never tell her that), he turns his head towards the screen and tries to hide the smile on his face.

And when the opening monologue begins and Ferris is in the shower talking to the camera, Harry whispers into Nora’s ear and asks, “Is that it?” She tries to cover the shiver running through her skin at the feeling of Harry’s lips brushing against her earlobe, but Harry notices it, like he notices everything about her lately. So for good measure, when Ferris breaks the fourth wall again at Cameron’s house, Harry leans over and mumbles, “And this, yeah? This is it, too?”

Nora knows he’s teasing, so when she turns her face in his direction so that Harry can see her rolling her eyes in good humor, he tries to ignore the warmth on his shoulder from where her chin rests.

Around halfway through the movie, Nora finds that she’s suddenly grown tired. She sneaks a peek at Harry and notices that he’s captivated by the movie on the small screen, and she really doesn’t want to interrupt him. After her third stifled yawn, Nora can feel her eyes drooping, and without really thinking, her head falls against the fleshy part of Harry’s bicep. Harry doesn’t say anything, but he does flinch for the shortest of seconds, before looking at her and realizing that she looks far too content dozing off on his arm. So he keeps quiet, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

The next morning, Nora wakes up and finds that she’s not in her room. She also finds that her left cheek is smushed against comfy cotton material that keeps rising and falling steadily. And when she finally comes to, she finds that the comfy cotton material belongs to Harry, and the rising and falling belongs to his chest, and when she notices her right arm wrapped securely around his lower stomach just above the waistband of his joggers where a sliver of warm, tattooed skin lies, she freezes. Before Harry can wake up and go through the same motions she just did, Nora springs up, a stupid decision that results in Harry stirring abruptly.

He seems to have realized the compromising position they were just in, and before Nora can run out of the room in a panic, he mutters, “I’m sorry,” in his incredibly scratchy morning voice and Nora finds that it really doesn’t help matters.

Because Harry Styles in the morning is something special. He looks good in every lighting, if Nora is being brutally honest, but there’s something about his puffy face and swollen lips and crackling voice that makes her appreciate him a little bit more than she probably should in the early hours of the day.

“It’s, uh, my fault. I was the one who fell asleep,” Nora offers lamely, raking her fingers through her matted hair to try and alleviate the awkwardness in the room.

And when Harry mutters, “I didn’t mind” at the same time Nora says, “I should probably go,” they both freeze and look at each other timidly. Harry’s wondering why he doesn’t want her to leave and Nora’s wondering why she wants to wrap her body around his again, and it’s all too much for nine in the morning.

But he’s still looking at her, and she’s still looking at him, and somehow they’ve both landed on solid ground for the first time. Harry’s finding out that he quite likes the look of her burrowed in his soccer sweatshirt and Nora’s discovering that she’s never slept better than when she was lying next to him, and when he asks her if she wants him to save their usual table at the dining hall for breakfast, Nora nods, thinking it’s the greatest idea in the world.

An hour later, after Nora’s gone back to her room to change (begrudgingly) into her own clothes and freshen up, it’s almost second nature when she falls into the seat across from Harry with a steaming plate of waffles and fruit. He has her coffee ready for her just the way she likes it, a splash of cream with one sugar cube, and she can’t help but match the grin covering the lower half of his face.

Even though Nora had the best sleep of her life, and waking up next to Harry was something she wishes she could do over and over and over again—she feels guilty. Because Harry is with Alyssa and Alyssa isn’t here and the whole thing makes her head throb painfully.

So, regretfully, Nora apologizes for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

“Nora, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Please stop apologizing, it’s driving me mad,” Harry jokes, stealing the syrup from her hands and pouring a generous amount over his stack of waffles.

“It’s just—Alyssa’s your girlfriend. And I know she doesn’t necessarily like me, but that still doesn’t make it right to share a bed with you,” Nora explains even though she knows it’s driving Harry crazy.

Harry nods, dropping his silverware against his plate so that his attention is focused solely on the girl across from him. “I know, but as I said earlier, I didn’t mind. If I didn’t want you to stay, I would have said something,” and before he resumes eating, he adds quietly, “It’s not like Alyssa’s really my girlfriend.”

“What do you mean?” Nora asks, noticing the way Harry exhales out of his mouth slowly.

“For all intents and purposes, I guess you could call her that. But it’s really only surface level, because if our parents didn’t summer together every year and force us to be together, it probably never would have happened in the first place. But it did, and we put on this show and everybody thinks we’re this happy little couple. And maybe we were, for a short while. But I haven’t really been the nicest boyfriend to her and she’s strayed on more than one occasion, and it’s all sort of scrambled,” Harry admits, staring at his tray to avoid Nora’s eyes. If he did look up, though, he would have noticed the sadness floating through her eyes and the frown swooping over her lips.

The rumors about Harry flirting with other girls and the occasional sneaky kiss in back corner’s of parties have been brought to Nora’s attention on multiple occasions. And even the ones last spring about Alyssa sneaking out of Carter’s dorm room trickled down to Nora’s group of friends, but she did her best to ignore them. Because she knows better than anyone how the rumor mill works, and even though Alyssa, Carter, and Harry did nothing to help Nora, she still couldn’t bring herself to stoop down to their level.

“Sounds like an incestuous mess to me,” Nora decides to say, trying to bring an air of lightness to the sudden uncomfortable topic of discussion.

It works, and Harry finds himself chuckling loudly across the table. “Yeah, it’s all about labels. Kind of a shitty thing to admit, but I’ve never really loved Alyssa. Can’t say I see that happening in the future, either.” He’s willingly giving Nora information that he hasn’t even told anybody before, and she’s not quite sure what to do with that revelation.

“That’s quite sad,” Nora says softly.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, curious.

“I don’t know. Sounds like you’re just wasting your time, I guess,” Nora pauses and Harry can tell she’s trying to figure out how to phrase her next thought. “Maybe I’ve watched one too many movies, so ignore me if I’m wrong, but being with somebody isn’t supposed to feel like a chore. It should be fun. Exhilarating, even. What you have with Alyssa just sounds—exhausting.”

When Harry’s quiet for a few moments, Nora suddenly realizes that what she had just said was probably completely out of order. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, that was probably rude of me.”

Noticing Nora’s distress, Harry gives her a small smile and just shrugs his shoulders. “You’re not overstepping. You’re probably right, if I’m being honest. But at this point, there’s no use in switching things up.” There’s a brief pause in which Nora breathes out a sigh of relief, reaching towards her coffee and taking a generous sip. Before Harry realizes what he’s saying, he asks her quickly, “Have you ever had that feeling?”

“What feeling?” Nora asks.

Harry grins shyly. “Being with someone and having it be fun and exhilarating.”

Nora nods slowly, thinking about Connor. “I think so. For a little while, at least.”

“What happened?” Harry’s not sure if he’s the one who’s overstepping now. But when he notices Nora’s cheeks blush ever so subtly and her lips quirk up into sentimental half-smile, he suddenly feels an uncomfortable knot form in his stomach. It’s twisting and turning and he’s never had this feeling before—not when he found out Alyssa was sleeping with Carter, not when his parents decided to go to St. Tropez without him, not ever. But with Nora sitting across from him looking wistfully in the distance, Harry’s found that he’s practically consumed with jealousy, and he fucking hates it.

“He moved away, and I had to come back here for school,” Nora explains, breaking out of her daydream and looking back towards Harry. When she notices the unreadable expression on his face, she decides to change the subject. “So, what do you want to do today?”

Harry tries his hardest to forget about Nora’s mystery man for the rest of the day, but he can’t help it. The jealousy is like a seed planted in the depths of his stomach, and he feels it growing and growing inside of him until he’s practically turned green with envy. And he has no fucking idea why it’s bothering him so much.

Hours later, they’re back in Nora’s room for another movie night after a day filled with exchanging their favorite novels and talking about things Harry’s never even discussed with his own friends. Nora chooses Notting Hill, thinking that out of all of the movies in her favorites list, this one has got to be one that Harry’s seen before.

But when he shakes his head when she holds up the plastic DVD cover in his direction, Nora’s mouth is already on the floor and Harry can’t help but laugh at her shocked expression.

“How have you never seen this?! You’re British! You should be ashamed! I’m calling Gordon Brown and asking him to revoke your citizenship,” Nora exclaims, setting up the DVD player and inserting the disc inside the tray. She’s changed into leggings and chose Harry’s soccer sweatshirt over the worn-in Townbridge one she’s owned since freshman year, and Harry feels giddy with pride at the thought of it all.

“I already apologized for it! Give me a break, Priestley!” Harry calls back, amusement lacing his words.

Nora finds herself giggling in response, and once the title screen is displayed on the television, she peeks over her shoulder and finds that Harry is getting himself comfortable on her bed. He’s wearing track bottoms and a cream-colored henley, and when he claims the spot near the wall and burrows underneath the quilt her mother cross-stitched for her last Christmas, Nora can’t wipe the silly grin off her face.

“This movie makes me want to visit London,” Nora admits, pressing play on the remote and walking towards her bed. When Harry opens up the blanket for Nora to slide into, she does so easily, feeling the most comfortable she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, dropping the blanket underneath Nora’s chin and throwing an arm around her shoulder.

Nora surprisingly doesn’t flinch. Instead, she curls closer to his body, resting her chin on the planes of his chest and her hand just below. “Yeah.”

“I think you’d like it,” Harry whispers against the crown of her head just as the opening scene begins.

The first few scenes of the movie pass by in comfortable silence. But just after Hugh Grant meets Julia Roberts in his bookstore, Nora can practically feel Harry’s brain whizzing because he’s thinking too hard. And just when it starts to become distracting, Nora asks, “What’re you thinking about? I can hear your brain churning from here.”

He exhales out a laugh and admits truthfully, “I keep thinking about your exhilarating crush.”

Nora feels stunned all of a sudden, her body freezing against his own. “Why?” she somehow chokes out through her dry throat.

Nora can hear the gulp Harry takes from above. “I dunno. Suppose I’m very interested to know what kind of guy swept Nora Priestley off her feet.”

She sits up with her back to the television, completely ignoring the movie playing behind her. The quilt falls from her shoulders and pools around her waist, and she’s suddenly grateful for the cooler air of her dorm room whipping against her neck, because she’s grown increasingly warm. Harry slides his body up on the bed until his torso is flushed against the headboard, staring at Nora with those green eyes that for the first time, aren’t dull. Instead, they’re almost twinkling in the dim lighting of her room.

His gaze is focused solely on Nora—on the messy fringe falling against her forehead, the gentle slope of her nose, the plushness of her pink lips, the angular curve of her jawline. The way she looks buried in his sweatshirt with the sleeves falling past her fingertips causes his heart to beat loudly inside his chest, and the overwhelming urge to kiss her has never been more prominent before in his life.

“I think I’ve always thought about it,” Harry admits quietly, his eyes never falling from her own. Because if they did move, he would have missed the way her mouth parted slightly, a small inhale slipping down her throat. He would have missed the way her eyes widened almost comically, the blueness reminding him of the sky on a pleasing, clear day. And when he takes all of that into consideration, he comes to the conclusion that Nora Priestley is undoubtedly beautiful, and probably always has been. He’s always just been too stupid to realize it.

“You never said anything,” Nora whispers back, staring at Harry with the same ferocity. “You never say anything.”

Harry nods, “I know.” And when he inches his body closer to hers and notices that she doesn’t back away from him, he adds, “I’m saying it now. Am I too late?”

Nora watches the way Harry leans towards her, his body being held up by his hands that are anchored to the mattress in front of her knees. Even though the movie is still playing from the television behind her, she can’t hear anything except for the accelerated beating of her heart racking against her ribs and pounding against her chest.

He’s so close to her now, the tip of his nose brushing against her own so tactfully that Nora’s not even sure if it’s actually happening. At this proximity, Nora can see inside his eyes and she finds that they’re not as green as she once thought. Instead, they’re almost a turquoise color, with golden hues circling his pupil and when she looks closely, she can see her own face in the reflection. And suddenly, that’s the only answer she needs before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and crashing her lips against his own.

Even though Harry Styles is Nora’s third first kiss, it’s the best one she’s had yet. It’s slow at first, just the gentle pressure of two sets of lips pressing against the other’s. It’s hesitant, timid, nervous, until Harry wraps his arm around Nora’s back, pulling her closer towards him so that their fronts are completely flushed. After that, it’s intense, passionate, frenzied.

His teeth nip at her lower lip until she opens her mouth ever so slightly, allowing his tongue to slip through. Once Nora gets the message, she opens her mouth wider, angling her head to the side so that she can slip her own inside of his mouth, the two fleshy organs tangling together causing a reverberating hum to break from the back of Harry’s throat.

The sounds cause Nora to still, and when she breaks away and notices the dark hue in Harry’s eyes, the exasperated breaths causing his chest to rise and fall sporadically, the bright pinkness of his lips—it’s all Nora needs to push Harry back into his seated position against her headboard, crawling over on her knees until her legs are straddling his hips. She slinks both hands through his wild hair until they connect at the back of his head, and their lips connect for a second time.

This time, Nora’s not shy to let her teeth clink against Harry’s in a mad rush to gain dominance over their kiss. This time, Harry’s not reticent to let his hands roam the expanse of her back, slipping them underneath the bottom of his baggy sweatshirt so that his fingers can dance against her flushed skin without a barrier in between.

Nora’s hands fall from Harry’s hair to his neck, to the chain that rests against the middle of his chest that’s exposed through the unbuttoned part of his henley, all the way down his stomach until her fingers play with the hem of his shirt. When her nails lightly scratch against Harry’s lower stomach where Nora knows the tips of two tattooed ferns lie, he gets the hint and unlocks their lips, reaching his hands over her own and pulling his shirt up and over his head.

Nora sits back on Harry’s thighs, watching how Harry throws his crumpled shirt somewhere on the floor of her dorm room without care. His hair is mussed from a combination of Nora’s fingers and the quick way he removed his henley, and when Nora’s eyes ogle at the two identical swallows underneath his collarbones, the small definition of his chest, the butterfly permanently drawn in the middle of his stomach, to the small trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his track pants—she’s hot all over.

Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and find that he’s suddenly nervous. He’s blinking up at her with an indecipherable expression on his face, and when the hands that rest against her hips start to fall ever so softly, Nora grips the bottom of Harry’s sweatshirt and lifts it over her head, throwing it against the floor.

She’s sitting there, against his hips wearing a simple nude bra, and Harry feels his breath constricting in his throat at the sight of her. Her lips are swollen and her fringe is frizzy and when her teeth sink into her bottom lip and her cheeks begin to flush, Harry’s hands reach behind her neck to bring her down to his face. And just before their lips meet for the third time, he whispers, “You’re beautiful,” against her mouth, sealing it with his own so that she never forgets it.

Nora’s never done this before, but when Harry’s mouth falls to her neck and she accidentally grinds her hips into his own below in surprise, the groan that emits from his throat is practically feral. So, she does it again, her throat hitching when his teeth sink into the fleshy juncture of her shoulder and neck. One of his hands is tangled in her hair, and the other is resting on her hip. But when she grinds into him for the third time, he brings that hand up to the clasp of her bra, removing his lips from her neck and breathing against her mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice sounding more strained than ever before. Nora finds that it’s unquestionably the hottest thing she’s ever heard, and when she brings her hands to rest on his searing chest, her nails scraping against his skin, the whine that falls from his lips might just be hotter.

“Yes,” Nora whispers back, holding her breath when his fingers easily undo the clasp, the straps sliding down her shoulders as the cups covering her breasts begin to fall. When she lowers her arms so that her elbows are no longer bent, the garment falls easily from her body and onto the mattress below.

Cautiously, she looks at Harry and finds that he’s looking into her eyes to make sure that she feels safe with him. The thought alone makes her nerves completely subside, and when she nods ever so slightly, Harry finally lets his eyes fall towards her chest. She watches him as he sits up, bringing his lips to the base of her throat as he places gentle kisses along the expanse of her neck, down to her sternum, until his lips are centimeters away from her breasts. When her fingers tangle into his curly hair, Harry peeks up at her briefly before placing his mouth around her right nipple, his hand softly massaging her left.

Nora’s head falls back and a moan tears through her throat, and it’s the first time that’s ever happened in her life. Harry stills, his lips moving slightly so that he can watch her, and it’s enough to make the bulge in his pants grow until it’s practically unbearable. His tongue continues to move down her body, kissing along the lines on her stomach until his hand moves to rub the fleshy part of Nora’s hips, hesitantly moving towards the front of her body. And when his right hand cups her legging-clad core, Nora’s hands halt in Harry’s hair, and he removes his lips from her body and looks at her.

“I don’t think I’m—” Nora pauses, her confident streak breaking. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t planning on having sex with you,” Harry says softly, bringing his hand up to take a piece of her blonde hair that’s fallen in front of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “We can do something else if you’d like. But the second you’re uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?” He’s never been this patient with somebody before in his life, and somehow Nora can sense that. She’s incredibly grateful for Harry then, and once her breathing has regulated and she’s no longer anxious, she nods, pecking him softly on the lips.

Harry pecks her back once, twice, thrice until cupping his hand back against her front. He rubs her slowly then, and when Nora feels the stickiness from inside her underwear permeate through the thin material, she shudders against his body. His fingers curl into the waistband of her leggings, and after asking her for permission, she lifts her hips and her knees so that he can pull the black material halfway down her legs, leaving Nora in just her simple baby blue underwear.

Harry resumes his ministrations, causing Nora to wrap her arms around his neck, her elbows resting against his shoulders as her body quivers again. And when his fingertips sneak underneath the material, a long finger gently stroking her slit, Nora’s hands use Harry’s hair as an anchor as her forehead rests against his own as she emits a blissful sigh. Just before his finger slides in, he brings his lips against hers so that he can feel her moans hit the back of his throat.

It’s uncomfortable and awkward at first, and when her breath hitches in her throat and her lips break away from Harry’s, he pauses, looking at her with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

Nora looks at him, her hand ruffling his hair tenderly as she shakes her head. Grinning, Harry brings his lips back to hers, resuming pumping his finger inside of her.

After a few strokes, Nora starts to feel her rigid body unraveling, and suddenly she’s matching Harry’s rhythm as she grinds down onto his finger. When his wet thumb starts to circle her swollen mound, another moan rips from her throat, causing their kisses to halt.

“I love that,” Harry whispers against her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his own and beginning to move his hand faster.

The stickiness is accruing inside her underwear and Nora can feel sweat brimming at the nape of her neck. She feels hot to the touch, and when Harry changes his thumb strokes from clockwise to counter-clockwise, a fluttering like no other vibrates through her lower stomach as she whines into his mouth.

“I think you’re close,” Harry says, bringing his hand that isn’t inside of her around her lower back to keep her steady. And when his finger curls and presses against a spongy spot inside of her, Nora feels the fluttering turn into a full-blown explosion, and suddenly her eyes close shut at the ferocity of it all.

Nora stills on top of him, feeling the stickiness begin to coat her inner thighs as a loud moan rips from her throat. Her hands move from Harry’s hair to his shoulder blades, and when she opens her eyes and realizes that her fingernails have carved crescent moons into the flesh, she immediately removes them.

The warmth has gone, and in its place, a numbing sort of calmness. Harry removes his hand from inside her underwear and when he looks up at her and sees her irises blown out and her cheeks pinkened and her lower lip indented by her front teeth, he grins smugly and kisses her softly.

“Alright?” he asks once her eyes have opened fully and she no longer is panting against his cheek.

Nora nods, a bit shy considering she just had her first orgasm and she’s not quite sure what to do next. She looks down and notices the bulge in Harry’s pants, and smiles at him unsurely. “If you tell me what to do, I can, er, help you out?”

Harry smirks, running a gentle hand through her hair and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, babe. Just, uh, give me a mo’. I’ll be right back,” he says softly, placing two hands on her hips and lifting her slowly so that she’s no longer straddling his waist.

When she pulls her leggings back on, the stickiness is far too uncomfortable between her thighs. Harry notices her wiggle on the mattress and chuckles to himself, finding it all too adorable. When he gets up from her bed, shifting his pants so that his erection is less painful, he turns towards Nora before crossing the hall into the communal bathrooms.

“Where do you keep your linens?” Harry asks from his position by her door. Confusedly, Nora points towards the wardrobe near her desk and he opens it slowly, grabbing a folded hand towel and passing it to her. She smiles softly, thanking him before watching him retreat into the hallway.

After Nora’s changed her underwear and put on a pair of sleep shorts, sliding Harry’s sweatshirt back over her body once her skin has cooled down, she gets back under the covers and turns her attention towards Notting Hill. Harry comes in a few minutes later, the front of his pants lacking a distinct bulge. He looks over and notices her lying comfortably in her bed, and when she moves her eyes from the screen to his figure standing in the doorway, a cute grin covers the lower half of her face.

“You coming to bed?” Nora asks, patting the spot on the mattress beside her. With a quick smile, Harry walks towards her, lifting his body over her own so that he can resume his position by the wall. And just as his arms are on either side of her body, his shirt still somewhere on her floor and his pants low on his hips, he sneaks a kiss from her lips before plopping down next to her, wrapping an arm over her shoulders tightly.

“Think we can start this movie over?” Harry asks, playing with the ends of Nora’s hair that falls inside the hood of his sweatshirt.

Nora hits rewind, wondering if it’ll hurt falling asleep with a grin permanently stuck on her face.

The next morning, Nora wakes up feeling far too warm. Her backside is flushed completely with Harry’s front, and he’s spooning her tightly. His arms are wrapped securely around Nora’s stomach and she can feel his breath against the side of her neck in hot spurts, his nose brushing the spot underneath her ear. His curly hair is tickling the sides of her face and his legs are slotted between her own and Nora’s never been so tangled up with somebody else before.

And while it’s comforting, there’s no denying that Harry’s body heat is pervading through her skin, and when she wiggles to try and figure out a way to lower the duvet from underneath her chin, it causes Harry to wake up.

As his eyes flutter open, he subconsciously brings Nora’s body closer to his own, and when he finally does open his eyes fully, he notices how close they’ve gotten in the middle of the night. Harry’s not quite sure how it happened, but somehow being wrapped up with Nora Priestley has caused him to have the best night’s sleep of his entire life.

“Morning,” she whispers, her chin resting on her left shoulder as she peeks at him behind her. Her blue eyes are foggy in the morning and her lips are beautifully swollen, and even though her hair is knotted and her cheeks have red jagged lines from her pillowcase all over them, he can’t help but grin back at her, finding her perfect.

“Hi,” he says back, his voice cracking from lack of use. They both roll over so that their backs are flat on the mattress. And just when Harry’s about to swing his arm over Nora’s shoulder to bring her closer to his body so that they can fall back asleep, his Blackberry rings loudly from the nightstand.

Before he can let it go to voicemail, he reaches around Nora’s body to grab it, gulping when he sees Alyssa’s name across the screen. Apprehensively, he brings the phone to his ear, ignoring the heat of Nora’s gaze against his cheek.

“Hello?” he mumbles halfheartedly.

“Baby! Wake up, sleepyhead! We’ll all be back on campus in, like, two hours. Our flight just landed. When will you get in?” Nails scraping down a chalkboard would be a better sound than the one he just heard through the speaker of his mobile. Because suddenly, his Nora Priestley bubble has popped. Their ten-day vacation has come to an abrupt end, and Harry can feel the panic begin to spread throughout his body.

“Harry? You there?” Alyssa asks, and it’s only then when Harry realizes he’s been deadly silent.

He coughs into his fist uncomfortably, before saying, “Hey, sorry. Uh, sounds good. My flight got in a few hours ago. I’m actually, er, pulling into campus now,” Harry lies. The familiar feeling of shame washes over him, and when he feels Nora slide out of bed beside him, a puzzled look falling across her face, he’s never felt worse in his life.

“Perfect! Can’t wait to see you, baby!” Alyssa squeals, and before Harry can respond, he hangs up the phone, tossing it purposelessly against the end of her bed.

It’s silent between the two, and not the sort of comfortable silence that they’ve grown accustomed to with each other. Instead, it’s heavy, weighing them both down until they feel fatigued under the burden of it all.

Nora knows deep down that this is it. The Harry she’s grown to adore the past ten days is no longer there. In its place is the cold, disheartening, lifeless Harry that she’s hated ever since he casted her out during the First Year Mixer almost four years ago. Just like with Connor, her romance with Harry is fleeting. It has an expiration date. And sadly, they’ve reached their end.

He doesn’t say much, and she doesn’t expect him to. He’s clearly tormented by all of this, getting out of her bed ploddingly as he scans the floor for his clothing from the night before. He’s distracted as he puts on his wrinkled Henley, slides on his boots without tying them, slips his arms inside his trench coat, and places everything else he can try to remember inside the pockets. And just before he leaves her room, he stops and turns, looking at her with those dull, green eyes from before.

This is it, Nora thinks, watching the way his eyes fall from her face towards his big sweatshirt on her body to her long legs hidden underneath her tiny sleep shorts. He’s going to apologize. He’s going to come back to bed. He’s going to—

“Can I have my jumper back?” Nora feels as if she’s just been kicked in the chest, air ripping from her lungs and falling into the space between her and Harry. She’s never felt so small in her life. And when his eyes are still dull and his foot begins to tap impatiently and he looks as if he’s about to burst, Nora knows this is truly it. The Harry she knows is officially gone.

Or maybe this is who Harry really is. And the version she got was just a figment of her imagination, an imposter Harry, a Harry that only existed within the ten days of Holiday break inside an empty Townbridge Academy.

With shaking hands, Nora rips the sweatshirt off her body, ignoring the fact that she’s only wearing a sports bra below. She flings the material at Harry’s chest, and she hopes that it diverts his attention from her trembling lips and tear-filled eyes.

He sees everything, though. And without another word, he pivots on his foot, his back towards Nora as he enters the hallway and closes her door tightly, trying his hardest to ignore the sound of her crying through the heavy oak.

Nora should have expected it, in hindsight. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

This time around, it’s not like Carter Donnelly. Instead of spreading rumors to their classmates, Harry says nothing—not even a lie to his friends, not even a subtle brag about how he was the first person to ever see Nora Priestley come undone—nothing. He keeps quiet, barely looks at her, and goes about his life the way he always has—as Townbridge’s Golden Boy, the prodigal son, who always gets whatever he wants.

And that’s what hurt the most.

Harry has enough pressure in his life—pressure from his father, pressure from his friends, pressure from fucking everybody who looks his way. It’s enough to break somebody in half, so succumbing to both is easier than fighting them.

So when his friends come back to campus and resume their lives the way they always have, Harry can’t help but follow suit. Because telling them that he spent the past ten days with Nora Priestley is simply not an option, even if they were the best ten days he’s ever had. And it’s a heartbreaking realization, because even though Harry doesn’t really care for his friends that much, he still doesn’t want to disappoint them.

Whenever he passes by Nora in the hallway, he doesn’t bother looking in her direction. When he can feel her gaze on his back in AP English, he doesn’t turn around. And when he sees her sitting at the table in the dining hall that they deemed their own for ten days, he doesn’t say anything. He just feels his heart freezing over until it’s an icy block inside of his chest.

And when he’s taking pictures with Alyssa at prom and notices Nora’s pretty blue dress that makes her eyes shine, he almost feels the ice crack. But then she looks at him, for only the briefest of moments, and in that minuscule period of time, he can see the disappointment and anger in her eyes, and it’s enough to make the ice harden.

Harry tries to convince himself that when he’s standing on stage with Alyssa with a plastic crown on his head, he doesn’t notice a flurry of blue exit through the front door. Because when he looks out in the crowd and sees an empty spot near Lydia and Margot that Nora once filled, he knows for sure that the flurry of blue was her. And halfway through his dance with Alyssa, when he’s looking at her strawberry-blonde hair and hazel eyes and makeup-filled face and expensive purple dress, Harry feels empty inside. Because he doesn’t want this anymore. He doesn’t want to be around her or his shitty friends anymore.

So he leaves.

But it’s too late—of course it’s too late. Because second chances don’t come to people like Harry, and it’s in Nora’s best interest for him to leave her alone. He’s caused enough hurt in her life, he’s done enough irreparable damage to last a lifetime.

During graduation, Harry tries his best to not look two rows ahead of him and stare at Nora in her red cap and gown. And when her name is called, he tries to ignore the singular cheer from the back of the Great Hall, the cacophonous finger whistle echoing off the walls following shortly after. He wonders if he’s the only person who can see the glimmer of pride in Nora’s eyes when she locates her mother in the back of the room. And when Alyssa scoffs under her breath from the row behind him, muttering a, “How fucking embarrassing,” to her friends, Harry turns around and tells her to fuck off.

As he’s stoically taking pictures with his mother and father in the quad after the ceremony, he sees Nora and her mother in his periphery. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than when she’s smiling with her mom, clinging to her so that they can share this moment together. And when he notices her mother’s matching blue eyes filled with pride, he looks at his own set of parents and wonders if they’ve ever looked at him like that before.

It’s almost enough to make the ice melt. But then his father is taking a business call and his mother is whisked away to talk about society functions with Alyssa’s mom, and Harry’s left standing there completely and utterly alone.

“That boy’s looking at you, Nora,” her mother says, eyes falling on somebody over Nora’s shoulder. “Do you know him?”

When Nora turns around and sees Harry standing there, green eyes full of hope and yearning and wonder, she doesn’t spare him a second look. Her head whips around just as quickly, looking at her mother with a small shake of her head.

“Nope, I don’t know him at all,” Nora says, meaning every word.

And when she drives away from Townbridge for the final time, she’s suddenly brimming with happiness at the fact that she’ll never have to see those people again. And more importantly, she’ll never have to see Harry Styles for as long as she lives.

*** A/N: When I started writing Fade, it sort of ended up playing out in three acts. So with that, this is officially the end of Act One (and officially my favorite chapter of the entire high school years.) Let me know your thoughts and predictions, my inbox is always open for those who want to scream at me. It’s probably going to happen a lot with this story. 

To make room for editing and ensuring I have enough written ahead of time for Act Two to keep with the weekly update schedule, (and because I sort of like the idea of separating things into acts because I’m annoying like that) I’ll be taking a week to sort everything out. Therefore, the next chapter and start of Act Two will be posted on Friday, March 12th. Until then, stay safe and be kind! x

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[thearvariblues]

A Valentine’s Day Non-Date (AKA Lambert Was Fucking Right)

Because it’s Valentine’s Day and even though I definitely don’t celebrate it, I still got this funny little idea that simply refused to go away until I write it down. So... Yeah. Enjoy the Witcher boys and their Valentine’s Day non-date!

*

“It’s just… So unfair!” Jaskier whines, downing his glass of wine and holding it out to be refilled.

“Yeah, I know. I know,” Geralt murmurs, turns the bottle upside down and frowns confusedly when only a drop falls out. “Fuck. Are we out again?”

“Looks like it,” Jaskier nods solemnly. “Ugh, it’s probably for the best. I think I’m a little drunk, Geralt.”

“No shit,” Geralt chuckles.

“You don’t understand. I’m just… I’m a very romantic person, you know?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it romantic–”

“But I am! And it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow and I’m not gonna have a date for the first time in years!”

“Good. Valentine’s Day is bullshit, anyway,” Geralt mutters. “That’s your biggest problem?”

“Is it not enough?!”

“Boo fucking hoo. Look at me. I’m single too, you know?”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Good. Because I am! I’m almost forty, I got a divorce last year, and I’m so fucking broke I can’t even get my own apartment and have to have a thirty-year-old–”

“Excuse me? I’m twenty-nine, you asshole, I’m nowhere near being a coffin dodger like you, thank you very much!”

“Yeah, whatever. When’s your birthday again? I’ll buy you a cane.”

“See? I’m single and old! I’ll spend the rest of my life all alone, die alone and then I’m gonna be eaten by my cats.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“I will. Because I’m gonna turn into a little old cat lady!”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, because I won’t be able to afford an apartment on my own anytime soon,” Geralt laughs. “I’m just gonna keep living with a twenty-nine-year-old roommate who plays in a semi-famous local band, fucks everything that moves, steals my gaming laptop to play Sims and serenades my ass when he’s bored.”

“It’s a gorgeous ass,” Jaskier smiles dreamily. “So perfectly round and firm…”

“Oh, fuck off, Jask,” Geralt chuckles.

“You know what we should do tomorrow?” Jaskier frowns, thinking. “We should go on a non-date together!”

“Non-what?”

“Non-date! Like a date, but like… as friends. Because we are. Friends.”

“You wanna go on a date that’s not a date… On Valentine’s Day.”

“You said it was bullshit, didn’t you? So what’s a bigger fuck you to the day than going for a friendly dinner with your roommate slash friend?”

Geralt sighs, closing his eyes. The world is beginning to spin a little.

“Just for the record, if I refuse to go,” he mutters, “are you gonna spend the whole evening drinking, crying, listening to terrible pop love songs and, well, being all miserable?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m in.”

Geralt opens is eyes just in time to see Jaskier grinning at him.

“Are you? Oh, Geralt! I promise it’s gonna be the best non-date you’ve ever been on!”

And then Jaskier wraps his arms around Geralt and kisses him on the cheek and Geralt knows he’s just made a horrible mistake.

*

“You,” Lambert says when he finally stops laughing, “are a fucking idiot, Wolf.”

“I know,” Geralt sighs, hiding his face in his hands. “It’s a horrible idea.”

“What, to go on a date–”

“A non-date.”

“Even worse. To go on a non-date with a roommate you’ve been madly in love with for the past eight months, on a fucking Valentine’s, knowing he’s not even gonna fuck you when you get back home – because, let’s face it, getting laid is the reason why people really go to those pretentious dinners… That’s incredibly stupid even for you!”

“You’re right. I’ll just cancel it.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s stupid!”

“It is, but you can’t do that to poor Jaskier, can you? And who knows, maybe you will get laid in the end.”

“That’s bullshit, Lambert,” Geralt sighs.

“Is it? I don’t know. He likes sex, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but he’s my roommate, for fuck’s sake!” Geralt shakes his head. “What about you? How are you spending Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh, we’re gonna stay at home. Aiden’s bought a new strap and he refuses to show me, so there’s no way in hell I’m gonna wait for a whole fucking dinner.”

“Patience is a virtue, you know?” Geralt chuckles just as Lambert’s boyfriend places two cups of coffee on the coffee table in front of them. “Thanks, Aiden.”

“You’re welcome,” Aiden smiles. “And don’t listen to the asshole. He’s the one who started it. He said he bought me something special for Valentine’s Day and then he refused to tell me what it was. This is just a little revenge.”

“What did you buy?” Geralt asks, turning to Lambert.

“An engagement ring,” Lambert shrugs, smiling.

“See?” Aiden smirks. “Every time I ask him, he just thinks of another stupid thing he could give me. I’ve heard like fifty of those already, from lace lingerie to a puppy. This one’s probably the best yet, though. As if you’d ever propose, you bitch.”

He slaps Lambert on the head playfully and returns to the kitchen.

Geralt raises an eyebrow questioningly and taps his left ring finger.

Lambert smiles and nods.

For real? Geralt mouths silently.

Lambert just nods again.

“Well, fuck,” Geralt chuckles.

“Yeah, well. At least one of us is gonna get laid tonight, right?” Lambert laughs.

“What are you wearing, anyway?” Aiden asks, coming back with his own cup of coffee.

“Oh, you know, the usual. It’s not a date, remember?” Geralt shrugs.

“So, black jeans, black shirt, that wolf medallion of yours… Poor Jaskier,” Aiden nods.

“More like poor me,” Geralt sighs. “I don’t even want to know what he is going to wear…”

*

The answer is purple jeans, white shirt, a dark grey waistcoat, an excessive amount of silver rings… and dark red lipstick.

Geralt nearly faints when he sees Jaskier for the first time, and then every single time he looks at him.

Jaskier looks simply beautiful, more beautiful than Geralt has ever seen him, and Geralt simply cannot take it. It wasn’t just a stupid idea, it was a completely idiotic idea, and the only thing that keeps him from running away is the fact that he’s doing it to keep Jaskier from being sad.

He’s near oblivious to everything that happens during the dinner except the parts which directly involve Jaskier. That’s why he, when asked later, has no idea what he was even eating but can easily describe the way a stray drop of red wine stained Jaskier’s lower lip.

No matter what he tries to tell himself, it’s not a dinner between two friends – at least for him it isn’t. It’s a date. The only date he will ever have with Jaskier, probably.

And perhaps that’s the reason why, when the door of their apartment closes behind them and Jaskier smiles at him and thanks him for the dinner and says that it was the loveliest evening he’s had in months, Geralt does the one unthinkable thing he just can’t stop thinking of – he grabs the back of Jaskier neck to bring him closer and then simply kisses him.

He feels Jaskier hesitate and he’s nearly sure he’s royally fucked up just now, but then Jaskier sighs and wraps his arms around Geralt and kisses him back…

And that’s the point when Geralt stops thinking at all.

*

“Well, that was… unexpected,” Jaskier chuckles into Geralt’s hair.

“Mhm,” Geralt smiles and snuggles up closer to him. He feels light-headed, perfectly fucked out, content… happy.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Jaskier continues, his fingers drawing lazy circles on Geralt’s skin. “Melitele’s tits, it was even better than I imagined.”

That makes Geralt lift his head and look into Jaskier’s eyes.

“You imagined it?” he asks.

“You really have no idea how hot you are, do you?” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, Geralt. The serenades to your ass were no joke. I just never thought you’d be interested.”

“Interested? Jaskier, I’ve been in love with you since… Fuck,” Geralt whines and buries his head in Jaskier’s shoulder. “Forget I said that. Please, forget I said that.”

“Never,” Jaskier says, wrapping his arms around Geralt. “I love you too, you big moron.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Jaskier murmurs as Geralt lifts his head again.

“So…” Geralt says, licking his lips. “I guess it’s safe to say the non-date didn’t go very well, did it?”

“Quite the opposite, dear heart,” Jaskier grins. “I’d say it went splendidly.”

“I thought the point of a non-date was to have a nice dinner and stay… friends.”

“But you are still my friend, Geralt. My best friend,” Jaskier smiles and runs his fingers through Geralt’s white hair. “You just happen to be my lover now, too.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna be serenading me much more often from now on?”

“Absolutely.”

Geralt chuckles, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s.

“All right. I guess I can live with that…”

[sassanoe]

His Present, Her Future

Thomas Sharpe

Masterlist  [2]

Thomas Sharpe was a brilliant man, who with his sister, was leading a horrible life. What do they do when a girl from the future comes to the past. Working on a teleporter is all she was doing, a little tinkering, the portal opened with a wormhole. Sucking the young inventor in along with some of her stuff from the lab, she screamed, reaching for her older brother. "Daniel!"

The same portal opened in Allerdale Hall, in front of Lucille and Thomas Sharpe, with his wife, Edith Cushing. They all were shocked when a woman was on their floor when it closed with things around her. The woman slowly sat up, looking around, when she saw the three, her brows furrowed. "I am not in 2021 anymore." She got up and dusted her lab coat off.

"Who are you, and where did you come from?" The older woman asked. Walking towards the small group, she held her hand out. "Aurora Banks, a pleasure to meet you." She smiled brightly. "As well I come from the future. A future I need to get back to." When no one shook her hand, she put it back down, a little uncomfortable now. The other younger woman stepped forward first, "Edith Cushing, or well, Edith Sharpe now. My husband, Thomas, and his sister Lucille." Aurora smiled, taking notice of the twitch Lucille had, "Lovely to meet you, Edith, Thomas, and Lucille."

"When will you be leaving?" Lucille asked, "Well, hopefully soon, that is if my brother fixes my time machine, though being honest, it will more than likely be a moment." Lucille rolled her eyes and left. Watching this Thomas boy run after her. "Lucille!" He called. Aurora looked to Edith, "So, what now?" Edith smiled and took her hand, asking many questions, most of her answers being, "I don't believe I should answer that."

Later the same evening, Aurora was sitting in Thomas's chair in his little work area, working on her phone and watch. Thomas came in quietly when the watch sparks, "Shit!" She jumped up, holding her wrist. "Fucking piece of shit, watch! Why did I ever fucking make you!" She growled at the watch as she shook her hand out. His eyes widened slightly, such a vulgar mouth for a woman. She huffed and took her lab coat off, revealing a long-sleeve off the shoulder white crop-top with high-waisted jeans and knee-high boots. Thomas looked her attire over, amazed at what she had on.

She took a deep breath in, "What would Daniel do? Hey Google, play that's how you know from the enchanted soundtrack." When the song came on, she smiled, getting back to work singing softly. Thomas was shocked at the small device having the sound come out of it, "How do you know he loves you? How do you know he's yours? Well, does he leave a little note to tell you, you are on his mind? Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey? Hey, he'll find a new way to show you a little bit every day, that's how you know, that's how you know, he's your love..."

She did a small spin then screamed, falling to the floor when she saw Thomas. "Good god! How long have you been standing there! That is so fucking weird!" "I didn't mean to startle you. I apologize." He held his hand out to help her up. She took it, standing, glaring at him slightly. "So, did you need something? Judging by how your sister speaks to me, I'm trying to leave and quick." At that, he frowned, "I apologize for my sister. She shouldn't have been so cold." "Yeah, she seems to not like other women." Aurora sassed. "She doesn't." He sighed. 

Sitting back down, she got back to work as Thomas stood behind her asking questions. The two slowly got closer, spending the rest of the evening together laughing and smiling until Lucille came in. "Thomas, I have been looking everywhere for you." She huffed, walking over to him quickly and pulling him to her. Thomas looked to Aurora, worried slightly. "I've been helping Aurora with her things, such as what she calls her phone." he said softly, "Oh, I could also help with your machine that is digging clay." He smiled brightly, and he broke away from his sister. 

"Really? How? What do you think would help?" He immediately started firing off questions. Aurora giggled, taking his hand pulling him closer. She showed him her ideas she sketched out in his journal. "I apologize for using your journal without asking. I just needed to draw and write things down before I forgot." He shook his head, smiling, "It is no issue. It's truly fascinating how you know so much for a woman." She glared at him slightly and hit his chest. "Where I'm from, those are fighting words." She joked, "I-I didn't mean them as an insult. I'm truly sorry-" He rushed out, making her smile, "Thomas, I'm joking with you."

Lucille glared at the two before storming downstairs to Edith. "Edith, I think she is trying to steal Thomas from you." Edith laughed lightly, "I'm sure she isn't. I'm sure he is just excited to have someone who likes inventing like him." Edith brushed it off. An hour later, Aurora and Thomas came down. Thomas leads her to a room for the night, "I bid you goodnight, Aurora." He kissed her hand, making the young woman blush. "Good night, Thomas." She smiled and closed the bedroom door.

Thomas went to Edith and Lucille. "I showed her a room for the night." "How kind, Thomas." Lucille snapped. Edith smiled at her husband. "I will be heading to bed, Thomas." Edith got up and kissed his cheek before going to her room. Lucille took Thomas's hand, leading him to the attic. Pushing him onto the bed, she climbed into his lap. "You love me, right?" "Yes, of course." "Good." She kissed him, pushing him back.

The next morning Thomas and Lucille came downstairs from the attic. When they got to the main entrance, they saw Aurora coming back in. "Is she wearing your clothes?" Lucille asked, her voice sounding more like a growl. Thomas looked Aurora over, not minding the outfit. She had one of his button-ups on but not buttoned all the way, revealing something covering her breast, his overalls, pants, and a pair of Edith's shoes on. Her hair was up, messily. "She looks like a tramp." Lucille huffed.

Aurora looked up, hearing a voice, "Oh, Thomas!" She smiled brightly up at the man. "I had a look at your machine. Come! Come!" She waved him over, he smiled, rushing down the stairs. "Thomas!" Lucille snapped. He stopped and looked back, but Aurora took his hand and dragged him outside. "Ignore her, come on." Once outdoors, Aurora looked at him and found hickey's on his neck. "Thomas!" She smacked his arm playfully, "You got some!" She laughed, "I beg your pardon." "You got laid?" He still looked confused, "You had sex, fucked someone, what do you want me to say made love?" He looked away, "What? Is it that bad?" He opened his mouth then closed it.

"Thomas, what's wrong?" She asked, immediately concerned. "Is it Lucille?" He wouldn't look at her, and she furrowed her brows. Edith wasn't up yet, her room was next to Aurora's, and Thomas came from upstairs with Lucille. "Oh my god. You fucked Lucille?" She whispered to him. He snapped his head to her, shocked, "How did you?" "Edith isn't up yet, and I would have heard her moans as my room is next to hers." Thomas looked ashamed, and it clicked. "You didn't want to..." Aurora said softly.

Over the next few weeks, she was closer to finishing her teleporter, and Thomas had confided in her. The two attached at the hip, Lucille hated it.

Lucille had been storming the grounds looking for him, "Thomas!" She screamed. Thomas and Aurora were in the attic, working away from Lucille. "So this is how people communicate in the future?" Aurora hummed, continuing to work as he leaned over her shoulder. When she looks up to speak to him, she stopped staring into his eyes, not realizing he was this close. Both stared at each other for a few seconds, when Thomas started to lean closer, "May I kiss you?" His lips brushed against hers as he whispered, "I would be insulted if you didn't." She responded before he kissed her deeply. She stood, pulling him closer. He was quick to walk them backward until he sat on the bed, pulling her onto his lap.

He broke away from the kiss, "Are you sure about this?" She panted, "Yes, that is if you want to still." He grinned and kissed her as his answer. The two quickly work to remove her top. She sat before him now in her bra, and immediately she pulled at his shirt. "Off." She huffed and bit at his neck, pushing up against him. He groaned, quickly pulling off his button-up. "Thomas..." She panted when he started to bite at her neck, "Thomas!" Both froze, "L-Lucille." Aurora didn't move, nor did Thomas. "You slut!" She screamed at Aurora, coming towards the two with a knife making them jump up and move away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" She screamed at Lucille, backing away. Thomas quickly stood in front of her, "Lucille, leave her alone." "Why so you can fuck her too behind my back!" She sneered. Aurora tried to step past Thomas, but he pushed her back slightly, slowly walking to Lucille. "Lucille, calm down." He said softly, but Lucille stabbed him, shoving him to the side. "Thomas!" Aurora yelled before going after Lucille and tackling her to the ground. Lucille slashed at her cutting her cheek and arm. Aurora quickly got the upper hand and straddled her, pinning her hands to the ground, letting her struggle and wiggle. She squeezed her wrist until she let go of the knife before quickly holding both wrists in one hand. After hitting her once, she let go of her wrist, using both fists to hit Lucille till she was knocked out cold and bloody.

Aurora stood huffing and bleeding before rushing over to Thomas to check over his wound, "Hey, you're okay." She said softly, leaving soft kisses over his face. Quickly she went and grabbed his shirt, ripping it, and tying it on his arm. "It's small. You'll be okay." She kept her words soft then started to look over the room. When she found a rope, she quickly put Lucille in the chair and tied her to it. She got Thomas up and left the room. "You fought her." He said, confused. "I wasn't gonna let her get away with hurting you," Aurora said with a huff. When they got to his room, she went into the bathroom and got stuff to clean his wound.

"I love you." He said when she came back. She smiled sadly, sitting next to him. "I love you too, but Thomas, this is your present. I don't belong here. You'll find someone else to love just as much, maybe even more." He frowned, "Why can't you just stay, or I go with you?" She gently cupped his cheek, "Thomas, you're needed here with Edith, and my brother needs me. We have responsibilities." She spoke as if talking to a child. "Then we can run away from here." She kissed him gently, "No, running." She patched him up, then crawling into his lap and clinging to him. "I'll miss you." She said softly.

He tilted her chin and kissed her, "May I have you for tonight?" He asked softly, "Yes." She said back. The two slowed down, being sweet and soft, watching out for the other's wounds. The next morning she awoke before him, getting dressed quickly in the clothes she came in and going over to his desk. She wrote him a letter and kissed it, spraying a bit of her perfume on it. She went back upstairs, grabbing her things from his workspace and the attic. Lucille was still out cold.

Quickly making her way back downstairs to his room, she came in as he slowly woke, "Aurora?" "Good-bye, Thomas." She kissed him one final time. He pulled her closer, and she broke this kiss. Quickly she left the room. It took him a second to process what she said before quickly pulling on pants and a top chasing after her. She didn't tell him she had found a way home days ago. She didn't want to leave him, but she had to.

When he came to the stairs, she had opened the portal. "You can't leave me!" He yelled, trying to get to her, he ran faster. When she started to walk through, he pulled her back, kissing her passionately. "Please don't, don't leave." He clung to her. "Thomas, this is the best for both of us." She said softly. "I'll find a way to you." He said quickly, "I have no doubt you will see me again." She kissed him again before pushing away, looking at him one last time. "I love you." Right as she stepped through, "I love you too." He said.

She was gone, never for him to see her again. Going back to his bedroom, he found the letter.

Dear Thomas,

I'm writing this to tell you that I love you. You're my first thought in the morning, and I hold you in my last breath in the evening. I need you more and more each day, like an addiction of some sort. It's an addiction I would never want to fix. You listened when I sobbed, and you watched me when I laughed. But, most importantly, you were accepting of a girl out of time. For this, you worked wonders. I'd never looked for a relationship or love. It simply fell into my lap. I'd never change anything. I'm glad you were my first love. So thank you for showing me love and allowing me to show you what love is, not the twisted kind of love your sister showed you. Now, you must be strong and help Edith. I hope you live a long life, have lots of kids, and are happy. Maybe, one day we will meet again.

Love,

       Aurora

Should I do a part two? If you think I should leave a comment I'll tag you in it.

[phantasticworks]

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)

hi guys! so it occurred to me that i completely forgot to post the newest part of my new fic on tumblr when i posted it to ao3 the other day so here it is! I hope you guys enjoy this one! I've had a lot of fun working on it!

read on ao3

Words: 18.9k

Summary: Dan and Phil continue their arrangement, but are things changing?

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, light angst

“We should go Christmas shopping,” Phil announces one afternoon. They were laying in his bed after giving each other blowjobs, and Dan was half-asleep.

“Mmf,” Dan huffs. It’s not exactly an answer. It’s not even really a response.

“Dan,” Phil whines, prodding his chest. “C’mon, it would be fun. We could go into town, get a festive drink, let the spirit of Christmas enter us.”

Dan cracks one eye open at that, giving Phil a smirk. “I don’t think I want the spirit of Christmas to be the one entering me tonight,” he says, his voice smooth.

Phil breaks out into a very predictable blush, but it’s still one of the cutest things Dan’s ever seen. “Dan!” he nearly screeches, swatting at him.

“What?” Dan cackles.

“That’s awful!” Phil shakes his head like he’s disappointed, but his eyes have gone a little wide, and Dan knows he’s thinking about what Dan has just suggested.

It’s the one thing they hadn’t yet done together. They’ve fooled around in every other possible way, but penetration has just been off the table. Until now.

“Do you want to?” Dan asks after he’s done laughing. His voice is unintentionally small. It’s not like he’s particularly nervous about this particular sex act; he’s fucked and been fucked before, but never by someone he cares this deeply for. And the part that hurts the most is that they aren’t even like that, not really.

He watches as Phil swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the pale skin of his neck. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath. He glances at Dan quickly, like he hadn’t mean to say it at all. “I mean- God, yeah, of course I want to,” he says.

Dan smiles, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over Phil’s, as if they didn’t just have sex half an hour ago. “I’d let you, if you want,” he murmurs, trying for seductive. He’s not sure he’s really hit the target in his tone, but Phil swallows again, and he reckons he’s close enough.

“We should go out for dinner,” Phil blurts suddenly.

Dan pulls away a little, blinking at him. “Er… okay?”

“Yeah, we should go eat dinner, and then do some shopping, yeah?” Phil sounds nervous, and Dan can’t for the life of him figure out why. They have dinner together all the time nowadays. In fact, almost every time they see each other they wind up sharing a meal somewhere. It’s not usually at a restaurant, he concedes, the both of them horrible introverts who would much rather be inside the comfort of one of their flats, but still, it has happened.

“Sure,” Dan agrees easily. If he’s honest, dinner is the last thing on his mind.

If he can’t have Phil in the real way, in the way he so desperately wants, then he’ll take this: casual sex and friendship, until Phil no longer has a use for him. The fact that all of this has an expiration date tears at the tattered threads of Dan’s heart more and more each day, but it’s a pain he’s learning to cope with nonetheless.

He’s so deep in his own thoughts that he barely notices when Phil climbs out of the bed and makes his way to his closet. “Um, what are you doing?” Dan asks stupidly when he sees Phil pulling out what looks to be a nicer outfit.

Phil turns and gives him a look like he is stupid. “We have to get dressed if we’re going out!” he says, like it’s obvious.

“We’re going out tonight?” Dan squawks, still mostly naked and covered in slowly-drying bodily fluids.

“Yes,” Phil says, voice full of exasperation. “Go on, go take a shower, I’ll pick something out for you.” He sounds excited, but Dan can’t help but be weary.

“Phil…” He starts.

“No, no!” Phil protests. “Just go, I promise it’ll be good, I won’t pick anything you wouldn’t wear yourself!” It’s probably an empty promise, but his bright eyes and the way he dances on the balls of his feet have Dan convinced.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in. He stands to go jump in the shower, and he doesn’t miss the way Phil takes a long look at his body. “But I swear to god if you try to put me in color, I’m gonna actually kill you.”

“Fine, whatever,” Phil says, waving him off. “Go, go shower, smelly boy. Your fairy godmother needs some space to think about your outfit.”

Dan feels a tug in his chest when Phil smiles at him. He can’t help but step close and kiss him, just once, to dull the pain a little. “You’re on thin ice,” he whispers, his lips still a breath away from Phil’s.

“You have semen in your hair,” Phil murmurs back, pecking his lips.

Dan flips him off as he stomps off to the shower.

~~~

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dan says nearly half an hour later, staring at the clothes Phil has so charitably laid out for him. The jeans are fine, black skinnies with rips new enough that he knows Phil hardly wears them. His problem lies entirely with the sweater.

The red, sparkly sweater.

“What?” Phil asks, voice pitched high in false confusion. “It’s nice!”

“I’m not wearing that,” Dan says vehemently.

“But Dan, it’s Christmas! Red is a very Christmassy color!”

“Red is Christmassy,” Dan spits. “This is- that’s fucking-“

“I call it ‘ladybird chic’,” Phil says, unhelpfully.

Dan turns, very slowly, to glare at him. “Absolutely not.”

Phil pouts. “It’ll look really good if I take any photos this evening.”

Dan swears under his breath. Stupid Phil with his stupid soft, kissable lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow. “I’m wearing a coat over it,” he says haughtily.

Phil grins proudly. “Of course,” he nods. “It’s not exactly my warmest sweater, and I don’t want you to get cold.”

Something about that makes Dan’s stomach twist sharply, a feeling he can’t name taking up all the space in his chest as he watches Phil search for a coat. He makes it so hard, sometimes, to not confess that he’s in love with him. Dan isn’t too stupid to think he’ll let himself go that far- he does have some dignity- but god Phil makes it hard.

“Will this work?” Phil asks, returning with a simple but warm-looking black coat.

Dan nods, taking it from him and setting it on the bed next to the outfit. “Thanks,” he says, his voice soft.

Phil smiles at him when he glances up. “No problem,” he says warmly, leaning in and planting a kiss on Dan’s temple. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving Dan with the lingering feeling of lips and warmth.

~~~

Phil looks amazing.

That’s probably the understatement of the year, Dan thinks, but he’s at a loss for words when Phil steps into the lounge, fully dressed.

He’s got black skinny jeans on as usual, but he’s gone for a really nice grey sweater and his glasses, something Dan is always, always enamored with. He figures he’s probably fully staring at him, but Phil doesn’t seem to mind, so Dan sees no reason why he should look away. In fact, Phil seems to like it, if his smirk is anything to go by.

“Ready to go?” He asks, completely ignoring the way Dan is practically undressing him with his eyes.

“Sure,” Dan says, his voice coming out a little garbled. He clears his throat, flushing. “Let’s go.”

~~~

They end up at an Italian place, one that Dan’s never been to. It’s nice, nicer than he expected when Phil suggested they go out to dinner. It almost feels like a date, if Dan lets himself think too much about it. But he knows better than that, so of course he doesn’t let himself think about it at all.

Instead, he convinces Phil to order wine.

“Come on, I’m almost done with classes, and it’s a Friday. Shouldn’t we celebrate the end of the week?” Dan says, batting his eyelashes to really sell it. The truth is he doesn’t think he can keep his mind from drifting off into romance land if he’s not at least slightly inebriated.

Phil sighs, but nods. “Fine.” He gestures for the waitress to come back over, then points to something on the wine menu. “We’ll each do a glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” he says, tapping the name.

The waitress nods before disappearing, and Dan watches Phil as he fiddles with the menu, biting his lip in thought. “You sounded like some proper wine connoisseur, just then,” Dan says mildly, glancing over his own menu. He already knows he’s likely to get the same thing he always does at Italian restaurants, but he feels weird staring at Phil when he isn’t looking back.

Phil snorts. “Not hardly,” Phil says dryly. “Cabernet‘s just the happy medium.”

Dan tilts his head at that. “How so?” He asks.

Phil glances up at him, and his lips twitch into a smile. “Well, you like wine that’s bitter, and I like sweeter wine. You always order something with mushrooms when we do Italian, and I usually do some type of tomato-sauce pasta, so...” The waitress returns then with the bottle of wine, and Phil smiles at her. “So Cabernet is the happy medium for us.”

Dan blinks at him. Phil asks the waitress a question about something on the menu, looking completely casual, as if he didn’t just send Dan’s heart spinning. As if they just know each other that well- just fit together that well, without ever even acknowledging it.

He’s still lost in thought when the waitress turns to him with a smile. “And for you, sir?” She asks.

Dan shakes his head in an effort to clear it. “Uhh...” His mind is cloudy at the moment, and he can’t really see the menu.

“They have the mushroom risotto you like,” Phil says softly. “Is that okay?”

Dan nods dumbly. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “That’s fine, thanks.”

The waitress nods, taking their menus before leaving the table. It’s quiet then, and Dan jumps a little when he feels Phil’s foot brush against his. “Sorry,” Phil says, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Dan nods. It’s not a lie, exactly. He thinks maybe he is okay, but everything feels stilted and weird now, and the traitorous, lonely part of his brain is trying to convince him that this- this thing between him and Phil- means more than it does. “I’m fine,” he says quickly, nodding again. “Just tired, I guess.”

A brief flash of something like disbelief flashes across Phil’s face, but it’s gone in a blink. “We can just go back home after dinner, if you don’t feel like shopping.”

The word “home” plays on loop in Dan’s brain until he processes the rest of the words. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll feel better after we eat,” he says, shrugging it off.

Phil nods, and they fall into silence again. They’ve known each other long enough now that it’s not uncomfortable, but Dan’s skin still itches with the quiet. He’s trying to think of something to say when he feels something brush his ankle. He glances up to find Phil smirking at him.

Dan quirks a brow. “Can I help you?” he asks, barely hiding a smile.

The smirk on Phil’s face just deepens, and he rubs his ankle against Dan’s. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but Dan’s long past the point of being surprised that everything feels better with Phil. “Nope,” Phil says, biting back a laugh.

Dan rolls his eyes. He takes a sneaky glance around them, and finds that no one is paying any attention to them. He takes that confirmation of almost-privacy and decides to be cheeky. Taking a sip of his water, he shifts his legs, trailing his foot up the length of Phil’s leg teasingly slow. He watches as Phil’s face flushes, the smirk dropping away to a look of surprise.

“Dan,” he hisses.

“What?” Dan says innocently. “You started this.”

Phil shakes his head, his hand disappearing below the table and catching Dan’s ankle in his hand before Dan can reach his destination. “Not now,” Phil murmurs.

That sends a little thrill through Dan. There’s an unspoken “later” in the air between them, and Dan recalls suddenly what he had offered earlier, when they were getting ready to leave. His blood rushes through his veins hot and fast, making him light headed.

“Are we still going to...” he trails off when the waitress approaches with their food, giving her a fake smile.

She makes sure they’re comfortable and have everything they need before leaving the table again, and by then Dan’s too distracted by his food to return to what he wanted to say.

“Fuck,” he moans around the first bite. “This is delicious.” He’s trying to mind his table manners, but the food is hot and sort of amazing, and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He really can’t help the sounds that fall from his mouth at that point.

He takes a sip of his wine to wash it down and finally glances over at Phil. His entire face is red, and he’s staring down at his plate with pursed lips. Dan blushes, realizing exactly what he sounded like. Then, he remembers their current situation, and the fact that it really shouldn’t bother Phil, hearing Dan make sexual noises. After all, they’ve been getting each other off for the past month or so, so he’s surely used to it by now.

“Sorry,” he says, despite himself. “Got a little too excited about dinner,” he explains, flickering his eyes between Phil and his plate.

Phil nods, avoiding eye contact. “Right, yeah,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse.

Dan smirks down at his plate, but decides to give Phil a break. “How’s the photo series going? Are we almost done taking photos?”

Phil looks relieved at the change of subject, and his eyes are bright when he looks up at Dan. He’s so enthusiastic about this project, just like he is with everything that he really cares about. Dan can’t help but find it ridiculously endearing.

“Almost, yeah. We’ve gotten some really great shots for experiential, but I don’t think I’ve gotten like the perfect shot for each of the other categories,” Phil says. His eyebrows furrow as he looks down, looking more than a little bothered by that.

“What’re the other categories again?”

“Intellectual, emotional, and er- sexual,” Phil says with a deep blush.

Dan smirks. “Sounds like we can knock that last one out pretty easily,” he says, only sort of teasing.

Phil’s nose goes a little pink, but he’s got a guarded look in his eye as he chases a bite of pasta around his plate. “I don’t know if I want that one to be like...” he trails off, glancing up at Dan with something soft in his eyes.

“Like...?” Dan prompts, confused.

“Like... genuine,” Phil says.

Dan blinks. “Why?”

Phil clears his throat, looking down again. “I don’t- I just- I just want you to be comfortable, yeah? And if it would make you uncomfortable to-“

“It wouldn’t,” Dan interrupts. His face immediately warms when he realizes how that must sound. “I mean... it’s what we’ve been doing this whole time, right? I’ll be no more vulnerable naked than I have been for every other candid shot you’ve done.”

Phil looks almost- disappointed, in a way. Dan can’t think of a reason why he would be, so he convinces himself that he’s probably just imagining it, that Phil is probably just thinking about the best way to shoot the more explicit photographs.

“Sure,” he says eventually, downing a few gulps of his wine. “We’ll work on that stuff- later, yeah?”

“Sure,” Dan echoes, sipping his own wine.

‘Later’ is starting to have a lot of weight.

~~~

After they’ve finished their meal and Phil has ignored Dan trying to pay for the check, they head out to see what the shops have to offer. Everything is so bright with all the twinkling lights and decorations, and Dan’s feeling just a little bit warm and fuzzy with it all. Maybe that’s why he reaches for Phil’s hand, he thinks to himself absently. It’s probably just the overwhelming excitement of it all forcing him to reach out for something to ground himself. Definitely not his deep attraction and infatuation with his best friend.

Right?

Either way, for whatever reason on both their parts, Phil doesn’t pull away at the touch. Instead he laces their fingers together, swinging their hands between them as they meander down the busy streets. It feels safe, with so many strangers surrounding them, to share a touch like this in public. No one here knows them, any looks cast their way are forgotten the moment the gawker looks away.

“Ooh, mulled wine!” Phil announces after a while of aimless wandering. He tugs Dan in the direction of the stall he’s laid his eye on, and Dan allows himself to be dragged. “Do you like mulled wine?” Phil asks as they stand in line to order.

Dan shrugs. “Yeah, it’s alright.” He wants to say something about how it would taste better coming from Phil’s lips, but he thankfully restrains himself from going that far.

Phil rambles on about something that happened to him a few years ago, something about spilling cider all over a guy he worked with that he also had a crush on. Dan’s trying to listen but he keeps getting distracted by the rosy patches on Phil’s face, his frostbitten cheeks looking more kissable than ever.

“We’ll have two mulled wines, please,” Phil says to the sweet older lady tending the booth.

She smiles and nods as she goes about preparing them, and Dan doesn’t even have the chance to reach for his wallet before Phil is sliding a few notes across to her. “Have a good evening! Happy Christmas!” the shop lady says with a happy wave after she hands them their drinks.

“Thanks, you too,” Phil replies with a smile, taking Dan’s hand again and leading them over to a set of benches situated around a massive tree. “Mm, this is really good for the spot,” Phil hums happily, slurping on his mulled wine.

Dan gives him an odd look as they sit together. “Good for the spot?” he repeats.

Phil nods. “Yeah, you know. That thing people say when something tastes good.” He looks so sure of himself, and Dan sort of hates to burst his bubble, but it’s basically his duty as a citizen to do so.

“You mean “hits the spot,” right?”

Phil blinks. “Er...” He seems to consider it for a lot longer than Dan thinks is necessary, and finally he shrugs. “Okay, maybe. Maybe that’s what I meant.”

Dan cackles out a laugh at this, dropping his head back with unabashed glee. “Oh god,” he giggles. “You’re such an idiot.”

Luckily they’ve grown comfortable enough with each other that Phil’s not really offended. He pretends, though, knocking their shoulders together with a pout. “You have to be nice to be. I bought you dinner and mulled wine.”

That makes Dan’s skin prickle just a bit. “Right...” he says, looking down. He knows Phil didn’t say that with the intentions of making him feel guilty, but he can’t help what he feels. “About that, actually,” Dan starts.

“Hm?”

“I wish you’d let me pay for something. Like dinner, or the wine, or something, you know?” He looks down at his hands wrapped around his cup, flicking the plastic lid with his thumbnail. “I’m not entirely useless.”

Phil makes a startled, hurt noise in his throat. “Dan, I never said you were. I don’t- listen, I paid because... well, I dragged you here, didn’t I?” He shifts awkwardly, and won’t meet Dan’s eye. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d say Phil seemed sort of nervous.

“You hardly did any dragging,” Dan says with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to come. Believe it or not, I genuinely enjoy spending time with you.”

Phil looks surprised, and Dan snorts. He feels like it’s really hardly a shock that he enjoys spending time with him; if Phil was only slightly less oblivious, he’d have already realized that Dan’s got feelings for him.

“Oh,” Phil says, stupidly.

Dan knocks their shoulders together. “Yeah, oh,” he mocks, his voice gentler than he meant it to be. “I’m just saying, you should let me pay for stuff now and again. It’s not going to break me.”

Phil nods, but looks down, mumbling something under his breath. It sounded like “I like taking care of you,” and that sends Dan’s heart beating so fast that he can’t even ask Phil to repeat himself. If that wasn’t what he said, well, Dan wants to be ignorant for now, and live in that bliss.

“Shall we do some shopping?” Dan asks, changing the subject. He’s drained nearly half his mulled wine already, and the warmth of the alcohol is making its way to his veins, making him giddy with energy.

“Yeah, but first...” He hands Dan his cup, which is almost completely empty already, and grabs his camera.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Is this really a photo-worthy moment?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Phil smirks at him over the camera. “Of course it is. Now smile!”

Dan looks directly over the camera, straight into Phil’s eyes. He’s not really smiling, but he’s not frowning either. He’s just... looking at him. The camera flashes once, then twice, and then Phil lowers it, looking back at Dan with something almost wild in his eyes. Dan hands him his cup back silently, and purposefully brushes their fingers together. Something settles in Phil’s expression then, and he gives Dan a soft look before downing the rest of his drink.

“Shall we?” he says as he stands, holding a hand out for Dan to take. The smile he gives him when Dan does is gorgeous and makes every photo worth it.

~~~

Dan allows himself to be led in and out of shops for the next two hours, and Phil takes plenty of photos along the way. He takes photos of Dan window shopping, walking, admiring decorations; basically any move Dan makes, Phil captures. And Dan knows he agreed to this, he knows that it’s all for Phil’s project, but after a while, he grows tired of it.

Eventually, Dan turns to him and gives him a withering look. “Can we put the camera away and just be us for a little while?” He doesn’t intend for his voice to be so soft, but he can barely hear it as it floats in the air between them.

Phil lowers the camera with a strange look on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, like he’s surprised.

Dan nods, and before he can think twice about it, he reaches out and laces their fingers together. “C’mon, I saw a nerd shop over there that I want to check out.”

Before he gets the chance to turn away, Phil darts into his space, kissing the corner of his mouth softly. It’s over so quickly that Dan almost thinks he may have imagined it, simply because Phil looks so calm and confident afterwards. He simply squeezes Dan’s hand and leads him in the direction of the shop, and Dan feels like he’s been left to play catch-up, not for the first time today.

“Hey, look at this,” Phil says suddenly, when they’re almost to the shop. He slows to a stop, his eyes scanning over a bulletin board posted on the bit of brick wall between the windows of the game shop and the bakery next door. “Dan, look!” He taps Dan’s arm excitedly as he speaks, as if Dan’s not already looking at the poster.

“Open Auditions” it announces at the top. Dan’s heart quickens, just slightly. A quick scan of information confirms what he’d already gathered: a local theatre company is holding open auditions for their upcoming performance of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.

Dan’s heart races and his vision has gone slightly fuzzy as he tries to take in the information. He can barely focus on anything, his ears ringing with the possibilities. This could be it, a little voice in his head mocks. An escape from the life you don’t want, a chance to be more.

It takes him a minute to come back to his senses, and when he does Phil is rambling excitedly beside him. “-great this is, Dan, you’ve got to audition, this would be perfect for you!”

Dan shakes his head slowly, trying to clear the cloud of fantasy that’s infiltrated his mind. “No,” he says eventually. He forces himself to look away, reminds himself that life isn’t a fairytale. He chose this shitty career and this shitty life, he can’t just back out now. His parents may have raised a socially awkward, queer procrastinator but they didn’t raise a quitter.

“No?” Phil says the word like it’s foreign. “What do you mean, I thought you wanted to act again if you got the chance?” He sounds confused.

Dan shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Phil as he shuffles his feet, moving further from the bright poster. “Yeah, but... come on, this? It’s not very responsible, is it?”

Phil blinks at him, glancing at the poster like it has the answers he needs. “Er- how do you mean?” he asks carefully.

Dan hates that. He hates that he’s ruining their nice day with his bullshit. “Well, I’ve got class, don’t I? And like, work, and shit. I can’t - I don’t have time for this.”

There’s a brief moment of pause where Phil looks at him, then studies the poster again, clearly thinking hard about something. “The auditions are next week, so I bet the rehearsals start after you’re done with classes.”

Dan tells that little stirring of hope in his chest to pipe down. Instead, he shrugs, like he couldn’t care less about the whole thing. “Whatever. Are we going in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Phil nods and gestures to the store, so Dan turns to lead the way. He notices Phil doesn’t move to hold his hand again, and he pretends that doesn’t hurt his feelings. When he opens the door he glances behind him, and Phil is still a few steps away, like he’d stood there for a minute before following after Dan. Dan can’t imagine why, and decides it’s better not to think about that at all.

He waves Phil in ahead of him, and spares one last look at the poster before following after Phil and into the shop.

~~~

Dan would love to pretend that he stops thinking about the audition flyer by the time they make it back to Phil’s place, but it would be a lie. It’s still there, in the back of his mind, mocking him with the possibilities.

So he does what any reasonable adult would do.

He immediately jumps at the opportunity to get in Phil’s pants.

It’s not like it’s difficult at this point in their... situation, but he still finds part of him is reluctant to be the one to make the first move, if only because he’s scared of rejection. But this time, like so many times before, Phil indulges him.

“Oh,” Phil laughs as Dan pushes at his coat, his voice deep and sexy like it always is at the end of a long day, when he’s truly worn out. Dan can’t believe he has the privilege of knowing exactly what this sounds like. “Eager, are we?”

Dan latches his mouth onto Phil’s jaw, sucking gently as he shoves the stupid coat off of Phil’s shoulders. “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbles against Phil’s chin, loving the prickly feeling of almost-beard under his mouth.

Phil makes a good noise then, a horny one that Dan doesn’t get to hear nearly often enough. “Can we- bed?” he mumbles out around Dan’s mouth, which has finally found its way to Phil’s.

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, guiding Phil backwards blindly.

This proves to be a bad idea when he leads him into a wall approximately five seconds later, but luckily, Phil is able to laugh it off. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, pulling Dan back against him once more and kissing across his cheeks. “Let me lead,” he whispers.

Dan allows that, following Phil as he shuffles them backwards down the hall towards his bedroom, their lips barely parting the whole way there. It’s sloppy and messy, but it’s hot, too, unbearably so. Dan is so turned on by the time they step foot in Phil’s room, he’s half afraid he won’t even make it to the good part.

Luckily, Phil trips right before they reach the bed, and the resulting stumble-almost-fall is enough to calm Dan down a little. He’s giggling against Phil’s mouth as they right themselves, and Phil is struggling to mumble an apology around the kisses he’s receiving.

“Dan,” he manages, thumping on Dan’s chest a little, just enough to get Dan’s attention and make him pull away for a second. Phil catches his breath and then smiles at Dan, a wide, gorgeous thing. “Slow down, baby. We’ve got all night.”

It’s said so softly, so lovingly, that Dan thinks he’s going to cry. So, instead of listening, he throws that caution to the wind and leans in for another kiss, his hands dropping to undo Phil’s belt. Phil makes a little noise in his throat, and Dan feels gentle hands pull at his wrists, pulling his hands away from where they’re struggling to undo the fasteners on Phil’s jeans. Dan whines and tugs at the grip, trying to free his hands, but he hears a soft shushing noise as Phil breaks the kiss.

Dan doesn’t realize it at first, but when they’re no longer kissing, he feels a dampness on his cheeks. Frustrated, he wipes at the traitorous tears, but at the same time, Phil’s hands come into view, gently wiping the tears away as he murmurs soft words. Dan struggles to make them out at first, his breathing gone hard and ragged. He tries to settle himself, and Phil tugs at his hand, settling it on his own chest like he wants Dan to copy his breathing. He does, and when he finally calms down, Dan can make out what Phil’s saying.

“Shh, there we go. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

It’s said in such a soft, soothing voice that Dan almost starts crying again. This can’t be meaningless. Even though he knows Phil doesn’t feel anything for him like that, some part of him is just begging for this moment to have some kind of meaning, something that means Phil wants him. But wishing can’t change the truth, and he knows that.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, his voice raw.

Phil makes a startled noise. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but like... crying is so not sexy.” Dan feels embarrassed just to say it.

“I don’t know,” Phil muses. “I think showing your emotions is kinda hot.” He gives Dan a smirk then, and Dan barely refrains from pushing him off the bed. The only reason he doesn’t is because of how much he craves the closeness.

“Did I ruin the mood?” Dan asks timidly, sitting up in Phil’s lap to give him some space.

Phil smiles, but shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Do you still want to...” His face flushes then, like he can’t even bring himself to say the words.

Dan grins. “I definitely still want to fuck you. If you still want that.”

“I do,” Phil says quickly. Dan smirks and Phil blushes. “I just... it’s been a while since I’ve done that, so...”

Dan nods easily. “Do you need some space to get ready?”

Phil looks relieved. “Please?”

Nodding again, Dan leans down and kisses him sweetly. “Of course. I’ll go sit in the lounge while you do what you need to do.”

“Thank you,” Phil says softly, leaning up to peck Dan’s lips once more. “I won’t be long.”

With that reassurance, and a dismissive pat on the bum, Dan sees himself out of the room, going to wait in the lounge like he’d promised while Phil showers and does whatever else he needs to do to feel comfortable with how the evening is proceeding.

~~~

“Dan?”

Phil’s voice is more than welcome in the quiet of the lounge, but it still makes Dan jump a bit. He’d been lost in thought again, pondering over the amount of time they’ve spent together lately and trying to count in his head how many nights he’d spent at Phil’s over the last month. He’d just made it to thirteen when he hears Phil’s voice.

“Yeah?” Dan calls back, already rising from the sofa.

“Can you come here?” Phil replies, his voice a bit quieter. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d almost say he sounded nervous.

When Dan steps into Phil’s bedroom, he nearly coos. Phil’s turned the overhead light off and lit a couple of candles, and he’s even got music playing from somewhere. It’s all very relaxing, and something about it feels sort of romantic. Dan bats that thought away immediately before it does something stupid, like settle in his already lovesick mind.

“Is this okay?” Phil asks, and Dan’s gaze snaps over to where Phil’s sat at the edge of the bed. Dan hadn’t even registered him sitting there at first, his mind trying to wrap around the way the room is set up. Phil definitely looks nervous, tugging at the hem of his sushi-printed boxers and avoiding eye contact. “I just thought... I don’t know, actually.”

“It’s nice,” Dan murmurs, going to join Phil on the bed. He’s trying to be considerate of the conversation they’re having, but honestly it’s a little hard considering Phil is practically naked, and god Dan loves to look at him. He nudges Phil’s knee with his own, prompting him to make eye contact. “It’s really lovely.”

Phil smiles, pleased. Something darkens in his gaze then, and before Dan has a chance to decipher that look, Phil is climbing onto his lap and gently pushing him to lay flat against the mattress. “This okay?” He murmurs as he kisses his way across Dan’s jaw.

Dan swallows hard, the kissing and weight of Phil on his lap sending heat to his groin. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “This is... fuck, this is perfect.”

Phil makes a humming sort of noise before finally pressing his lips to Dan’s, swiping his tongue against Dan’s bottom lip. Of course Dan opens up for him, feeling that tongue slip in easily. This is possibly Dan’s favorite kind of kissing, the kind that’s wet and maybe a little bit messy. It just feels good, in a way most things don’t.

Eventually, Dan’s hands trail over Phil’s pale back, tracing shapes down his spine with a featherlight touch before reaching his destination. Dan isn’t like, a hundred percent sure, but he’s actually pretty positive that Phil’s got the nicest bum in the world. It’s thick and soft and gives easily under the pressure of his kneading fingers.

“You’ve got the nicest ass,” Dan murmurs to Phil, pulling away just enough to get the words out properly.

Phil laughs against Dan’s neck, and Dan can’t help the full body tremor that happens when he feels pressure on the sensitive skin. “Do you want to fuck it?” Phil asks, in a voice that’s almost innocent.

Dan groans, kneading his cheeks with more purpose. “God. Yeah, I do. Can I?” He knows they’ve sort of already discussed this, but Phil’s allowed to change his mind.

“Of course,” Phil says with a little smile. He leans back, trailing his hands down Dan’s clothed chest before tucking his hands under his borrowed sweater and stroking the skin there. “Take your clothes off, babe.”

Dan feels a tingle down to his toes at the pet name, and has to remind himself very quickly to get a fucking grip. They’re just friends, this is just a friendly fuck. A mutual benefits kind of deal.

Maybe if he says it enough in his head, he’ll start to believe it.

He’s quick to discard of Phil’s stupid ladybird sweater, throwing it across the room blindly, which unsurprisingly earns him a pinch to the hip. “Don’t be rude to my favorite jumper, Daniel,” Phil chastises, a smile in his voice.

Dan’s got a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it in favor of arching up into the way Phil’s stroking his chest, his thumbs catching on Dan’s nipples repeatedly. “Fuck. C’mere,” Dan mumbles, tugging Phil down by his neck. They’ve had enough sex together for Phil to know what he wants, so he goes easily, latching that wonderful mouth around a pink nub and sucking gently.

The sounds that fall out of Dan’s mouth are too loud in the quiet of the room, but if Phil wants him to be quiet, he’s got a funny way of showing it. Instead he reaches for Dan’s jeans, thumbing at the zipper without looking. He’s got them unlatched in seconds, pushing at the material like it offends him.

“Let me-“ Dan mumbles, pushing at Phil’s shoulders. Phil bites down on his nipple then, and Dan keens. It’s never felt so good before, but when they’re like this, it’s never better. “Fuck, fuck,” Dan chants, holding onto his willpower by a thread.

“You will,” Phil mumbles against his skin, kissing his way across to Dan’s other nipple, which has been quite ignored so far. In a feat of coordination Dan wouldn’t have thought him capable of, Phil manages to shuffle his lower half enough to yank Dan’s jeans down past his thighs without stopping the movements of his mouth.

If Dan wasn’t so stupidly turned on, he’d probably say something about how impressed he is.

Phil massages Dan’s thighs with gentle pressure for a while, kissing and sucking and biting at Dan’s nipple all the while. Dan is leaking through his pants at this point, and he makes a very pathetic sort of noise when Phil brushes a hand over his cock.

When Phil pulls away, it gives Dan just a brief moment to recover, but he still squirms under the heat of Phil’s gaze. “What?” Dan finally asks, when Phil won’t stop staring at him.

Phil shakes his head slowly, blinking like he’s coming out of a dream. Dan is positive that it shouldn't be as hot as it actually is. “You’re so gorgeous,” Phil murmurs, rubbing gently over Dan’s thigh.

Dan covers his blushing face with a squeak. He’ll never get used to this naked appreciation that Phil has for his body. A traitorous corner of his mind reminds him that he better not get used to something he’s not even allowed to keep. Dan clears his throat, twitching his head like he can shake the thought away.

“You know...” he starts slowly, a certain conversation coming back to him. “You said that part of the photo series was about sex, right?”

Phil freezes a little then. He’s quick to recover, but not quick enough for Dan not to notice it. “Sexual intimacy,” he corrects, his voice soft. “What about it?”

Dan shifts his hips pointedly. “I think this might be prime photo taking time, bub,” he jokes.

Something shifts in Phil’s face, and he stares down at Dan like he’s grown a second head. “You want me to take them now?” He asks.

Dan shrugs. “Might as well. We’re horny, and all. Kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Phil draws his hands away from Dan’s thighs, and Dan immediately craves his touch again. “I thought you... I thought we were going to...”

“Fuck? Well, that’s the plan, yeah. Doesn’t mean you can’t get your photo thing done too. Two birds, one stone.” Dan doesn’t intend to sound so tetchy, but Phil’s hesitation is getting under his skin. Has he changed his mind? Is Dan’s body not good enough to be photographed in the light of intimacy? His head swirls with self doubt as he sits up. “Look, we don’t have to, but-“

Phil stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, we... that’s okay. I’ll, um... let me grab my camera.” His voice sounds wobbly all of a sudden, and Dan frowns.

“Phil, I-“

“It’s fine,” Phil interrupts, climbing off the bed. His face is horribly neutral, and Dan feels a churning, the bad kind, in his stomach.

He watches, wordlessly, as Phil leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with the fancy camera he totes around with them nearly everywhere they go. Dan tries not to glare at the stupid thing. Phil climbs back onto the bed and goes to straddle Dan’s lap again, clicking different things on the camera before holding it up. “Tilt your head,” he says softly.

Dan does, but Phil makes a tutting noise like it’s not what he wanted. Before Dan can ask for better instructions, Phil shifts forward, the movement effectively causing their hips to grind together. Dan can’t help his very human response, tossing his head back with a quiet moan. He hears the camera shutter, and for some reason his skin crawls. He tries to ignore it in favor of grinding up for more of that delicious pressure, reaching out blindly to grip Phil’s hips and pull him closer.

The camera goes off a few more times, but eventually Phil leans away and Dan hears the sound of it being set gently onto Phil’s bedside table. Dan opens his eyes, glancing around until he catches Phil’s gaze. Something has changed. Phil’s got a guarded look in his eye, and Dan feels his stomach clenching with nerves.

“Phil,” he whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s cheek gently. He watches as Phil’s eyes slip shut and he leans into the touch. Dan breathes out a sigh of relief at that. It’s a gamble, sometimes, showing even the slightest amount of affection. Because no matter how Phil reacts, Dan has to remember to keep his guard up, protect himself first and worry about the consequences of it all later.

“I want you,” Phil breathes against Dan’s palm.

“You have me,” is Dan’s immediate response. Even if it’s a lie, it’s a lie he feels comfortable telling, as long as it settles whatever is making Phil look so despondent.

Phil blinks at him, raising an eyebrow like a question. Dan nods. It’s worth it for the smile it puts on Phil’s face, for the way he looks down at Dan like he’s given him the world. It’s worth it even though it tears a hole in Dan’s chest. Phil presses a gentle kiss to Dan’s palm then, and Dan knows he’s absolutely fucked.

“How do you normally like it?” Phil asks, pulling away and doing an odd little wiggle to free himself from his pants. Even as ridiculous as he looks, Dan is naturally very distracted at the sight of his cock, and it takes him a second to process what Phil said.

“Oh, uh,” Dan says stupidly. Phil is looking at him with a smug little smirk, and Dan begs his brain to stop being so fucking gay, for like two seconds. “I’m not picky,” he eventually comes up with.

Phil’s lips twitch. “Really?”

Dan nods, watching the way Phil sits up on his knees and begins tugging at Dan’s jeans, which until this moment, Dan had honestly forgotten he was still wearing. “I’m easy,” he says, trying for a flirty tone but not quite getting there.

Phil snorts. He finally pushes the jeans down to Dan’s ankles, leaving Dan to finish kicking them off, paying no mind to how they crumple to the floor in a sad little heap. “Do you think you can handle it if I ride you?” Phil asks, tilting his head.

Dan’s not sure if he wants to laugh or moan. “Uh, yeah,” he stutters out stupidly.

“You sure?” Phil gives him a doubtful look. Dan almost bristles, but then Phil’s hand is diving under the band of his pants and wrapping around his hardness, and Dan can’t find it in himself to even be mildly offended.

“Fuck,” Dan whines. “Yes, just let me-” Dan wiggles helplessly, trying to push his pants off with the use of only one hand. His other is clutching Phil’s thigh, trying to keep himself under control while Phil wanks him.

Phil laughs quietly as he watches Dan struggle but he finally pushes at Dan’s pants, freeing him from them at last. “Are you comfy there?”

Dan nods, but flails an arm above his head in search of a pillow. Phil rolls his eyes and reaches out, tugging on the pillow Dan normally uses when he sleeps over. He pats at Dan’s shoulder to get him to sit up, and when he does, Phil gently places the pillow under his head before pushing his shoulders back down. “Better?” Phil asks.

“Yeah,” Dan says with a smile. “C’mere.” He tugs at Phil’s body, trying to manhandle him onto himself. Phil giggles, like actually giggles, as he complies, straddling Dan’s hips like before. Their nakedness is hard to ignore now, especially when Phil settles, their cocks rubbing together without a barrier between them. Dan groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.

“You okay?” Phil asks, rocking his hips gently.

Dan swats at him lightly, with absolutely no force behind it. “Don’t be a tease, you know I hate that,” he complains.

Phil grins. “I know you pretend to hate it,” he says, leaning down and kissing Dan’s mouth wetly.

Dan loses himself in it for a bit, forgetting to defend himself entirely. Instead he arches into the kiss and strokes his hands down Phil’s back, trailing his fingers down until he reaches the small of Phil’s back. He pauses there, stroking his fingertips up and down, but Phil arches, making a needy little noise in his throat, and Dan grins, pulling away from the kiss to speak. “Yeah?”

Phil nods, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Yeah. Touch me.”

Dan certainly doesn’t have to be told twice. He pushes his hands down further, kneading Phil’s ass cheeks with a firm hand. Phil groans, pressing back into the touch, and Dan feels a hot surge of arousal in his gut. It’s so beyond sexy for Phil to be on top of him like this, and then for him to be making those noises... Dan can hardly stand it.

“Condom?” He breathes against Phil’s jaw, trailing wet kisses along the smooth expanse of skin. Part of Dan wishes it was a bit stubbled, and then he’s wishing that he’d had the foresight to ask for something a little different. He’s never personally experienced it, but he’s heard good things about being rimmed by someone with facial hair, and he thinks if Phil put off shaving for a couple days, he’d be well on his way to a decent beard.

Dan shakes himself out of his horny fantasy when Phil moves off his lap. The whine that comes out of Dan’s mouth is embarrassing at best, and Phil rolls his eyes when Dan makes grabby hands for him. “Calm down, you actual goblin,” Phil chastises as he looks through the top drawer of his nightstand.

When he finds what he’s looking for he makes a little trumpet noise. Dan’s so endeared with him that it’s actually kind of ridiculous. Phil smiles at him with the same little happy grin he gets sometimes when he makes Dan smile, and Dan reaches out for him. His hand finds Phil’s thigh, and Dan scratches at the hair there while he watches Phil fight with the corner of the condom package.

“Need some help?” Dan asks, his voice softer than he’d intended.

Phil huffs, but shoves the packet into Dan’s hand with an adorably frustrated noise. “Stupid plastic,” he mumbles.

Dan nods as he rips the corner off easily. “Bad for the turtles,” he says mindlessly.

When he glances up, Phil is smiling at him stupidly. “Yeah,” he says, his tone affectionate. “Bad for the turtles.”

Dan grins and gets to work rolling the condom on, squinting when he realizes that it’s a bright blue color. “Uh, is this gonna like dye my dick blue or something, mate?”

Phil scrunches his face up in adorable disgust at that. “Okay, first of all- ew. Don’t call me “mate” when we’re...” he gestures between them pointedly, making eyes at Dan’s penis. “Secondly, no, you weirdo. Your dick will be fine, I just thought they were neat.”

He’s got a little flush on his cheeks when he’s finished with his rant, and Dan has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cooing at him. “Okay, babe, whatever you say,” Dan says, mostly teasing.

Phil bites his lip, but Dan can tell that the pet name does something to him. It may just come from a point of arousal instead of affection, but Dan will take what he can get. “Here,” Phil says, grabbing Dan’s hand and putting something in it.

When Dan looks down, he’s met with a bottle of lube, and he smirks. “You don’t want to put it on me?”

It was meant as a joke, but Phil’s nose crinkles like the idea disgusts him. Dan tries not to take offense. “I don’t like the texture,” he admits. “That’s why I prefer to, like, prepare in the shower. It’s cleaner and I can just wash the lube off my hands right there.”

Dan nods in understanding. Phil was a bit peculiar about textures of things that he touched. “Maybe next time I can help you out with that?” He means for it to come out as a sexy suggestion, but halfway through the sentence he loses his nerve and it comes out as more of a nervous question.

Phil leans down and kisses his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says simply. Then he nudges Dan’s hand. “Alright, get to work, I’m not getting any younger.” He waggles his eyebrows as he says this, making Dan snort.

“Bossy,” he mumbles as he pours a dollop of lube onto his hand. He tries not to feel watched as he covers himself with it, but he can feel Phil’s eyes on him like a touch. Instead of psyching himself out, he leans into the feeling, giving himself a couple good wanks before drawing his hand back. “Reckon that’s enough?” He asks as Phil settles in his lap again.

Phil shrugs. “You can add more if it isn’t,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Dan rolls his eyes, but Phil’s already sitting up and looking at him expectantly, so Dan reaches down, carefully guiding himself to Phil’s waiting hole. He grips Phil’s hip with his free hand, smiling when Phil reaches down to grip his wrist in a loose hold. They’re both quiet when Dan presses into Phil for the first time, almost holding their breath. It takes Dan a second to realize that Phil actually is holding his breath and he moves his hand to hold Phil’s, squeezing gently.

“Breathe, baby.”

Phil takes in a noisy breath, and his body relaxes enough for Dan to push inside past the first tight ring of muscle. He’s already sweating, the pressure he feels around the head of his cock absolutely maddening already. “Thrust up a bit,” Phil whispers, balancing himself with one hand on Dan’s chest, his other still kept in Dan’s grip.

Dan immediately obliges, pausing only to decipher the noise Phil makes when he bottoms out. “You okay?” He whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s chest in a soothing sort of way.

“Yeah,” Phil breathes, nodding. “It’s just, like... been a while.”

It’s stupid how happy those words make Dan. “Same,” he murmurs, trailing his hand up and petting at Phil’s collarbones.

Phil smiles down at him, shifting his hips a little to get used to the stretch. He leans down slowly, taking care not to disrupt the position, and peppers Dan’s face with kisses, only some of them landing on his lips. It feels like so much, all of this affection while he’s buried balls deep inside his best friend, and as much as Dan craves it, he can feel himself beginning to suffocate underneath it all.

Gently, so as not to hurt or surprise Phil, Dan reaches down to grip his hips, pulling out a little ways and thrusting back in. Phil moans against his cheek, and Dan smiles. “Good?” He asks, just to make sure.

“Yes,” Phil whispers. “Right- right there!” He nearly squeals the last part as Dan thrusts a few more times, keeping his angle. He must’ve managed to find Phil’s prostate like this, so he reaches one hand up to grip the back of Phil’s neck, holding him in place.

“You feel so good,” Dan whispers. It’s the truth, Phil always feels good whether they’re sharing a kiss, giving each other blowjobs, or just brushing shoulders as they sit on the couch watching a film. He realizes with a start that as incredible as this is, this isn’t even his favorite way to feel Phil, not by far.

“Mm,” Phil moans, barely coherent. Dan looks at him and smirks when he sees how out of it Phil is, watery, hooded eyes and his teeth digging into his bottom lip in a very Dan-esque fashion. “Meant to be riding you, though,” Phil finds enough brain cells to mutter.

Dan pulls him in for a wet kiss. He can’t not, not with Phil looking like this sat on his cock. When he releases him, he does so completely, tossing his arms over his head to rest on the pillow. He settles Phil with a challenging look. “Okay, so what am I doing all of the work for?”

Phil narrows his eyes at him as he sits up. “You lazy git,” he says, with no bite in his voice.

Dan smirks. “I could say the same about you.”

“Pft.” Phil seems to take this as a personal challenge, steadying himself on Dan’s chest with both hands before he begins moving his hips, doing little bounces at first before eventually abandoning that to grind in tight little circles.

Dan moans. Loudly.

“Fuck.”

“Shh, my neighbors will hear us,” Phil chastises.

Dan groans. “Fuck the fucking neighbors.” He grips Phil’s hips, digging his thumbs in a bit harder than he normally would, and he would probably feel bad if he had the brain capacity to think about it.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Phil says smugly.

Dan wants to roll his eyes in annoyance, but Phil just feels too good. He can’t focus on anything but tight, wet heat and searing blue eyes. “God. Make me come,” he grunts, grinding up into Phil. They’d been having sex together long enough that Dan knows Phil doesn’t mind him being a little bossy.

Phil shakes his head though, grinning. “Me first,” he says, grabbing Dan’s hand and pulling it over to his neglected cock. Dan’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s only flagged a little, still mostly hard. It only takes him a couple of strokes to get him back to full hardness, but then Phil whines like he’s in pain.

“What?” Dan asks, immediately releasing him and stilling his hips. “Are you okay?”

Phil pouts. “It’s getting all tacky and drying out,” he complains.

It takes Dan’s horn-driven brain a second to understand what he’s talking about. “Oh, hang on, let me-“ he reaches blindly until his hand discovers the discarded bottle of lube, and he pats Phil’s hip with his dry hand so he’ll climb off for a second. As Dan’s lathering himself back up, he notices Phil rubbing at his thighs. “You alright?

“Yeah. Little tired though. My thighs hurt.” Phil gives him an apologetic smile.

Dan returns the smile easily. “That’s fine. Do you wanna try this a different way?”

Phil gives him a sheepish look. “Do you mind?”

He’s so considerate. Dan cares for him more than he wants to admit. “Not at all. How about...” he shuffles around on the bed, moving the pillow further up so that it’s out of the way. “Do you want to lay down or would you be okay on all fours?”

It’s funny, the horny expression that crosses Phil’s face as he considers the options. “I think... for now I think I'll lay down. I’m so out of shape, and my legs already feel a bit like jelly.”

Dan giggles. “Alright. Well, get comfy, then.”

As Phil settles himself on his back, he seems to be mulling something over. “I do want to try the- the other one. Like, some other time, obviously, but I do want to try it like that as well.” He sounds nervous, even shy, and Dan feels it settle somewhere in his chest.

“Sure,” he says quietly. He settles himself between Phil’s legs, running his hands up Phil’s calves and stopping at his knees. “You think you can be flexible for me?”

Phil nods. Dan helps him settle back, then brings both of his legs over Dan’s shoulders. Phil looks a little ridiculous, but he grins up at Dan, so Dan smiles back, tilting his head to kiss his knee. He curses himself afterwards, at the soft look Phil gives him. He’s probably already thinking of ways to distance himself from Dan, to tell Dan that they really should just finish the stupid photo series then never speak to each other again.

At least, that’s what’s running through Dan’s head at first. After a moment, however, Phil distracts him again by speaking in a soft voice.

“Are you okay?”

Dan can’t help but smile down at him. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Phil tilts his head. He looks like a curious puppy. Dan keeps that thought to himself.

“About what?”

Dan nearly freezes at the innocent question, but reminds himself to stay calm to avoid suspicion. Instead of telling the whole truth, he smirks, reaching down to press his fingers to Phil’s perineum. “You,” he half-lies.

Phil smiles, his eyelids fluttering shut as Dan applies gentle pressure. “Mm. Might wanna start doing me instead of thinking about me, Howell. Running out of time, here.”

Dan knows that Phil’s just joking about it being late, but that cuts deep. He really is running out of time, already. This may be the last time he ever gets to have Phil like this, even if it’s technically the first.

“Hey,” Phil murmurs. Dan’s eyes refocus on him, and Phil smiles, a little twitch of his lips. “Come back,” he says.

Dan smiles at him. “I’m here,” he replies.

Phil reaches up, stroking Dan’s arms in gentle sweeps. “No. You were stuck in your head. Get out of there, come be with me for a little while.”

It’s stupid, but for a moment Dan thinks he might cry.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to Phil’s mouth. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, reaching down to line himself back up.

Phil gasps against his mouth when Dan presses back inside, but it’s a good noise, Dan thinks. “Mm,” Phil hums. “This is better.”

“Yeah?” Dan asks, grinning.

Phil nods, twirling his fingers around a curling piece of Dan’s hair. “I can feel you even deeper like this,” he murmurs, sounding inexplicably fond.

Dan makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a whimper, and Phil tugs at his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Dan slows his thrusting to a grind so they don’t knock their teeth together too much, and Phil opens his mouth up for him with a soft noise.

It’s softer like this, Dan realizes. They’re slow and careful as they drag fingers over damp skin and press kisses to any place they can reach. Dan’s never been a fan of the term, but this feels more like making love than anything he’s ever heard described in any movie or book.

He’s quick to bat that thought away though. If there’s one thing he understands about their arrangement, it’s that this is temporary.

He doesn’t want to think about that right now, though. Not when Phil is squeezing around him so tightly and he’s making these sounds, like he feels just as good as Dan does. So instead he does what any sensible person would do, sitting up and reaching down to take Phil’s dripping cock in his hand.

Phil keens, and Dan hides his pleased smile against Phil’s knee. “Good?” He asks softly.

Phil nods jerkily. “Really good,” he breathes. “Just, ah-“ he flaps his hand vaguely. “Bit dry.”

“Oh, hang on.” Dan pulls his hand away in search of the lube, but keeps idly thrusting his hips while he searches the sheets for it. Phil whines, and Dan glances down at him with a smirk. “There it is,” he says, brandishing the little bottle triumphantly when he spots it near Phil’s shoulder.

“Pour some more on you, too,” Phil says, reaching up to hold his thighs close to his chest so Dan can pull out.

Dan nods, resting a hand against the back of one of Phil’s thighs as he dribbles a bit over the length of his cock, pushing back in gently and glancing up at Phil to gauge his reaction. “Is that good enough?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Phil nods, gripping at his own hair. “I just don’t like the drag when it starts drying out.”

Dan smiles. He loves learning all these little intricacies about his favorite person. “You like it wet, no shame in that,” he teases, pouring a dollop on his hand and tossing the bottle to the side before wrapping Phil up in a tight grip. He’s learned a few things about how Phil likes to have his dick touched over the weeks that they’ve been doing this, and nothing is better than getting to practice them all.

Phil blushes at what Dan said, but doesn’t argue. “God,” he murmurs instead. “I’m getting really close, baby.”

Dan’s whole body tingles at the pet name. “Okay,” he murmurs, using his free hand to drag Phil’s legs back over his shoulders. He kisses Phil’s knee, trailing across to nip gently at a bit of thigh. Phil jerks, and Dan smiles down at him innocently.

“Cannibal,” Phil says affectionately.

“You like it,” Dan argues.

Phil doesn’t deny it. Instead, he shifts his hips to grind up against Dan, his eyes fluttering closed as Dan tightens his grip, wanking Phil’s cock with purpose. Phil sighs, a little punched out noise that has Dan feeling desperate, his hips driving in faster and harder to reach that place that Phil’s at.

It doesn’t take long. Listening to Phil’s noises and feeling his tight, wet heat around Dan’s cock are recipes for an early finish, but Dan is still a little impressed at how long he’s managed to hold out. Still, he feels a little bad for how quickly he’s approaching that finish line, with Phil still whining and twitching beneath him, like he can’t quite reach it himself.

“C’mon, bub,” Dan breathes, nipping at Phil’s thigh again and twisting his wrist on an upstroke. “I want you to come first.”

“I’m trying,” Phil whines. “It’s- it’s too much, too-“

Dan gets a weird idea. Weird, because, well, it feels incredible to be buried inside Phil’s body like this, as close as two people can be, and honestly someone would have to fight to pull him away from that any other time.

So it’s weird that instead, he pulls out gently, shushing Phil’s noise of protest as he crawls down Phil’s body so that he’s level with Phil’s cock. “Oh,” Phil breathes when Dan ghosts his lips over the tip, dragging his mouth down lower to kiss and suck at his balls. His hands go exploring, searching lower until he finds exactly what he’s looking for.

Phil groans when Dan pushes two fingers inside, and Dan hears the complaint before Phil has a chance to make it. “Your hand’s too dry, Danny.”

“Shh, I know,” Dan placates him, pulling his hand out after a gentle prod around. He glances up at Phil for a second, and when he sees that Phil’s got his eyes closed, head thrown back, Dan grins. Phil’s a little on the shy side about certain parts of sex, and so he’s not sure how Phil would feel about this particular idea if Dan were to ask him.

So instead of asking with words, Dan gives a last gentle kiss to Phil’s balls, then kisses further down, slow enough that Phil could stop him if he wanted.

He doesn’t.

Dan reaches his destination and places a light kiss to the pink puffy rim before him, and he hears Phil’s sharp intake of breath.

“Dan,” he breathes, his voice tight.

“Can I?” Dan asks, excited. He loves doing this for people, even though it wasn’t something he was often allowed.

Phil seems to be struggling to decide. “I...”

Dan kisses him there again, gently. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he says softly, looking up at Phil with what he hopes are perfect puppy eyes.

Phil reaches down, brushing Dan’s damp, curling hair out of his eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Just...” He looks embarrassed.

Dan thinks he gets that. He’s not usually shy about sex like Phil is, but he understands how nerve wracking this particular sex act is, especially with a new partner. “I’ll make it good for you,” he promises, grabbing Phil’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to his palm.

Phil rubs his thumb over Dan’s lips. “I know,” he says softly. He shifts to give Dan more room, and Dan takes that as an invitation.

He dives back in, gentle, just like he promised. He starts with kisses at first, just gentle brushes of his lips while one hand reaches up to wank Phil’s cock, which is still rock hard and hot. Dan slowly introduces a bit of tongue, just an occasional brush against Phil’s rim until he hears him whimper. Dan can tell without looking that it’s a good noise, Phil’s legs shaking with pleasure.

After that, Dan’s a little less cautious. He’s basically making out with Phil’s hole, so he fully commits to it, pressing his tongue in as far as it’ll go, using one hand to hold Phil in place. He struggles to get the position right at first, but then Phil’s hands appear, reaching down to hold himself open, giving Dan plenty of space to work. Dan glances up at him with a grin and a wink. “Thanks,” he mumbles against Phil’s puffy hole as he dives back in.

He laps and sucks and fucks him with his tongue, and eventually Phil is grabbing his hair, moaning loudly above him. Dan will pat himself on the back for this later, but right now he just really, really wants to make Phil come.

“Close,” Phil breathes. “Really fucking close.”

Dan doubles his efforts, wanking him fast and sucking hard and it takes just two, three strokes, and then Phil’s body is seizing up, tight like a wire before he finally releases with a long sigh.

Dan kisses his hole once more, nuzzling his thigh gently before kissing his way back up, lapping at the come cooling on Phil’s stomach just a bit, just enough that Phil groans and squeezes his eyes shut when he looks down and sees him.

Then, Dan decides it’s his turn. He’s hard and aching and ready to burst, but he’s polite enough to give Phil some space to recover. For a moment, at least, and then he’s tugging the condom off and swinging his legs over Phil, rutting his cock against the come smeared all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil groans. “You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Dan shrugs. “That’s fine. We can go again. Maybe you can fuck me this time,” he says with a cheeky grin. He’s mostly kidding. He’s already feeling exhausted, and at this point he just wants to come his brains out and then immediately pass the fuck out for the night.

Phil seems to be on the same page. “Maybe another night,” he says vaguely, reaching forward and gripping Dan’s hips. “Come here, I’ll blow you the rest of the way.”

Dan smiles and crawls up Phil’s body to straddle his chest, holding his cock to Phil’s lips. “Here comes the airplane,” Dan says in a stupid voice.

“Shut up,” Phil laughs. He tugs Dan forward by his ass, holding his mouth open like a baby bird.

Dan really needs to stop with the childish references before he gives himself a complex.

Instead, he focuses on the feeling of Phil’s mouth. Dan thinks that he’s got this down to a science by now, knows all the right places Dan likes to have touched when he’s getting a blowjob, knows the exact pressure he can use when sucking to really make Dan’s eyes roll back in his head. It’s kind of perfect, if he’s being completely honest.

It doesn’t take him long, not with how long he’s been aching to come, and when he does it’s with a long whine and a full-body shiver. Phil swallows and gives his cock a sweet little kiss, looking up at him with this adoring smile.

“I love it when you do that,” he says.

Dan quirks an eyebrow. “Do what? Come in your mouth?” He smirks.

Phil rolls his eyes, pinching his naked hip in reprimand. “No. That cute little shiver thing you do when you come. It makes me feel like I did a good job.”

And that’s... really adorable, that Phil would even be worried about that.

Dan scoots himself down Phil’s chest so that he’s laying flat on top of him, then smashes their lips together messily. He can taste himself on Phil’s tongue, sharp and salty and a little bit gross. He still likes it though, probably more than he should. So he lets himself indulge for a while, relaxing his weight onto Phil’s body and plying him with kisses.

Eventually, Phil pushes him away a bit. “I’m covered in semen,” he says matter-of-factly.

Dan sits up, looking down at the mess now smeared across both of their chests. “I suppose we both are,” he observes. “Wonder what we ought to do about that.”

Phil smiles tiredly. “Can we just do a quick wash up? I’m really tired.”

“Sure,” Dan nods. He goes to climb off of Phil’s lap, when a thought hits him. “Should we do some more photos?”

Phil flinches. “Now?”

Dan shrugs. “Yeah. I mean... I’m all debauched, I reckon that’s what you’re going for, right?”

Phil stares at him for a long time. Dan feels his gaze like a brand, and it makes him twitch. Finally, Phil shakes his head. “No. I got enough photos for that part.”

“Oh,” Dan says slowly. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, and then Phil leans back, closing his eyes. “Can you go get something to clean us up with?” His voice is flat.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Sure,” he whispers. He feels chastised, even if Phil really hadn’t said anything out of order. He climbs off of Phil gingerly, being careful not to touch him more than necessary. It feels wrong, now, to be this naked together, and Dan makes sure to grab his pants from the floor on his way out, as well a random shirt. It’s probably not his, but they’ve fallen into a habit of sharing clothes a lot lately so there’s a good chance that it might be.

He goes to the bathroom and wets a cloth, carefully cleaning himself up and dressing in silence. His heart is racing all of a sudden, like he’s two seconds away from a panic attack, and he really, really doesn’t want to deal with that on top of everything else right now.

Quietly, he returns to Phil’s bedroom with the damp cloth, hovering by the bed awkwardly, looking down at Phil, whose eyes are still closed. His breathing is too uneven for him to be asleep, but Dan feels strange, like he’s not supposed to speak to him when he’s like this. He tries not to think about which part of his childhood instilled this particular behavior.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Phil says suddenly, interrupting the weird, tense silence.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles.

Phil blinks up at him, and Dan’s never seen him look so tired. Like the weight of the universe is clinging to his shoulders. “Clean me up?” He asks, voice soft.

Dan’s shoulders relax and he lets out a breath. “Yeah, course,” he murmurs. He drags the cloth over Phil’s chest and stomach, wiping away all the evidence of their activities, then carefully cleans up around his dick before going lower. Phil hisses, and Dan stops immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just sensitive. Be gentle.” Phil looks at him with kind eyes, like he already knows that Dan will do his best.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He carefully cleans up the tacky, drying lube, and when he’s finished, he holds the cloth in his hand, slightly disgusted.

“Just toss it wherever,” Phil says, flapping a hand, uncaring. “It’ll get into the wash eventually.”

Dan at least has the decency to drop it far enough from the bed that there’s very little chance that either of them will step on it, but with empty hands, he’s suddenly unsure of his purpose. He shifts awkwardly near the door, hesitating. He wants to stay, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed. They don’t always sleep together after, well, sleeping together, but tonight... Dan really fucking wants to.

“Are you coming to bed or are you just going to stand there creeping?” Phil asks eventually, looking over at Dan like he’s gone crazy.

Dan could crumple with relief at that. “Yeah,” he says, making his way back across the room and sliding into bed next to Phil. “I wasn’t sure if, like, you wanted me to stay.”

Phil snorts. Dan tries not to be offended, since he doesn’t really know the reason for the rather unattractive sound. “I always want you to stay,” Phil mumbles, wrapping around Dan like an octopus once he’s settled.

“Me too,” Dan whispers, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist. He’s clinging, but Phil is too, a bit, so Dan doesn’t feel too guilty. He does realize, however, that Phil is still naked. This feels like it needs to be said. “You’re naked,” he says softly, stroking Phil’s shoulder with gentle sweeps.

“Mm,” Phil hums. “Yeah. That okay?”

Dan snorts. “Of course. As long as you’re comfy.”

Phil nuzzles him then, like a proper nuzzle, and Dan knows he’s not going to be able to escape his very real feelings for much longer.

“Dan?” Phil says eventually, breaking the lull of almost-sleep Dan has fallen into.

“Hm?” Dan mumbles, his eyes already closed.

Phil’s quiet for long enough that Dan is mostly asleep when he speaks again. “You like me, don’t you?”

Dan hums, a sleep-drunk noise that’s barely coherent.

“Dan,” Phil says again, nudging him. “You do, right?”

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, sighing noisily and snuggling in close to Phil. “Like you best,” he says nonsensically.

Phil makes a noise then, that Dan’s mostly-asleep brain deciphers as a pleased noise. He whispers something against Dan’s hair, but Dan loses it to the clutches of sleep.

~~~

When Dan wakes up, he knows something is wrong. It’s still dark out, but the bed is empty and the sheets are cold, and even as he tries to claw his way out of the haze of sleep, he knows that something about that should raise some alarm.

“Phil?” He calls, patting around on the bed for his phone. The screen is too bright when it powers on, showing a hideous three a.m. that makes Dan want to gag. But part of him, the part that’s spent maybe fourteen nights with Phil so far, is very concerned about this turn of events.

Quietly, as if there’s someone to wake, he crawls out of the bed, shivering in the chilled air. He quickly grabs a random blanket that’s thrown over the back of Phil’s desk chair, wrapping it around his shoulders as he goes in search of Phil.

A peek into the bathroom and kitchen has him coming up empty, so he journeys into the lounge, unnerved by how quiet and dark everything is. He shivers as he turns slowly in the space, and his breath catches when he sees movement out on the balcony.

He relaxes when he realizes that it’s Phil, and paces over to see what the fuck has him out of bed and in the cold, half-dressed at three in the morning. Dan taps on the glass door before he slides it open, making sure Phil isn’t startled by his presence.

It appears he needn’t have bothered, as Phil barely glances at him when Dan steps out on the balcony. Instead, he stares out at the sky before him, not sparing Dan a single look.

Dan can’t take the silence for long. “Having a nice freeze?” He jokes quietly.

Phil doesn’t laugh. His lips barely twitch. “Yeah,” he says flatly.

Dan shuffles, looking down at his feet. He’s already freezing, and he’s got far more layers on than Phil. Phil, who is only wearing a t-shirt and Sonic-printed pants that peek out from under his shirt just a bit. “Are you cold?” He asks softly.

“Why’re you out of bed?” Phil asks, ignoring his question.

Dan startles a bit at his tone. “I was looking for you,” he says, almost petulant. “I woke up alone, and I wanted to know where you were.”

“Well, you found me,” he says. He still doesn’t look at Dan.

“Yeah,” Dan says slowly. “Wishing I didn’t, to be honest.”

Phil finally glances at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Hm,” is all he says.

“Why’re you being a dick?” Dan asks bluntly. He’s always been one to get straight to the point, as he’s been told by many people in his life.

Phil sighs, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low. “I don’t mean to be. I’m just tired.”

Dan takes a risk, stepping forward to stand between Phil’s knees. “So come back to bed,” he mumbles, nudging Phil’s knee playfully with his own.

Phil’s lips twitch in an almost-real smile, and Dan savors that victory while he can. This turns out to be a good thing, because when Phil opens his mouth, it’s not what Dan wants to hear. “You can go back to bed. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

Dan frowns. “I don’t want to go back to bed unless you come too.” He sounds like a child, but he can’t help it.

Apparently Phil picks up on the whiny tone, as well. “Dan, I’m really not in the mood,” he sighs.

“In the mood for what?” Dan demands, his temper flaring.

Phil rolls his eyes. That pisses Dan off even more, if it’s possible. “To argue. Just, go to sleep, or watch tv, or something.”

Dan hates himself for it, but he feels rejected. “I’m not trying to argue with you,” he starts, wrapping his arms around himself as a gust of wind blows over the balcony. Phil shivers, and Dan’s heart clenches. “You’re cold,” he says gently.

“I’m fine.”

“Right.”

“Dan, just...” Phil sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Dan doesn’t want to hear what he’s about to say. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks suddenly, his stomach twisting with the thought. London at three in the morning was a terrifying place.

“Of course not,” Phil replies vehemently. “I want you to stay, I just...” he sighs, running his hands through his hair and making it stand up at funny angles. “My head’s being loud,” he murmurs eventually.

“Oh,” Dan replies. This is really the first time Phil has shared this side of himself, this side that feels pain and annoyance and discomfort.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “So I came out here to try and clear it.”

Dan feels guilty, suddenly. “And then I came out here and made it worse,” he fills in.

Phil shakes his head immediately, reaching out for Dan and gripping his hip. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay,” Dan mumbles. He hates his body’s natural reaction to this kind of stress, as he can feel hot tears pinpricking his eyes. He blinks rapidly, hoping Phil won’t notice.

Of course, Phil notices. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling Dan in to sit on his lap.

Dan goes willingly, settling into Phil’s arms that wrap around him, one hand coming up to rub his back in gentle sweeps. “Sorry,” Dan mumbles, wiping at his eyes with the edge of the blanket.

“It’s okay,” Phil says softly. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Dan immediately says. It’s a lie, but his natural instinct is apparently protect Phil first and then feel guilty about it later.

Phil kisses his cheek. “I know that I did,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”

Dan stays quiet, nuzzling against Phil’s neck, curling up as if he can make himself smaller by sheer will alone.

They sit in silence for a long while and then eventually, Phil sighs. “We should go back to bed.”

“Is your head still loud?” Dan asks.

Phil pats his back, prompting him to climb off his lap. “It is, but it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep eventually.”

Dan doesn’t move from his spot, chewing on his lip as he considers something. He turns so that he’s facing Phil, offering a timid grin. “I think I have a better idea.”

~~~

“This is not exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Phil says, his voice sounding very skeptical.

Dan huffs. “Quit being a hater,” he says, snuggling back against Phil. They’re sat on the sofa, Phil leaning back against the arm with Dan tucked between his legs, his back pressed to Phil’s chest.

Phil kisses his neck. “Sorry. What’re we doing again?” He wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, squeezing him like a teddy bear. Dan doesn’t mind being that teddy bear at all.

“You’re gonna help me decorate my island and my house on the new Animal Crossing game,” Dan informs him, leaving no room for debate.

“And why are we doing this instead of sleeping?”

“Because you said you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.

Phil kisses his neck again, and nuzzles at his shoulder, biting gently and playfully. “Okay, so instead of not-sleeping,” he says, a certain lilt to his voice. “Why are we doing this?”

Dan tilts his head to give him a look. “Because this is just a mindless little video game, and I think it would make you feel better to focus on something unimportant for right now. Something that’ll keep your brain busy but not in a bad way, you know?”

Phil looks at him for what feels like a long time before finally nodding. He kisses Dan’s cheek softly, lingering just a little. “Okay, fine. Let’s check out this island, then.”

~~~

“That is so tacky,” Dan complains.

“It’s not!”

“Phil, it doesn’t match.”

“So?”

Dan groans, crossing his arms petulantly. He’d handed the switch over to Phil when he realized that Phil was already familiar with the concept of Animal Crossing. He hadn’t played New Horizons yet, though, so Dan thought this was a perfect opportunity to get a taste of the game before he committed to buying it for himself.

“I’m gonna have so much to fix when you get done playing,” Dan complains.

Phil pinches his thigh. “Shut up, rat. Now where can I go with all these fossils? Should we sell them?”

Dan screeches, a fair impression of a pterodactyl. “No! Take them to the museum, you tit.”

Phil giggles behind him, and Dan feels it vibrate against his back. “Fine, fine. Where’s the museum?”

Sighing loudly in a very put-upon way, Dan guides him through the game to where his museum is located, screeching and complaining when Phil gets his lefts and rights confused and can’t figure it out. By the time Phil gets there, they’re both giggling uncontrollably, poking at each other repeatedly just to start laughing again. It’s so nice, Dan thinks. This is just what they needed. Even if it is nearly five in the morning and they’ve gotten absolutely no sleep, this is what they needed.

“Hey,” Phil says softly after a few minutes, once they’ve mostly settled down.

“Hm?” Dan replies, watching the screen as Phil makes Dan’s character run around in circles.

“Thank you, for this.” Phil’s voice is quiet, and it almost feels like too much, there in the darkness when they’re wrapped around each other like this.

“Of course,” Dan murmurs to him, tilting his head back and puckering his lips for a kiss. Phil grants him with a gentle peck, and Dan turns back to the game, pretending that the pointless kiss didn’t send an army of butterflies raging through his chest.

“You really knew exactly what I needed to calm down,” Phil says, sounding almost in awe of the fact.

Dan snorts. “Of course. You’re my best friend, Phil.” He hesitates, then, nervous that he may have crossed a line that he’s not ready to cross. “I mean- I may not be yours, and like, that’s fine, I just-“

“You’re mine, too,” Phil says quickly. Dan glances up in time to see Phil blushing. “You’re my best friend.”

They stare at each other for a minute that feels like forever, and then Dan clears his throat. “Right. Glad we got that cleared up,” he says, trying to joke.

Phil tightens his grip on Dan’s waist, and Dan tries to pretend that it doesn’t make his heart pound. “Should we go back to bed?” Phil says softly.

Dan smirks at that. “Round two?”

He feels a laugh vibrate against his back and a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “Don’t know about that, babe. I’m actually kind of exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. “It’s getting late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”

Phil sighs, nodding. “And I’ve got to meet Martyn in the morning.” For all the time Dan has known him, Phil has never sounded so upset about meeting up with his brother.

“Well we definitely need to hit the sack, then,” Dan says. He pats Phil’s arm that’s wrapped around his waist and sits up. “C’mon, bub. To bed, to bed.”

Phil allows himself to be pulled off the sofa and down the hall into his room. Dan tugs Phil’s shirt off with no other intention than making Phil more comfortable, and Phil’s got a soft look on his face when his head emerges. Dan brings a hand up to rest at Phil’s neck, rubbing his thumb over his pulse gently. It’s a moment that feels like it’s suspended in time, their breaths evening out to match. Dan thinks that maybe, maybe this is what it would feel like if they were actually together. Maybe this hot air balloon feeling would be comfortable someday, if he was allowed to grow more used to it. As it is now, it’s so unfamiliar that Dan feels like he might choke with how overwhelming his feelings are.

“Dan,” Phil breathes in the limited space between their lips.

The moment is shattered, and Dan forces himself to pull away. “I’m tired,” he says. His voice is flat.

He doesn’t miss the hurt on Phil’s face, for the flash of a second that it’s there. It’s gone before he gets the chance to feel properly guilty over it, and Phil’s turning away, crawling under the sheets without a word.

Dan settles on the side he’s come to think of as his own, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air between them now. He pretends there’s not, reaching out and turning off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he whispers once he resettles.

He’s greeted with silence.

~~~

The next morning, Dan wakes up alone.

The light is streaming in through Phil’s shitty blinds, and Dan groans out his discomfort, flailing about like he can will the sunshine away by sheer force alone. It doesn’t work, obviously, but his flailing about does bring his attention to the emptiness of the bed.

He sits up, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes with sleep-numb fingers. “Phil?” he calls out. His voice echoes in the quiet of the room.

When he doesn’t immediately hear a reply, Dan starts worrying, because of course he does. He’s never woken up totally alone in Phil’s flat. On the rare occasions when Phil isn’t still in bed with him, Dan always finds him in the kitchen or bathroom, or somewhere. But a quick search of the flat has him coming up empty and he’s trying not to panic, really he is, but he actually can’t help it.

He calms down a little when he notices a note pinned to the fridge. It’s a little ridiculous how relieved he is when he pulls it down to read it.

Dan- I would’ve texted but I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m just out to breakfast with Martyn. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. Phil

He’s signed the note with a heart beside his name, and Dan refuses to think about how that makes him feel. Instead he focuses on the last part. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. The idea that Phil would still want to see him again, after the awkwardness of the night before, makes his heart pound. He feels almost sick with guilt over how he’d acted. But he had been so overwhelmed, with the sex and the emotions that came with it. It was no surprise that he was pushing Phil away by the end of the night.

Dan sighs, folding the note carefully and making his way back to Phil’s bedroom. He tucks the note into his backpack, and then he just sort of stops. He’s not sure what to do, alone in Phil’s flat. It’s not something that’s ever happened before, he realizes with a start. Of course he’s spent the night with Phil before, several times by now, but this is the first time he’s found himself waking up alone on a Saturday in the other man’s flat, with no real idea of when he’s coming back. It’s probably stupid, how much he’s already missing Phil, when he’s got no idea how long he’s even been gone.

It takes Dan a few minutes of searching, but eventually he finds his phone amidst the sheets, and he sighs when he doesn’t see any notifications. He debates with himself for a minute or two, but ultimately decides that yes, he is that pathetic, and opens his chat with Phil. All he does is type out a quick “good morning” before going to find a phone plug, a mocking thirteen percent glaring at him from the top of his screen.

He’s barely gotten the phone plugged in when it vibrates with a notification. It buzzes two more times before Dan manages to swipe over to the messages, and he grins when he sees what’s there.

Phil: hi! Phil: why did we stay up so late 😭 Phil: I swear I have some sort of weird sober hangover

Dan grins as he types out a response, leaning awkwardly on Phil’s desk as he does.

Dan: Idk bub I guess maybe you should’ve stayed in bed Dan: you know, instead of abandoning me

Phil: I had to meet my brother!

Dan: I’m naked though

It’s sort of a lie, since Dan is wearing a pair of Phil’s pants, but he could easily be naked, if he was so inclined.

Phil: ..... okay maybe I should’ve stayed at home

Dan smirks to himself. This part of their arrangement, at least, is easy.

Dan: where r u guys at

Phil: That cafe close to the park Phil: The one you said had hipster vibes

Dan: ew of course martyn would like that place

Dan’s never actually met him but from what he hears from Phil, Martyn’s definitely the hipster-y type.

Phil: You wanna come meet us? Martyn keeps asking about you

Dan: you want me to meet your brother?

He’s trying to be normal about this. Because really, that’s a normal thing. Friends do that. Friends meet their friends’ siblings and families all the time.

It’s the “friends” part that Dan is having trouble with, actually.

Phil: Yes.

Dan hesitates. That does sound kind of nice, actually, but something in him doesn’t really know what his answer should be. He knows what he wants it to be, of course. He definitely knows that.

He must take too long to answer, because suddenly his phone is vibrating in his hand, the constant vibrate of an incoming call. Of course it’s Phil, and of course Dan answers almost immediately.

“I still can’t believe you’re the kind of person who just calls when they don’t get a text back,” Dan says in lieu of a hello.

Phil sounds like he’s smiling when he replies. “Come to the cafe. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Dan makes a considering noise, as if he’s not already digging around Phil’s dresser for something to wear. “Alright, fine. But I’m not putting out.”

Phil laughs. “Yes you will,” he says quietly. Dan wonders if Martyn can hear both sides of this conversation. “Now hurry up. I want another croissant, but I don’t wanna order twice.”

“Okay but I’m borrowing your clothes,” Dan says, tugging on a pair of dark grey sweats. He goes to the closet, looking through the selection with pursed lips.

“Fine,” Phil says, unbothered. “Wear something warm, it’s cold out.”

Dan smiles. “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Bye, Dan.” The call disconnects with a click, leaving Dan to select a shirt in silence. He debates with himself for all of a minute before tugging at Phil’s hoodie from his university days, tugging it over his head easily. It’s hideous, but it makes him feel warm when he wears it, both literally and figuratively. It’s well worn with all the years of use it’s seen, but it also makes Dan feel a little possessive. As if anyone who sees him will somehow assume that he belongs to someone just because of a stupid sweater, with a university insignia on it that’s not his own.

He tells his brain to shut the hell up as he makes his way out of Phil’s flat, locking the door behind him with the spare key Phil keeps above the door. He considers slipping it into his pocket but figures that if he comes back it’ll be with Phil anyway, so it would be pointless to pocket the key.

It’s a short walk to the cafe he’s headed for, but he still tucks his AirPods in and scrolls through one of his many pretentiously named playlists until he finds one of his favorite Frank Ocean songs, one that’s really good to listen to while he walks. He hums along as he walks, stuffing his hands in his borrowed hoodie pocket. Phil wasn’t joking about the weather, and Dan’s already regretting his lack of undershirt as the wind nips at every bit of exposed skin.

When the cafe comes into sight, it’s a very welcome thing, and Dan stuffs his AirPods back in their case as he pushes the door open. There’s no happy little bell ringing out the sound of his arrival, not like the little cafe that he and Phil always go to on their own. Still, it’s a warm building, and somewhere in it is the promise of food and Phil, so Dan is pleased to be there anyway.

It doesn’t take him long to spot Phil and his brother sitting at a table towards the back of the cafe. And from the goofy look on Phil’s face, it didn’t take them long to spot him either.

“Hi,” he says when he reaches the table. He didn’t realize it until now, as he’s face to face with the infamous older Lester brother, but he’s nervous. He’s so nervous to meet someone that he knows is so important to a person who’s so important to him.

“Hi,” Phil parrots, sliding over and patting the space of booth next to him. “Cute top,” he smirks as he looks over Dan’s outfit, making Dan’s cheeks flame in mild embarrassment.

When Dan slides in, he offers a smile to the stranger across from them, unsure what to say. He turns to Phil with the intentions of making some sort of joke, but he’s thrown off track by Phil leaning in, planting a short kiss right on his mouth. Dan startles away, his heart racing as he shoots a panicked glance over to Phil’s brother.

Martyn looks completely unbothered, and more unsurprised than Dan thinks he’s really got a right to. “So you must be Dan,” he says, his tone neutral. He’s got a smirk on his face, or what Dan thinks might be one if his eyes weren’t also a bit smiley. “Unless my brother is just in the habit of kissing strange boys.” He sends Phil a funny look, his mouth doing a mimicry of Phil’s precious tongue bite thing.

“Er-“ Dan says with an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I’m Dan.”

Martyn reaches his hand across the table, and Dan accepts the handshake, still a little shaken by the weirdness of the whole encounter. He’s trying not to think about the other reason he feels a little shaken, or the way his lips feel decidedly tingly from Phil’s kiss.

“I’m Martyn, his brother. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Martyn is saying. Dan forces himself to pay attention. “Phil never shuts up about you.”

“Martyn,” Phil hisses. There’s a thudding noise and Martyn winces. Dan knows without asking that Phil just kicked him. Phil smiles sweetly at Dan, and Dan can’t help but lean into the warmth of his gaze. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“Hm,” Dan hums thoughtfully. “There was mention of croissants?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’ll go get you your usual carb selection. Scooch.”

Dan dimples up at him as he slides out of the booth so that Phil can get up to go order. As Phil passes him, Dan makes a split-second decision and kisses his cheek, his body desperate to release some of the affectionate energy he’s got stored up from a morning without him. “Get me something sweet too?” Dan requests as he slides back into the booth.

Phil grins at him. “You’ve already got me, though!”

Martyn makes a retching noise and Dan feels himself blush as Phil trots over to the counter to order their food. Dan forgets to be nervous about being left alone with Phil’s brother for a second, so wrapped up in watching the awkward hand gestures Phil makes as he selects an array of croissants and muffins for them.

His brief reverie is ruined when he hears Martyn clear his throat from across the table. Dan jerks at the noise, startled. Martyn sends him an apologetic smile, and Dan finds himself relaxing. Martyn really isn’t that scary in person.

“If he wasn’t so tall, I’d swear he’s a hobbit,” Martyn says, nodding towards his brother.

It takes Dan a minute to think about it, but he grins when it clicks. “Are we on second breakfast or elevensies?” he jokes.

Martyn laughs, seemingly pleased that Dan understood the reference. “Definitely elevensies,” he says.

Dan smiles, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he sneaks another glance at Phil. “He eats like he’s been starved for twelve years. I don’t know where he puts it all,” Dan jokes, rolling his eyes.

Martyn grins. “One of the world’s greatest mysteries,” he agrees. He glances over at Phil for a second, like he’s checking that he’s still preoccupied, and then he’s turning back to Dan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Phil seems really happy these days.”

“Yeah?” Dan says lightly, trying his hardest not to let that go to his head. He can’t hide the smile it causes though, but he tries, biting down on his lip hard.

“Yeah,” Martyn confirms. He taps the table a little, peeking over his shoulder at Phil again. Phil’s chatting with the barista as they prepare the drinks, and Dan just knows that Phil is trying to tell some weird coffee joke that he tells every time he’s in a coffee shop. Dan’s attention is brought back to Martyn when he speaks again, his voice quieter than before. “We never thought he’d get over his ex-boyfriend, to be honest with you. He was so hung up over him, even after the breakup.” Martyn shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee with a pained look in his eyes.

Dan feels like he’s been doused in cold water all of a sudden, the thought of there being some other man, some other partner before him... But then again, he reminds himself bitterly, they aren’t partners. They’re just friends who... friends who sleep together sometimes. And that’s enough for Dan. But if that’s all they are, he can’t bear this- hearing about some ex-boyfriend that left Phil broken and obsessed. Some person out there that’s been lucky enough to have the parts of Phil that Dan himself isn’t allowed to have, and then wasted it. He can’t handle it.

Martyn doesn’t seem to notice the breakdown Dan is having, steamrolling right over the topic like it’s nothing. “So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Phil told me that he met someone.”

Dan startles at that. The way he phrased it makes it sound like Martyn has a very different perspective on their situation. Almost like Phil told him they were...

“Freshly made breakfast, per your request,” Phil announces as he appears beside the table, his arms laden with various treats and pastries.

“You say that like we don’t know they’re thawed out of a freezer every morning and then chucked in a microwave,” Martyn says, grinning.

“Well... they smell delicious, so surely that counts for something,” Phil says, flapping a hand, completely unbothered by Martyn’s comment. He starts sorting out the food, and Dan doesn’t realize he’s staring until Phil turns to speak to him, freezing when he catches the undoubtedly intense look on Dan’s face. “Are you okay?” Phil asks, his voice dropping to something soft.

Dan nods, trying to shake himself out of it. It’s fine. Everything is fine, so he needs to get a grip and get over himself. “Did you forget our coffee?” He asks, looking pointedly at the table.

Phil makes an offended noise, immediately followed by an “oh- yeah.”

Dan rolls his eyes, looking over at Martyn and shaking his head with a mocking thumb pointed in Phil’s direction. Dan can’t help but grin when Martyn laughs at that. “Scoot over, I’ll go get the coffee,” Dan says, patting Phil’s thigh.

Before he gets the chance to get up, a barista is appearing at their table with two cups of coffee, a small smile on their face. “You forgot your coffee,” they say pleasantly.

Phil looks embarrassed, but nods. “Thank you so much.” He pushes Dan’s cup to him as he gestures at his own head vaguely, saying, “one brain cell, and all that.”

The barista laughs and nods. “Same. Have a lovely day, guys.”

Dan waits until they walk back to the counter and out of earshot before he looks over at Martyn, nodding his head in Phil’s direction. “I can’t believe he told them he had one whole brain cell.” His voice is dripping with false disappointment, and he ignores the noise of protest from Phil.

Martyn grins though, clearly finding this banter delightful. “Right? He’s obviously only got half of one.”

“Hey!” Phil whines. “You can’t team up against me. It’s not fair.”

Dan reaches over and squeezes his knee, letting his hand linger for much longer than is actually necessary. “Don’t worry, bub. I have the other half.”

Phil looks surprised for a second, and Dan revels in the way that look melts into one of delighted affection. Turning to his brother, Phil sticks his tongue out childishly.

Martyn rolls his eyes, reaching over and snatching a croissant, dipping it in his coffee in a decidedly Lester fashion. “You’re a child,” he tells Phil mockingly.

Of course, Phil, ever the younger brother, retorts with a truly impressive: “I know you are but what am I?”

~~~

It’s nearly an hour later when Martyn makes his exit. He apologizes but says he’s got to get back home to his girlfriend, who has some kind of stomach flu. Phil mocks him for leaving her alone all morning, but Martyn has this oddly unbothered look, waving it off and saying, “she’s fine. Corny is a tough bird. She doesn’t need or want me to coddle her.” Phil says he can’t really argue with him there, and they laugh about it, making it clear that there’s something to this Cornelia person that Dan doesn’t quite get, having never met her.

They all clear off their trash and dishes from the table before Phil and Dan follow Martyn to the door. They pause as they stand outside, Martyn and Phil making plans to hang out again sometime the next week. Dan feels sort of awkward stood there, as they haven’t included him in this bit of the conversation, so he pulls his phone out, messing about on Twitter until he hears his name. He tunes back in, glancing up to find Martyn looking at him with a smile.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. God, way to look stupid in front of a stranger.

“I just asked if you’d be coming with Phil, when we go out next weekend,” Martyn says, with the air of someone who is not used to accepting no for an answer.

“Oh, er...” Dan looks to Phil helplessly, but Phil just shrugs. He’s smiling encouragingly, like he wants Dan to say yes, so Dan gives Martyn an awkward, uncertain nod. “Uh, sure. Where are you guys going?”

“We’re going with Martyn and Cornelia to have dinner and maybe clubbing a little bit,” Phil replies, giving Dan an apologetic look. He knows how Dan feels about clubbing, and something about that fills Dan with such an ooey-gooey warmth that he finds himself agreeing to it easily, despite how much he despises the club scene.

“Sure, I’m in. Sounds fun,” Dan says with a smile.

Martyn looks pleased, and Dan is surprised when he holds his arms out for a hug. “Cool. Listen, it was nice meeting you, mate. Be good to my little brother, okay?”

“O-kay,” Dan says, stuttering through the word just a bit. He can’t hide his surprise, though, and it only melts into confusion when Martyn pulls away with a wink.

“Bye, Phil,” Martyn says, hugging Phil next. He mumbles something in his ear that Dan doesn’t catch, but Phil’s ears go pink, and Dan decides that he’ll be pestering Phil about it immediately after Martyn leaves.

“Goodbye, Martyn,” Phil says, a little bit strained. He waves his brother off, reaching out and catching Dan’s wrist with the one not waving. Dan thinks he probably means to hold his hand but just doesn’t have the coordination to do both at once.

Dan watches Martyn walk away, then turns to look at Phil. “Your flat is also that way,” he points out, unnecessarily, probably, considering Phil looks like he’d rather choke than have to walk with his brother. Dan’s dying to ask what Martyn could’ve possibly said that would make Phil react like this, but he’s going to give it a moment.

“I know,” Phil says, petulant. He’s a lip twitch away from a full-on pout.

“So... shouldn’t we also be going that way?” Dan teases.

Phil suddenly shakes his head, turning and tugging Dan in the opposite direction. “Nope. We’re going to the park.”

“Are we?” Dan laughs, letting himself be towed along.

“Yep,” Phil says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. “Gonna buy some bread and feed some ducks.”

Dan shakes his head, adjusting the grip their hands are locked in so that their fingers are properly laced together. He tugs a little on Phil’s arm, slowing Phil down from where he’s walking a pace and a half quicker than Dan. “Bread is bad for ducks,” Dan remarks mindlessly.

“Hm,” Phil hums. He sounds distracted. “Fine, we’ll just look at the ducks.”

Dan shrugs. “Okay.” He waits for a beat. When it’s clear that Phil isn’t going to look at him or speak, Dan cracks. “So what did Martyn say?”

Phil’s face immediately flushes, an incredibly big tell for him. Dan bites back a laugh, squeezing Phil’s fingers reassuringly. “Nothing,” he says quickly. Another tell, and clearly he doesn’t know Dan very well if he thinks that Dan is just going to let it go.

“Come on,” Dan whines, tugging on Phil’s hand. “Tell me! I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”

Phil rolls his eyes, tugging his hand out of Dan’s grip. Dan feels mildly offended for a moment, but he recovers quickly when he feels Phil’s arm wrap around his shoulders instead. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” Phil asks as he tugs at a hoodie string, ignoring Dan’s pestering entirely.

“No, I’m not,” Dan says quickly, batting Phil’s hand away. “Quit trying to change the subject, I wanna know what he said.”

“It’s really cold out, Dan, you should’ve worn a t-shirt or something underneath this,” Phil continues, a little frown tugging at his lips.

Dan huffs. “I think you’re stalling,” he says.

Phil shrugs, looking away. His ears are still pink, and not the kind you only get from the cold. “I’m not,” he mumbles half-heartedly.

“Was it about me?” Dan asks, excited. He already knows it was, but the way Phil blushes confirms it for him. “It was! What was it?”

Phil sighs deeply. “If I tell you will you drop it?”

Dan nods, holding out his pinky for a sacred pinky-promise. Phil rolls his eyes, but locks their pinkies together anyway. “So?” Dan asks, giddy.

Phil’s quiet for a moment, pulling his arm away from Dan to shove his hands in his coat pockets. Dan feels the loss of his warmth immediately, and leans into his space to get a little of it back. “He told me that he was happy to see me happy,” Phil says quietly.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil says with a nod. “And...” he glanced over at Dan, looking away quickly with another flush to his cheeks. “He told me not to screw it up this time.”

At first, Dan is surprised that Martyn would tell him not to screw this up, considering he clearly doesn’t understand the arrangement they have, but then his brain processes the implications of that. Martyn had told Dan that Phil had gone through a terrible breakup, that they thought he’d never get over it... but what he said to Phil makes it sound like he was the one at fault. And despite the fact that they aren’t actually dating, that Dan doesn’t actually really know how Phil is in a romantic relationship, Dan just knows that this cannot be true.

“You couldn’t,” Dan says, leaving very little room for argument.

Phil gives him a strange look. “What?”

Dan clears his throat. “You couldn’t screw this up. You know that, right?”

Phil looks at him like he doesn’t quite agree, but shrugs. “I thought that last time, too,” he mumbles.

Dan’s heart jumps. Phil’s never told him about his previous relationships, and this feels like that might be where this conversation is headed. Dan doesn’t know if he can stand that. It was bad enough to hear Martyn tell it, Dan thinks he might actually be sick if he has to hear Phil tell it as well.

“Phil,” Dan murmurs, reaching out and touching his arm.

“It’s fine,” Phil says with a shrug. “This time will be different.” He turns to look at Dan, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Because you’re different.”

Dan has to pretend that doesn’t make his insides set alight, but oh god, it does. “Right,” Dan murmurs. He doesn’t even know what Phil meant by it, really. Is this different because they aren’t actually dating? Is it different because Dan isn’t like Phil’s mysterious ex? Dan is desperate to know, but he’s afraid to ask.

He didn’t realize how far they’d walked, but his spiral of ruinous thoughts is cut off by Phil tugging at his arm and pointing. “Look! Ducks!”

Dan still has questions, he still wants to know if there’s something else going on between them, but for now he decides to ignore it. There will inevitably come a day where he can’t ignore it, but he decides that today is not that day, and instead allows Phil to drag him over to where the family of ducks is quacking about near the pond.

~

[halpertstuna]

must have been the wind - jj maybank

A/N: this imagine is inspired by the song “must have been the wind” by alec benjamin. i wrote this imagine listening to the slowed version of the song. i highly recommend you listen to it whilst/before/after reading this(:

pairing: jj x reader

word count: 2,874

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, some angst, some fluff, ya know, all that jazz. and probably typos (this isn’t really edited, pls forgive me)

-> masterlist <-

(gif credit: @jjbanks )

It was 1:28AM, you gazed out the window of the moving car, your elbow was placed on the door panel whilst your head rested in the palm of your hand, the dark navy blue moonlit water in the ocean outside was being reflected in your eyes.

You were currently sat in the backseat of a white Honda lost in your thoughts. Your dad got transferred to North Carolina due to him getting a promotion at work, which was a big deal, especially since your mum wasn’t working and so he jumped on the opportunity right away, moving the two of you with him.

Obviously you were happy for him, but you were also kind of glum since it meant packing up your entire life back in Miami and leaving all of your friends behind with everything else that was familiar, warm and felt like home.

You were being pulled out of your thoughts by the car coming to a stop.

You exited the car taking your bag and suitcase with you to the front porch, then retuned to help your exhausted parents with theirs, once you acknowledged they were struggling to keep their eyes open.

The movers were supposed to come in the morning at about 8AM to unload the rest of your belongings.

You had entered the house and your dad lead you to your room, your mum following not far behind, not wanting to be alone in the foreign, empty house.

You set your bags down next to the bedroom door and kissed both your parents goodnight. They went to their room shortly after and fell into a deep asleep right away.

You changed into pyjamas and laid down in bed staring at the ceiling, you were tired but you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep.

After about an hour of just gazing at the fan spinning above your head, your eyes started to flutter shut, and just as you were about to drift off to sleep the sound of glass shattering startled you, making your heart race as the sound echoed through your ears.

You jumped out of bed and ran to your parents room worried, only to find out they were fast asleep.

Where did the sound come from then? And how come your parents didn’t hear anything? Is the tiredness starting to affect your hearing? Did you just imagine it?

You walked back to your room confused and curious as to where the sound came from.

you laid back in bed and quickly fell asleep assuming what you heard was caused by your sleep deprived state, your ears playing tricks on you.

You managed to fall asleep pretty quickly but you were pulled out of your dreams by the sound of two male voices, screaming at the top of their lungs, shooting at each other vitriolic comments.

Now you were sure, you weren’t just imagining it earlier.

You walked towards your bedroom window, peeking out in hopes of seeing something, anything that could give you a clue to whatever the hell is going on at almost four in the morning.

After about five minutes of hearing despicable words roll off someone’s tongue, muffled by the walls yet clear as day the second you let them sink in, you decided to go back to sleep since it’s really not your place, and just as you were about to walk back to your bed, you noticed a tall figure exit the house in a hurry while someone from behind it kept roaring in a resentful tone vile words.

You quickly turned your attention back to the view your window had to offer, watching as what looked like a teenage boy, put a helmet on his disheveled hair, get on a bike and ride off.

And with that, the noise stopped.

You were stood by your window as the quiet night swallowed you whole, the only sound audible now was your breathing.

You laid back in your bed taking in what you had just witnessed.

Who was that boy? Who was the mysterious, scary voice behind the door? why was he yelling such dreadful things at him? And what more was he capable of?

The questions were endless, they haunted your thoughts, knowing you had to find out what was going on, if that boy was okay.

You dozed off not long after, given the fact that you were after a flight and it was really late.

The next morning you were woken up by the rays of sunlight breaking through the glass of your window, resting on your closed eyelids. The realisation that you forgot to shut the curtains last night before you went to bed suddenly hitting you.

It was almost eight. You let out a loud groan and flipped so you were facing the wall, desperate for more sleep.

You barely had time to even try before your mum knocked on your door, your eyes fluttered open, she smiled at you greeting you good morning.

You let out a sigh and sat up, mumbling under your breath “it could be better”.

You got up and brushed your teeth, then went back to your room to get changed. You wore blue jean shorts, a black oversized band tee and white slip-on vans.

you entered the kitchen and noticed your dad making coffee, he handed you a mug filled with the warm liquid, you quickly drank it and set the mug down in the sink, realising he had started unpacking the “fragile - kitchen” box, meaning the mover’s loading truck was already outside.

You got out of the hous and your dad followed, your mum was already helping with the boxes and the two of you joined her and the movers helping them unload the truck.

It was almost nine and you were down to your last boxes, when you heard what sounded like the engine of a motorcycle.

Your head shot in the direction of the house next to yours as you noticed the same bike from yesterday come to a stop at the front porch, a blonde mop of hair was the first thing you noticed once the boy took off the helmet he had on, running his fingers through his hair.

He started making his way into the house, not giving you a single look.

When you finished unloading and unpacking your parents asked you to take out the trash.

You held two big, black garbage bags in your petite hands and started making your way to the bin.

You threw the content in, and just as you turned around the boy exited his house.

The two of you made eye contact and you offered him a kind smile which he mirrored without hesitation.

You started walking towards your house but stopped in your tracks at the memories of last night.

He was sat on his doorstep, a juul in his hand, as he hit it repeatedly.

You started walking towards him.

“Hey” he greeted sending you a smirk.

“Hi” you replied grinning.

As you got closer to him, you were met with the prettiest pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen.

“I’m JJ” he introduced himself taking another hit

“I’m Y/N, I’m new here” you stated suddenly shy under his gaze, taking in how attractive he is from up close.

“Yeah, i kinda figured, I saw the truck here earlier, plus I’ve never seen you around before” he affirmed

You nodded, a comfortable silence fell upon you two.

You were looking him up and down, he was wearing a grey tank top that revived his biceps and kaki shorts with a pair of black boots.

You then looked at the juul he was holding and noticed his knuckles looked slightly bruised, painted in this violet colour. You studied his features slowly before breaking the silence.

“Hey, um I actually wanted to ask you a question” He looked up at you signalling you to continue. “Last night, when I was trying to sleep, I heard glass shattering and other noises, d- did you hear anything?” He averted his gaze from you to the dock in front of him shaking his head no.

You knew he was lying. But you didn’t push him any further, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it he would.

You quickly changed the subject which he was highly grateful for.

The two of you sat there talking for a few hours, you told him about your life back home and he told you about the pogues, the two of you found out you actually have a lot in common, you share the same love for the ocean and surfing, you both would do anything for your loved ones and you both want to travel the world and explore it.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been sat with JJ, talking, until the two of you noticed the sun starting to set in the horizon, painting the sky in the most beautiful shades of yellowish-red slowly followed by shades of violet and blue.

You darted your gaze over to JJ, only to discover his was already on you. You smiled up at him, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, you whispered a “hi” to which he chuckled and shook his head, smiling at how cute he found your softness.

And for the first time since you moved, you felt welcome. And even though it started getting chilly, you felt warm inside, thanks to the humorous boy beside you.

You could hear your name being called from inside the house, telling you dinner’s ready.

You bid your goodbyes and walked back to your house.

You ate dinner with your family then went to bed, this time falling asleep easily since you were exhausted from that day.

At about two in the morning, you had to pee, so you walked to the bathroom half asleep but were quickly snapped back to reality when you heard “I’ll fucking kill you!” bawled with rage.

Your eyes were shot open at the sound of that and you started freaking out a bit. You were really worried but you didn’t want to stick your nose where it didn’t belong, so you decided to let it go.

When you laid back in bed you heard someone ignite a motorcycle and take off, you assumed it was JJ, and again, with that, just like the night before, the noise stopped.

The next day you didn’t see him. You were worried something might have happened but you reassured yourself, assuming he was probably with the pogues. That day was dedicated to helping your parents unpack furniture, cutlery etc.

You went to sleep pretty early given you were in desperate need of it.

You were abruptly woken up by the sound of loud thuds and the words “worthless piece of shit” ringing in your ears as they were being yelled at someone.

You quickly got up and looked out your window, you were concerned about JJ’s well being, assuming he got back home while you were sleeping.

This time you just couldn’t shake the feeling something’s seriously wrong, with that you slipped on your shoes and quickly ran to his house in a panic.

You knocked on the door firmly.

Once it was swung open and you were met with the same pair of blue eyes you saw yesterday, but this time with a bruise under one and a cut under the other.

His eyes softened at the sight of your worried state and you drank him in, searching his face for more bruises.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked now angry “what’s all that noise?!”

JJ looked at you then down at his feet and said “I wish I could tell you but I didn’t hear anything” you were taken aback by his words.

You knew he was playing dumb, and usually you won’t want to intrude but you were far too worried about him.

“Are you serious?” You asked him with wide eyes. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. It must’ve been the wind.” you were dumbfounded by his statement, speechless.

“Thanks for caring, but I have to go back inside, good night.” Your eyes swam with concern as he closed the door. You walked back to your house not wanting to pressure him any further into talking about it since he looked like he was on the verge of breaking.

The next day you went to the beach with your surfboard. You ran into the water, eager to catch some waves when you were met with none other than the “surfing legend” himself, as he liked to say, JJ Maybank.

He was on his surfboard riding a wave as you watched in awe.

Once he saw you he started paddling on his board in your direction.

“Well hello there, how are you enjoying the waters of the Outer Banks so far?” he greeted authoritatively and you giggled at that. “I actually just got here, didn’t really get the chance to ride any waves. But I can’t say the same about you. You’re really good” you commented and a grin spread across his face. “Thanks” he replied.

He sat straddling his surfboard and as he got closer you noticed a giant bruise on his stomach, you gasped at the sight, he didn’t understand at first, then followed your gaze. “What happened?” You asked faintly, reaching out and tenderly tracing the bruise with your fingertips. “It’s nothing,” he scoffed “you should see the other guy” he chuckled awkwardly, but you weren’t buying it.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it,” you started “but just know my door is always open, you can come whenever you’d like for as long as you desire if you ever need a friend” he shot you a watery smile at that invitation and a comforting silence fell upon the two of you.

You broke it by saying “I bet I can catch that wave before you Maybank!” Then started steering away towards the giant wave that was heading your way, “Oh! Bring it on Y/L/N!” He retorted following not far behind.

That day was fun for the both of you, sun, surf and no worries.

When you got home you took a shower and put on a pair of grey sweatpants and a white oversized shirt.

It was getting late and you were beat from surfing and being in the sun all day, you had no trouble drowsing off.

You were sound asleep until you were alarmed by the sound of knocking on your window. You shifted the blanket off your body and got up, your warm feet made contact with the cold wooden floor, waking you up a bit as you approached your window.

You rubbed your eyes trying to make out the face of the blurry figure on the other side of the glass. You quickly picked up that it was JJ and opened the window, letting him climb in.

He didn’t need to say anything, knowing you already knew why he was there. You turned on the the table lamp, then noticed he had a busted lip, and a fresh cut on his cheek.

You were quick to wrap him in your embrace, hugging him dangerously close. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and started crying, tears slid down his cheeks, making the collar of your shirt wet and see through, but you didn’t care. He buried his face in your chest and you held him as tight as possible until he managed to steady his breathing.

You held his hand and intertwined your fingers, leading him to the bathroom without a single word being passed between the two of you. You signaled him to sit in the counter and he obeyed. You started cleaning up his bruises and cuts, bandaging what you could.

After you finished you told him to go back to your room. You went to the kitchen and quickly returned, plopping down on the bed beside him, handing him ice cream, knowing it’s the most comforting thing you could give, other than a hug which followed the deed.

You put on “Iron Man”, trying to lighten the mood with Tony Stark’s humour.

As the credits rolled he opened his mouth “I’m sorry,” he mumbled “for bothering you like this it’s just- I mean- I-“ you cut him off by caressing his cheek with your hand, he leaned into your touch. “It’s okay.” you cooed, a single tear slid down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb, smiling weakly at him “We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, and until you are, we can say ‘it must have been the wind’” you quoted what he’d told you the other day, gaining a smile from him, a real smile, eyes full of adoration.

You pulled the blanket on the two of you up to your chin.

You shut off the light and muttered a “Good night” before drifting off.

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a bit longer than he should’ve.

He murmured a good night before falling asleep as well beside you.

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

After the War

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Pureblood!Reader

Summary: Where you see the complications that they go through being raised as pureblood traditionalists during a time of war, friends to lovers

Requested: Nah

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of torture, pureblood ideals, bad parenting (maybe hints at abuse?)

A/N: I’m posting this verrrryyyyy late at night (for me, it might actually be prime time for the rest of y’all) but I’ve been working hard on this for about two weeks and I’m actually kinda like really proud of it so I hope you guys also enjoy! Please remember to let me know what you think - reblog, comment, send asks! I love hearing what you guys have to say, it honestly makes my day :) it’s also like 6k long and I could have easily gone on writing it forever - spin-off blurbs maybe?? If you fancy it??

ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS BUT THE FORMATTING MIGHT BE FUCKED ON MOBILE SO THE SLASHES INDICATE FLASHBACKS AS WELL

Draco’s hand was holding tightly onto the glass he had been given by his friend.

Pansy had neglected to mention just how many people were attending Y/N’s homecoming party - of course, he was aware that Y/N had always been far more popular than him, but he and his fellow Slytherins had never bothered themselves with attempting to integrate themselves with any of the other groups that Y/N had befriended at Hogwarts.

And when Pansy had decided that it would be her, with the help of Daphne, of course, who would be organising the party for one of their oldest friends, Draco had never imagined that Potter, Granger and the Weasley’s would be on the invite list.

It was beyond strange to have them in his house. There was a time not so long ago that he would never have even dreamed of allowing them to enter beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor. 

But that was before the war. 

Naturally when Pansy had mentioned throwing a party for Y/N’s return into society, Draco had been the first to offer Malfoy Manor up as the venue. 

Privately he admitted to himself that it was because he felt so awful about having been unable to visit Y/N in the hospital, but he would never confess that to his friends, he already knew what they were more than likely to tell him - it wasn’t his fault.

But it was, he knew it was. If he had just listened to her.

“Where is she?” Pansy huffed, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground and glaring at the door, as though by simply willing it enough her friend would appear.

“She doesn’t go anywhere very fast anymore, Pansy, calm down - she’ll be here soon,” Theo laughed a little, rolling his eyes at Pansy’s impatience.

“I thought she had recovered?” Draco asked immediately, concern flaring up for his friend at once.

“I keep forgetting that you haven’t seen her,” Daphne said, her voice quiet and sadness hung over the group at those words.

“I thought you said she was better?” Draco questioned hoarsely.

“She is - but she’s… more subdued than before,” Blaise confirmed, a troubled expression clouding his ever-handsome features.

“Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if she just decided not to turn up,” Theo mentioned conversationally, evidently trying to break the harsh silence that had fallen between the friends. There was a small grin trying to break across his face. “I mean, she’s never exactly enjoyed parties all that much before, and now she has a reason to skive off of them.”

Blaise and Daphne both laughed at that and even Draco indulged himself with a smile, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a sip.

Pansy on the other hand scowled and rolled her eyes.

“Please - we all know she’ll make an appearance to keep everyone here happy and also to see Draco.”

Colour rose in Draco’s cheeks at the knowing looks shot at him by his closest friends and he was suddenly acutely aware of just how long he had known them and of how long they had known Y/N, of how well they all knew each other. 

“You’re thinking rather loudly, Draco,” Daphne informed him, but the gentle smile on her face was enough to relax him into understanding that she was merely teasing.

“I met Y/N here,” he told them. “At that gala - or it might have been a dinner party… I don’t… I don’t quite remember.”

//

Draco recognised the family.

They were always invited to the galas and the adults always showed up and for as long as he could remember, the eldest daughter had as well. The son had been a recent addition to their permanent entourage.

But the young girl was new.

She was clutching onto her sister's hand, hidden slightly behind her, practically cowering away from Draco and his parents when they greeted her as part of the welcome committee. 

“This must be your other daughter?” Narcissa’s smile was gentle, kind as her eyes fell onto the shy-looking girl. The eldest daughter nudged Y/N out from behind her, giving a reassuring smile and Draco could see the dangerous glare being directed to the young girl by her father.

“Hi,” she mumbled out, still staring at the ground.

“Y/N is rather shy,” her mother butted in and Draco could see the annoyance in her eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Lucius stated, giving his best attempt at a warm smile towards her, but his eyes quickly moved off of the young girl and looked behind the family to see if any other guests were making their way up.

“This is our son, Draco,” Narcissa told the girl, crouching down in front of her. “I’m sure your siblings have told you about him,” her eyes flicked up to Y/N’s brother and sister who gave nods. “He’s your age as well,” Draco was pulled to stand in front of the girl.

“Hi,” Y/N mumbled out again and Draco looked at his mother unsurely.

“How about you take Y/N through to the lounge with the other kids? Introduce her to everyone?” Narcissa suggested. 

“Okay,” Draco agreed easily, and Y/N and her two older siblings followed him through to where the other young people were waiting.

“I’m going to go say hi to my friends, okay?” Y/N’s sister said to her, her brother having already moved over to stand with the other older children. A look of terror replaced Y/N’s nervous expression and she tried to move to stand a little closer to her sister, who laughed quietly and shook her head. “There are plenty of kids your age here, Y/N.”

“Come on - I already know them all,” Draco added, grinning at the girl who still looked unsure but finally nodded.

//

“Make way! Make way! Invalid coming through!” 

“You’re such a twat, Ernie!” Her voice was unmistakable, tinted with laughter and mild annoyance and Draco perked up immediately, craning his neck, desperate to catch a glance of her. 

“Subtle,” Pansy muttered, grinning and not waiting for a response from any of her friends before pushing her way through the crowds of people towards the source of Y/N’s laughter, which filled the room.

Draco didn’t hesitate before following her. 

The crowds of people parted for Draco, many of them still wary of him, still angry and scared of him after the war and Draco couldn’t blame them.

He, too, was still angry and scared of himself. 

Ignoring the glares of the guests who were still less than keen on him, Draco could finally see her and stopped in his tracks, unable to stop himself from beaming.

Normally it was so easy to tell the difference between the pureblood traditionalists and the rest of the Wizarding community. Especially at parties.

Draco and his other Slytherin pureblood friends had all come dressed in suits and posh dresses fit for a proper ball or gala, as had a couple of the other purebloods not in their group - Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, housemates of Y/N who were also a part of the sacred 28 were dressed in similar attire. Even Neville Longbottom who, as far as Draco was aware, had not been invited to galas or dinners of other purebloods, was dressed nicer than most of the other guests.

Most of the others had just turned up in jeans and t-shirts, dressed for a casual occasion, a kind of gathering that the children of Slytherin Purebloods weren’t accustomed to.

Y/N, however, fit perfectly into that group.

She wore a pair of black jeans and trainers with a grey Hufflepuff sweater that Draco knew was her favourite to wear on lazy days.

//

Draco did a double take when he entered into the dungeon common room with the Quidditch team to see Y/N lounging on one of the green sofas reading a book and surrounded by her other Slytherin friends.

She was wearing a pair of jeans and her Hufflepuff sweater, looking completely at ease in the Common Room that wasn’t hers. Her head was resting in Theo’s lap as he played a game of Wizards Chess with Blaise. Daphne and Pansy were doing homework near to them.

Crabbe and Goyle left Draco’s sides and fell onto the sofas beside their friends, all of home gave a semblance of a welcome to them.

Other than Y/N, who perked up, sitting up from being sprawled across Theo’s lap and turning to look at the entrance where Draco was still standing, observing the scene with a softness in his heart that he was unaccustomed to.

“Draco!” Y/N beamed, opening her arms out for a hug, snapping the blond boy out of his trance-like state to cross the room and seat himself beside Y/N, allowing her to hug him tightly.

“What’re you doing down here?” He asked her as Y/N settled herself into his embrace, already beginning to open her book and Draco, as always, found himself desperate to keep her attention fixed on him.

“I wanted to see you - I’ve missed you lately, you’ve been practicing so much,” Y/N responded and Draco buried his face in her hair to hide his stupidly wide grin.

“Well it’s nearing curfew - we were training so late I’m sorry, I would’ve tried to get off earlier if I knew,” he responded, heart thudding his chest.

“I don’t wanna walk back to my dorms,” Y/N whined and Draco laughed at the childish tone, ignoring the knowing looks being thrown at him by their friends.

“Stay here, then,” Draco suggested. “I mean your parents did always want you to be in Slytherin,” he added, raising a sardonic eyebrow that had Y/N hitting his chest, laughing.

“I’m sure it would go down really well if I stayed in your dorms with you when my brothers are right over there, ready to tell my parents all about it,” Y/N agreed, pointing to the other side of the room where, sure enough, Y/N’s younger brother was sat with some friends, with one eye on the fifth years. Draco could feel Y/N’s older brother watching them as well and when he looked at the seventh year he saw a mild curiosity in his eyes.

Upon meeting Draco’s eyes, the seventh year gave a slight smile and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“I never said that you’d be sharing my dorm with me - you just assumed that much,” Draco corrected. “I just said that you could stay here,” he gestured to the common room that they were sitting in with a mischievous grin that had Y/N rolling her eyes.

“So you’d let me sleep down here - alone - in the cold common room, and you’d be able to sleep soundly in your bed with the knowledge that I was shivering down here?” 

“We’d all definitely sleep sounder if you and Draco weren’t in the dorm with us,” Blaise piped up, winking cheekily at the two friends. Draco felt the colour rising in his cheeks as Y/N chuckled and flipped him off.

Draco knew that he had a point, though. Him and Y/N had been dancing around one another for the past year. Ever since the Yule Ball which Y/N had attended with a Hufflepuff boy that she was friends with and Draco had found himself jealous and unable to hide it, he had been waiting for the right time to possibly make a move on her. 

According to his friends, he was just oblivious to Y/N’s feelings towards him and that they were more than certain that she returned his affection.

//

“You really went all out today, huh?” Pansy teased, interrupting the conversation Y/N was having with Hermione Granger, who stiffened upon noticing Draco and Pansy’s presence.

“I wasn’t expecting this many people,” Y/N laughed and immediately Draco could see what Blaise meant. Her voice was softer than before, an exhaustion in her tone that he himself had had during his sixth year. “Figured I’d get away just wearing some lazy clothes, you know?”

Pansy hugged her tightly and Draco wondered if she had noticed how Y/N tensed up just a little before relaxing into the embrace and returning it.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about how many friends you have before you ended up in Saint Mungos.”

Draco saw Y/N’s face brighten as she pulled away from Pansy and laid her eyes upon him.

“You’re here!” Pansy moved out of her way just before Y/N could push her away and she rushed towards Draco, flinging her arms around him and burying her face in his neck.

“It is my house,” he reminded her in a quiet murmur.

“I know I just… I missed you, Draco,” he was surprised to feel tears wetting his neck.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t visit you in hospital,” he whispered, holding her even closer and shutting his eyes tight.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” Y/N scolded, her voice hoarse with her tears.

“Well I didn’t get to repay the favour, did I?”

“What favour?” She finally pulled away, still smiling despite the glassiness of her eyes. Draco pressed his lips to her forehead, the action familiar and comforting to both of them after their many years of friendship.

“Sixth year?” His voice was dropped to a whisper, painfully aware of the presence of Potter and Weasley standing nearby, having approached after catching wind of Y/N’s arrival and wishing to say their hellos. 

Potter may have vouched for Draco after the war, but they were nowhere near being friends and Draco certainly didn’t want to remind him of the mission he had been given during his sixth year at Hogwarts.

//

Draco, to put it mildly, felt awful.

He ached all over and could only dimly recollect the previous day. He remembered the bathroom. He remembered Potter. He remembered pain. He remembered blood - lots of it.

His brow scrunched up as a fresh wave of pain washed over him in his semi-conscious state.

“Hey - it’s okay,” he knew he’d recognise her voice anywhere. 

Fingers gently touched his cheek, moving down to carefully cup his jaw and he felt her press her lips to his forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re awake - I was so worried,” she whispered.

Draco forced his eyes open, desperately wanting to comfort her, hating that he was the cause of the sadness in her voice but secretly he revelled in the care and worry that laced her words.

Not that he deserved her care, of course.

Not after what he had been spending his year doing, after what he had been keeping from her even now that they were in a state of semi-dating.

“Hey.”

His voice was croaky, he was clearly dehydrated and yet the word brought a beautiful smile to her face that made the pain of speaking worth it to him.

“I was so worried,” she repeated, settling back down into the seat beside him and taking his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Draco replied, squeezing her hand back, though the action was weak, he possessed little strength after the ordeal.

“I don’t think you can exactly be blamed for this, Draco.”

Draco’s heart broke at her words and he found himself unable to meet her eyes.

If only she knew.

Y/N lifted his hand and pressed her lips against it, her eyes falling tightly closed.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died.”

//

Pain swam in Y/N’s eyes at Draco’s reminder and his heart dropped in his chest when he saw it.

But before he could say anything else, Y/N was tugged out of his grasp by one of her friends and Draco was pushed to the side of the room again, left to watch as Y/N was passed around the groups gathered to welcome her home.

It wasn’t long before Draco had been found by his Slytherin fellows and the group of five retreated back to the walls, observing the party that they had organised for their friend, but not truly feeling a part of it.

“It’s weird seeing all of them here,” Blaise voiced at last, his tone somewhat dark, his expression brooding, lost in thought. “Don’t you think?” He added after getting no response from the others.

“So weird,” Daphne agreed quietly while Theodore gave a muted nod of his head. “Surely especially for you, Draco?” 

Draco let out a long sigh and nodded his head.

“I wonder what my father would have to say about it.”

“Doubtlessly nothing good,” Pansy said and when Draco looked at her, it seemed as though there was a smile threatening to tug at her lips. “But I mean, this-” Pansy gestured around them at the classily decorated room, prepared as though it was for another one of the pureblood galas that were so often held there. “This was our childhood, wasn’t it? Here - learning to dance, having those dumb dinners… never would’ve thought I’d see muggleborns in Malfoy Mannor.”

Draco couldn’t help but wince just a little when he thought of the last time that there had been someone of muggle descent in this very room. He wasn’t blind to the way that Hermione had kept away from that room as much as she could.

“In a way,” Theo said, saving Draco from having to add anything himself. “It’s almost weirder to see Y/N back here, isn’t it?”

“It’s weird to see her willingly be here,” Blaise corrected, smirking just a little. “Weird for her to look happy here.”

There was another pang to Draco’s heart at Blaise’s painfully honest words and he took another drink to hide the effect that they had on him.

//

Draco didn’t want to be there - most of his friends had already arrived, he could hear them talking and laughing amongst one another in the sitting room, while the adults milled around with their drinks.

But, as was always the case when the galas were hosted at Malfoy Manor, he had to stay with his parents and welcome the other purebloods as they arrived.

Though, this made for certain that Draco wouldn’t miss Y/N’s arrival. 

The previous dinner had been at the Y/L/N household and it didn’t go unnoticed how Y/N was not included in the welcome party. 

It hadn’t been hard for Draco and his friends to figure out that they had had another row. It was far from uncommon.

Y/N had turned up for the meal, dressed as she normally would be but far more subdued, and Draco wasn’t blind to the glares that she was receiving from her family. And they had all seen how she was ordered to help tidy up - an especially humiliating feat considering the presence of both houselves and guests. 

Draco hadn’t been offered the chance to question his friend, however, as she didn’t come to join them after she had finished helping to clear up and when he asked her sister about it, she told him that Y/N had likely hidden herself away from their parents.

No matter the bad blood between Y/N and her parents, Draco knew that Y/N remained close with her siblings.

He had been eternally thankful when his mother had asked, as they left, whether Y/N’s parents thought that their daughter would feel up for attending the dinner at the Malfoy house in a few days. 

Y/N trailed behind her family as they approached Malfoy Manor, and Draco felt a stab of pride when he saw that she had chosen to wear a yellow dress, her expression somewhat defiant and refusing to look at her Slytherin relatives.

It was only as she drew nearer that Draco could see the sadness that her eyes held. The pain that she was enduring, and he wondered what horrors her home life was holding, what her parents could be putting her through, just because she wasn’t like them. Didn’t hold the same ideals - at least not anymore, not since she was sorted into Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin, the one act that had segregated her so entirely from the whole of her family and friends.

“Draco, you can go and join your friends - I’m sure we can handle it from here,” it wasn’t exactly subtle, but Draco beamed at his mother, falling into step beside Y/N, who offered him a tired smile in response as they walked the familiar route towards the sitting room.

Draco caught hold of her arm, pulling her to the side, ignoring the curious look of her younger brother as he entered in before them, her older siblings having turned of age and so deemed old enough to join the adults instead.

“Is everything okay?” He asked in a low voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I didn’t see you at all at yours,” he responded, brow pinched in concern.

Y/N sighed and glanced over at where her parents still stood talking with the Malfoys, and it was then that Draco noticed that her father was still keeping a close eye on her.

“Come on - I’ll tell you inside,” she whispered, evidently wanting to get away from the keen observation of her family.

The relief of their other friend was evident once Y/N entered the room, it flooded all of their expressions and Daphne stood to embrace her in a tight hug.

“We were so worried about you,” she told her. “Is everything okay?”

Y/N forced a smile and nodded her head.

“Yeah, it’s nothing new - just that I’m a disappointment to the family.” Y/N hesitated before looking to the ground and adding: “My Grandma’s looking for someone for me to marry.”

“What? You’re not even of age!” Theo protested, Pansy was staring at Y/N wide-eyed and Blaise’s expression was clouded with sympathy.

“She wants me to enter into an arranged marriage to someone of pureblood status so I no longer bring dishonour to the family,” Y/N recited, a wry smile on her face. “I think it’s because You Know Who is back - she doesn’t want us all to be seen as blood traitors or something.”

//

“Are her family coming?” Draco asked, frowning a little as he glanced around the crowded party for any sign of Y/N’s family members.

“Her sister said that she’d try and come after she’s finished work, her younger brother said he’d think about it - he said that he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be. And her other brother…” Pansy trailed off, looking a little awkward when she shared a knowing look with Draco.

“Are we discussing my dear old family?” Y/N asked, joining them, a glass in her hand and a slightly dark smile on her face.

Perhaps Draco was imagining it, but he thought it may have softened just a little when she made eye contact with him.

“I was asking if they were planning on coming today - my mum is arriving later, by the way,” Draco explained.

“She’s with my mum - who also said she’d come along,” Blaise inputted.

“No chance of my parents turning up,” Y/N snorted. “They’d much rather I died, why would they celebrate that I got discharged from St Mungos?” Draco wondered if he was the only one that picked up on the underlying sadness in her voice, masked by the spite and bitterness. It was on instinct that he placed his arm around her shoulder and tugged her into his side, but before he could start to feel embarrassed by it, she beamed prettily up at him.

“They don’t want you dead,” Theo said kindly and Draco could see how desperately Y/N wished that to be true.

“Blood traitor, remember? I got disowned, or didn’t you hear?” Y/N looked up at Draco curiously, the only one who she knew for certain was aware that her family had disinherited her as a result of her involvement protecting both muggles and muggleborns during the war.

He gave a tiny nod of his head, confirming that he had indeed informed their friend.

“We just figured that… with You Know Who gone…”

“That they’d admit that they were wrong?” Y/N questioned, her jaw clenching. “Surely you know my parents better than that.”

//

“Don’t react,” Narcissa breathed in Draco’s ear.

“What?” 

But he got a response to his question from someone else. 

His aunt’s gleeful cackle rang out and the door swung open. A body was thrown to the floor.

“We got her!” Bellatrix trilled. “We got that little mudblood loving blood traitor!” 

Selfishly, oh so selfishly, Draco wished that his aunt was referring to Ron Weasley. But his heart sunk in his chest, his brain already knowing who had really been caught.

Sure enough, the body on the ground groaned, a slight whimper leaving her lips and Bellatrix kicked her in the side, turning her over so that she lay on her back, her face visible to the surrounding Death Eaters.

Narcissa’s long fingers closed tightly around Draco’s arm and it was only then that he noticed how he had instinctively moved forwards, desiring nothing more than to help Y/N who was clearly in so much pain as she lay on the floor.

“It will be worse for both of you if you try to help her,” Narcissa breathed in Draco’s ear as she pulled him back.

Draco tried to steady his breathing, trying his best to hide his wince as he was forced to hear her condemnation, instead he looked across the room to where Y/N’s family were, her parents standing with a clear view of their youngest daughter, Y/N’s brother standing behind them, shrouded in shadows, but Draco could see his expression of horror.

There was a shift in the atmosphere of the room, a coldness that overtook them all when Voldemort entered. Silence fell amongst the Death Eaters and almost all eyes turned to him. Draco, however, remained watching her brother, watching him watch her.

“For any of you who are unaware,” Voldemort’s high-pitched voice rang out loud and clear as he glided through the room to stop just short of Y/N’s body huddled on the floor. “This,” he pointed a long, white finger at the girl. “Is Y/N Y/L/N,” some people’s eyes glanced over towards the other members of the Y/L/N’s family, but most remained on Voldemort. “She is pureblood.”

Everyone in the room already knew this. Almost all of them had to be aware of who Y/N was, why she was labelled as an undesirable, why she was deemed worthy of being dealt with by Lord Voldemort himself.

“In fact, some of her family even reside in our ranks,” his red eyes looked over to Y/N’s family. “And yet she has betrayed our kind - she is of the belief that her blood status doesn’t matter, that she is equal with the mudbloods and muggles,” he spat the words at her and it caused mutterings amongst the Death Eaters, who all glared at Y/N.

Draco’s heart broke.

Narcissa’s hand tightened even more on his arm.

“In fact,” Voldemort continued, raising his voice just slightly to be heard clearly over the mutterings. “She even went so far as to protect them - Y/N is the Secret Keeper for a house in which mudbloods and their muggle relatives can hide and be safe from us,” Voldemort’s tone was mocking as he referenced the safety of the people Y/N had been trying so hard to forget. “What do you have to say about this, Y/L/N?”

Y/N’s father’s jaw was clenched tightly as he stepped just a little further into the light.

“We had no part in it - she has been a disappointment since she was sorted into Hufflepuff,” he spat, though Draco noticed that he didn’t seem able to bring himself to look at his daughter.

“And you?” Voldemort’s cold eyes were focused on Y/N’s brother, who swallowed thickly and looked helplessly at his mother.

Y/N’s mother stepped to stand in line with her husband and she looked at Y/N’s crumpled form as she spoke:

“She’s no daughter of ours.”

//

A slow song started to play through the room and Y/N looked up at Draco from where she was still tucked under his arm.

“Dance with me?” She requested.

Draco could never deny her, and so he passed his glass to Pansy, Y/N giving hers to Theo, and he led her through to a space in the dancers.

“They’re all rather clumsy, aren’t they?” Y/N mused, looking around at the couples attempting to dance in the middle of Malfoy Manor. 

Draco laughed and nodded his agreement, though barely glanced at them, too focused on Y/N.

“Not all of us had dancing lessons growing up, Y/L/N!” Complained one of the Weasley twins, who was doing his best to dance with who Draco recognised to be Angelina Johnson, one of the old Gryffindor chasers, though he looked rather unsteady on his feet.

“Shove it, Fred!” Y/N retorted, removing one of her hands from Draco and flipping him off.

“You’re acting as though you weren’t an awful dancer yourself, once,” he was surprised by the teasing tone of voice.

“Merlin, do you remember? I was so bad that Blaise’s mum told me I wasn’t allowed to practise with him because I made him look shit as well.”

“And Theo gave up practicing with you too-”

“Because I kept stepping on his toes,” Y/N finished and the two of them laughed again.

“You got stuck with me,” Draco said and normally he would have been embarrassed by the affection that rang so clearly in his voice, but a little of the sadness seemed to leave her eyes at it.

“You were a pretty good teacher.”

//

Draco froze. He had forgotten about the stair that squeaked on the way downstairs.

He looked around cautiously, there was no way that he could risk getting caught.

Y/N had been here for a week, and it was taking all of his willpower and his mother’s convincing to stop him from lashing out at his aunt, at Voldemort, at the other Death Eaters, at Y/N’s family everytime she was brought out for questioning.

He knew that he would be haunted by her screams of agony for the rest of his life.

“Draco?” 

It was just his mother, and Draco thanked every God and deity there was for that. She knew what he was doing, she understood why he was doing it. 

His mother had always known Draco better than anyone else, even himself sometimes. More than that, though, she had always loved Y/N. And she knew that Draco had always loved her too.

Her eyes were so sad, so understanding when they met his.

She gave a small nod of her head.

“Make it look like an accident?”

Draco released the breath he had been holding.

“I promise.”

He snuck the rest of the way towards the cellar with no more distractions, his heart thumping hard and loud in his chest as he unlocked the door and made his way carefully down the stairs.

“Draco?”

It hurt him so much to hear how broken her voice was and he rushed over to her, not missing how she cowered away from him just a little at first until he came to a stop, crouching down in front of her and scanning every inch of her.

“Fuck - I’m so sorry, Y/N - I’m so, so sorry,” he wasn’t even embarrassed by the tears that were streaming down his face. 

Tentative shaking hands reached out and brushed them away and then they were hugging, their arms tight around each other as they buried their faces into each other’s shoulders to mask their sobs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try to stop them,” his breath hitched with the words as he desperately tried to regain control of himself. Y/N was shaking her head though.

“No, Draco - you’ve got to stay safe, if you’d done anything… they would’ve done the same to you. They might’ve… made you do it to me,” Draco’s eyes squeezed shut, knowing that it was the truth.

If Voldemort had any idea how much Y/N meant to him, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be made to torture her.

“I’m going to get you out,” he told her in a strained whisper.

“You can’t!”

“I’m going to - I’ve got a plan. I’m going to say that I thought I heard something, so I came down to check what was going on. You attacked me and got out. I’ll chase after you only once you’re in the garden, call for help. Once you get beyond the path you’re outside of the protections around the Manor and you can apparate away.” He was clutching onto her hand so hard that he was briefly worried that she would lose feeling in it until she squeezed his hand back.

“But what if it goes wrong? If they find you out?”

Draco drew a shaky breath and pressed his lips to her hand. 

“Then at least you’ll be safe.”

//

“I really am sorry for not visiting you,” Draco murmured. Y/N rolled her eyes, allowing herself a slight laugh.

“I mean, as excuses go, yours was pretty good.”

“What? That I was in Azkaban?” 

“I’m sorry, Draco - was it really awful there?” He gave her a sad smile.

“Probably no worse than your recovery at St Mungo’s.”

“I was pretty fucked after the war,” Y/N agreed and the laughter they shared at that comment was dak. “I’m so sorry you had to go there, though, even just for a little while.” 

“It was my fault, Y/N - I was on the wrong side of the war. You were on the right one - you always were.”

“You did it for your family, Draco - I don’t for a second think that you would’ve joined if it weren’t for your parents. Same with my brother.”

Y/N swallowed thickly at the mention of her family and Draco’s heart swelled with affection for the girl he had been in love with for as long as he could remember.

“But hey, you’re a war hero now,” he said and Y/N gave a tired laugh.

“Ron recon’s I’m gonna get a letter about being on a chocolate frog card now that I’m out of St Mungos, apparently him, Harry and Hermione have already got theirs.”

“Well getting put on a chocolate frog card is definitely something to tick off the bucket list, isn’t it?” 

It was strange for Draco to be with Y/N. It was strange because of how natural it felt, how right he felt it was to be with her again, to laugh with her, to talk with her. So much of the time following the war had been spent forcing himself to go through the usual motions, his every interaction felt unnatural and uncomfortable.

But dancing with Y/N, talking to her again, it felt just like it did when they were kids being forced to endure ballroom dancing lessons - it felt right.

“Draco?” Her voice was slightly shyer than before, more tentative.

“Yeah, love?”

“Can I… can I maybe stay here tonight?”

By the time that they were old enough to truly understand what it would mean to be in a relationship, to completely understand both their own feelings and one anothers, it was too late to start anything real. With the war approaching, both of them had been so reluctant to be with each other officially.

Their sixth year had been spent in a state of limbo - they were together, they kissed, they hugged, she would sometimes share his bed, they loved each other, but they weren’t official. 

They couldn’t afford it with so much uncertainty hanging over them.

Their seventh year - or the first term of it, at least - they were both too distracted for it to matter. She was trying to help as many muggleborns as possible, he was trying to stay alive and protect his parents as best he could.

But now it was over.

She had recovered from her injuries from the Battle of Hogwarts.

He had been pardoned from Azkaban.

Voldemort was dead.

Maybe now it was their chance to be happy?

Draco chanced it and lent down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and pulling away to watch the endearing shy smile that curled her lips.

“Of course you can.”

“You’ll have to help me up the stairs.”

“That’s okay,” he laughed, feeling Y/N pressing herself just a little closer to him, no trace other previous sadness in her eyes as she grinned up at him - the same wide, welcoming smile that he remembered so well from his childhood.

“And I’ll probably wake up in the night because I’m in pain,” she warned and Draco felt himself flush red as he realised that she appeared to be suggesting that they shared a bed again. A soft giggle escaped her at that and she reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I can take care of you.”

Draco thought his heart would burst at the adoration he thought that he would never see again, shining at him through her eyes.

“I know you will.”

[hawksugarbaby]

Deku x reader- Minecraft millionaire

Fluff

A/N: I use Xbox so these are Xbox controlls but feel free to change them as you see fit

Izuku sat on his bed flicking his eye's from the facetime with you to the screen in front of him continuously holding the right trigger on his controller and chewing his lip. "Wait what level do you find diamonds?" he asked glancing at his coordinates in the corner and you jumped around the world trying to escape a creeper "Fuck i'm gonna die! i'm gonna die! please NO!" you yelped and decided it was time to dig a hole in the ground and block it off. "Sorry, what did you ask?" you look at the phone propped up against your laptop and chuckle at Izuku's face scrunched up in concentration "uh, what level do you find diamonds" he repeated not taking his eye off the screen filled with grey stone blocks and dot's of black for coal. "12 to 14, usually 13 is like the best place"

You answered uncovering the hole you had dug in just as a creeper passed over you and fell into your 3 by 1 grave. "NOOO!" you screeched as the green mob flashed white and you tried to jump out of the inescapable hole for a final moments peace but to no avail. The unmistakable sound of a muffled explosion and the respawn screen, lighting your face up red and you let out a fake cry. "Did you die?" he asked despite the obvious answer. "Yeahh" you answered with a heavy sigh and respawned at home, grabbing a spare wooden sword and jumping over to the spot of your death. If nothing else you'd get a lot of dirt?

Izuku muttered about hitting his head off every block and you snickered "I mean at least you learned your lesson about digging straight down" he huffed and flailed his arms creating a cold air around him "it wasn't my fault no one told me I shouldn't dig straight down!" he had a point, yes, but still you had presumed that even he would know such a basic rule "I know, I know" you say nearing the site of the explosion and start sprinting ignoring the band of mobs chasing you.

"HOW IS MY STUFF STILL HERE. IT WAS LITERALLY NEXT TO ME?!" you yelped in surprise but ran around the area gathering your stuff and spammed the Y button, automatically gearing up and switched your sword to your hotbar along with your enchanted pickaxe and cooked chicken.

"Maybe the minecraft gods granted you... something?" Izuku laughed and popped out of his mine running to his furnace and dropping in a stack of Iron. "(y/n) I hear you need some cobblestone" Izuku said running to your house across from his and down the basement to your storage area. You groaned begrudgingly trying to fend off an army of spiders who had made it a personal goal of theirs to off you. "Izuku please don't contribute to the cobble chest. I'm begging you. I don't need more cobble" you whined sprinting away with 5x more Xp than you originally had. "Do you have lapiz?" you asked raking through his chests to find the blue material.

Izuku opened the chest almost full with cobble and finished it off with 12 more stacks, leaving one or himself. The green achievement bar popped up at the bottom of the screen "Chestful of cobblestone" and you clicked your tongue pushing your hands together like a prayer in front of your mouth "IZUKU. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I'M GOING TO BURN YOUR COBBLE. STOP GIVING ME COBBLE, THAT GOES FOR ALL THE REST OF THE BOYS TOO!" your shouting could be heard throughout the dorm and some of the other minecraft players snickered to themselves.

Anytime, they had a stack or so of cobble, they would put it in one of your chests and it became a running joke for them to go "Hey (y/n) I heard you needed more cobble" and shove it in the chest despite your begging them not to. You had 3 chests of cobble but never got the achievement because you had burned the first 2 chestfulls before they could finish it off.

"Yes I have lapiz just give me a sec" he answered after your threat and jumped over to you. Meeting in front of your pumpkin farm you were jumping on. "If you fall you're gonna trample your crops" he said and you shrugged "that's what I have a diamond hoe for duh" you say in a bragging way as if having a diamond hoe of all things really just showed your wealth. You jumped off the pumpkin successfully not landing on your crops and spun around in front of Izuku as he threw lapiz at you "Is this what it's like to be a stripper" you chuckled and Izuku snorted at your joke. "Okay that's enough" you say, stopping him from throwing anymore and bouncing off to your enchantment table.

"I can't believe you had 4 extra diamonds and you made an enchantment table and a hoe" he sighed grabbing all the iron from his furnace and spinning to the crafting table to make a new pickaxe and a bucket for milk. He was determined to make a cake just as much as getting diamonds but there was a lack of cows due to bakugo's anger issues when he was in the server. "What would you even have done with them!?" "I COULD HAVE BOOTS (y/n)!" he shouted back and you purse your lips. He could have had boots...

"Okay well I'm sorry I'm rich and have full diamonds" you shrug and he looked up from his controller looking straight forward pinching the bridge of his nose "your a bitch" he laughed and started back down his mineshaft complaining about the steps hitting his head again. "You love me really" you chuckle and he rolls his eyes with a smile "yeah I know" you glance at the facetime and smile, 8 hours, 29 minutes 43 seconds you'd been on a call just playing minecraft in the server you ran for "the lads" as it had been dubbed.

"OOH IZUKU I JUST GOT FORTUNE 3 ON MY DIAMOND PICKAXE!" you exclaim, celebrating by jumping up and down. "Sweet! You're gonna have endless coal!" he laughed and you punched the air excitedly "so much Xp!" "we have an Xp farm" he retaliated and you pouted "Let me be exited" you whined and he awed "sorryyy" he said dragging it out for effect and you huffed "better be."

Izuku's inventory quickly filled with cobble, coal, and iron again, the occasional redstone for Xp and fuck gold, gold sucks. He stumbled into a cave, a platform of stone and on each side was a pool of lava. But Izuku's eyes lit up and he gasped "OH MY GOD!" he shouted digging through the wall to get to the prize. "WHAT!" you shouted back, busy breeding the chickens and throwing eggs in the overcrowded pen. "Sorry but some of you guys have gotta go" you muttered brandishing your iron sword, specifically named "the chicken killer" since you didn't want to waste your diamond sword on chickens. "DIAMONDS!" he shouted back building a platform around the edge of the lave he could walk on and building under the diamonds for safety.

"OH OH MY GOD WAIT THERE AND I'LL MINE THEM FOR YOU!" you say abandoning the chickens and jumping over to his house again. "wait why. This is my moment I've literally never found diamonds and you're gonna take them from me" he asked looking at the phone, your face twisted with concentration. "Because I have fortune 3 and I can make 8 diamonds like 24" you said. "can I mine these ones and tell you when I find more instead I want to mine my own first diamonds." you stopped at the entrance jumping up and down in frustration "okay fine"

As Izuku ventured further into the cave earning probably half a new chest worth of cobble he shouted for you. "I found more diamonds." you immediately sprang into life holding the left stick to go down quicker. "Okay yeah this is really inconvenient" you agreed about bumping your head on the way down and landed at his shaft. "Uhh which way am I going" you asked. "Left" he said. You followed the trail of torches and Izuku's name tag that got bigger the closer you were eventually running into the same square as him. "Move back I can't see" you instructed and he scooted backwards.

You swung the enchanted pickaxe collecting the aqua gems and throwing them at izuku. "That's like 20 something," you said, shrugging at the phone and running off back home. "That was 28" he said running after you to finally make his full iron armor and tools "I have 33 in total" he grabbed sticks from his unorganised chests that you despised and for the first time, made diamond armor in minecraft.

"Oh my god he's wearing BLUE! It doesn't match your colour scheme" you cried shielding your eyes and looking away. "Sorry (y/n) let me just dye my diamonds green real quick" he said, throwing an emerald at you and you feigned shock. "A MIRACLE. TRULY"

"Okay I wanna enchant it" he said following you to the enchantment table. "We do have those enchanted books if you want something specific?" you said but he shook his head "nah i'm doing it old fashioned" he said standing at the enchantment table and taking his time going through, enchanting each item with its purple iridescence.

"What did you get?" you asked, jumping around him excitedly and he hovered over each item. "Respiration on the helmet, projectile protection and unbreaking, wait I got unbreaking as well?" he asked looking at you through the facetime "it does that sometimes" you shrugged and he raised his eyebrows and hummed with the newfound knowledge. "Those on chestplate, protection on the jeans-" "leggings" "whatever, and feather falling on the boots" he said putting all his armor back on and going over his tools "efficiency on the pickaxe, efficiency on the axe, unbreaking on the hoe, unbreaking on the shovel, and fire aspect on the sword" he said stabbing a chicken that immediately went up in flames. "Roast chicken for life!" you cheered.

"Okay you have your full diamond now come to the nether" you said standing in the swirling portal and Izuku whined. "Literally what for!" he asked standing next to you despite his disinterest and the loading screen popped up. "For that Xp, gotta get that nether quartz" you said jumping to a clump of nether quartz and letting the green spheres fall on you watching the bar go up. "(y/n) What's the bridge for?" he asked walking over to the bridge ignoring the magma slime jumping toward you.

"What bri- AGH FUCK NO NO YOU CUBE FUCKING BITCH THINK YOU CAN JUMP ON ME LIKE I'M SOME WHORE WHO DO YOU THINK I AM" (A real thing i've said playing minecraft with my friends) he turned around just as the magma divided into 4 then each of those into another 4 until there were none. "Don't go on that bridge you will absolutely die" you warned and he backed up onto the bridge anyway. You were surprised he even made it halfway before a ghast needed to tell him his place and shoot him right into the neon orange below. "YOUR FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT"

Bonus content

Kaminari, bakugo, and kirishima all joined the call loading up minecraft not expecting to get an earful of your abuse to Izuku who was crying into his controller "I FUCKING TOLD YOU NOT TO GO ON THE BRIDGE BECAUSE A GHAST WOULD KNOCK YOU OFF BUT WHAT DID YOU DO. GO ON THE BRIDGE. I LITERALLY JUST GOT YOU THOSE DIAMONDS ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU BROCCOLI. I WASTED MY FORTUNE BUFF ON YOU."

You loved him really. But you would never be taking him to the nether again.

A/n: What is your relationship with Izuku here? That's for you to decide. Also these are all things that have happened to me while in minecraft with my friends.