#wispy chatters

[drifloonz]

( third image kind of suggestive i guess ) is this anything

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 2

Day 2: Fate [Yandere M. Ghost x Gn. Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list

Tipjar :)

Dead Dove Do Not Eat! MDNI! Tw. Possession, Death, Murder, Forced suicide, haunting, general ghost stuff, Nsfw themes, groping, soulmates

In which you find out your soulmate haunts your new apartment.

1.9k words

Everyone had a red string tied around their pinky finger that connected them to their soulmate. You were no different. For years you had absently twirled the thread around, dreaming about the day when you would meet your one and only.

That all came crashing down one day in your early 20s. 

You had been sitting in a lecture, diligently taking notes and listening when the red string, normally taut, went gray and grew limp in your lap. You had instantly broken down, screamed, cried and clutched the last vestiges of your other half leaving the realm of the living. 

Your soulmate died one cold autumn day, and you had felt hopeless ever since.

Years later, in your late twenties after you had worked like a slave in a corporate office, you had finally managed to save up to be able to afford a nice place in the heart of the city. You began touring different apartments you could potentially live in, and, though there were many options, you ended up going with a cozy and surprisingly cheap one bedroom place with a great view of the nearby river.

Upon further inspection, about almost a decade ago, a young man died here from a surprising and tragic accident.

It was a bit of a turn off, but it was too nice to pass up. You could picture yourself having a life there, and for whatever reason, your heartstrings tugged every time you let your hands run over the antique carvings on the doorway.

So you put down a deposit, packed up all your things, and moved into the place within a week. 

The windows were large and wide, lighting the whole place light up with sun and a cool breeze, The floorboards were made of a rich, old mahogany that creaked under your every footstep, and each of the rooms had this nice, homey feel to it that seemed like it would be perfect for a young couple living together for the first time. You felt relaxed there. It suited your needs perfectly, and never once did the thought of the previous owner cross your mind.

A few weeks into living there, and suddenly strange noises would be made beyond your bedroom door. 

Squeaking, groaning noises, too. They sounded like heavy, uncoordinated footsteps, and you grabbed a knife you kept near your bedside and peered out with fear twisted in your gut into the rest of your home. There was no one there, and you were left feeling paranoid and confused, unaware of your severed thread twitching despite the lack of wind.

Stranger happenings began to occur after that.

Lights would flicker, objects would be knocked over randomly, and you’d feel a chill take over your body randomly. They were all things you could consider to be kind of normal, so you tried your best to ignore them for the sake of your own sanity. Your pinky would ache slightly with each thing, though. It gave you pause, but your thread remained lax and gray as the day the other owner died.

But other things weren’t as easy to brush off.

It would become so cold in your house that you could see your breath come out in wispy puffs, your teeth chattering as the mirrors and windows would become frosted over in the dead of summer, only for the whole frigid interior to disappear with a quick blink of the eye. It would drive you crazy, but you could only chalk it up to being stressed from work and the recent change of scenery. Another odd thing was the fact that when you would come back from a long day at your job to find that nearly every object on your bookshelf, your couch pillows, and shoes had been scattered on the ground.

You called the police and contacted the building in a panic, but nothing came out of it. No one had broken in, nothing was stolen, and nothing happened. Your finger burned the entire time they searched your apartment. 

You began to feel unsettled in your own home. Something was most definitely wrong. There was this familiar, twisting feeling deep in your gut. It was the same feeling you had that fateful day, the one where you had screamed and cried out for someone you had never actually met before. There was nothing to justify it, but you felt it anyway. You felt it when the candles you had lit would suddenly blow out despite the windows being closed. You felt it when the doors would remain shut no matter how hard you tried to open them when it was time to leave for the day. 

It was only when you saw someone else standing in the mirror behind you when you knew it was validated.

You froze in shock, your heart nearly stopping in your chest. You let out a little whimper and slowly turned your head to face the tall, slouched man whose face was hidden beneath the shadow of his hair. But there was no one there. You blinked, your hands trembling and laughed as you wiped your face.

“Holy fuck… I really am losing it,” You gasped out in a mix of relief and dread, yet it was cut short when your eyes met your pinky finger. The thread was still ashen in color, but it was taut once again for the first time in years. It was connected to the open air.

Your expression was blank, and you turned back to the mirror. The man was still there.

“What the fuck?” 

You stared in horror at the mirror as he approached you. You felt like your feet were rooted to the ground, but for some reason, a glimmer of hope ignited in you.

“Are you… are you my soulmate?” You asked, barely a whisper, and the shadowy figure paused in his steps(?). It tilted its head, and you could faintly make out the fully connected string, scarlet as blood. A dark hand reached for you, and you stayed still, allowing it.

Cold. He was so cold. You gasped, your lips trembling, and you realized you were crying. His hand passed through you, and you shuddered. “O-oh,” you whimpered, and you could feel him in your bones, your organs, your everything. You raised your head as a transparent, frigid finger prompted you to raise your head back. 

It was exploratory, almost innocent at first. He was like a shepherd guiding a flock of lambs, gilding your fingers, limbs and body into different poses, and you felt how amazed he was. You could only keep your gaze ahead, for you were afraid that if you blinked or turned away, this would all somehow vanish. There were alarm bells screaming in the back of your head, but the chill embraced you. He embraced you. It was all you had ever wanted.

And then it felt like something inside of you had been grabbed.

“Urk!” You let out a shocked noise as the feeling spread through your entire form. Every cell, every follicle of hair, even the way your nose wrinkles and twitched as whoever inside of you, no… no as your soulmate smelled for the first time in years. A hand you didn’t control touched your face. You touched your face.

He made you examine your face, laughing softly as he traced over your features with your own fingers. You wanted to scream and cry tears of joy at the same time. Instead, he smiled, and in the mirror you smiled back.

“I can’t believe it,” He spoke in a way you would never, the words feeling unnatural as they left your grinning lips. He laughed, you laughed, and he hugged you. He trailed up his touch over your body, shuddering with pleasure as your cheeks flushed red. 

“Stop that,” You wanted to say. “Don’t touch me there.” But your tongue even belonged to him now, and the thread on your pinky had formed into a little loop, twitching on itself every now and then. He looked at it, and you viewed everything through your eyes. It was a strange feeling, as if you were watching a show where you could feel, smell, taste and hear what was happening on screen. 

“I hoped it would be you. I hoped that I was right. I thought I was going to spend forever without you,” He whispered, a solemn expression crossing over you both. You wanted to throw up for some reason. It was like you could sense what he was thinking. Was it because he was your soulmate? Or was it because he was actually inside of you?

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” he said, a giddy warmth blooming in him, but your stomach dropped. His face twitched, you both flinched, and he hummed.

“You know… I was so happy when I realized you were mine. I’m glad that I finally got to talk to you,” He looked directly into the mirror, so you looked into your own eyes, so you could stare at him. You couldn’t look away. He touched you, and pulled open your shirt. You felt sweat roll down your temple as did he. He just kept going.

 More. He pulled your pants down. More, he shoved your own fingers down your throat. More. He posed you as he pleased, touched were he wanted, groaned and laughed in euphoric bliss as he made you watch. Goosebumps raised all over your skin, and he clicked his tongue.

“You just don’t understand. You wouldn’t get it. I watched you for months and you never even noticed. And then you would try to drive me out when all I was doing was trying to talk to you. Do you know what I thought when I died? I thought of how devastated I was that I was never going to get the chance to meet you.”

Your hands crept up, trailing over your naked torso, tracing your chest, until the reached your neck and began to squeeze. You gasped, and he laughed in two disjointed noises, both vying to use your vocal cords.

“Plea-”

“I would’ve died for you, you know? If you died. I wouldn’t be able to live unless I had you. I think you owe me that,” He drawled in wheezing, short gasps.

Fear gripped you, and you crashed to the ground. No, no he didn’t understand! He didn’t know how long you mourned, how long you grieved for the loss of him, how many times you wished you could join him. He didn’t know. Tears slipped out of your eyes, and he darted your tongue out to taste them. Your heart began to beat rapidly within your chest, trying to fight for your life.

“Die for me [Name], die for me.”

You curled onto the cold floor, almost as cold as his embrace. Your lips parted like a gaping fish, your skin turning blue. You could feel him smile despite it all. You heard your pulse thundering in your ears.

"Our.. forever.. starts …now.” Your voice was so foreign now. In your dimming, fuzzy vision, you could almost pretend he was whispering in your ear. It was like your feelings echoed and overlapped over themselves. Betrayal, anger, sorrow. All of it clashed with his absolute excitement. You were hurting, and your soulmate didn’t care.  Your body shook one last time, his freezing grip tightening, and then your heart stopped.

[vivwritescrappythings]

golden linings

knight!könig x plus-size!fem!reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6

the evening ball presents you with an unconventional dance partner

tw: fem reader, plus size reader, mentions of body image, yearning!, not proofread

wc: 2.5k

masterlist

--

You thanked Lord Asterly for his lackluster conversation, excusing yourself with a polite smile and a lousy attempt at a curtsy. It was obvious that your father had asked him to come speak to you, the eager expression on his face clear to you even across the room. You resisted the urge to glare at him as you retreated to the safety of the refreshment table.

König lingered nearby, his armor freshly polished and a clean hood over his head. He looked larger than life in comparison to the other knights and guards scattered around the room, towering over them despite his efforts to blend in with the column he stood next to.

His gaze was on you expectantly as you approached, a crystal glass of punch in one of your hands. A question lingered in the way his eyes narrowed slightly. “He only wished to talk about how big his family’s estate was, and the rumor of my considerable dowry,” you muttered with a roll of your eyes. 

The black hood covering König’s face rippled, a sign of his soft laughter. You heard it a few times, a rough bark of a noise—he reserved it for private times between the two of you.

“My father believes that I will meet a suitable husband at one of these,” you muttered, glaring over the rim of your glass at the dancing couples. “He is convinced that I can find a love match like my sister, but he seems to forget that she was blessed with a beauty I do not possess.”

König simply shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. He avoided speaking in the presence of others, only occasionally whispering in your ear if necessary. Apparently it was not necessary that evening.

You ran a hand along the embroidered fabric pulling in your waist; the dress you were wearing was far too extravagant for a woman of your station. It squeezed you around the middle—it had taken the effort of two maids to pull the bodice laces so tight that you could hardly breathe. As though members of the court would not see the softness of your jaw and your arms and know better.

The punch was tart on your tongue. You hardly could conceal your scowl as you watched the dance floor, men twirling their wispy dance partners over the polished stone floor. Jealousy threatened to strangle your heart as you set your empty glass down, pivoting away from the dance floor to take a turn about the room.

König remained where he stood, you could feel his gaze track the back of your head as you offered tight-lipped smiles to lords and ladies as you sidled your way past. You had become used to the weight of his eyes on you. It would be odd if he looked elsewhere, the comfort peeled away from your shoulders to leave you bare.

You wormed your way into a group of ladies your age, their chatter filling your ears. They made space for you readily, welcoming you into their circle with saccharine smiles and soft greetings.

“Tell us, have you thought about what your wedding will be like?” one of the girls asked. You recognized her from around the castle—a recent arrival for the ball. She had always been kind enough, smiling at you in the halls and asking polite questions about your embroidery.

You felt your cheeks heat up as though you had been caught doing something wrong. “Admittedly, probably not as much as I should,” you said with a sheepish smile. 

It seemed that a wedding should be the only thing on a young lady’s mind. 

The women giggled, some offering up remarks of solidarity. “Not even what color dress you will wear?” another asked, pressing closer into the circle as she observed you with wide eyes.

Another resounding no. “Well, most likely blue, I suppose.” You stumbled through the words, begging for some detail to come forth into your mind. “I would want the color of my dress to match my husband’s attire. Perhaps even the same fabric could be used for the gown as his tunic.”

“Oh I think that would be lovely!” Mary exclaimed, grabbing onto your wrist for a moment as she grinned excitedly at you. She was your closest friend at the castle aside from König. Her father was on the king’s small council just as yours was, proximity forcing you into an easy friendship. You squeezed her arm as a thank you.

“I think my father will be willing to pay for a gold gown for me.” Your eyes rolled of their own volition, your irritation obvious. Mary shared your sentiment, leaning into you as her bony arm pressed along your soft bicep—a silent agreement.

It was as though all anyone thought about was getting married: whose dowry was bigger or whose father was willing to spend more coin on their wedding. 

It was exhausting.

The whole event was exhausting. You never realized that balls lasted until the early hours of the morning. The musicians played until the blue fingers of dawn started to cross the sky, the sun threatening to rise over the ocean. 

You yawned into your palm, bidding Mary goodnight as you ambled your way back to König. He was still just as alert as you left him, posture straight and hands clasped behind us back.

“Goodnight, papa,” you murmured to your father as you passed him. He paused his conversation to wrap an arm around your shoulders and squeeze you to his side for a brief moment, murmuring a “goodnight” into your temple before releasing you. 

König perked up slightly when you came to a stop in front of him, his broad shoulders relaxing a fraction as he tilted his head down toward you. 

“I think I have had more than my fair share of the festivities this evening,” you said, already turning toward the double doors leading toward the east wing of the castle. He nodded, dutifully falling into step at your side.

The castle was eerily quiet at that time of morning.

Many servants had either retired late or woken up as the sun rose and the party guests had not started to leave yet, the halls were empty. The light streaming in through the windows was tinged the periwinkle of early morning, the sconces lining the walls nearly burning out. 

“I can only imagine you had a rather exciting evening,” you murmured to König, a bit of a smirk on your face.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head once. “I have had worse nights than that, my lady,” he said, voice low and raspy from disuse. It still surprised you to hear him, it felt like a special privilege to know his voice.

You hummed your acknowledgement. He told you of his times fighting along the eastern border. There was a vague memory floating in the back of your mind of your father discussing the skirmishes with neighboring kingdoms about farmland, but it had not affected your home much aside from a sudden drop in potato dishes. You could not fathom what it had been like on the front lines.

It was a relatively peaceful era for the majority of the kingdom; König was one of the few people you knew that had actually seen battle. He refused to tell you the details of it.

“Well that is true,” you concurred, inclining your head toward him, “but this certainly had to be boring. Knights on duty were not even allowed to dance.”

You turned the corner toward your quarters, the windows lining the one side of the hallway showed the sun starting to crest over the horizon. The sky was splashed with pinks and oranges, the whispers of the clouds above catching the colors and lined in bright white. 

“You did not dance, either,” König remarked.

Your cheeks warmed, embarrassment clenching around your throat. “No one asked me to dance.” You studied the way the hem of your gown fluttered across the floor as you walked. 

“Would you have liked to dance?” 

You shrugged noncommittally, chewing your lower lip for a moment. “I suppose I would have,” you finally mumbled. A sidelong glance at König confirmed that he had turned his head to look at you, eyes the color of aquamarines shining through the eye holes of his hood. “But it is not proper for a lady to ask, she must be asked by a man.”

König hummed thoughtfully for a moment before stopping in place. You were just a few paces from your door.

“Would you like to dance with me, my lady?” he asked, turning to face you dead on. He offered a gloved hand palm-up for you to take, his other hand tucked behind his back as though he was a proper lord asking a lady to dance.

You let out a soft chuckle, the warmth on your cheeks spreading to the entirety of your face. At first you assumed he meant it in jest, but a twinkle in his eye made you reconsider. “But there is no music.”

“Humor me,” he responded in the same beat.

It was enough to convince you. You smiled nervously, your nose scrunching a bit as you slipped your hand into his. 

“Which dance will we do?” you asked, having to crane your neck back to properly look up at König. You placed your hand on his shoulder, the metal pauldron smooth beneath your fingertips.

His broad hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you a fraction of an inch closer. You were surprised by the stretch of his fingers, feeling the press of his hand around the entirety of your side. You never thought you would feel small in a man’s embrace.

“The one that had you glaring at the dance floor.” König’s voice had a hint of a smile in it, mirth clear in his gaze. You scoffed, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. He squeezed your hand as he snickered.

Then he moved into the first steps, shockingly graceful as he led you into the dance. You stumbled at first, both of you laughing as his hold on your waist tightened. He pressed you in the right direction with his palm.

“You are rather good at this,” you commented, finally synchronizing with him.

“It was a long evening,” König explained, spinning you elegantly before capturing your waist once more. “Dancing is not so far from fighting when it comes to the core movements. The steps are not hard to grasp and are similar to one another, I did spend the past few hours watching them.”

“So you did use your time wisely,” you teased. 

His hand shifted from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer. You were nearly pressed against the metal of his chestplate, the burnished steel reflecting the light of the sunrise as König whirled you over the stone like it was a dance floor. 

You hardly even noticed there was no music playing, your mind filling in the silence surrounding the soft sound of your footsteps and the occasional metallic click from his plate armor. Your gown swished against his legs, just a whisper of noise.

The edge of König’s hood fluttered against your fingertips as your hand rested on his shoulder. The black fabric was coarser than you expected, the edges fraying. It was different from the hood he wore most days: there was no discoloration around the eyes. You ached to remove it.

The sun rose slowly, blood orange light flooding the hallway. Everything seemed to stand still aside from the syrupy movements of the two of you dancing in silence. König led you through the steps slower than the music would normally go, seemingly savoring the moments of closeness as his head bowed toward yours.

You were lost in the moment, the heavy scent of oakmoss incense interlaced with marjoram and sage that clung to him almost made you feel like you were in a dream. Perhaps you had dreamt this? It would not have been the first time you dreamt of the knight sweeping you off your feet.

“You are lost in your thoughts, my lady,” König said, pulling you from the reverie. You blinked a few times, looking up at him through your lashes with a guilty smile.

“You have surprised me, I did not think you to be a dancer,” you managed to lie, attempting to hide your daydreaming.

König let out a huff, spinning you once more. It would have been the crescendo of the music had there been any, he continued twirling you until the imaginary note ended. Then he yanked you close, pressing your belly to his pelvis as his forearm settled across the small of your back.

“König!” you yelped, giggling as you steadied yourself with your hands on his breastplate. The lack of sleep and proximity were going to your head, your face so warm you could practically start a fire. 

Gloved fingers brushed a loose piece of hair from your forehead, tucking it back into the braided style you wore. “Those men are fools for not asking you to dance, all of them,” he said softly, a knuckle brushing against the outside of your jaw to direct your gaze up at him. 

You floundered for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. The sun had nearly risen, light flooding in and illuminating a golden outline around König. You could feel the scales of his armor through the too-tight bodice of your gown, the pieces of metal shifting with your breaths.

You inhaled, lips parting to respond.

Peals of laughter bounced down the hallway, making you lurch apart. You pressed your back against the carved wood of your door, teeth digging into your lower lip as he settled into the same stance he had been in all night: shoulders squared and arms clasped behind his back.

It took time to gather yourself after the shock—you and König had done nothing wrong. But you would have. “Thank you for the dance, König,” you finally blurted out, voice higher pitched than normal. 

He inclined his head toward you, silent now that others were wandering down the hall back to their chambers. They were in their cups, staggering in each other’s arms as the morning sun shined on them. You stared for a beat, chewing the inside of your cheek.

König grabbed the handle of your door, pulling it open for you in a smooth motion. “Goodnight,” you said, reflex driving you. It had become routine–bidding him goodnight at the end of each day. 

“Goodnight, my lady,” he whispered, so low you could barely hear it. You looked up at him over your shoulder as you turned, meeting his bright eyes before slipping inside your room.

The door closed behind you, your hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your giddy laugh. You leaned against the door, imagining what König was doing on the other side. He would have to be relieved of his post soon, he needed to sleep just as much as you did. 

But for the moment, you thought of his heavy hand on your waist and his knuckle on your cheek.

[mymegumi]

GROWING PAINS ෆ GOJO SATORU

⠀ word count: 7.2k ⠀ summary: meeting up with the local college’s notorious ⠀ player, gojo satoru, for a group project, you’re shocked to ⠀ discover he’s actually a virgin and has never slept with ⠀ single soul that says they have. now, you find him endearing ⠀ and even offer to solve that pesky virginity problem for him. ⠀ warnings: afab!reader, college au, virgin!gojo, strangers to ⠀ more, corruption kink, top-esque!reader, porn w plot, ⠀ mommy kink, pet names (used by both parties ; baby), ⠀ gojo is whiney in bed, praise kink, oral (m rec), ⠀ unprotected sex, creampie, gojo is taller than reader

this project is gonna burn in flames, and you’re determined to set the match. you don’t even know how you’re going to get anything done, since your only partner is gojo satoru—if you at least had one other partner, you think there might’ve been a sliver of hope, but no, you got unluckily stuck in the class’s only group of two. the academic gods were frowning down upon you and you don't know what you could've done to have incited such wrath.

you're sitting in the library, waiting for gojo to show up for the first meeting that you'd both scheduled and he was currently nowhere to be found. you'd been waiting almost, like, a half an hour past your scheduled time and you were beginning to feel as if you were just going to give up on this. maybe you'd just work on the project yourself and email your professor what had happened, not to throw gojo under the bus, but also for him to not take credit for your hard work.

"you're kidding." there's been a commotion happening from the front of the room, but you’ve been playing your music up a notch from where it normally was to drown out the chatter. “oh em gee, there’s no way you actually know him!”

a laugh rings out across the front of the library���all of the private and quiet study rooms on the second floor had been occupied, so you’d been forced to make-do on the first floor—and the familiarity of it makes your blood boil. turning your head infinitesimally slowly, as if the slower you move the longer you can prolonge the inevitable, you find yourself face to face with your group project partner.

gojo satoru is as he normally is—carefree and unknowing to the situation he puts his peers in when he is, assumedly, knowingly late. he stands taller than you, though by a few inches or half a foot, you’re not sure. you try not to get close enough to him to tell, honestly. his eyes are a piercing blue and whenever he has a presentation at the front of the class, you feel as if you have to look away or divert your own gaze from his. as if holding his gaze was taboo, or made you feel shy. when his hair was on the longer side, it curled around his neck in soft, subtle waves before he would crop it close to his scalp again, leaving just the top parts of his hair wispy and natural. his skin was on the paler side, too, and sometimes you had to imagine he was truly an angel put on this earth to torture you.

you didn’t necessarily not get along with him. he was, on the rare occasion the two of you needed to speak to one another, kind and courteous of you. his humor was a bit similar to yours, and he always held the door for you after class if he was in front of you, but gojo wasn’t entirely out-of-his-way nice to you. again, but neither were you towards him. you didn’t mean to actively avoid him. sometimes, if you saw him walking towards you, though, you might think to make a quick detour you wouldn’t have before.

gojo satoru had a bit of a reputation. a reputation that you’d like to avoid at all costs because it was, for lack of a better word, messy. from all of the rumors on campus, gojo liked to sleep around a little bit. more power to him, but you’d also watched guys do that in your hometown, and watched them break your best friend’s hearts. you didn’t need a guy like that to be your friend or in your life at all.

this group project, in all honesty, would be the first time you and gojo would spend more than fifteen minutes together. hopefully, just working on the project and nothing more—no talk of pussy, dick, boobs, or ass allowed. just the economic turmoil faced by the lower classes and how the corporate world dictated everything. simple and easy.

“it’s true, i swear.” gojo’s smile is bright, illuminating his face as he adjusted the bookbag on his shoulder uncomfortably—his eyes darting around the library as if looking for something. when they lock onto your figure, clad in a college sweatshirt and jeans hunched over your books, is when you realize he’s looking for you. “i’d love to tell you more about him, but i have to go work on a project. so sorry about that.”

there’s the sound of a few girls pouting because, as if it wasn’t bad enough he was causing a commotion, he was causing a commotion while surrounded by about three or four girls. gojo peels himself away, waving goodbye with a toothy smile as he walks towards you. his stride is long—stupid long legs—and he reaches you in mere seconds, towering over you as he sets his bags and laptop on the empty space in front of you.

“thank god i found you.” his voice is low, but the emotion on his face doesn’t change, continually cheerful as his words differ. “they wouldn’t stop following me when i left the coffee shop. i was on time to meet you and they couldn’t take a hint, no matter how many times i walked around center square.”

“and here i thought you just wanted to skip our study session.” it’s deadpan, the tone you normally reserve for people you find annoying and gojo satoru. somehow you’re just now realizing the two categories are the same.

“no way am i missing our study date.” he slides into his seat now, hands a flurry of pulling out papers and typing his password into his laptop and getting pens out and organizing them. it makes your head spin a little just watching him. “i had to suffer through thirty minutes of ‘geto? geto suguru? omg you know him, how do you know him?’ and i need a reward.”

now that is a lot to unpack. “gojo satoru, this is not a date.” you feel as if this is the first thing that needs to be clarified, as you don’t think you want it to be going around that you consider this a date, or even want to consider this a date. the next part you don’t want to consider is the fact that gojo, in his mind, finds hanging out with you in any sort of capacity more rewarding than being fawned over. even if it’s just for girls to say they want to get to know his best friend.

“date, shmate.” he waves a hand around, lips pursed as he turns his head away. “we’re hanging out and getting to know each other. friend date.”

“‘friend date’?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows high on your forehead as you let your mouth hang open. it’s not the idea of it that makes you feel as if he’s playing with you, but the fact he’s being so openly relaxed about it. you thought gojo satoru didn’t date, that he was only fucking people and that was it. “do you even date people?”

“if it’s the right person.” he says it with a smile, eyes shining as he lets his lashes droop a little to look at you. “i’d date anyone if i knew they were going to be just as good to me as i would to them.”

it’s in this moment, inexplicably, that you begin to realize that for all gojo satoru is cocky and undeniably charming, he has the looks to back it up. sure, you’ve looked at him before and noticed he is very attractive and can be objectively considered handsome but you’re looking at him now, really looking at him, and you can feel your heart fluttering softly. it feels like a betrayal on an instinctual level—your own body chemistry reacting positively towards gojo.

he’s tall. taller than you even sitting down, and he’s looking down at you somehow even though you’re average height and will continue to insist on being of average height until the day you die. his skin is, of course, impeccably flawless but upon closer inspection, has very few blemishes and minor scars that could be anything from cat scratches to scrapes from trees or a clumsy personality. gojo’s eyes are some of the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and under their direct scrutiny, they seem to make you feel hot under your collar. you’re not used to having his undivided attention on you, but you think you could get used to it.

“the working class mentality stems from a distinct lack of motivation to do anything other than work.” you start, eyes casting downwards as you realize you’ve just been staring at him without saying anything. your leg begins to bounce under the table with the left over anxiety you can’t manage to bottle away. “if this statement is true, why is it that the work culture is toxic then?”

“what do you mean by toxic?” the two of you flawlessly switch from teasing to seriously working and it makes you breathe a bit easier. gojo leans down a bit, left hand disappearing under the table and a second later, you can feel his hand resting a few fingers on your knee gently. it provides a sort of grounding feeling and it stills the anxious leg’s shaking. “some of the sources i was reading the other day tried to explain it, but i couldn’t quite grasp what they meant.”

and you let the academia of it all lull you into a sense of security. eventually, gojo’s hand drifts from your leg but you feel it there even after it’s withdrawn, warm and sort of calming. you know that he’s much smarter than you’ve ever given him any sort of credit for—he keeps up with you and for every challenging question you give him to work on, he gives you a mental block that you have to work on, too. it’s nice, really. nice enough that you give him your number in case he has any questions on the work the two of you had mutually agreed to work on separately.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ is this that old lady w the candy?? im standing outside the ⠀ abandoned old house at the edge of the woods but i don’t ⠀ see a light on (・・;)ゞ

you laugh a little bit, eyes roving over the text gojo has sent you. when you had given him your phone to put a contact in, you hadn’t expected him to put ‘gojo (o˘◡˘o)’ as his contact name, but it bubbles a laugh out of you every time you see his notification slide onto your screen. you’re also unsurprised to know he texts with an absurd amount of emoticons—they’re oddly fitting for his personality.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀ oh yeah, i forgot to pay the electricity bill this month, so just come on in. don’t worry about the skeletons on ur way ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in, they’re just for decoration

you are surprised at how easy it is to talk to gojo. even just when you were sitting at the library desk talking about the project and about random odds and ends, the conversation flowed easily. there were no lulls in the conversation where you worried about what you had to say next, or awkward silences when you thought you had something wrong. it just kept snowballing until it had been at least a few hours since the two of you had started working. you had separated with a light feeling in your chest, proven wrong about your first assessment of his character.

gojo satoru seemed to be a good man, his out of class proclivities forgotten. for now, at least.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ do u rmbr that movie we were talking abt today?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ bruh no fckin way ur tryna talk abt alien v pred again

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ITS A GOOD MOVIE I SWEAR

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ how good of a movie can it be man

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ my roommate n i r (illegally) streaming it soon tnight if u ⠀ wanna come watch. jus smth chill (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ is it gojo satoru chill or actually chill?

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ wtf does gojo satoru chill mean ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)

there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s rude of you to be so blasé about his sex life, making jokes every other minute and saying them to his face, and then he makes comments like this—seemingly oblivious to his reputation and what people are saying about him. specifically what people are saying about things they do with him. you’ve heard more about gojo’s cock than you’d care to admit, but maybe the reason you agree to go over is because you’re curious. not about his cock, but about whether the rumors are true, about gojo in general.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ nvm. i’m down. addy?

so now, you’re at gojo and geto’s door at their dorm building, popcorn and a six pack of coca cola’s in your hand as you wait for him to open the door for you. it was an impulsive choice, since you had half a mind to just go to bed and watch anime for the rest of the night. but there’s something about his energy that made you want to hang out with him more, even if in the company of his magnanimous and heavily sought after roommate.

“yo, satoru!” you hear shouting from within, and you’re positive you can hear something falling over. “stop running. walk like a normal person.”

“don’t open the door!” it’s muffled, but you’re positive that’s what gojo’s response is. shortly after, you watch the door fling open with a breathless gojo behind it, eyes bright and smile wide. “welcome to our humble abode!”

“emphasis on humble.” geto mutters, thoroughly kicked to the side now.

the dorm apartment is nice, a simple layout of just a large living space with an open kitchen attached. there are a few doors that you can only assume lead to bedrooms and a bathroom, but the lights are all dimmed so you can’t tell bathrooms from bedroom. the living area has a couch and an arm chair surrounding a small, partially broken coffee table and entertainment center with a particularly out-of-place fancy television. there’s various odds and ends on shelves scattered around the apartment, as well as a few viney plants toppling over each shelf. a cat feeder and bowl is in the living room and you can see the tail of a sweet looking white cat every few seconds, though you never see the cat itself from where you’re standing.

you nod your head, holding out the housewarming gifts you’d brought with you. “i brought a whole box ‘cause i didn’t know if it’d be just us or more people.”

you had been expecting something of a small party, considering that geto and gojo had a reputation of being something of party animals. from your short view of the entryway, though, it seems as if it’s just the two boys and yourself.

“as if i’d invite anyone else for alien versus predator.” gojo scoffs, taking the box and ripping it open, throwing a single package of popcorn into the microwave. “you think any of the pleebs we go to school with understand the nuances and underlying themes of that masterpiece the way we would?”

“i’m still not even sure you can call alien versus predator a masterpiece, let alone say it has nuances.” you shake your head, shedding your outer layer until you’re left in your sweater and leggings. “but i’m more than happy to play devil’s advocate.”

“when was the last time i even watched alien versus predator.” geto mumbles from the arm chair in the living room, a ratty old green thing that’s covered in claw marks and has dangling strings from every angle on it. “i was probably high when i saw it, man.”

“as is the only way to see it the first time.” gojo concludes, nodding sagely as the sound of soft pops plays as background noise. “but you’re also probably bailing halfway through, aren’t you?”

the aforementioned male nods his head, bangs drooping into and then away from his face as he leans his head back onto the armchair’s back to look at his roommate. “yeah, got a study session with that hot chick from economics.”

“fuck yes, study session with that hot chick from economics!” gojo cheers, arms going up to ‘raise the roof’ and doing little spins in his spot as the microwave announces the popcorn is done. “we’ll be here, meriting the debate of alien or predator. don’t miss us too much.”

“i absolutely never miss you.”

“oh you big liar, i know it’s hard to express your feelings in front of people other than me, so i’ll excuse it for now.” the white-haired male shakes his head and pulls the popcorn out, shaking it and pulling on two corners to open the buttery goodness. “but, our guest, please feel free to sit wherever you like, except for the fire escape because it’s definitely not up to code and i can’t go to jail yet.”

“yet?” you parrot, making your way into the apartment without your shoes on and just a pair of socks, sliding slightly on the laminate flooring. “you’re leaving during alien predator? that has to be some sort of blasphemy.” you direct your last question towards geto now, sitting on the couch and crossing your legs underneath each other.

“i’m considered a heretic now.” he says, leaning over conspiratorially and cupping a hand over his mouth so gojo can’t hear it. “but he likes me too much to disown me, yet.”

“i’ve disowned you at least four times in the last week alone.” gojo says now, coming in between where you and geto had been conspiring and sits on the empty spot of the couch. he’s closer now, obviously, but gojo satoru is in your space and it gives you a second to recollect your breathing. “start the movie so you can at least watch someone die before you leave.”

gojo’s sitting close enough to you that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you now. it might be because of the cold weather outside, but you swear he’s like a radiator. geto is fiddling with the laptop connected to the television with an hdmi cord, so gojo turns to you and all of a sudden, it feels as if it’s only the two of you in the room.

“come here often?” he says while throwing popcorn in his mouth and chewing lazily. he’s got an easy going grin on his face and he leans towards you, arm resting on the back of the couch, but it feels as if he’s resting it around your shoulders.

you shrug, leaning your head back to knock against his arm gently and he tugs on a strand of your hair. it’s oddly intimate and it makes your legs tighten. “only for guys obsessed with alien versus predator, i guess.”

"thank god there's only one of those on campus." geto says it under his breath, avoiding eye contact with gojo as he wipes fake sweat from his brow. "sorry for you that it's gojo satoru."

"if i were any girl on campus, i'd be floored to know gojo likes alien versus predator." you snort, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. you remember at the last second that it's rude to eat with your mouth open, so you swallow before you finish your thought. "half the campus wants to sleep with him, the other half seems to have already done it."

while it was at gojo's expense, you had imagined your joke would have merited a laugh or at least a pity chuckle, but instead, gojo and geto share a look. the charged energy that passes between the two of them isn't lost on you, but you don't know what it is that it could mean. you're worried that it means that maybe you were right on your first overall assessment of him and your avoidance of him wasn't untoward—maybe gojo satoru is just a playboy that can't take a joke.

geto shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his thighs as he gets up, as if he were leaving a family function that's definitely gone on for too long and finally wants to go home. "well, i have to go meet up with that hot chick from econ, and maybe even learn her name. so i'm going to leave you two here to enjoy aliens and predators. i will be gone all night, do with that what you will."

the feeling of dread begins to sink into your skin. you thought gojo had invited you here tonight because the two of you had made some sort of connection that went above him wanting to sleep with you. geto's crude and offhanded remark makes it seem as if gojo had intended for you to sleep with him, and while you would've when you first came, the thought that the only reason he invited you over was to sleep with you makes you rescind the idea immediately.

you were stupid to think that maybe you could ‘figure him out’, to think that maybe things could be different than what you’d heard about.

geto's out of the door and it's shutting soundly when you turn to gojo, clear disbelief in your eyes if the apologetic hands in front of him are to mean anything.

"this isn't what you think it is." gojo says.

you seethe under your skin. "and what, pray tell, do you think i think it is?"

he gives you an awkward, fucking endearing, smile. "that i invited you over with the excuse to watch a movie but i really only wanted to fuck?"

bingo.

"is that why you invited me tonight?" your eyebrows furrow together as you begin to scooch as far into the couch arm as you can, granted it isn't very far away from gojo.

he sighs. "no, i just wanted to watch aliens versus predator with you."

"okay, so why did your roommate have to mention that he was going to be gone all night. feels a bit weird if all we're doing is watching a movie, doesn't it?" you tighten your lips into a line, raising your eyebrow and punctuating the end of your interrogation with a sharp tilt of your head.

gojo drops his gaze from yours, looking at the television where someone is getting gored by the alien. you image it's gojo in your head unapologetically. "i didn't anticipate us sleeping together, no. i might have mentioned to geto, though, that i wouldn't hate the idea of it."

"'wouldn't hate the idea of it'?" you echo, hands coming up to put air quotes around his statement. " that's fucking rich considering you fuck anything on two legs, but when it comes to sleeping with me, you would just tolerate it."

you move to get off the couch, legs unfurling from under you and your hands pressing into the soft cushiony feeling when you feel gojo's hand wrap around your bicep. "wait! that's not what i meant, i wouldn't just tolerate sleeping with you!"

"okay, so what the fuck do you mean, gojo, 'cause from where i'm standing, all i'm seeing is you being an inconsiderate asshole." you want to pull your arm from his grasp but he's got a firm hold on you—not tight enough to hurt or bruise you, but strong enough to keep you in place. if it weren't to keep you from bolting from his apartment for bruising your ego, you'd think it send fireworks in your belly.

"you don't understand." he says, looking up at you now and seeing that he's battling with what he's saying and what he really means.

you sigh, deeply, because you have an inkling of feelings for him and you want to know if what he truly meant was just to hurt you, or if there's something else to what he said. "so help me understand."

gojo stands, hands twisting and turning with each other and he begins to pace around the small space in front of the couch and the television. "so, i know that i have a reputation for being, like, this douche who just sleeps with anything with a pulse, and honestly it never really bothered me before."

you're silent, letting him continue with what he's saying and hoping he won't lose his nerve before he finishes.

"what geto was saying was some stupid joke because i had said something earlier about how you were really pretty and i thought i might actually have a chance to take you on a date sometime because i thought that we were vibing really well." he rambles, shaking his head at himself. "but he said it in a stupid way, and i didn't just invite you over to sleep with me, because i've never ever done that before! i've never invited anyone over before to watch a movie and hoping that they’ll just spontaneously wanna fuck."

"you've never netflix and chill'd someone before?" you say it incredulously because even as you say it outloud, it feels like something you've lied about. "never?"

he says your name softly, kneeling in front of you with your hands in his as he gives you a grim face. "i've never even fucked anyone before."

this revelation feels like a very bold-faced lie. a preposterous, almost presumptuous lie that only the likes of gojo satoru himself could try and pass off. you scoff, hands pulling away from his as you lean back into the couch, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“wait!” he cries softly, hands falling to the couch as you pull your body away from him, attempting to go around him but freezing at his outburst. “i mean it, i’m still a virgin.”

“what the fuck?” spills from your mouth before you can think to filter yourself, but you’re just flabbergasted at this point. your brows have never been more furrowed but you’re rubbing at your head as you shake it. “you do realize half the campus has said they’ve slept with you, right?”

one of his shoulders comes up in a defeated half-shrug. “yeah, it started when i was a freshman. one girl got mad i didn’t sleep with her, but she said i had anyways. from there, it just snowballed.”

“why didn’t you deny it?”

he collapses now, falling from his kneeling position to sit on his ass, hands holding up his weight behind him. “what’s the point? either people believe me and then i’m weird for not sleeping with someone, or people don’t believe me and i’m called a liar.”

“don’t you want to get back at that girl for lying?” you tilt your head to the side, mouth still open slightly in disbelief. “i mean, it doesn’t bother you at all that she’s the reason people call you a whore?”

“whoa now,” his lips go from slack to an easygoing half smile, “i don’t know about whore but no, it doesn’t bother me. usually just means at parties i have to decline a lot of advances, but then again, i’d rather just avoid parties at that point.”

“so, like,” you pause, thinking of the words you’re trying to say and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of gojo, who’s just watching you quietly and waiting for you to gather yourself, “you’ve never… pee pee in vagina?”

his laugh sounds like little angels and you shift uncomfortably, realizing there’s a part of you that likes that he’s a virgin. that he hasn’t ever slept with anyone before, that there are parts of him that a single soul hasn’t ever seen. “that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“do you want to change that?” the question is out of your mouth before you can think twice—an impulse that you hadn’t expected to need to curb, but when it’s out in the open, you realize that it’s exactly what you want to do.

you wanna take his virginity.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen gojo speechless before, because he was always talking—to geto, to some random girl, to you lately. he’s perpetually avoiding silence like it scared him, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually at a loss for words. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “wh-what? i though you got mad at me for inviting you over to fuck.”

you shrug. “i got mad ‘cause i thought you were being presumptuous by inviting me over for something ‘chill’ just to want to fuck.”

“shouldn’t i be offended that you found out i’m a virgin and now you want to fuck?” he raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth is lifting.

“intensely offended.” you nod, watching him as he crawls back towards the couch, hand winding around your calf carefully. “are you? offended, i mean.”

gojo leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to your knee and it’s your turn to swallow thickly, mouth dry all of a sudden. “very. need you to make it up to me.”

you groan softly, leaning down to press your hand to his and your forehead knocks against his lightly. looking at him, his incredibly incandescent blue eyes that seem to see straight through all the fronts and walls you try to put up and nudge your nose against his. the position makes your neck ache but you can’t force yourself to move, too gravitated towards gojo. you can feel his breath fan across your mouth hotly and you can see his eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, though you’re grounded by the feeling of his hand’s warmth through your pants. “how?”

you can feel the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your leg, can feel the way your muscles are spasming gently as he runs his hand up your leg, just barely touching you. his grip becomes firm again against the outside of your thigh, tilting his head up until your lips are millimeters away, practically breathing in each other's air.

"kiss me."

your lips crash against his with a fervor you hadn't realized you had in you. his lips are slightly dry, and the position is making your neck feel almost like it's about to fall off, but you couldn't think of a better kiss with him.

his hand flies from your thigh to cup the side of your face, the other one coming to rest on your waist as he pushes onto his knees, kneeling now between your legs. with you sitting on the couch and him kneeling, he's at the perfect height to ease the pain in your neck and to wrap your arms around his neck comfortably.

gojo pulls away from the kiss, but there's not even enough time to feel disappointed because he's already pressing your lips together again, this time with a bit of a slight opening. you take this as your chance to slide your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for permission to press deeper. you want to suck on his tongue, to feel him get hard from your kisses, to know gojo in a way that no one ever has before.

you've fucked before, and you've definitely had your fair share of disappointing experiences, so you want to make sure gojo's first time is better than—if not the best experience you could give him.

“bedroom?” he mutters against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your tongue sweeping across his mouth again and you make a soft noise when he nips it gently with his teeth. “or couch?”

“do you want me to blow you on the couch or on the bed?” you ask back, hands roaming across his back and rucking up the ends of his shirt to feel his skin, smooth and warm. “‘cause i’m okay with either. want you to be comfortable.”

you can feel him shifting his weight around, and with a simple nudge of his hand on your thigh, you’re winding your legs around his waist. you’re not sure how he manages to stand from the position he’s in, but one minute you’re sitting on the couch, the next minute you’re in the air as gojo carries you towards his bedroom. your lips never leave his, and while he presses you against his bedroom door, hand fumbling with the knob, you bite his lip.

“oh god,” he whispers, eyes reverently roaming your face as he gets the door open, “i want you so bad, baby.”

opening the door, he walks you in the room and does a little bit of a spin, sitting down on the bed with you straddling his lap. he leans back on the bed, just looking at you. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you feel almost shy under his gaze, unused to the undivided attention.

“i want to kiss you.” he mumbles, cheeks all of a sudden getting rosy red and the sight of it makes your chest tighten—he’s so pretty. “but i also really want… you to blow me.”

“s’okay.” you respond, hands sliding down from his shoulders, across his chest and to his belt. you get up and maneuver yourself off of the bed, kneeling at the edge with your knees pressing into the plush carpet. “help me with the buckle, baby?”

“yes, mommy.” he breathes, hands immediately flying to his buckle and wiggling out of his jeans as fast as you think a person could get out of pants. the moniker he calls you sends a chill down your spine, unused to the term but not disliking it in any way. “is it— is it okay that i called you that?”

you nod, distracted by the bulge in gojo’s black underwear—large, twitching every so often, and you think you can see a dark spot right at his tip. it’s long, longer than you had been expecting, and it’s just girthy enough for you to wrap your whole hand around it. he bucks his hips into your hand, as if it was an impulse he couldn’t control, his own hand coming up to bite back the moan he can’t help but let out.

your eyes flicker to his, watching the way his rosy cheeks begin to spread, trailing to his chin and down his neck. his chest is heaving, as if every breath is a labor, and you can hear soft whimpers leaving his mouth every time you press your fingers firmly, or during the slow, agonizing strokes you’re giving his shaft.

you’re watching him unravel, and you’re practically salivating at the thought of his sounds when you finally wrap your mouth around him, much less when he’s finally inside of you.

freeing his cock from his boxers, you let the fabric pool at his ankles as you slot yourself between his legs further, watching him lean back and support his weight with a hand bunched in his comforter. "oh fuck."

stroking his shaft without the boxers in the way makes gojo's eyes roll to the back of his head, your skin smooth against his skin and your thumb rubbing gentle little circles on his tip. his cock has little veins running along the shaft and the tip is red, as if straining for something. "feels so fucking good."

there's a whine that's in the back of his throat that makes your arousal pool in your panties, and you begin to move your hips side to side, as if trying to get any sort of friction to relieve yourself. you want to finger yourself, press your fingers to your clit and get rid of this aching need in your pussy, but your hands are busy with gojo's cock, holding it steady as you flatten your tongue.

pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, you relish the sound of desperation, of need, that gojo makes. it sounds halfway between a whimper and a moan, and it makes you swirl your tongue around his tip just to see if you can get another sound out of him.

"holy shit."

his hand is in your hair now, pushing the strands that had fallen into your face and moving them out of your way. he holds your hair loosely at the base of your neck and when you meet his gaze, he's biting his lip and groaning softly. his eyes are lidded, drowsy with lust and need, and it looks as if he's shaking, as if from the tension it takes to hold back from bucking his cock all the way into your mouth.

hallowing your cheeks, you push yourself up to sit on your heels and take as much of gojo's lengthy cock into your mouth, relaxing as much as you can to take him even further until he's hitting the back of your throat and then some. there are tears now, streaming down your face and gojo looks almost as if he's enjoying the sight of them, of his cock down your throat and tears pooling in your eyes.

pulling back until just the tip of his dick is in your mouth, you let your hand rub the parts of him that your mouth couldn't reach. gojo lets his head fall back, neck exposed to the ceiling as he moans wantonly. his grip tightens on your hair, making your pull back just a bit further and scrape your teeth against him by accident. he flinches, but then lets go of your hair to pull you off his cock fully.

"holy fuck, i think i was about to come." he mutters, breathless and chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you, hair disheveled and messed up. "i didn't wanna come before i got to fuck you."

in no time, you're both shedding your clothes and making out on the bed again, this time he's hovering over you while you wind your arms around his neck. you're nipping gently at his lips, relishing the nervous and tentative way he's touching you—as if, if he touches you wrong, you'll disappear from underneath him.

his hands are shaking, cupping your breasts and thumbing your nipples. pushing your chest into his hand, you moan and nod fervently when he gives you a look for approval.

"d'you wanna fuck me, gojo?" you whisper, pressing your lips wetly against his neck.

he whines, hand fisting the sheets until his knuckles turn white and he rubs his cock against the wetness of your cunt, slippery with your arousal. "call me by my first name."

you blink, surprised by his need for intimacy, but you're not one to deny him what he wants right now, the need for his cock too deeply ingrained in your brain at t his moment in time. his cock glides across your pussy again, rubbing against your clit and your moans come out breathless. "satoru, please, please fuck me."

and you're smart, you should've asked him to put a condom on to protect yourself just in case anything happens, but he's a virgin. he's never fucked anyone in his life, so there's no way he's got an std or anything, and you've been on the pill since you were young, so the thought of pregnant doesn't cross your mind. the only thing that crosses your mind is that you're about to have gojo satoru's cock in you and you want to relish every sound he makes when he finally, finally fucks you.

holding his shaft, he lines up his reddening tip to your cunt, hips stuttering as he begins to push himself into you. his face is twisted in what seems to be both pleasure and agony, but you're pretty sure it's because he's holding himself back for you, not wanting to rush his first time.

"you're so fucking—" his voice is coming out high, almost to the point of a whine as he groans at the feeling of his cock disappearing inside of you, and if you weren't so focused on leaving crescent indents in his skin, you think you'd be on the same page as him. "you're so fucking soft, a-and tight, mommy."

with every whimper, every soft reverent murmur of your name, you tighten your thighs, clenching around his cock as he fucks you. there’s not a rhythm to his thrusts, nothing to focus on and meet his hips with, since he’s a man reborn. now that he’s found what his salvation feels like, he’s just chasing his high. he tries to lean back his head, as if wanting to watch his cock slide in and out of your pussy. gojo’s hips hit yours with every thrust, the sharp angle of his hip bone leaving a grounding sort of pain on your thigh.

there’s a moment when you swear you can see stars and all you can think is ‘this man was a virgin thirty minutes ago’ because he’s got you desperately close to your climax.

“s-sator-ru!”

his name on your lips as you come, tightening your pussy around his dick and clawing at his back as he throttles you off of the edge, seems to set him over the edge, too. his hips stutter, body shaking as he comes in you—so much for not rushing his first time.

he falls now, letting his arms stop holding up his weight as he lets himself relax fully on your body and heaving in your ear. it’s not exactly romantic, but you enjoy running your hands along his sides to watch him twitch back and forth. his cock is twitching inside of you, fully spending itself of its first orgasm inside another person and you’re satisfied at his soft moan when you tighten your pussy one last time.

“i tried..” he whispers, mouth turning towards your neck and tickling you with every word he forms, “holding out, but i had to come. felt too good not to.”

“s’okay,” you whisper back, afraid to break the spell of closeness by speaking at a normal volume, “you’ll last longer next time.”

there’s an unspoken ‘with someone else’ that you can’t bear to say, knowing that perhaps this is just a one and done thing. something you’d done on a whim and perhaps, he had, too. perhaps this was just the easiest way for him to get laid, and you were more than happy to provide.

“gimme a minute.” he kisses your neck sloppily—too gentle. “i’ll clean up in a minute. need to catch my breath.”

you roll your eyes. hooking your legs around his ass, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple—too intimate. “take all the time you need.”

he hums, eyelashes fluttering shut as his breathing begins to even—too pretty. you’re worried this might be the last time you see him so peacefully, and instead of worrying about later—later tonight, later tomorrow—you let your eyes close, too.

[edenspoem]

making ellie ur anal princess ౨ৎ

𓆩.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝𓆪: subbottom!ellie, bit of a brat obv, spanking ofc!! rough n' nasty, sorta soft, an iota of lore buildup tbh im not doing all that, some fluff at the end i think, 2.4k+ words . BIG TEXT VERSION . MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . ART BY LOTTIE

Wintry brumes swept through Jackson this week had to have carried some alteration of spores, for Ellie to even chew her teeth over the word yes. Bizarre as the idea should strike— "Wanna try it from behind?"— recoiling lips over her ear rim, sunken in a seat behind, and masticating denimed ass with your honed nails; Ellie was all in, blushed to the bone.

Was she at all candid originally? No, that goes without saying. Humdrums and spectrums of explicitness on your part pervade each crack and inept cough of chatter that she starts days beforehand, throat literally cracking whenever the topic emerges on dreary mornings or alive nights. Twiddly of her thumbs or knees, breaks the thick silence on a spitty click— uncalled for finger jabbing you to see if you managed to evade sleep long enough, "Um, so— it really won't hurt if I.. god— this is so fuckin'.. uh, keep.. practicing?"

Practicing. One way to say it. You assured Ellie; "Yeah, unless you're a masochist praying for a death wish." which maybe could've been articulated nicer, but she's your girlfriend, and one of her major ground-breakers for falling smitten with you— your humor. Spankin' her butt the second she spanks yours, (In turn making her the butt of the running: "That's gonna be you on Friday." joke), or nonchalantly slipping the notion that she'd "Look hotter than a V.S model." in a black thong, flopping your head and averting casual gaze to blank spaces undeserving of your eyes as if your comment wouldn't fuck with her brain for the ticking remains of daylight. Just crude humor, and not serious concepts, right?

So beyond the shadow of doubt, of course, when she's bare lain, spreadeagled of her legs caging you in, maraschino face smudged flat to her bed, perky ass in yours and teased by the caphead of your plastic dick— you give all the humor that girl can get, and fourfold.

"Don't need to clench, baby. Your butt isn't going anywhere."

Ellie clenching for her oh so cherished life felt more like she was squeezing the nervous nectar out, pearly bullets brought upon by all that foreplay— or anticipation— bedazzle the creased parts and frowns she knits as you wrap a grip on your lubed length and brush the tip against her asscrack. It prods at her, mentally. Pokes her to open up, literally.

A drawn-out whine, low and wispy, breezes her throat, "Shut up," jaw tensing grit conjointly, "You're such an ass— and don't you dare make an ass joke, I swear." you suppose she attempted to rein in some essence of control with that suppressed tone of threat, cute threat if we're mincing no words, but it's futile. Can't rise above when you're pinned below.

You snicker, contrary hand swerving over and beginning to palm her butt's half-taut half-doughy feel, and yielding it to a pull, "Hmhm." the soft heat of your touch inciting her muscles to relax, just a slight. "Want you to put it in, set the pace for me, mkay?" your voice curls at the end, tilting your face even if she couldn't exactly see.

"Huh.." she releases a breathy chuckle into the mattress, then shimmies onto her ruddy, pockmarked elbows to allow a pivot of her head. "Makin' me do all the work, can't you just do it already?" she gripes, teetering between frustration and impatience, and nearly hissing, "Fuck me already." instead. Fair skin contours along her shoulder blades as she reaches back, little dimples you wanna deepen with presses.

Muggy fingers skid the bends of your knuckles, "Ts' cute when you do." and you slacken your grip, the harness lacing your hips tugging in nooks as she takes you and levels it to her hole, not quite inserting it before another scoff unbinds from her throat.

"Uh-huh, totally." the brat card was the only thing she could play, Ellie being Ellie— plus, fuck you for shoving such a vulnerability into her by eclipsing over her body and deciphering which touches and words made her tick into a, "Yes ma'am." this past week, making her eager to get piped dumb already, even if the thought conflicts with humiliation.

Intrinsic carnality, had her whipped subconsciously. Hot blood always pooled at her cheeks whenever the mere prediction of how this would go down flashed her mind, having to mosey out of her place for a contemplative stroll. Contemplate, contemplate, ooze her eyes into the raw white, winter void, "Fuck." she couldn't help but moan, and throb untouched.

Bands flex across her grasp as she tries pulling you inside, but her body is a bit too.. antsy, taut. "Babe, it's not— mmph, it's not going in. I think we have to—"

"Have to.. what?"

"Fuck!" a rushed moan tears as skin slaps, harsh and bridging on real tears. Of pain, or by pleasure? Ellie can't convey, but her thrust into the spongy bed and toss of head begging to get strung in your fist impart the guess that fuck— you've stretched her deep, bottomed in perfectly.

You let her hole familiarize the girth for a second prior to drawing out and slamming back in, "Uh!" plush globes rippling wherever the skin spilled on top of your hip bones jamming into her. The pressure clamping you in causes a tiny kickback against your folds, chafes your clit underneath. "Fuckin' tight, aren't you?" you're a damn taunt, winching that whisper ardent to her neck. Evilly; wicked as lusty spirits tempt.

"Holy fuck, holy fu— uhh, uh uh, shit!" streams of nasty and broken up groans hike out of her gaped mouth with each pump into her, poor girl having a gouge out with the bedsheets as a means of taking you, "It's so— uhn! So fuckin' bi— I can't, hhn'can't.."

Musing sighs blur into a pitying coo, you reply, "Mhm, you can. Play with 'urself baby."

"Okay, okay—" Ellie unfolds a breathlessness, "—unhh babeee, fuckkk me." and runs it into straught curses as her tatted forearm lodges in the narrow space separating her from drenched cotton, and forks her pussy lips open, rubbing her neglected bud in sloppy strokes. Her teeth bore into her soft, coral lips when her fingers tug just right, so delectably right she could come undone then and there with your added penetration, waning from pain to indeed— pleasure. Diverts her fingers a moment to massage all the dripping slick and lube through her labia 'till it drew pretty webs between, and resumes again, noisily as ever, "Ghnna' cum, guhhh— ohh my goodd." and so nasty; dribbles of thin saliva traversing the swell of her chin.

Goddamn, she's loud. Sure, it's adorable how you pump her into a blathering mess on your cock, but this was unforeseen; surrendering her every moan to get bumped out nonsensically. Because or for you, both possibly, or definitely. "Already? Aww." you pity, muffling your speech to render your voice into thorns of mock disappointment, but in reality, you just quickened your humps. Shown audibly in the squeaks of her bed frame squawking under your combined weights.

Two splotchy flowerbeds of crimson brim at her asscheeks, owing to how intense this had began and trickled into. Hmm, could make it redder if we so wished.

Wish it is.

Quietude holds, and relents in a hard snap; a sting pricks the entirety of your palm crashing down on her butt, watching as the gentle red gains a series of richer rays and hearing the result of said slap punching through her larynx.

"Ughnn!"

Continuing: you slap once, slap twice, times it by thrice, and drive her into a quiver, procuring those wails that have your goosebumps downright rigid as the earth.

"Uh— uh— agh!"

Retiring your hands thriven of ache, they find oasis curving in the shape of her waist. "So good, isn't it Els? Can tell by how loud you're being, my sloppy girl." praised you, silkily sweet upon the lacy edge of slamming your cockhead rough on her walls.

"Yes, yessh. Make me shl— make me.. fuck— make m'your sloppy girl.." past her grace, is a side long since cowered. It's like you molded her brain to abruptly covet the feeling spurting inside her pelvis. From her spine, unto her clit, a ticklish string invokes its fray, flitting her eyes to darker heavens within her skull.

You coast your knees further up until they parked aside her hips, slanting your groin so you could plunge her wider and deeper, ending up with a draw of lubrication landsliding out. Sheer size alone— she's spread her on your strap thickly enough to stimulate certain sweet spots, and god can you tell when you do hit them. Resistance punts the strap base viciously back, dragging a yelp from your lungs. All the squelches coming from her two holes, egged you to an insatiable fucking. Arousal scorched the curves of your cheeks, in love with that sound, infatuated with her pussy, her ass, how ace of a learner she is.

Ellie's calves give upon sensation and hurtle up, rotating her ankle downwards and pushing cinched toes smushed on your bouncing hind— because that infamous pinch now consumes her fattened clit, riding her sleek-glistened fingers doggishly to pursue that heavenly itch. An oncoming recital of whines and growls coats her timbre, "Baby, uhh— babe— m'gonna cum now, dammit.. 'cum all over you— yeah." pleading for you to hasten up in buggy nudges of her heel, butting your ass.

"Oh yeah?" you swirl muse, arching your thumb into the arch her spine slowly welds into, swooning when her head lies atop her ear and a suffused, smiling expression meets your behold.

"Mhm, hmph!" a hitched gulp interrupts her, "You're too fuckin'— mhh, too fuckin good at t-this." inching into a cocky laugh for a blink in time, then swallows it returned to a screw of overwhelm in her facial muscles. She snakes her free paw under yours set on her waist, collecting it and dragging you to grope a handful of her breast, erect nipples flicking stripes due to your humps jostling her.

Weepy eyes bordered by remnants of her past tears cried inflict a bridge between pride and more praise into the pleasure points of your body, and you had no clue before this that she cried. It felt.. gratifying, seeing freckled flesh resemble pebbled waters in spring, ribbons of light warping along her cheeks.

"Those tears for me?" even so, you lower your lips and lap the pellucid stain up, puckering a smooch in its wake.

But you keep ramming a flood out.

The nod she bobs is swift, swifter than her gullet will ever deliver in this state— nor could now, a contort bolting her face inwards subsequent to a mouse-pitched moan leaving the luring lips of your lover bearing pressure into squirting her orgasm all over you, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" she keens and cants her ass on you, jerking swipes over her clit wildly to fufill the ecstasy piping through her pussy. A timid and weak spray noises below— and then came the webs of liquid pearls cascading around her clit, connecting to her fingerprints as she delicately taps the beady bud.

She got thrashy, and clenched your cock in, having bitten off more than she could chew— and it thrilled your cunt to know that; fire catches, and so does the knot twisting your insides. Relish leaves your mouth as you finish base-deep in your girlfriend, imposing her to your skin-bulged grip of her soft breast melting into your palm lines as you cum, "Ohh, yes baby— good girl, good girl.. fuckk." imprinting her mind with how good that felt in your every reaction, forcing that fervor into her existence.

"I fuckin' love you, babe, I love you so fuckin' muh— yes yes yes.." Ellie reciprocates passion received, unto passion given; parting her muck sweat face from the bed and sundering that space in front of yours, suckling your bottom lip into your mouth and sharing the excess teardrops streaked upon her top lips, unlocking to simply just— breathe onto your mouth, straining the last of her orgasm in gradually dwindling moans.

One last peck at her lips charged by a high, you both temper your elation strewn throughout and become aware of the loss for air in your lungs, inhaling the scent of each other done up in exertion. The stillness sustains for a bit, kind of just drunkenly staring 'till one of you broke into a lopsided smirk— no doubt Ellie, and you just had to mingle lips again. So, you slide out carefully with the expected threads of lube following after, and you roam your damp palms away from her ass and chest and branch them on either side of her clammy waist. Her contagious giggles inspire you to mirror the same sounds as you slink behind her and spoon her, smushing the ball of your nose into her hot nape reeking of sweat.

"Was that everything you imagined— or a pain in the ass?" quiped you, quick rolling kisses on her skin, specks of your spit smearing.

Cringe compels her to split lips from you, chuckling, "Really? Right now?" a row of notches digging between her brows, and a shuffle of her legs rub at the filthy wetness layering her groin, "You've got to be kidding me."

"So it was a pain?"

All you get as a response is her shoulder blades swelling as she breathes in, and shies her face away, giving you the hair-in-your-face treatment. "Guess.. after that, 'could go for a couple snacks. I'm hungry."

You squint, "By snacks, do you mean your two-course aftersex meal?" retorting.

"Yeah! That's like, the best thing to do right after." and, her enthusiastic claim isn't all that spoiled. Ellie commonly does it, and she fucking loves it. Hot meals under some wacky or heartfelt discussion, sometimes checking in on the other person, sometimes asking how they felt— but this time, confessions would stay an enigmatic afterthought to ponder about, as really, she fucking loved what you did to her. But that's— forward. Give her a couple days and a couple hours toppled above the usual hour she knocks slumped into somnolence, and she'll admit that. Sappy sweet on the lobe of your ear, indifferent on whether you're wide awake to overhear or not.

"You felt good, uh, by the way. It hurt at first, but, I think my butt's healed from the trauma. Chair isn't uncomfortable to sit in anymore, hmph. Love you, don't ask me about it in the morning. I'll pretend you don't exist. Night, babe."

Something tells me she wants you to do it again.

[sweet-creature101]

Washing Machine Heart

Summary: You, a reserved student find yourself in the midst of an intense with Harry Styles, who happens to be your friend’s boyfriend. Your connection ignites into a consuming, high-stakes affair, each encounter fraught with desire and danger, pushing both of you to the brink as you wrestle with guilt and loyalty.

A forbidden affair; affair trope.

Warnings: mention of alcohol. LOTS OF ANGST.

27th February 2014

4:08 p.m

The wind was cold today and so were you. The sun, hidden under a cloak of clouds, was nowhere to be seen. The streets of London never looked so desolate and dull. Even the usually vibrant Villon Street today looked as if it had been washed in grey and white. Your shoes clacked against the hard pavement, your focus directed at the wind and the cold that nicked at your face.

Over the years you developed a perception that you’re invisible, a shadow slinking in corners long forgotten. You look around, your ears blocking out the chatter and squeals of your friends; friends who would often disregard you when together, far too immersed in each other's stories of disastrous flings and affairs. But they were your friends, your friends to call, your friends to keep no matter how ignorant or oblivious they sometimes became.

“Y/N?” Sharon suddenly spoke out loud, drawing you out of your trance.

“Yeah?” You suddenly asked, your posture becoming straighter, your eyes becoming alert.

Sharon looked at you intently, her blue eyes scanning you up and down before sighing. “There’s a party tomorrow at, what 7?” Sharon asked Regina in the middle of her sentence.

Regina simply nodded while texting, her wispy brown hair wafting with every gust of wind. Sharon continued, “Yes, so there’s a party tomorrow at the frat house. Would you like to join? We’re all getting ready at my place.”

Sharon and you lived in the same apartment building. You were looking for the cheapest accommodation, a one-bedroom apartment off campus because living with absolute strangers was far too daunting for you. And that is how you met Sharon, whom your mother instantly loved owing to her extroverted demeanour.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled at the three girls.

“Great!” Tara exclaimed.

The four of you spent the next hour drinking coffee and discussing your outfits for the party; albeit you occasionally answered in full sentences, opting for curt words instead. As the clock struck seven in the evening, Tara and Regina decided to head back to campus while you and Sharon made your way to Greene Street, where your apartments were situated. “Come with me, I have to show you my new dress,” Sharon said before you got a chance to head to your apartment.

Sharon’s apartment was right next to yours but seemed a world apart. Her apartment was littered with stray clothes, makeup and syllabus books everywhere while yours sported an impressive collection of novels, journals and trinkets and the walls were painted with various constellations, flowers, sunsets or anything you wished to preserve.

You stepped over Sharon’s strewn clothes and sat on her bed, waiting for her to come out. Suddenly the doorbell rang and you were up in qualms, not knowing what to do.

“Sharon, someone's at the door.” You said, standing close to the bathroom door so that she could hear you clearly.

“Must be Harry, why don’t you open it? It’ll take me a while in here.” Sharon replied.

You stood for two seconds, mapping out your plan of action when the bell rang for the second time. “Coming!” You yelled.

You opened the door and there stood Harry Styles, Sharon’s five-month long boyfriend. A bouquet of roses held in his right hand, a silly smile etched on his face.

“You’re not Sharon.” Harry chuckled. His voice sounded radiant, his green eyes gleamed with amusement.

“You stand correct. She’s in the washroom,”

“Ah, well how are you?” Harry asked, being the gentleman he was taught to be.

“Careful or else I might think these flowers are for me.” You joked dryly.

Truth be told, initially, Harry had his sights set on you, the girl who always lingered beyond time in the library, who would laugh at jokes only once she saw everyone else was laughing around her. This is why he talked to Sharon, to make her help him talk to you but somewhere along the way lines got blurred and Harry got confused. Fatally confused. Confused enough that his lack of decisiveness led him to a relationship he never wanted to be in but nonetheless followed through for he had nothing better to do. And now as you opened the door, a small part of him hoped that the situation in front of him was not because of coincidence but because of will.

“Harry!” A squeal from behind took his focus away. He looked behind to see Sharon, in a tight red dress looking at him with the eyes of a lovesick puppy.

“Got these for you,” Harry said, walking in. He grabbed Sharon by the waist and gave her a kiss.

Harry did not notice when you left, but could only feel you leave. Like a silent wraith gliding from one world to the next.

28th February 2014

10:42 p.m

The music playing was absolutely deafening. The cup in your head seemed like a dead weight. You had a few beers, only to make conversations with all these people less turbulent. The short denim skirt you wore kept on riding up your thighs and the white tube top you wore seemed to stick to your skin. Tara had run off to somewhere with Regina and Sharon was far too immersed in making your drink.

“Don’t add too much vodka Shar,” you tell the girl, turning your focus towards the kitchen island littered with bottles of alcohol and empty cups.

“Of course, of course,” Sharon said, nodding, as she proceeded to empty the bottle of vodka in her hand in the two cups in front of her. “Now for the real question Y/N, coke or straight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Straight?” You opted for drinking it straight because you found the taste of vodka to be borderline unbearable, so you opted to take it as a shot. To get it over with rather than let the audacious taste linger on.

“Straight it is,” Sharon said, handing you your cup. “Oh, and I honestly don’t know how much I poured. Let my hand loose if you know what I mean.” The girl chuckled. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and drank the shot all at once. You did the same, cringing at the taste, feeling as if you were about to puke.

“Water!” Sharon immediately scrambled for a glass of water on seeing your expression. She handed the glass to you, her expression wary.

“All good.” You said as you kept the glass down.

“Hah great! I’m gonna go look for Harry now.”

“Oh yeah, have fun.” You said smiling at her, your speech a bit slurred.

You made your way to the back of the house and sat next to the pool. Your head started to spin, and a newfound sense of numbness settled over your bones. One that you found quite relaxing. You closed your eyes and hummed contently, the loud music and presence of people no longer bothering you as it was before.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice. You opened your eyes and saw Harry walk towards you.

“Hello, Harry!” You said enthusiastically, smiling as wide as you possibly could.

“You seem to be in a nice mood.” Harry chuckled at your behaviour.

“Come, sit next to me.” You gestured towards the space beside you. Harry took you up on your offer, sitting on the lounge chair next to you.

“You know, it took me two hours to straighten my hair. Not that it was difficult, but because I kept on asking myself if I really wanted to come here. Then there was this whole dilemma of not knowing what to wear. I wanted to wear my jeans but Tara said I can’t wear them because she’s wearing them, then I thought I could wear leather pants but Regina said she’s wearing hers so I can’t wear mine, although they don’t even remotely look the same. And what’s so bad about having similar outfits.” You huffed out. Harry looked at you with both surprise and awe because you had never talked more than ten seconds with him.

“Well, I for one think you look absolutely beautiful tonight,” Harry said, looking at you with sincere eyes.

“Really?” You asked him. The doubt in your eyes made Harry want to hug and hold you.

“Really. I don’t think there’s anyone as beautiful as you here Y/N.” Harry said.

He didn’t miss the way your gaze softened, your lips dropping into a small smile. You drew closer to him. He could feel your bare thighs touch his and it was as if his entire being had narrowed down to the parts where your skin touched his. He felt his heart skip a few beats when you kept your head on his shoulder and held his hand in yours.

Oh, how he wished to kiss you at that moment! He had to physically stop his hand from trailing up your neck, all the way to your face. He wanted to touch you, feel your skin and kiss every inch of it, slowly and gently. He wished he could stretch time to its fullest and preserve this moment in a photograph that he could stow away in his pocket.

“Sharon was looking for you. Sorry, I didn’t tell you earlier.” You whispered, half expecting him to get up and leave.

“It’s okay,” Harry replied quietly, his grip on your tightening as he pulled you in closer.

4th March 2014

11:16 p.m

The month of March is a month full of oddities and complexities. It seems to be a kind of cloth wherein the hem was left undone, leaving it to fray in any and every direction. You do not know what to expect until you step outside. The sunshine that seems to be warm from your window is truthfully cold, or the chilling wind blowing outside is actually warm. Needless to say, March is a month with its seam left undone.

And in that undone seam, in a mess of threads and needles is where you found yourself. A new set of feelings dawned on you. Feelings for Harry. You felt your heart skip a few beats every time you looked at him. But there was Sharon, his girlfriend and more importantly your friend. This constant tug of war between what you desire and what is morally incorrect tired you. You tucked away all your worries in the back of your head for tonight, your sole focus being the movie playing in front of you.

You get up from the couch in which you lay to fetch yourself a bag of crisps. While making your way to the kitchen, your doorbell rang. You were expecting no one, especially not at this time. A million scenarios rushed through your head, full of probable outcomes (albeit most of them ended up with you dead on your living room floor). The doorbell rang a second time now. You picked up your ornithology textbooks, two of them together hoping that the sheer width of them combined would help you knock out whoever it was outside.

You open the door, half ready to start swinging like hell when you see Harry. The top buttons of his shirt were left unbuttoned, showing his built chest and muscled arms. His broad shoulders seemed to block out your doorway.

He looked ravishing.

You mentally smacked yourself for thinking in such a way about a boy who happened to be in a relationship, that too with a girl who happened to be your friend. “What are you doing here Harry? Sharon’s apartment is the one on the right.” You said, envisioning that him ringing your doorbell was an honest mistake.

“I know.” He said, smiling at you. He leaned against your doorframe, towering over you. You crossed your arms and looked at him.

Harry did not miss the way you scanned him up and down, how your breath so subtly hitched when you saw his chest. He found the flimsy night suit you wore to be quite cute, if not tempting. A button-up half-sleeved satin shirt with red hearts all over it and a pair of dangerously short shorts to accompany it.

“What’re you watching?” Harry said, walking in and sitting on your sofa. “Rio, huh? Good choice I’d say.” He said, smiling at you, stretching his body.

“Make yourself right at home will ya?” You muttered under your breath. “Why are you here though?” You asked him as you settled down next to him.

“Do you mind my company? Although I don’t think so.”

“Is there something you want from me? If so, just ask me so that we can stop with the small talk bullshit.” You firmly said.

“Yes actually, I do want something,” Harry said turning to look at you.

“Which is?”

“To spend time with you.”

“What?”

“I just told you what I want, kitten,” Harry said. You were grateful for the low lighting in your living room that hid the blush creeping on your face.

“You’re drunk Harry.” You reprimanded him. He only smiled at you, rolling his eyes playfully. “Just a bit tipsy Y/N.”

“Hmm. Okay, what do you want to watch then?” You ask, turning your focus away.

“Rio’s good.” He said.

“Okay.”

You resume the movie and lean back. Harry watched you intently. He noted every moment of yours, the way your chest would rise and freeze when something would happen in the movie, the way your lips would morph into a smile and your eyes fill with wonder.

Harry slowly started to inch towards you, careful not to make too much noise. He tried to be as subtle as he could, stretching and spreading his legs simply to touch yours. He could see you relax as well, your upright posture now dissolving into a lazy spread. Slowly, inch by inch Harry moved towards you as if you were a magnet pulling him in your direction.

He put his arm behind you. His thighs touched yours and from the corner of his eye, he could see you in freeze. He smirked and continued to move closer.

The warmth radiating from Harry was more welcoming than you were willing to admit. A million questions raced through your head, ‘is this right?’, ‘This is wrong,’ ‘he has a girlfriend’ and most importantly, ‘I shouldn’t be feeling this way.’ However, in all reality, you were caught up in the exact same feelings the rational part of your brain was telling you to avoid. But you didn’t care.

So you nestled further in Harry’s embrace, falling into him. You rested your head on his chest, feeling his muscled arm come around and wrap your shoulders. You could feel the sheer strength of his chest, feel every sculpted muscle of his under your head. Your skin felt as if it were on fire, fire that did not burn you but only tingled you. A tingle that you felt erupting in the lower part of your stomach.

You look up to see Harry gazing down at you. “I gather you don’t find the movie interesting.” You said, he only smiled gently at you.

“Talking birds aren’t really my preference.” He said, his voice sounding raspy.

“Oh, I can change it,” you said, getting up but Harry pulled you down, which made you land on top of him. You were now sitting on his lap, your expression that of extreme fluster. “That won’t be necessary,” Harry said. He looked at you with a gaze that threatened to devour you as a whole. He dragged his thumb over your lip slowly.

Your breathing went shallow all of a sudden. The flimsy material of your nightshirt wasn’t thick enough to hide how your nipples hardened under his touch. “What are you doing?” You asked him, your words a mere pant leaving your lips.

“What I dreamt of doing for so long,” Harry said.

He slowly inched his head towards you, his lips inviting you. It suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and he was the source of oxygen. The second your lips met with his you could feel your lungs fill with the air you lacked before.

Harry moved his hands up and down your body, feeling you as deeply as he could. Every inch of your skin, from the pads of your fingertips to your chest was on fire. A fire that Harry’s hands ignited in their wake. A fire that seemed to only burn and burn.

You started grinding your hips. Feeling his hard bulge under you. A desperate moan escaped his lips. You started to circle your hips more deeply, pressing your hot and dripping centre against him. You could feel the denim of his pants rub through the flimsy material of your shorts.

You were both a mess of pants and moans. Kissing each other as if the world threatened to end. A moan was about to fall off your lips when the bell rang. You shot up, looking at Harry with wide eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay angel.” He said, cupping your face in his hand.

You got up from his lap, now consciously aware of what had just happened.

“Y/N! Let me in!” Sharon spoke from the other end of the door. Your eyes were wide in alarm as you turned towards Harry. “Bathroom! Go!” You whispered to him, dragging him to your bathroom.

Once Harry was in, you opened the door. “Hi Sharon, what’s got you knocking on my door at this time?”

Sharon only rolled her eyes and walked in. “I don’t know what to wear tomorrow.” She sighed dramatically.

“Why what’s tomorrow?” You ask her.

“Harry’s taking me out.” She said as if you had asked a silly question.

“Oh.”

“I was thinking of wearing my red dress, or maybe the white one y’know the one with pearls and-”

“Sharon, listen I’d love to do this, but just not now.” You said, your voice meek.

“Why're you acting like this?” She asked you, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Like what?” You feigned innocence, already feeling guilty for refusing her.

“Like you have someone here. Do you, though?” She asked you, almost sounding accusatory.

Be calm. Be calm.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Anyways, you go to bed or whatever you were doing.” She said leaving your apartment.

You let out a deep breath and walked towards the washroom. You opened the door and saw Harry, standing behind the shower curtain, his brawny structure making him stick out like a sore thumb.

“You can come out now.” You said.

“Ah thank God, I thought I’d have to stay here the whole night.” He chuckled.

“No, Sharon was just asking what to wear for her date tomorrow. A date that you’re taking her on.” You stated blandly.

“Oh.”

“Oh God, this was never supposed to happen. What have we done?” You said dragging your palms down your face. Before you could say another word Harry hugged you. He hugged you long and tight.

And despite knowing better, you melted in his arms like putty.

28th March 2014

3:27 p.m

You sat in your car, in the parking lot outside the rugby stadium, waiting for Harry. This is what your life has come to now. Waiting outside in parking lots to meet Harry, subtle brushes against each other, locking eyes with each other. Harry did the same, waiting for you outside your classes, entering your apartment at odd times. Your relationship had transgressed from being purely physical to being a more emotional one. You would both simply sit next to each other, talking.

The world didn’t seem so lonely anymore for the two of you.

You look outside to see Harry walk towards you. His hair was wet and he wore a compression shirt that highlighted his muscled build along with loose baggy sweatpants. He smiled looking at you, a smile you had come to know was only reserved for you. He didn’t smile like this with Sharon or with his friends, a part of your heart fluttered at this knowledge.

“Hello, my love,” Harry said, getting in the car.

“Hi. How was practice?” You asked him.

“It was good, tiring as always. How were classes?” Harry asked you while throwing his duffel bag in the back of the car.

“Fine. Sharon wanted me to go out with her, Regina and Tara tonight.” You stated blandly. The sound of Sharon's name brought a lot of unwanted guilt in your head.

“Are you going?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. They don’t talk to me as much when sober, I doubt the outcome’s going to be different when they’re drunk.” You sighed. Your hands fidgeted with the steering wheel of the car. The rings on your hand clacked against it faintly.

“You can always change the people you’re around Y/N,” he said

“But I can’t,”

“But you can.”

“You can, I can’t. Being able to make friends or even just talk to people doesn’t come to me as naturally as it does to you, Harry.” You sighed, becoming frustrated at both the conversation at hand and your lack of social skills.

“It’s okay. I get it.” He said, reaching out to hold your hand.

“Do you, though?” You shot back, scoffing.

“Y/N, come on don’t be like this.” Harry pleaded. His voice was soft and buttery, coaxing you into a better place.

“Yeah, I’m sorry there’s just a lot that’s been on my mind as of late.” You breathed through your nose deeply. Your head felt heavy with all the anxiety you’d been feeling lately.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No, I'm okay. Thank you.” You whispered meekly.

Harry slowly brushed his hand over your cheek and you leaned into his touch, gazing into his eyes as a smile crept up your face. You leaned towards him and kissed him. You cupped his face with your hands and drew him into you. He unbuckled his seat belt quickly and pulled you onto his lap, albeit it was uncomfortable because of the tight place.

You moaned at his touch, capturing his lip between your teeth and tugging at it. Harry was left absolutely breathless by your actions and pulled you down harder, his hands squeezing your hips and waist. You could feel every muscle of his flex because of the thin compression shirt he wore.

“Careful now. Don’t want anyone to see us.” You whispered in his ear.

“What if I do?” Harry said, looking at you with an intense gaze.

Your lower lip jutted out subtly, a subtle reflection of what you thought of his words. “Everyone’s going to call you a cheater and they’ll call me something worse probably.” You chuckled sadly. You gave Harry a sincere kiss on his cheek and made your way for your seat.

“So what’s the plan for tonight? Are you going or not?” He asked you.

“No.” You answered as you started the car.

“Then how about a movie night? Just the two of us.”

“Hm, at my place and I’ll decide what to watch obviously.” You said smiling at him.

“Whatever you say kitten,” Harry said, holding your hand and kissing it.

4th April 2014

10:07 p.m

The black sky above glistened with a million stars, your eyes fixated on them. Harry watched you watching the stars. He smiled to himself. He longed for you in a silent and torturous way. You often felt worlds away from him even when you were right next to him. He blamed his lack of decisiveness for this distance. He knew deep down that the distance between you two would eventually strangle the life out of the relationship you shared. He was desperate for you, pining only for you. His world would stop moving when you’d call him by his name, all his focus narrowing on you.

“It’s breathtaking.” You gasped looking up.

“It truly is,” Harry said, looking at you.

You were sceptical at first when Harry said he knew a spot. After a drive of half an hour, you found yourself at the peak of a small hill, untouched by civilisation except for a small concrete bench. It not only overlooked the whole city but also had a magnificent view of the sky above. The stars weren’t so explicitly visible in the city as they were here.

The cool air blew against your cheeks, kissing your face gently.

“Come, sit with me,” Harry said, calling to you. You walk towards him and sit next to him on the bench.

You sigh through your nose and look ahead. “I think about it sometimes, what our first date would look like.” You said. Your voice sounded mournful as if you were grieving the loss of a relationship that never existed.

“I’d get you flowers, maybe even chocolates if you’re lucky that day,” Harry said. He looked at you and saw how glazed your eyes were.

“But it doesn’t matter. You’re with Sharon, who hates me. And you know what’s even more pathetic, it’s the fact that she hates me yet she’s my friend.” You spoke, your voice wobbly and cracking. You often felt like a washing machine. Everyone would come and go and leave a piece behind in it. Sometimes the piece would break you, unable to function for months or sometimes it would simply stay there. That was worse, having a piece of someone stay forever even as the washing machine in your heart desperately tried to cleanse you of it. “It’s just the hand I was dealt with.” You quickly added.

“Why don’t you say something to them? You don’t deserve to be walked over all like that. You can’t let that happen to you.” Harry said.

“The same way you’re walking all over me now?” You chuckled darkly.

“What?”

“What are we, Harry? Are we just fucking? Are we just friends? What are we?” You ask the question that had been looming over the both of you like an axe that could drop any moment.

“I wish I could answer that,” Harry said, his head in his hands now.

“What have I done?” You whispered to yourself.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this Y/N. I swear.” Harry pleaded, holding your hands in his.

“Why did you kiss me that day?” You asked him, tears now falling from your eyes.

“Because it’s always been you. You, who I wanted all along.” He confessed.

The silence after his confession was all consuming, threatening to eat him up alive. Harry caught a glimpse of you, staring straight at the skyline. Silent tears fell from your eyes. He wanted to reach out and rub away your tears but refrained from doing so. The world seemed to close up on him. He missed the way it opened up with you.

“Y/N, angel? Say something.” Harry said with a soft voice. “Please.” He begged.

You turned to look at him. Harry looked devastating. A handsome prince you dreamt of as a kid. He was a prince, but not yours to claim rather only to keep for a fleeting moment. You brought a hand to his face and smiled sorrowfully at him.

“I suppose this is how things were supposed to be all along.” You whispered resignation etched in your voice.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, knowing the direction you were steering things in all too well.

“You have Sharon, Harry. Go to her.” You said.

Both of you sat there, time stretching painfully as if the universe was mocking your agony. Your eyes met one last time, a gaze full of regret and all things left unsaid. You leaned in, capturing Harry’s lips in your own for the last time. The kiss was hesitant at first, both of you afraid as if pressing too hard would shatter the fragile moment between you two. It was a kiss full of the things you couldn’t say, the dreams you had for one another, the conversations you shared.

And for Harry, as he kissed you a part of him mourned the confession that would never find its way to you. A three worded sentence, one that would change his life and yours.

I love you.

3rd May, 2014

1:17 p.m

“It’s amazing, how she’s just disappeared all of a sudden,” Sharon said, twirling her hair.

“Wait, who disappeared?” Harry asked her.

“Y/N.”

Harry and Sharon sat next to each other in her apartment. The wound you left in Harry’s heart was one he was doubtful would close. He dreamt of you, thought of you and longed for you. But he knew his thoughts would not materialise and you would only remain a figment of his past, a memorial of the right person wrong time concept.

“What do you mean?” He pressed the girl further.

“Ugh, I wasn’t supposed to tell this to anyone but I can’t keep it in me anymore. She’s leaving for Rio tomorrow, she’s got an internship at some sanctuary. I think the Sun would do her some good actually.” Sharon chuckled.

“Oh.” He felt his world was spinning.

“She's yet to give me my sweater. She’s actually supposed to give it today.”

Perhaps if it were fate, perhaps it was circumstance but whatever it was, Harry was thankful for it when the bell rang. “Don’t worry I’ll get it. You stay here.” He said and kissed Sharon’s head. He hoped it was you on the other side of the door.

And his prayers were answered.

There you were, standing in the doorway with a sweater in your hand. Your eyes widened slightly at Harry’s enormous yet so familiar frame, and his face, the same face that swept you off your feet now made you wary.

“You’re going to Rio?” Harry asked you.

“Yes. It’s an internship.” You curtly answered. You tried to walk in but Harry blocked your way, his muscled arm blocking your way.

“For how long?” He asked, cornering you as if you were prey and he a predator.

“Five years. They’ll start paying me after three months, so it’s more like a job I guess.” You said.

“And when were you going to tell me about it?” He asked you, his face stern and stoic.

“It’s not like we were dating.” You harshly said.

Harry hated this. This newfound sense of coldness between the two of you. He wondered how something so warm became so cold this quickly. The cold you left behind was one that could not be thawed, Harry would only have to live it.

“I love you Y/N,” Harry confessed. He didn’t miss the way your eyes softened, even if only for a moment.

“Lie to me again. I dare you.” You asserted, walking up to him. Your eyes were dark, distant and cold. Like a cold desert that never seemed to end.

“I’m not lying. I love you. I always have and always will.”

“I’d rather you not.”

—————-

A/N: Let me know how you like it in the comments and reblogs! I love talking to you all, send me asks and whatever you feel like! Thank you so much for reading!

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Real or not real?

Teaser

James Potter X reader. Slow burn. Warning for domestic abuse and neglect (Black family)(no Lily slander) Around 3.3k words? Fifth year start.

A Spotify playlist of some ambient music!

Autumn in the Scottish Highlands was, in itself a reason to attend Hogwarts. Blue September skies, speckled with wispy clouds. The falling bronze leaves and the red hued sunsets.

This was no less than a second home to most students. A safe haven if you will. It was good to be going home.

She had grown up with Sirius and Regulus so her regular residence wasn't much of a home. Her parents Ignatius and Lucretia (Black) Prewett had left her to Orion and Walburga often so they could travel around France. Noone actually knew where they would be or for how long they would travel. Only that they were always gone for indefinite amounts of time. They never sent letters, maybe an odd postcard or two. Y/N kept them hidden in a drawer in her room. (Call her sentimental if you will.) The terrible house of Black had adored her until she was sorted into Gryffindor along with Sirius. After that, they were both called blood traitors and treated as such. However, being someone else’s child, they treated her with less disdain than Sirius. That being said, they weren't the kindest of people, if at all.

Y/N would bring Sirius half her food when he would get sent to his room early without dinner. (which was quite often.) Sneaking things in her long sleeves and pockets whenever she could. Strangely, Kreacher had caught her once, but he said absolutely nothing and pretended that he saw nothing. (She would not forget this kindness.)

Things only escalated when they reached their, now, fifth year. Y/N always took her yellings, occasional threats, and hexes in silence whereas Sirius would fight back. In a way, she admired him for his bravery, knowing that he possessed the strength that she lacked. Whereas, his admiration for her resided in her refusal to back down, cry or beg. They had a mutual respect for one another. On another hand, she was somewhat envious of Regulus, he was apparently the perfect child who was, (seemingly) loved.

That was until she started to notice the bags under his eyes at the beginning of this year. She hadn’t really had the chance to talk to him, between Walburga’s looming presence and by the younger boy’s being sorted into Slytherin. However, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly taking up his family ideals to heart.

Ever since fifth year began, Y/N and Sirius had never again called 12 Grimmauld Place home.

~

Y/N kicked her feet rhythmically, leaning her head on Lily Evans' shoulder. Their Hogwarts express compartment was filled with chatter, a welcome distraction from her thoughts. Somehow, over the past four years, she had been adopted into the gryffindor group of girls in her dormitory. Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas, had patiently and painstakingly, coaxed the girl out of her shell. Y/N was truly grateful for their friendship. In the beginning she couldn't help feeling that their kindness was based on pity. That had made it hard for her to trust them. This meant that before fifth year, she had never really interacted with them outside of the Gryffindor house dorms.

Marlene and Dorcras were pelting question after question at Alice, wanting to know the details of her crush on Frank Longbottom. Ever the curious couple, Y/N felt slightly glad that she wasn’t on the receiving end of their questions.

‘You’ll be “Alice Longbottom” one day.’ Y/N grinned teasingly at the girl with the pixie cut.

Alice laughed before shrugging good naturedly, 'We’ll see. Frank is awfully shy. I might have to be the one initiating everything.’

Marlene cut in with her arm around Dorcas, ever a picturesque couple. ‘And Lily’s last name will be “Potter!”’

Y/N stifled a giggle at the comment.

Lily gagged before letting out a sigh, ‘It’s not that Potter isn’t just a complete tool. I’m also just not into men.’

Y/N shrugged. ‘Yeah, you keep making eyes at Emmeline Vance during charms. It’s actually kind of sickening how adorable your pining face is.’

Lily flicked Y/N’s nose. ‘When are you going to start hanging out with us outside the dorms? All you do is go to the library or hide in the kitchens and bake while chatting with the elves.’

Dorcas pouted, adding, ‘You don't even sit with us during class!’

Y/N winced while casting her eyes down. Another thing, she really didn’t like drawing attention to herself or loud noises. Those things usually lead to shouting and maybe a raised hand back at Grimmauld Place. They caused an unpleasant reaction out of the girl.

‘I can’t do crowds, I really am sorry. It’s not that I don't want to, you’re all lovely but-’

‘That's alright, you take your time love. You'll come talk to the rest of us when you're ready.’ Alice gently reassured her, patting the girl beside her on the arm.

Y/N smiled gratefully. The girls weren’t at all pushy about getting Y/N to hang out with them. However, they did always ask. They wanted her to feel and be included. None of them ever took a rejection personally. It was what made Y/N lower her walls all the more.

Lily ruffled Y/N’s hair affectionately. The rest of the girls continued their chat whilst the introverted girl stared out the window, still leaning on Lily’s shoulder, taking in the view and enjoying the company. The dark pine trees that littered the lands surrounding all the lochs, glittered in the rare sunlight. She let out a soft sigh, allowing herself to relax, just for that moment.

~

The hustle and bustle of the students, all ecstatic to see each other again made Y/N giddy. She had, however, skipped the feast, opting to go say hello to all the elves who had finished preparing the feast. She particularly enjoyed Wigby’s desserts. (He was admittedly her favourite house elf.) He made the best sweets which led to Y/N learning all her baking skills from the friendly house elf.

The halls were electric with energy, almost tangible. This year Y/N and her friends were to be taking their O.W.L exams. To be honest, she was completely ready, having already studied up to the N.E.W.T level of all her subjects. Studying and reading at Hogwarts was her escape, truly. She padded into the first class, Potions. She slipped into the seat next to Lily, quickly giving the red haired girl a gentle squeeze on her hand and flashing a smile at the rest of the girls who greeted her enthusiastically. They had convinced her to sit with them during classes this year instead of her usual spot at the back away from prying eyes.

As they continued their conversation, Y/N unpacked her quill, and parchment while waiting for the lesson to start. As she doodled a small picture of a cauldron, a cocky voice crooned out. ‘Ah, my sweet girl, how I’ve missed- Who are you and why are you in my seat?’, James Potter. Lily’s self proclaimed “sweetheart” word vomited at the poor girl.

Y/N gripped the desk tightly, her knuckles turning white. Confrontation, how lovely. As much of an amusing topic of complaint he was that she had heard from conversation with the girls. He was completely unfamiliar to her. She found a spot on the table and stared at it with the utmost concentration, unable to bring her eyes to meet the owner of the voice. Lily also ignored the voice. Instead opting to cover Y/N’s hand with her own, continuing her conversation with Marlene, and Dorcas about the importance of studying for their O.W.L’s

‘Ah, you’ll survive the lesson James, come on,’ a voice drawled, waving James away. A voice which Y/N immediately recognised as belonging to Sirius.

Y/N looked up and turned around, wanting to meet Sirius’s eyes to mouth a, “Thank you” but her eyes met hazel ones instead.

‘Oh.’ James mumbled with wide eyes. He was standing right behind her, not having moved back to his actual “spot”.

Y/N’s eyes darted away immediately before finding Sirius’s. His eyebrows were raised with mirth and he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. She flashed him a small smile before turning around, basically ignoring James Potter. This was new. People didn't usually ignore him. They would at least retort with something witty, but to be completely silent?

‘Mr Potter, I trust you will be able to find your seat?’ Professor Slughorn called out, striding into the classroom, his large belly preceding him through the door. He was Y/N's favourite professor. He was kind to Lily and Y/N. (Probably due to their prowess in potions but nonetheless!)

‘Yes sir.’ James sat down without protest, his gaze lingering on her before his thoughts were interrupted by Professor Slughorn. He hadn’t noticed her before. How had he not noticed someone for four years?

‘Today, we will be assigning our first assignment of the year. An essay on polyjuice potion. Four weeks sounds like ample time does it not?’

As the professor announced their first assignment. James couldn't help but notice how Y/N avoided looking in any direction that wasn't the front or her notes. He leaned in close to Sirius, whispering just loud enough for him to hear amongst the groans of the class,

‘What's her deal?’ He asked, glancing at Y/N again.

Y/N dutifully jotted down the specifics of the assignment, (unbeknownst to her) under James’s gaze, allowing Lily to periodically glance at her notes. She whispered something into Lily’s ear to which the redhead smiled at her and nodded.

‘What are they whispering about?’ James nudged Sirius again.

‘Y/N probably asked if Lily wanted to pair up.’ Remus interrupted. ‘She is rather shy.’

‘You know her?’ James gaped at the sandy haired boy.

‘James, Y/N has been in our classes since first year. She just doesn’t really talk.’

‘Besides, you’re too busy pining over your “Lilypad” to really notice any other women.’ Sirius mused with his arms crossed, feeling slightly protective of his little cousin.

‘And how do you know her?’ James retorted. Ignoring Sirius's quip, however true it could have been.

‘She’s my cousin.’

‘Huh.’ Remus blinked.

‘You didn't know that?’ James glanced at Remus ‘I thought you knew her?’

‘No, I just know she’s practically topping almost every class, she doesn’t really speak to-’

‘Now boys, would you like to share your conversation with the rest of Gryffindor and Slytherin?’ Slughorn called out to the boys, his large walrus moustache twitched above his lip, the man seemingly amused by their chattering.

‘No sir.’ Remus replied evenly.

‘Well then! I shall announce the pairings for the assignment!’ He smiled merrily, ignoring the cries of protest from the rest of the class.

Y/N’s face paled and she whipped her head to look at Lily. Usually they were paired off in their seats, not randomly. Y/N had truly enjoyed his classes up till now but this? Suddenly Slughorn was rapidly losing his status as favourite professor.

Lily looked at her worriedly, “Lets just hear who you have to pair with. If it's someone obnoxious, we’ll go speak to the professor or I’ll swap with you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion at her friend's empathy.

‘I couldn’t ask that of you Lily.’ Y/N whispered, misty-eyed. Kindness was a luxury that Y/N had so often been not able to afford for so long. Seeing it up close and displayed just for her, she couldn't help but be slightly overwhelmed.

‘It’s okay, I’m the one who offered.’ Lily patted her arm, reassuring the fidgety girl.

‘If I could marry you Lily Evans, I would do it in a heartbeat.’ Y/N tugged at Lily’s sleeve, looking down bashfully.

‘Now if only you were into women.’ Lily grinned, squishing Y/N’s cheeks with her hands gently. ‘What a treat you would be.’

‘Lily!’ The shy girl pouted, batting away the other girl's hands playfully.

‘Ms Mckinnon, and Ms Meadowes,’ To which the couple let out a happy cheer.

‘James Potter, and Lily Evans,’ Lily slumped over immediately, letting her head rest onto the desk with a quite audible Thwump! To which Y/N giggled, at her sudden change in demeanour.

James was completely caught off guard when Professor Slughorn announced his partner for the assignment. He had been so preoccupied with the revelation of Y/N being related to Sirius and trying to figure her out that he hadn’t even been paying attention to the teacher. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at Lily’s exaggerated head bang onto the desk after hearing her own partner. Before he could think of a witty comeback, he heard the next pairing.

‘Sirius Black, and Y/N Prewett.’ Y/N perked up, looking at Lily with bright eyes, shaking her head with a smile. This was one of the people she would be able to work with!

‘Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.’ The two boys subtly high fived. Strangely enough, James wasn’t making a huge fuss over being paired with Lily. Strange enough for even Y/N to take notice, though she refrained from commenting.

Remus took a side glance at James, he wasn't sure if he would regret asking his friend his question.

‘You're not ecstatic over being paired with Lily?’ Remus questioned.

‘I am, I just...’ James shook his head. At this point, he knew Lily wasn't into him. In fact, he wasn't even sure she liked men. He wasn't the only boy in Hogwarts to have ever asked her out. At this point, it was just a long bit and a way to keep other girls from approaching him.

Sirius smirked knowingly. He may have been a lazy student but he sure as hell wasn't stupid. He could tell that after third years incessant rejections, James had no desire to date LIly ever since.

‘Since you all feel the need to cheer at each pairing. I shall leave the list on the board and you can all cheer at the same time. Take this time to move into your pair and discuss your assignment. That'll be all for this lesson. Welcome back students.’ Slughorn's eyes glimmered with amusement, revealing the quip towards the class to be good natured. The professor sat back down at his seat as the class began to disperse once again into chatter and movement. He generously answered stray questions from the students who wandered to his desk in need of assistance.

Y/N stood up and walked over to Sirius’s desk and nudged his foot with her own. Grabbing his attention soundlessly.

Sirius gave her a genuine smile and shoved James with his shoulder.

‘Go over to your “Lily flower”. I’ve got to discuss the assignment with my partner.’

James blinked owlishly at Y/N, still taking in her very existence.

‘Sorry?’ Y/N whispered, looking at him hesitantly.

‘Quite alright,’ James nodded, standing up to walk towards Lily without his signature smirk.

Y/N sat down with Sirius and smiled shyly before asking, ‘Is Potter alright? I thought he would be thrilled to be up partnered with Lily?’

Sirius blinked, ‘You keep up with this stuff?’

Y/N tilted her head from side to side, ‘Not particularly, more like I listen to Lily complain in the dorms. It’s hard to miss. She says he's quite…’

‘Stubborn?’

‘We’ll go with that.’ She quickly agreed, not wanting to rat out her friend.

‘Hey so this means you finally have to talk to me outside of our house.’ Sirius teased.

Y/N grinned at him and retorted, ‘I’m not sharing my food with you here at home Sirius, we get plenty to eat here.’

They shared a smile. Knowing they had each other's backs even without constant catch ups was a good feeling. The unspoken bond they shared wasn’t obvious to outsiders, but Sirius and Y/N knew, and that was enough.

‘So, the assignment. We’re describing how to brew the potion, all the ingredients and for extra credit, we can list out the dangers of the potion such as the errors.’

Sirius sighed, ‘I’m not really good with the-’

‘You’re good at finding information, I’ll handle the writing, you just tell me the information and I’ll make it sound good!’ Y/N nodded excitedly.

‘What do you mean?’ Sirius stared blankly at the girl, completely unconvinced.

‘You always know where, how and who to prank! It's the same thing!’

‘It’s completely different.’ Sirius deadpanned.

‘Where did you learn the hair changing spell?’ Y/N crossed her arms.

‘In a transfiguration textbook. I was putting the books back in the library after Remus and oh-’ Sirius nodded slowly as he came to realise what the girl meant by being “good”.

‘See?’ Y/N smiled at him brilliantly, seeming proud of his (apparent) talent.

‘Y’know, this is nice, why don’t we do this more often.’

‘I don’t do-’

‘Crowds, yeah I know, and at the house, we’re too emotionally exhausted to talk.’

They both let out a heavy sigh before chuckling at their shared experience. Comfortable silences were rare, but with each other, the cousins were able to revel in each other's company. A truly unique connection formed by trauma. 'At least something good came out of it?' They had mused.

As the rest of the class chattered away, discussing the project or just gossiping, Y/N and Sirius decided to meet up after dinner that night and every wednesday. The pair knew they had Defence Against the Dark Arts next. Sirius offered to walk with her to class, to which she accepted gratefully, mentioning Lily and Alice would probably also be with her.

As the class began to filter out, Lily and Alice had walked over to Y/N to wait for her.

‘You’ve got DADA next, with us right?’ Alice beamed.

Y/N nodded, somewhat feeling excited to have people to walk to class with. Being with three people wouldn't be a crowd!

‘There's a new teacher this year!’ Lily supplied this new information.

‘Again?’ Y/N wrinkled her nose. It was rather strange actually, ever since professor Merrythought had retired, it seemed as if every Defence teacher had resigned after a year.

A rather strange situation, but, none of her concern.

‘Who is it?’ She asked as a passing question, not overly invested in the answer.

‘Some guy named Knittingley.’ Remus piped up from behind them, startling Y/N into almost dropping her books.

‘Sorry love,’ he grinned sheepishly, ‘you alright?’

‘Ah, you down right scared the poor thing, Remus. Now she won't ever talk to us again.’ Sirius whined before breaking into a cheeky smirk, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Y/N considered throwing something at her relative but then decided it would be too much work and that her books weren’t made for throwing.

‘What’s the hold up?’ James questioned from the doorway, calling out to the group, ‘lets go, Peter’s already gone ahead.’

Suddenly it wasn’t only three people anymore.

Somehow, Y/N had been looped into walking to class with five other people. Technically five was a group, not really a crowd, right? Sirius had swung his arm over Y/N, as if preventing her from running away.

Lily and Alice were in the front, enthusiastically discussing the topics of the next class. They were fervently hoping that their first class wasn’t going to be a revision on Boggarts, as they knew it would be in the curriculum.

Meanwhile, in the back, James was asking Remus about something about mandrake leaves and cycles of the moon.

In the midst of her conversation with Sirius, their formation, Y/N noticed. It seemed like almost a barrier against other students? Y/N internally shook her head. Most likely a coincidence, right? Why would it be intentional?

Sirius was babbling on, about the effects of conditioner on hair and how he found it amusing that James would use one that had a charm to make his hair extra bouncy. Y/N had stiffened a chuckle at this while James whined as he heard this and protested that he needed the extra shine and bounce.

‘It makes me look nice!’

To which Y/N nodded along, looking at Sirius, not noticing that James had beamed when she seemingly agreed. Remus looked on with a rather pleased smile, his nose scrunching. He had always wanted to befriend the shy girl. Now that she had somehow mustered up the courage (been practically physically restrained) to keep up with their group. He, along with the rest of the group, was excited to witness this side of the girl they had never seen before.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, her fifth year would be the true beginning of her life at Hogwarts.

---------------------------------------------

AND THATS CHAPTER 1 DONE! Lucky for you guys (all like 7 of you) I have the ENTIRE story planned out! All there is, is for me to flesh it out! Please like or comment if you'd like another part! (if not I'll still probably post it, I'm too excited about this!) This isn't inline with my Pethryn story line and I have taken some liberties! I'm sorry again if you don't particularly like this! We will be delving into Remus being a werewolf, the Marauders map and fleshing out Regulus and Snape's characters! (possibly Peter as well. I kinda hate that guy 🤬) ALSO YES THE TITLE IS LOOSELY INSPIRED BY THE HUNGER GAMES!

edit-

Okay, I changed my mind, I want this to be a long form fic- THIS IS NOW JUST THE TEASER

[svearehnn]

where the shadows hold you | azriel x reader

summary: the war never truly ended for you. your memories were now stained with blood, death a constant thought. at least azriel was there to pull you out of the thick of it.

content warning: blood, death, war

The war was over. Prythian had won–and yet, as you stood in the House of Wind gazing out at the blazing stars, you felt as though the war had just begun. You had washed the blood and grime off your skin weeks ago and yet you still felt its heavy sludge lingering on your flesh, claiming you as a living victim of a tragic massacre.

Prythian had won and all those that you loved had survived, except for one. The odds had been in your favor, and your heart didn’t feel much pain for the father that died on that battlefield. The father that was never one to you; always with a distant look in his eye, not saying a word as his youngest daughter went out and risked her life to provide whilst his second oldest sold themself for petty coin. No, you didn’t lose anyone important–except for yourself.

You may have never known a life of peace until Velaris, but nothing had scarred you more than seeing carnage dye the ground red–watching the light fade out of your comrades’ eyes one after another after another. The War against Hybern was nothing but a cruel sick joke in your mind, one that would plague you for decades, maybe centuries, after. 

Ten steps forward had you pushing open the balcony doors. The wind whooshed in, gently caressing your skin as you stepped outside. You let the doors shut softly on their own, silencing the sounds of the house: crackling embers, ginger voices, the swift turn of pages. The City of Starlight greeted you, shimmering below as if it were a mirage. You sighed, reaching the edge of the stone, and leaned against the railing. Incoherent chatter and fragmented music floated in and out of your pointed ears, a distant sound even with your improved hearing.

The serenity and secluded character of this balcony seemed to claw at your soul, digging in and dragging you towards it. A forgiving breeze and the subtle nature of passersby had a hold on your bones, calming you in a way no other place could. This was your sanctuary. At least, it had been since the days after you fought for your life in the muck, your skin now bearing scars that twinged when the weather changed. You should have never let Feyre teach you how to fight; maybe then you could have avoided the battlefield.

Maybe then your nights wouldn’t be plagued with the screams of the fallen, the sound of steel splintering bone, bodies squelching under your feet. You tipped your head up to the sky, trying to keep your breaths even as your heart raced in your chest. 

You wished you heard him before you saw him–he had always done that, sneaking up on you. As he came to stand beside you, your fingers squeezed the rail of the balcony, knuckles blooming a shade lighter from the force. You didn’t say anything; you just let the softness of your breaths carry into the darkened Velaris night, near-silent amidst the eternal sounds of the busy city below.

Gloved hands settled on the railing next to yours, nearly touching. Your breath stuttered at the closeness, at the warmth emanating off of him. It was a subtle confirmation of I’m here, and it brought tears to your eyes. The wind brushed against your face, your gaze drifting to the stars and blinking as if that could keep the water at bay.

“What’s going on, sweetheart.” Azriel’s soft voice murmured, dark and wispy just like the shadows that fluttered around him. You shook your head, a quiet sniffle, and refused to meet his hazel eyes that were gently searching for yours. 

“I’m fine.” Even to your own ears, your shaky voice was unbelievable; a farce that guarded the walls of your vulnerability. The leather of his gloves squeaked as his grip tightened on the iron barrier between you and the rocks that threatened you hundreds of feet below.

“Something’s going on in that head of yours, and I can tell it’s not a good something.” 

You shook your head again, more fiercely this time, as though your doe-like determination could steer him off course. “Thank you for worrying, but I’m fine. Really.” The tears began to glisten, threatening to spill over as you released your hardened grip on the railing and turned, intending to head back into the house. Azriel’s hand was wrapped around your wrist before you could even take one step. The tenderness in which he held you made your breath hitch in your throat, your watery eyes finally finding his.

That’s when the dam broke.

Your restraint had already been waning, your emotions begging to take control, and the second you looked into his sweetened, amber eyes, your walls cracked. Droplets streaked down your cheeks one after the other, gleaming in the soft glow of the moon and faelights in the lively city streets. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice breaking.

Azriel pulled you into his arms, his towering form engulfing you. His wings stretched and curled around your back, hiding the both of you from view. “You have nothing to apologise for.” His voice was strong even in its hushed tenor. You shrugged dejectedly, shoulders slumping as your head thudded against his chest, a shuddering breath leaving your lips.

“How do you cope with all of this? The war, the memories, the deaths–because I feel as though I’m being swallowed whole by it all.” Your confession released a tension into the air–not one of pity or anger, but one of empathy and a sadness that could not be quelled by the Mother herself if she deigned to try.

Azriel sighed, his breath causing the hairs on the crown of your head to dance in the shadowed night. “Everyone copes differently,” he mumbled, “and I’m someone who struggles with coping at all.” The soft brush of his lips against your hair as he spoke sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t just because of the unintentional intimacy. Rather, you felt the sincerity in his words, the weakness that he kept close to his heart, yet shared with you, anyway.

“And what if I’m struggling, too? I don’t know what to do–I can’t even sleep without being haunted by nightmares. Every waking moment is just another war.” Your hesitant voice escaped the confines of your dry throat and racing mind, each syllable a crack in your defenses. His arms tightened around you, the flat of his palms a steady anchor against the small of your back.

His lips dropped to your ear, voice low, “then we will struggle together and help each other bandage their wounds.” Your nails dug into his back, pulling yourself closer. His gray sweater muffled the sound of your strangled sob; it hid the new melancholy that now lay permanently etched into your irises.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Your voice, muffled by his chest, was indescribably solemn.

“I don’t have to do what?”

“This–comforting me. Holding me.” A watery laugh falls from your lips as you go to pull back. Azriel’s arms tighten around you, keeping you held against his chest. 

Azriel didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, he pulled you tighter, like letting go wasn’t even an option. “I want to do this,” he murmured. “You don’t have to earn comfort, sweetheart. You just… deserve it.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly undid you all over again.

His thumb brushed softly across your back, a gentle stroke meant not to fix you, but to let you unravel safely. You both stood like that for a while—silent except for the quiet city far below, the rustle of his wings, and the hitch in your breathing as it gradually steadied. The stars blinked overhead, patient witnesses to your pain.

“I keep thinking if I could’ve done one thing different…” you whispered, eyes distant. “Maybe fewer people would’ve died. Maybe… I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Azriel drew back just enough to tilt your chin, guiding your gaze to his. “That’s survivor’s guilt. It’s cruel. It makes you carry burdens that were never yours to bear.”

You shook your head. “But I was there.”

“So was I,” he said softly. “And I’ve asked myself the same questions. Every day. But what happened wasn’t your fault. War doesn’t care who’s brave, or kind, or deserving. It just takes.” His jaw flexed, voice darkening. “But it didn’t take you. And I thank the Mother for that every damn night.”

You blinked, stunned by the rawness in his voice, the crack that slipped through his normally impassive facade. His shadows coiled gently around your shoulders like a second embrace, whispering silent reassurances you couldn’t quite understand, but still felt.

“I want to sleep again,” you said, quieter now. “I want to laugh without guilt. I want to be able to look at the sky without feeling like something’s going to fall out of it and crush me.”

Azriel smiled faintly, brushing a tear off your cheek with a knuckle. “You will,” he promised. “Not all at once. Not even soon. But you will.”

You nodded slowly, not because you were sure—but because he was. And for tonight, that was enough.

He held out a gloved hand, palm up. “Come back inside with me?”

You stared at it for a moment, then slipped your fingers into his.

The House welcomed you both back with its soft, golden light. No one interrupted as you walked in, hand-in-hand. Cassian and Nesta were curled together by the fire, quietly talking. Feyre sat with Rhysand by the window, a book resting on her lap, his arm curled around her waist. Elain stood by the hearth, cradling a steaming mug of tea, her eyes catching yours for just a moment—a soft smile, understanding and quiet and kind.

And for the first time in a long time, you realized you weren’t truly alone.

Azriel’s hand never left yours as the House of Wind settled around you, strong and silent and alive. You sat beside him, your head resting against his shoulder, shadows wrapping gently around your legs like a lullaby.

And when your eyes finally closed, you slept.

Not dreamless. Not healed.

But whole enough to try again tomorrow.

[fanaroff]

Above the Nasty Burger Ch. 4

Ao3 Link Here << Previous Ch. Next Ch. >>

Danny didn't like it. 

Not the Obsession part, he loved that. He loved the freckles that looked like constellations. The way his pupils looked like vast galaxies if they were into for too long. The connection he could feel towards the planetary systems sitting outside of Earth’s atmosphere. He could feel the Earth.

But the changing. He didn't want it. It reminded Danny too much of a time he thought he'd left behind in that thermos Clockwork watched over. Sure, there were differences, but each time he caught a glimpse of the fangs and the skin, his mind would flash back to similar ones that belonged to a bigger, scarier him.

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror wasn't doing him much good, he knew that, but he couldn't help but try to stare his reflection into submission, forcing it to go back to the way it was before. Glaring the blue-green skin away, the fangs he was still getting used to, the pointed ears, the reflective eyes. He looked... demonic (all he was missing were the horns and black sclera). His ears would twitch at sounds, move up and down with his emotions, he was like an Ancients-damned elf (not that there was anything wrong with said damned elves). Just... he'd like it a lot better if he didn't look as if a younger version of Dan had a love child with Legolas. And if he looked how he did before. 

Mainly that last bit.

He'd have to get used to it. 

Danny covered his face with his hands and let out a low groan. Ancients, Phantom will never be able to be seen in Amity again. Not looking like this, not when there were already so few that believed Danny was good. If he went out there looking basically like a stereotype for a demon, they'd attempt to exorcise him for sure. Or call the Guys in White. Or his parents. He wasn't sure which was worse. Probably all of them at once? His luck was like that. 

Fuck, he wouldn't be able to tell his parents he was Phantom either. If they asked him to prove it and he showed them this? It wouldn't end well for any of them. A lot of tears and an early retreat to the Ghost Zone would probably be the best outcome he could hope for. Could he even show Sam or Tucker this version of Phantom? What about Jazz? Definitely not Valerie, he was already on thin ice enough with her. 

Would Dani end up looking like him? 

Fuck, this was probably how Vlad felt when he first had his change. 

Danny's jaw chattered unbidden as his anxieties and fears whirled in his mind, bringing frost to his skin and rising into the warmer air with wispy vapors. He needed to calm down. He knew he needed to. But there was so much to get overwhelmed by. He clenched his hands across his arms and hunched in on himself. 

What was he going to do?

"Danny?" his mother's voice and gentle knock on the door startled Danny enough that he full-body flinched in surprise. He tried to catch his balance, yelped when he didn't, banged an elbow painfully on a corner of the sink, and yet his scared mind still had enough smarts to somehow transform back into his human form as his ass hit the tub. He winced. That... was a lot of noise. 

"Danny, are you okay?" The doorknob jiggled. 

"Ye-yeah! Just lost my balance." Danny called back. That was a bit too close. Thankfully  he'd locked the door beforehand but still... damn.

”Are you sure? You’ve been in there for a while and that was an awful amount of noise!” 

“I’m fine! I promise! Just uh… just had a stomach ache!” Danny winced as the lie came out. Sure he was in the bathroom and it would be a normally believable lie, but even that one sounded fake to his ears. 

His mom went quiet on the other side of the door. Maybe a bit too quiet for maybe a bit too long. He heard her sigh. It sounded tired. He knew the feeling.

“I- Danny, can we talk? Please?” She asked, sounding just as tired as her sigh.

Danny could feel his heart beat pick up at the question. He really didn’t want to talk with her right now. He really, really didn’t. Lists of excuses flew through his mind as he searched desperately for one he could use. 

None would work, though. He knew this. She’d already heard him on the other side of the door and there were literally no other ways out of the bathroom. Just the door his mother was currently standing in front of, blocking it and making it impossible for Danny to escape without being noticed. 

There wasn’t a choice. The only thing he could do was be thankful that he was not stuck in Ghost Speak.

He opened his mouth and closed it. Then he took a deep breath as he stood up from his collapsed heap.

“Yeah.”   

Saying it felt almost… final. 

Danny had to make an effort to calm his breathing and keep his posture loose while he stepped to the bathroom door and unlocked it. When he opened it, he got a fresh look at his mother. 

Maddie looked a little rough. The hood of her hazmat was lowered showing ginger hair that was greasy and sticking up in places. Her eyes had bags that almost rivaled Danny’s and her posture was slumped. Some parts of her hazmat were covered in black oil stains. She looked like she’d just come out of a week-long inventing binge and hadn’t had a chance to shower in a while. That may have been the original reason she came to the bathroom and Danny just happened to be having a little freak out inside of it that she could take advantage of. What timing.  Upon seeing Danny, his mother straightened up and looked him up and down critically before smiling softly. “There you are! It feels like I haven’t seen you properly in ages!” 

Danny had to refrain from mentioning that it HAS been ages. It was his fault for the most part, recently at least, but all with good reasons. Some of them being new inventions with the name “Fenton” in them. Some of them deadly. 

He could only manage a smile that felt as fake as his earlier lie. “Hi… Mom. Sorry, there’s been a lot going on.” That wasn’t a lie, but his mother looked at him skeptically.  Maddie's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him as if she were trying to see through the layers of his excuse. She probably was. Her head tilted and she stepped just a bit closer. She was a tall woman, but it suddenly struck Danny that he was eye to eye with her now. Just one more thing that changed. 

His mother smelled of old gadget grease and something faintly burning that clung to her hazmat. A familiar smell made stronger by Danny's biology.  "You've been acting different, Danny," Maddie said quietly. Her voice was soft with a thread of concern laced through it that sent a tightening through his chest. "Are you sure you're okay? We haven't... we haven't spoken one on one in a while... even longer for your dad it seems."  Danny's heart thrummed in his ears as she took another step forward, her eyes flitting between his and searching. "What's going on with you?" And wasn't that just the question he couldn't answer?  His tongue went dry in his mouth. He had to answer her, he had to give her something, didn't he? Breath hitching, he broke their gaze and turned his head slightly to the side, struggling for an excuse he hadn't already given her. "I'm- I'm just tired. School is tiring and everything is tiring and...." He trailed off, risking a peak at his mother. She looked concerned, if not more so than she was when she first opened the door. Eyebrows pinched and lips pursed just so. Then her concern deepened into skepticism.

"You've been more than just tired," She said matter-of-factly. "You've been avoiding all of us. Me, your dad, your sister. It even seems like you're avoiding Sam and Tucker. It's been a while since you even brought them over. What's going on? I know there's something bothering you. You can tell me. There is nothing I wouldn't do to help you."  And didn't that just try to bring tears to his eyes? Danny wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her about dying and coming back, the pain that was the accident. The pain that was his self-imposed duty to protect his family and Amity Park. The sleepless nights of being kept up by fights and fear and injuries he had to take care of himself. He wanted to tell her about Pariah Dark, the Ghost Zone, his trips through time, the timeline he went dark, and Ember being his friend. But most of all, he wanted to tell her about becoming the Ghost King. That soon, he wouldn't be able to speak with her like this again. That soon, he would have to leave all the living behind and close all the portals to the Infinite Realms. That soon, he would have to die. For good.  He wanted so bad. He couldn't risk it. There was more than just himself riding on his choices now.  So, Danny bottled up his wants and emotions and looked his mother directly in the eye. He forced a smile through his panic, through his want to throw himself into her arms and sob. "I'm fine." What a lie.  It felt too easy, dismissive. What could he possibly say? I got killed in your invention? I'm not human anymore? We'll never see each other again until you die? 

And if he did say something? What then? His parents already stated they would tear Phantom apart "molecule by molecule." No, he couldn't risk it.  Furthering his lie, Danny reached up to rub the back of his neck. His skin, once warm, was cold and clammy, even to himself at times. "I just need a little..." He almost said space and he could almost feel his newly discovered Obsession trying to wiggle into being the first chance it got. "time. I just need a little time." He dropped his hand. "I'm fine. I promise."  His mother stared at him a moment, the two left standing in silence with one closing up and one trying to will the other to just talk to her.  Finally, Maddie's shoulders slumped and she sighed. A hand went to pinch the bridge of her nose and she closed her eyes. "I'm not trying to pressure you, Danny. But you don't have to hide from me. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together."  Danny swallowed again, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat.  "I-" and then the word slipped out before he could stop it. "Maddie, I just-" Her eyes widened. His heart froze.  He'd just called his mother by her name. He never did that. He hadn't meant to call her that. Since when had she become "Maddie" to him?  His mother's expression faltered and her eyebrows knit together. Her face showed the hurt she was no doubt feeling and Danny panicked. "I mean Mom! Sorry-" He rubbed a hand down his face. "It's just I've been... thinking a lot. I just need more time. There's... there's more going on right now than I can word. Please, just- I just-" He could feel his lip trying to tremble at the onslaught of emotions. He dropped his hand again. "I'm sorry." Maddie blink, the surprise and hurt on her face fading back to concern. She took a half-step back, crossing her arms loosely. "It's-it's okay, Danny. But I want you to know you don't have to shut me out. I'm your mother. I'll always be here for you." The words stung. Not because they weren't true, but because he wasn't sure if he could even be a good son to her anymore. There was no way she would accept him as he is now- not with what he had become and the path he was about to take.  With a sigh, Maddie spoke. "I'm going to take a shower. Your father spilled some oil on me again and I feel gross because I let it sit for an hour before I could reach a stopping point in what we were working on. You can take all the time you need, but I'm still here okay?"  Danny nodded quickly, stomach churning with relief, and he stepped to the side to let her through into the bathroom. "Yeah. Yeah. I'll be fine." He stopped a moment, then asked almost shyly. "Can I ask what you're working on?" Maddie paused and looked at him. Their eyes met fleetingly and Danny froze. Her face was... there wasn't a word he could really put to it. Not suspicious but... there was something almost considering. Then she smiled. "I'll tell you later when we have a chance to talk again." And with that, the door closed and Danny was left standing in the hallway by himself. As the water turned on in the shower, he couldn't help but feel a little hurt. Even if he thought he had no right to. Normally, if he asked his parents about their inventions, there was nothing that would stop them from telling him about them. Nothing. There were many times he stood next to his grease-soaked (or other stuff) soaked parents and listened happily. Then, later bored. Then, because knowing their inventions kept him alive.  This was the first time, to his memory, one of his parents didn't immediately dive into talking about what they were working on. And that sent a thought niggling into his mind. Were they suspicious? More than Jazz had thought? Did they suspect there was more going on than teenage angst? The thought scared him. His chest tightened and dread creeped in. He hadn't convinced her he was fine, had he? Not this time.  Next time, it would only be harder. If there was a next time. 

Danny turned to head downstairs. The hallway felt longer than usual with the quiet weight of his thoughts pressing down on him with each step. It took a moment to realize, but he had been holding a breath. He'd almost forgotten how to breathe around the tightness in his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out.  Everything was different. Even more so now since his Obsession Trance. The sensation of his own transformation, the overwhelming hum of his cored. And now, his mind was spiraling, trying to reconcile everything that had happened. The lights of his house felt too bright, the air too still, and Danny just wanted to find a way out of his situation.  But there was no escape. There wouldn't be, ever. 

Danny turned the corner to the stairs and stopped when he spotted Jazz at the bottom. She was perched on the lowest step, one knee hugged to her chest, and was turned to look up at him. She was already staring at him with that, "I'm going to figure you out," expression and it made his stomach twist.  "Hey," She called quietly. Her voice was almost too calm. "Can we talk?" Danny stalled. He already just had a conversation he barely wiggled out of with his mother. He didn't want to have to do it again with his sister. But he owed her a small conversation, at the very least, for all the help she'd been with distracting their parents. He didn't want to lie to her, but he couldn't tell her anything just yet. Not yet. He wasn't ready. If he gave her an inch, she would take a mile. Jazz was smart- too smart. And he was too damn exhausted to keep up the charade.  Jazz raised an eyebrow when Danny didn't immediately answer. "I heard Mom corner you. Are you okay?"  Danny shrugged and made his way slowly down the stairs.  His sister continued, "I don't know what's going on with you, but you're freaking me out. And, you know, when you're freaking me out, it's serious."  He managed a half smile at that. "You're always freaking out."  Jazz sniffed and crossed her arms. "I'm always serious." Danny's half smile turned wry. "There are some things going on." He admitted and Jazz whipped her head to his face, obviously surprised he was actually telling her something more. "I can't tell you about it yet. There's..." He ran a hand through his bangs. "There's so much and it's easier to handle without anyone poking their noses into things." He tried to look apologetic, and he was, but it was harder to show that when he had to keep doing the things he was apologizing for. There was a moment of silent contemplation from Jazz as Danny took the final couple of stairs down to sit next to her on the final step.  "Do you ever think about the things we used to get up to as kids?" She finally asked.

Confused, Danny nodded. "Honestly? All the time. Things seemed so much easier then."  Jazz nodded and stuck her chin in a palm, elbow on her knee. "I keep thinking about the books I used to read to you. How much closer we felt then." She turned to him. "I practically raised you, didn't I?" Again, Danny nodded. She practically did. With their parents distracted by inventions and ghosts, it seemed that more days out of the week left Jazz and Danny to their own devices at an age that seemed too young for it.  Jazz smiled, a soft nostalgic expression lighting up her face. "We used to sneak up to the top of the Ops and fiddle with that old telescope, remember?  The mention of the past hit Danny harder than expected. His core pulsed, making his heart skip a beat, and a surge of Obsession flooded his senses. Danny froze in place. He could feel his core thrumming with an energy he would not be able to hold back. Not yet. The sensations were too new. Before he could stop her, Jazz continued.  "There was that one night all the clouds were gone, and the moon was so bright. It felt like it was glowing just for us. We actually saw a few stars, remember? You were so excited. You wouldn't let us go back inside- you demanded we stay out there for hours, just staring at the moon through the telescope." The energy hit him like a title wave. The memory of that night- the pure joy, the excitement in his chest, the way the night sky seemed to open up before him- it felt almost too real. It was nothing like the vast sky that connected him to his Obsession, but it was just as beautiful in its own way. 

Sparks of energy crackled in spots across Danny's face and before he could stop it, constellations bloomed across his cheeks. With a desperate, panicked and involuntary movement, he buried his face in his hands.  "It was cold, so you ended up getting a cold and- Danny?" Jazz's voice faltered, clearly started by his sudden movement. A hand gently grasped his shoulder. "Danny, are you okay? What's wrong?"  He could only shake his head through his hands, the weight of his emotions and the situation too much to put into words.

"Hey- what's... Danny? Are you- are you glowing?"  Shit.  Danny's head snapped up, eyes widening as he stared at the glowing lights that were slowly creeping across his hands. He could feel them traveling over the rest of his body too. The panic set in harder as he turned to Jazz. His sister's mouth was hanging open as she stared, eyes tracking the lights making their way up his neck to his ear. They two of them were frozen, locked in the moment, the air suddenly so much thicker with tension. "Danny, what-" She started. Then her expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed and realization flashed across her face. "I was talking about the stars from before and you lit up like them. Did you... Danny, did you find your Obsession!?" He could only nod, his throat too tight to speak. Jazz cracked a wide, beaming grin and she lunged to throw her arms around him in an excited hug. "It's space isn't it?" She cried.  "Yeah." Danny managed to say. His voice was barely more than a whisper. Jazz back slightly to search his face with a puzzled frown. She was no doubt trying to figure out why he wasn't reacting with the same level of excitement. She blinked, clearly confused.  "You're in your human form." She said then, her voice trailing off. She gasped. "Danny you're human. The stars! While you're human!? But-"  Her words faltered again and her expression softened, almost pitying, as she looked at him with a gentleness he wasn't sure he deserved. "Oh, Danny..." And that was it.  The dam inside him broke. His lips trembled, his face crumpling as the flood of emotions overwhelmed him. In the next moment, he couldn't hold it back anymore. His body shook and Danny burst into tears.

<< Previous Ch. Next Ch. >> >>A longer post to try and make up for how long it's been since I updated this fic! The last time I did, my mom passed shortly after and I lost a lost of motivation for a lot of the fics I was working on at the time. But I've recently gotten a spark back for this one! If you'd like to be tagged for future updates, please let me know in the replies so I can start implementing tags! Hope you enjoyed!

[1d1195]

My Friend's Toyota IV

Read the rest here: My Friend's Toyota

~6.2k words

Warnings: fluff, some angst, some 18+ escapades mentioned/described but nothing over the top, virgin reader/experienced H (semi-spoiler: you will not be reading about their first time in this one) I'm sure we all know I do 3rd POV typically, but I think this will also feel like it's rapidly switching between our characters within that lens, so just keep that in mind. Also I think this part is really... complex if you will. Think coming of age, trying to figure out life kind of stuff. It's not easy and I wrote it randomly in a way, because I don't think you can wrap all this stuff up in a neat little bow the way you expect to. There are curveballs in life and especially in sex. There are difficult conversations to be had and things that are hard to explain; this is just the way I chose to portray such a relationship. I kind of left this open-ended in a way that I could come back to it for follow-ups. I hope that doesn't detract from the story.

Sorry for the long note; here is the last part. Thank you for reading it. I hope you enjoy 💕

Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.

He kind of hoped they would.

She’s not ready for the air to get colder / ‘Cause she’s so used to living on the beach down in Florida / Wanna take her to the mountains / We can take my friend’s Toyota / But the heat don’t work so when the air gets colder / I can hold ya

Harry was going to kill Mitch. When they stopped for gas, he texted him while she ran in to the station to grab some extra snacks. How come the heat isn’t working?

Whoops. I forgot about that...

Mitchell. She is FREEZING.

Sarah says it’s an excuse to snuggle.

Honestly, Harry had already thought of that. But he wanted her to be whole and warm when they made it to the cabin. It made him so anxious that he was ruining their weekend getaway before it barely started. But she returned chipper as ever, four cups of hot liquid in a little cardboard tray. He smirked, raising his eyebrows suspiciously at the copious number of drinks.

She smiled shyly. “It’ll be warm,” she shrugged.

He chuckled as she settled the drinks in the middle of the bench seat and made sure they wouldn’t spill while Harry drove. It was only another hour to the cabin. It was freezing. Truly, freezing didn’t even justify the cold temperature she was feeling. It felt like there was ice in the bottom of her shoes—she contemplated spilling one of the cups of hot chocolate she purchased into her boots just for warmth. “M’so sorry about the heat, kitten. I didn’t know.”

Despite her jaw silently chattering (she hid the sound of it from Harry by pulling her lower lip into her mouth ever so slightly) she smiled at him. “I’m fine,” she promised. Really, she was. It wasn’t like she was going to get hypothermia or anything, it was just cold. The hot liquid helped though, the cup warmed her gloved hands and melted her insides as she drank it. Harry also provided her with two warm, fuzzy blankets to snuggle under during the ride. It wasn’t too late—but winter up North anything past four PM was late. The sky was nearly black, only stars and stray wispy clouds. It didn’t help the chill in the cab of the truck. She packed an overnight bag of her regular belongings with clothes and toiletries, her backpack (because it was really hard for her to part from her schoolwork when school was in session), and plenty of jackets and sweatshirts. Harry packed about the same and all their bags were piled into the thin backseat of the cab of the truck as well. In the bed of the truck was an assortment of drinks and food items they might need as general basics when they got to the cabin. They would still need to go to the grocery store.

The prospect of playing house with her was very exciting.

Harry thought she was the cutest little ad for ski gear with a little knit headband around her ears and matching mittens. She was so pretty it made him feel dizzy. “Do you want some?” She asked, grabbing a second cup from the tray. He smiled, taking it with one hand and sipping it. He popped out the cupholder that resided within the dash and slid it in.

His mum always warned him that driving at dusk and dawn were the two hardest times to drive. Between the animals and other drivers struggling to see in the fading or growing light he wasn’t surprised.

Add in snow coming off the mountain? It was another added distraction.

But she had never seen snow. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

He smiled silently at her awed expression, keeping his eyes on the road, the wiper blades pushing the fluffy squall of flakes off the glass. She shifted in her seat edging closer to the dashboard, the seatbelt stretching to accommodate her closeness. “Is it always sparkly like that?” Her voice was reverent. Soft and warm despite how icy she must have felt. Harry was focused on not skidding on what could be an icy cold road. Maybe he should have waited until the morning to start driving but he wanted to milk every possible second of the weekend with her without interruption from anyone. A two-night, and two-and-a-half-day stay was hardly enough so he wasn’t going to lose that half a day for nothing.

“I’ve never noticed it sparkling,” he admitted. She used her teeth to pull her glove off before she reached for the windshield. With one finger on it, the heat from her finger creating a little halo of steam on the glass, her eyes scanned the fluttering snow as it fell in front of the headlights.

“It’s like glitter,” she murmured. “It’s so pretty; I don’t think I’ve ever seen something this pretty…can we stop?”

It was fortunate they were coming to a rest stop—Harry had only been to Mitch’s cabin a few times but when they travelled in from their hometown, it was a much longer journey, and the rest stop was always needed. Pulling off the highway, she got out of the car quickly. Harry followed suit, locking the vehicle and fell into step beside her. She was so bright-eyed. The chill in the air didn’t seem to bother her, although Harry was sure it had to because it almost bothered him.

There was a thin layer of snow coating the ground. If he had a measuring tape, it wouldn’t even read a millimeter. She stood still gazing upward, the fluffy flakes caught on her little headband, in her hair. They melted as they hit her face, making her cheeks spotted with a little drop of moisture.

But what had him falling further in love with her was the way they fell on her eyelashes and clung to them for a moment before turning into water again. Her cheeks pinked in the chilly air and Harry wondered if he kissed her would his lips stick to hers.

He kind of hoped they would.

Without warning, she hurried to the picnic table that was also covered in snow and laid across it, stretching her arms out and sighing deeply. “I know I’m always cold, but I do love it. It’s so much better than the heat,” she looked so gorgeous, Harry could hardly breathe. She turned her head and smiled at him. “You think I’m crazy,” she giggled.

He nodded. “I do,” he sounded so serious, but his smile was so enticing it made her stomach hurt.

“You know, this is where you would murder me,” she told him.

He snorted and shook his head at her. “Oh?”

“Yup. You kill me here, abandoned rest stop, closed for the season. No one finds me till spring. You have your nice long weekend alone.”

He rolled his eyes. “You think Allie wouldn’t hunt me down?”

“You stole my phone tell her I couldn’t be here anymore, too cold. Move back south.”

“Your parents?”

“They haven’t a clue,” she shrugged.

“No more podcasts, kitten.”

She turned her attention back to the sky, the falling flakes making her look like a literal snow angel, speckling her hair. “It’s beautiful,” her voice was so soft. Harry smiled and moved to lay beside her. She shifted, allowing space on the creaky table. He let one leg dangle off the side, propped up by the bench seat. He tried to see it the way she saw it. It had been so long since he had stopped and watched the snow fall. He knew it was beautiful. There were reasons people visited the mountains to ski and have romantic, chilly getaways. But he could hardly tear his eyes away from her to look at the beauty she saw that wasn’t her own reflection. “Do you even like snow?” She asked.

He nodded. “When I was younger,” he started. “I was the only boy,” he smiled fondly. “Mum and Gemma were adamant that I do what was proper and right. But it was more than that. I wanted t’be a gentleman t’them, y’know?” She didn’t obviously, not exactly, but she nodded. “I actually liked shoveling. Our neighbors paid me t’shovel their drives as well,” he explained. “It was so quiet. Y’can’t really tell right now,” he gestured toward the highway that had cars singing down the road to their destinations. “Snow absorbs the sound of everything else, traps it in the flakes and carries it t’the ground like s’tucking a kid into bed,” he shook his head with a smile. “S’the only way I can describe it. Felt like when Mum would carry me t’bed when I was sick,” he paused. “You must think I’m crazy,” he smiled.

She shook her head eagerly. “No,” she promised. “I mean, it’s a weird way to say no one will hear me scream when you murder me,” she shrugged and Harry laughed, rolling his eyes again. Seriousness came over her features again and she turned on her side to face him. “Tell me more,” she whispered. “It’s quiet,” she reminded him, encouraging him to continue his story. “You liked shoveling?”

He kissed the middle of her forehead and took a deep breath inhaling her perfume and the smell of her laundry detergent that mixed together to create this amazing scent that was entirely her. “My mum and Gemma did so much for me,” he explained. “I’d do anything for them. So...I like the snow a lot. S’peaceful.”

She looked back up and watched the flakes fall and land on Harry’s skin without any pattern. It made his skin dewey and somehow more beautiful. She brushed her glove thumb on his eyebrow, brushing the flakes that landed there before they froze. “It is peaceful.”

“We should go before we freeze.”

“Eager to kill me in private, I see.”

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“You picked me,” she giggled getting off the table and right as she stepped away, Harry grabbed her hand, pulled her back so she was between his legs, arms pressed to the front of his body and his arms circled around her waist.

“I’d pick you, again and again,” he promised before kissing her sweetly on the lips. Fortunately (or unfortunately, for Harry), their lips didn’t stick together.

Harry forgot how much warmth was produced to melt any hope of staying stuck to her.

*

“Can I do something?” She asked about ten minutes longer into the drive.

“Of course,” he chuckled.

She unbuckled herself, scooted to the middle seat, replacing her old spot with the warm drinks ensuring once more they wouldn’t spill while driving. She leaned toward him, her body snug against his side. His hand fell to her thigh wrapped in at least two layers and he still thought she wouldn’t have looked sexier in lingerie. Carefully, she draped her blankets across Harry’s lap as well. “This is much better,” she sighed.

Harry couldn’t have agreed more. He squeezed her thigh and kissed the top of her head without moving his gaze from the road. “Warm?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

His heart was in his throat because the snow was getting a little heavier as he creeped further north to the little mountain town. Her sweet voice was going on and on about how pretty the snow was, what she was looking forward to this weekend, and how not even their upcoming finals had her in a bad mood.

It took every ounce of self-control to focus on the road and not her. When she started pointing at how fluffy the flakes were once more Harry cleared his throat. “Kitten,” his voice was soft. She could hear the warning tone. A frown graced her lips in his peripheral.

“Yeah?”

“I love your voice,” he began.

Looking away briefly she turned and nuzzled her face against his jacketed arm. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” She asked quietly.

“God, no,” he shook his head, it seemed horrible to face forward and not look at her while he reassured her. “I’d listen t’you for hours jus’ t’hear y’read the ingredients in m’shampoo,” he promised. “But you are the most precious cargo I’ve ever driven—”

Immediately, she turned her face toward his arm, still pressed to his side. Like she was embarrassed over the notion. “That’s the sweetest—”

“—and I want t’stare at you, and talk t’you about the snow, finals, everything, love. But I want t’get you to the cabin safely. Your sweet voice is so distracting. S’not your fault at all. S’mine. I jus’ want t’look at you.”

“I’ll be quieter,” she promised, but there was a smile in her voice as she murmured quietly into his arm again.

“You’re not mad, no?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve never driven in the snow. Forgot it might be scary. Even for a veteran driver like you,” she nosed at his arm again. She let all the air escape her in a long sigh. “I’ll let you focus,” her voice wasn’t as exuberant, but Harry glanced at her briefly to see a content smile on her face. Her eyes facing forward as she admired the snowy road. Relief coursed through him that she didn’t hate him for basically telling her to shut up. Quietly she hummed to the music playing through the speakers.

Harry was a believer in some kind of heaven beyond.

But driving along a cold snowy road, with the girl of his dreams on his arm, he stopped believing.

There was no way heaven could exist if she was right beside him.

*

The cabin was the stuff of dreams. It was secluded, but honestly not in the serial killer way she kept mocking Harry about. From the little perch of land, she could see down to the town nearby. Not quite rural but not urban either. It was perfect. They stopped at the grocery store on the way in and she caught sight of an old bookstore and a little boutique that she wanted to go to tomorrow.

“I honestly hadn’t considered killing you till now, kitten,” Harry was grumbling as they carried the groceries in first, then their other bags. When Harry glanced away very briefly to check nothing was left in their cart, she paid for the groceries with a tap of her debit card.

“I knew it,” she whispered to mostly herself with a smile.

“Supposed t’be treating you,” he continued grumbling.

“Harry, you treat me literally all the time. You worked so many extra shifts this week to make up for missing the weekend ones. Just let me,” she assured him putting the perishables in the fridge and freezer. He still felt guilty, and she could see his mind spinning with ways to make up for the “atrocity.”

“D’you want anything t’eat or drink?” He asked.

“How about the pizza?” She suggested. It was quick and easy and didn’t require a lot of thought to make. It would be easy for their first night here. “I got it,” she offered, and Harry went to set up the fireplace. While he worked on the fire, she meandered around the cabin. It was warm and cozy but also extremely open. Pictures of Mitch and Harry were strewn about table surfaces. Vacations from their school days. Other pictures of whom she assumed was the rest of Mitch’s family. Sarah was even in a few, too. The décor was perfect for a cabin. Like it had been crocheted a giant sweater to sit on the walls with a variety of little inspirational ski quotes like “skiing is the next best thing to having wings.” It was toasty without the fireplace going just because it was everything a mountain cabin should be.

The beautiful stone fireplace cracked now that Harry had fed it enough firewood. It was along the back wall set between windows that let the sunlight in each morning (she wasn’t positive on that, but assumed it was built so the bedrooms wouldn’t be in direct sunlight while waking up), and the coziest looking couches she had seen. They fit the room perfectly. All they needed was a sweet, chocolate labrador to play fetch with and this could be home.

She pulled the knit headband off her head, finally warming from the heat and the fireplace. Harry brought her a glass of wine. It felt like they were real adults on a trip. Harry almost immediately stripped of his outdoor gear when they arrived, but it took a while for her southern blood to warm. Eventually she slid her coat off. Harry hung it on the back of a chair while he found plates in the cabinet and finished with the remainder of the groceries: things for the bathroom that weren’t regularly stored in the little getaway. She was inspecting the bookshelf reading the back of covers that were old and well-loved. “Anything good?”

She smiled. “I think all books are good.”

He chuckled, grabbed their overnight bags by the front door and went off to another room. Her heart pounded with the realization they were on a trip together and it wasn’t just Harry’s suite like she had gotten used to over the last month and a half.

All week she had been nervous. Allie could tell it reached a breaking point on Thursday when she was packing. Harry was at work, unaware of her troubles. She knew she was being ridiculous. Harry had been nothing but kind since she met him. But when he brought their bags to the other room, all the anxiety she had squashed down came flooding back to her.

“Are you excited?” Allie’s voice was gentle when she asked while she finished zipping her bag. All she needed were the toiletries that she would pack once she used them in the morning.

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Oh, that’s assuring,” Allie hopped onto her bed and patted the seat beside her as if it were her room. “C’mon, sweetie,” she encouraged with a sweet smile. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head, cheeks flaming, unable to put it into words because she felt so embarrassed. Even in front of someone who was very much her best friend. “It’s nothing.”

“I’ll tickle it out of you,” she warned.

“Oh my God,” she sat beside her and looked at her hands in her lap. It was extremely quiet in her room. “I’ve never had sex,” she mumbled.

“What?!” She gasped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groaned. “I knew it was weird,” she covered her face with her hands.

“No, shit,” Allie put a comforting hand on her arm. “No, it’s not weird. It’s not anything,” she said reassuringly.

“Allie, Harry has definitely had sex, yes?” Allie was silent. “Right,” tears welled in her eyes. “It’s just this element of our relationship that’s so...” she shook her head. “Unequal.”

“Sweetie, Harry is not going to care about that at all.”

“I know, but I do,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I feel so...lame. So immature. How is that possible?”

“I really don’t know because you are way more mature than I am, and it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

She ignored that comment because she knew it was supposed to help but everything felt awful. Her body was overheating with shame and awkwardness she had never felt before. “What if I’m bad at it?”

Allie snorted and patted her arm again. “Impossible.”

“Allie...” she whined, tears still filling her vision. “I...” she swallowed, took a deep breath. “I think I love him. If I’m not good at it... then... I’m just a waste of his time—”

Allie shook her head immediately. “Stop, stop, stop,” she hushed. “You are not a waste of time. If you and Harry stopped seeing each other tomorrow, I would expect him to write you a thank you note for being with him for the past few months.”

“You think I’m an idiot. A prude.”

“No, of course not! I’m surprised. You’re hot as fuck, babe,” she rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have anyone you wanted to...?” she trailed off with the question lending itself to the silence.

“No,” she shook her head. “You have to understand, my parents are so in love with each other. Sometimes it’s nauseating. It’s not like I didn’t want to just get it out of the way. I wish I did. I wish I just... God, it’s so lame sounding. I just think it’s supposed to be special. It’s an important part of a relationship, but I didn’t want it to be the only thing,” her voice cracked more times than she could count. The words came out in a sad whisper. But she left the story about studying for physics in her junior year that she had told Harry unsaid. Allie nodded understandingly.

“That’s not lame, sweetie,” she promised. “There’s no right or wrong to it. It just is.”

“I literally Googled how not to be bad in bed.”

Allie laughed despite herself. “Of course you would do research.”

“Al,” she whined again.

“I’m not trying to pry, sweetie... have you... done anything precursory with Harry?” She asked.

Her face warmed and she nodded. It wasn’t every night they slept together or anything, but Harry’s fingers and tongue were no stranger to her body. Her mouth honestly ached to have him in her just as much as her body seemed to ache recently for more than what they were currently doing.

Allie sighed. “Look, I said it before, I’ll say it again. If Harry tries anything shady with you, I will cut his dick off, no questions asked. Honestly, he would probably appreciate the gesture on your behalf,” she shrugged. When she didn’t hear a flicker of laughter she continued, gentler than the previous sentence. “Sweetie, I know you love him,” it was a little weird to hear her best friend say it without the word think or feel in it the way she had said it, thought it, and voiced it out loud. “But God, if he doesn’t love you too,” she promised. “It doesn’t have to happen. I know I was a little wary of him at first, but I can tell that Harry would do anything to make you happy,” she promised. “You probably wouldn’t need to have sex with him ever if you didn’t want to.”

“I think I want to.”

“Okay, well,” Allie turned, waiting for her to look at her. Gather all the attention with focused eye contact with the utmost seriousness she had ever seen on her free-spirited friend’s face. “Until that’s an ‘I know’ you’re not to do anything you don’t want to. Do you understand? I have a mind to tell Harry myself because you’re too kind to say it.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea Allie,” she grumbled sarcastically. “Tell my boyfriend I’m too scared to go away with him because I think I’ll be bad at sex?”

Allie didn’t even flinch and the preposterousness of it all. “I literally do not care,” she shrugged.

A beat of silence ensued. “I won’t,” she mumbled. It wasn’t like Allie was wrong in her line of thinking. It did sound like something she would do to appease Harry. “I won’t,” she repeated more for herself than for Allie.

When Harry returned from putting their bags away, she was still pretending to read the back of book covers while she reminisced about the conversation she had with Allie. “I think this is where Mitch’s mum puts all the books they no longer read, kind of thing,” he explained, entering the room, and pulling her from her thoughts.

She hoped her smile wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable looking. “Yeah, some old ones here,” she affirmed and brought one of the books and her glass of wine to the sofa, she settled both on the coffee table and looked at the fire again. “This is perfect, Harry,” she smiled. Her heart felt whole, despite all the anxiety she also felt. He sighed nearly with relief.

“Good,” he fell beside her and pressed a hand to the side of her face. “M’glad,” he kissed her forehead effectively turning her insides to liquid. “Pizza’s almost ready. Did y’want t’study for a bit before we... watch a movie or something?”

Her heart felt so much gratitude for him. “Really? On a Friday night? A weekend getaway?” She wondered.

“I mean... if y’don’t want to, then of course not. But I know y’well enough t’know y’kind of want to. Because y’don’t want t’fall behind—which I do think is impossible... but I know it’ll make y’feel better t’turn your brain off tomorrow and Sunday,” he shrugged with a smile that was so easy and lovely she really believed Sarah for a moment that he wouldn’t have sex if she asked.

But there was no way she was going to ruin a romantic weekend away. “I have Monday,” she said firmly.

“Are y’sure? I really don’t mind. M’behind myself, a bit because of the extra shifts,” he explained.

Her guilt flew out of her system. “Oh, okay, if you’re sure.”

He shook his head with a smirk. “Kitten,” he cooed. “M’not gonna be upset if y’want t’study...if it’ll help y’relax and—”

“I just really don’t want you to think I’m lame,” she hurried looking away as she interrupted him.

He frowned. “M’not being a very good boyfriend if y’think m’gonna say you’re lame for wanting t’do well and get good grades,” he tugged her backpack over the back of the couch and settled it in front of her. “I don’t know why y’think m’not going t’like y’suddenly,” he pouted.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and bit her lip. “I know you like me because I’m me, but I’ve never had the best self-esteem and I know that’s not good in itself, but I do pride myself as a really hard worker. I want to do well and get good grades, but I know it’s not...” she sighed and put a hand on her forehead. “I’m not making sense,” the frustration evident in her voice.

“Kitten,” Harry’s voice was so gentle but in one word he sounded so encouraging as well. It was like magic. “I want you t’do whatever makes y’happiest; whatever makes you the most successful. M’supporting you fully. One hundred percent,” he shrugged, grabbing his own backpack and pulling out a folder of papers. “If that means we are studying for a bit, then I want t’study.”

She was lucky she didn’t shout that she loved him from the top of her lungs right then.

*

At some point, her worksheets were set aside. The pizza was gone, her wine glass and a second one drained. The fire crackled in the background while Harry kissed her so deeply, she felt it in every cell of her skin. Part of her wanted to run outside and lay in the snow just to cool off how warm she felt from having Harry’s hands all over her body, under her shirt, in her pants.

Harry’s hands slid just an inch lower. “Kitten,” he hummed. He wasn’t trying anything it was just the way his hands shifted. The memory of that afternoon. Studying for physics. It wasn’t the same, not even a little. She felt so safe with Harry and yet her brain wouldn’t turn off. The way he touched her the last few months felt different than the way he touched her then.

She ripped away from him, falling to the floor beside the couch. Before he could utter a syllable or help her back up to the sofa, she choked out a gasp of surprise. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I just don’t think—” She had a hand on her chest and Harry thought she was hyperventilating. He felt so horrible.

“Kitten,” he cooed gently reaching for her. “I’m—”

“No! Please don’t apologize, it will just make me feel even worse!” She croaked and covered her face briefly pushing the tears to either side of her cheeks. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You have been so patient, so—” she swallowed. “I’m just so stupid and I feel so horrible. I want to, I want to so bad but I don’t—”

“Oh my God,” Harry whispered. His voice was filled with shock piecing together what she thought he was going to do or say. The poor, sweet thing. “Baby,” he reached for her again.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” She sobbed. “It’s so stupid—I’m so stupid!”

“Kitten,” he tried once more wishing she would stop insulting herself. It only made him feel more terrible. He couldn’t imagine how she felt. “My love, please stop,” he begged very gently and grabbed her arms as softly as possible but firmly, so she stopped moving.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. She was even beautiful when she cried. Harry couldn’t imagine his expression. It felt like a cross between a frown and sad smile. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Please stop apologizing,” he brought his hands to her cheeks and pushed her tears away. “M’not mad or disappointed with anything,” he promised.

The silence was thundering loud. Eventually, when she uttered one syllable, her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. “No?”

It felt like she punched him right in the stomach. A single word question that broke his heart. “Of course not, kitten.”

She swallowed, swiped her tears away. “Oh,” she whispered. “Then... what—”

“I was going to tell you I love you,” he smiled at her. “A lot, really. ’Ve told y’before. ‘Ve never felt this way ‘bout someone the way I feel ‘bout you. I’ve been waiting for you for...” he shook his head. “Years. The second I bumped into you. I jus’ knew. M’so in love with you. It’s been very hard t’keep it t’myself all this time. M’sorry y’thought this weekend was something t’pressure you—kitten,” he stopped abruptly, looked her in the eyes and held her gaze so she would understand the sincerity of his next words. “We could never have sex a day in our life, and I would continue t’love you as much as I did the day I met you.”

Her jaw trembled like it did on the ride in that freezing truck parked outside. “You love me?” She whispered.

“Of course I do, kitten. What’s not to love?”

I made us have homework time on a weekend getaway, I don’t like drinking from red solo cups, I’ve never been drunk in my life, I haven’t had sex with you. But she kept all these thoughts to herself. “You really love me?” She repeated.

His smile was still sad, but he chuckled ever so lightly. “Yes, baby. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered.

His face melted into a lazy smile. “Yeah?” He asked, completely awestruck. She nodded quickly, feeling at a loss for words. The fast beating of her heart made her woozy. “You’re sure? Not jus’ saying that because y’feel bad or... I know y’said you’ve never been in love before—”

“I’m very sure,” she promised. “I think I’ve loved you since you showed me where my class was,” she looked at him nervously. Like he would somehow take it back for how she fell in love so quickly after hardly knowing him. Instead, his already gentle gaze softened even more, and he kissed her softly, his lips brushing so gently against hers. It made her mouth tingle with wanting more but she wasn’t sure she could breathe properly to tell him that. They had kissed a lot in those three months but somehow this one made her unsure—as if he suddenly made her forget how to kiss. When he pulled away, she felt an ache in her chest like she wasn’t close enough to Harry. “Again,” she whispered. He smiled and slotted his mouth back between hers kissing her, almost harder, deeper. He pulled away carefully, cupping the back of her neck. “Again,” her voice was sure, but she looked flushed, nervous.

“Kitten,” he whispered, his face a little disapproving.

“I want to,” she promised.

“Kitten,” he repeated, stronger this time. Allie had texted him the previous night and all it said was Delete this after reading: you BETTER be good to her, or I will rip your throat out without an ounce of remorse. At the time he had wondered what prompted such an aggressive message. Things with Allie had been good. He felt he had her trust after all she knew about his past relationships. Maybe that was why she felt so at ease to send him the threat. In a way he was kind of grateful for it. Like a final note that she accepted him.

Of course, Allie.

Have a great weekend 😇

He laughed at the time, the duality of her best friend’s messages. But the previous one was gone, deleted and part of him wished he could show someone (not that he would) only because it made him smile.

All of it made sense now and he was not smiling. She shook her head, shame filling her entire body and promptly appearing all over her features. “I promise, I’ll stop if I don’t want to,” she swore. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he whispered so softly she barely noticed the curse in his phrase—like he had whispered I love you again. “Of course I want you, kitten,” he promised. “But we don’t have to. M’happy t’do whatever y’want for the rest of our lives,” he vowed. “Y’told me y’wanted a relationship. I told you I waited a really long time for you,” he reminded her. “M’not worried about any progression in our relationship except making sure you’re comfortable,” he promised. “You,” he held her face between his hands. Like she was made of something rarer and more fragile than glass. It made her stomach flip, her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt so adored in that moment, it felt indescribable. “You are perfect,” he murmured. “Completely. Just want t’keep y’warm,” he smiled.

There were a hundred reasons she didn’t feel good enough for Harry. But he was warm and safe. Regardless of what anyone had to say about him. “Harry?” She asked.

“Yes, kitten?”

“Have you ever... brought anyone here?”

“Only when I drive Mitch and Sarah.”

“So this is a first?” Her voice was stronger.

Harry felt his face contort into a smile of total admiration for her. “Yes. S’a first, love.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what, kitten?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, just... thinking about how much I love you,” she promised. “It’s a lot,” she admitted. “Kind of weird I’ve dreamed and dreamed about love and after so many years without it while all my friends fell in love... It’s...freeing.”

Harry sighed, wishing he could fully articulate how much adoration he had for her. “M’never letting you go,” he murmured, kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her,

And kissed her,

And kissed her.

*

She was wrong about the sun. It was warm in the chilly bedroom. They were dressed again, but her body was entwined with Harry’s closely. It wasn’t normal to sleep like this, but she wanted to be close. Probably closer than she was with the clothes in the way. But a winter cabin, even with heat and a fireplace, was simply too chilly.

Plus, the sun streaming through the windows seemed to be magnified, warming the bed and sheets that Harry had the pair of them snuggled under. His finger drew imaginary lines up and down her back over her shirt. He kissed her forehead and sighed. “Good morning, love,” he murmured against her hairline. “Want some French toast?” He asked. She nodded. “Y’feel okay?” He wondered. She nodded again. “Tired?”  A third nod, but a more decided one. He kissed the top of her head again. “Y’want t’stay here?” She shook her head this time.

“No m’awake.”

“Y’sound awake,” he teased.

She sighed and rolled onto her back creating a rift of coolness to spread over him. He frowned, wishing he hadn’t teased her at all as this wasn’t preferable at all. “Do we have plans for today?”

He shrugged. “Had some ideas. But no. We can do nothing all weekend if y’want,” he promised.

Turning back to him, her smile was lazy, warm, and beautiful. “We better get started then.”

“Oh?” He smirked.

“Mmm,” she flung the covers back and reached back for him with an outstretched hand.

“Hey, kitten?”

“Yes’m?”

“I love you.”

Her shy grin was enough to make him thaw in the chilly cabin. His heart leapt to his throat while he watched her drop the outstretched hand. Instead, she crawled back across the bed so she could kiss him sweetly. “I love you, too,” she whispered. Finally, they meandered out of bed and she gazed out the window over the coating of freshly fallen snow. Not quite thick as a blanket, but beautifully undisturbed in the same way. “Do you think I’ll need a thicker coat while we’re out?” She asked looking at the battle of the clouds hiding the sun now and again. Harry walked up behind her after fixing up the fireplace for the morning.

He pecked her cheek, thinking about how she told him he had never been in love before. He wondered if he had ever been in love before her. “If y’don’t, I’ll keep y’warm.”

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[your-favorite-overachiever]

types of people as fruit:

blueberry: messy buns, windy bike rides, overalls, warm hugs, freckled hands baking muffins, easy laughter, sunshine, reading by the window, knit sweaters, high waisted jeans, bright smile, scented chapstick, romcoms and popcorn, wildflowers

cherry: leather jackets, hair in her eyes, midnight car rides, lipstick stains, high-heeled boots, dog-eared paper backs, liquid liner, loud chatter, whispered secrets, mascara tears, black coffee, glitter everywhere, smokey eye, scribbled poetry, dark acrylics

strawberry: floral tank tops, lips glossed light pink, soft waves, iced drinks, wispy clouds, shooting star wishes, perfume spritz, 19th century novels, mini skirts, jotting down pretty thoughts, slip dresses, wistful gaze, everything showers, ballet flats

apple: the smell of cinnamon, low rise jeans, yellowed pages, rusty leaves, wind-blown curls, heart ache, foggy windows, scratchy wool, hair bows, wine red mary janes, baking in the autumn, white lace, dark red lip stain, academic validation

banana: dirty converse, jean shorts, the state of hurry, friendship bracelets, pictures of everything, glowing compliments, salt in the air, clear lip gloss, sand in dirty blonde hair, magnetism, blown kisses, iced coffee before school, freedom

[notashadowbutawave]

i wrote the phone call between buck and tommy from 8x15 lab rats. don't currently have the energy to post it on ao3. you've been warned that im boring (~500 words)

Evan didn't say hello when Tommy picked up his cell phone in the helicopter hangar.

"Tommy, I know we need to talk, and we will talk, I can promise you that, but right now…"

"Does this have anything to do with the radio chatter about keeping roads clear for a military operation?"

"How'd you know?" Evan was breathing hard into the phone, and Tommy could hear his footfalls over the line; it sounded like he was running up a flight of stairs.

"Just a hunch. Don't worry about it. What do you need, Evan?"

"How fast can you be at the top of the Martel-Harvey Pharma building?"

Tommy looked at the nearest LAFD helicopter he'd just gotten done helping the mechanics maintenance. All the paint had just been waxed by the probie. She looked gorgeous. He still had the security keys in the pocket of his flight suit. And the keys to the helicopter tug. He was due to take a short test flight after the maintenance log was updated. He could probably get someone to help him operate the tug without asking questions. He might not even have to lie to anyone's face, which he was notoriously bad at. He couldn't even lie about a surprise party without taking this kind of singsong tone. "Well…"

"Tommy? How fast?"

"Sorry! I was thinking. Ten, fifteen minutes?"

"Would you help me… distract the Army so Athena can get an antiviral medication across town and save Chimney's life?"

"Howard's sick?"

"Tommy, you need to leave now if you're helping me, or let me know if you're not so I can come up with a Plan B, and this is a pretty shitty Plan A…"

"I'm leaving right now."

Tommy's world had suddenly gone very quiet, except the sound of Evan's voice, and he looked up at the sky, a rich and decadent blue scattered with wispy clouds. Sunset was imminent and pink and gold were starting to tease at the edges of things. "I'll see you soon," Evan said, panting, and then the phone beeped.

Tommy took a deep breath and composed himself, trying not to betray anything in his face when he called to Sanchez over by the workbench, "Hey, help me with the tug; let's get this bird in the air."

"Roger, Tommy," Sanchez said. Tommy tossed him the keys to the tug and hoped to hell that he wasn't about to die getting shot down by the United States Army somehow. Surely they wouldn't do that over the city. He'd keep them in densely populated areas and… dick around a little bit before flying them to the Coliseum or something? There wasn't anything going on there right now. Probably.

Evan had also promised him a talk. He didn't think that stealing a helicopter would exactly leave a lot of time for a talk, but maybe in a few days, once they'd been fired or arrested or both, he'd finally get to tell Evan that he was so, so sorry. About everything. Whatever Evan did next, Tommy wanted to be there for it. He was sure of that already. If Evan would have him.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

This Is The Last

Chapter 2: Companion

Warning(s): canon-typical violence

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The Goddess Statue was cold, the approaching dusk casting an almost calculating hood to the rounded stone of its eyes. You could hardly speak as you stumbled back to the temple, shaking like a leaf after your latest revelation, vision blotted with salty tears and mouth permanently open, mind grasping for words you could not speak. 

The hero was dead. The hero was dead . Who would defeat Ganon and put an end to this madness, avenging Lurelin and all the Hylians who had fallen? It was unfathomable that the belief, no… hope , Hyrule had been holding on to was but a mere fable : a skeleton in a shrine. You couldn’t believe it; you wouldn’t believe it–there had to be an answer to this insanity, it couldn’t end like this!

Time was a mere concept as you fell at the statue’s feet, hands blindly grasping at stone-cut robes, every nerve in your body screaming for a reprieve, yearning for another chance. You would search to the ends of Hyrule if you had to, ripping it at the very seams to get what you wanted, so why couldn’t you? Had all your efforts truly been in vain, the mere dreams of a girl with nothing and no one? Or perhaps fate was behind your loss, determined to tear your very morals from your poor, broken body, fighting for something that didn’t even exist in the first place. 

You felt cheated. Betrayed by a hero you had never met. Robbed of your only shot at happiness. 

Even the goddess was freezing beneath your fingers, nothing like the mother you thought her, if such a thing wasn’t already hedonistically sacreligious. Frantically, you looked into her cold eyes, pleading with everything you had within you, a mere whisper in the wind’s raging whistle

“Help me.”

Whether it was a question or a statement, you would never know, only that a profound calm seemed to blanket the space. ‘Calm’ in the sense that, for a split second, the wind died down, the flowers and grass stilled, and the trees held their very breath, creating a silence so unnerving that it was almost comforting . Your neck trembled as you forced it to tilt upward, and the rest of your body wasn’t far behind, chattering with the weight of your thoughts. 

Help me, you had said, but what you really meant was: bring him back. Maybe the goddess knew, as your vision began to blacken and exhaustion caught up with you, whirling around you like a curse, or maybe it was simply a turgid twist of fate, but, either way, you would swear up and down about the golden light that flashed in her granite pupils just before everything went dark. 

You awoke to the sound of your name, a warbling rendition that had every place to be spoken and a thousand more not to be. A soft breeze whistled in your ears, melding with the muted bubbling of what you could only assume was a brook of some kind. Rolling from your side to your back, you groaned, lazily rubbing sleep from your eyes with a hand. There was a certain urgency in the sky above, cerulean blue with clouds so perfect the gods must have brushed them directly in the backdrop. 

Urgency… what was urgent? To the left of you was a forest, not dissimilar from the Faron Woods, and the right was a perfect replica, towering trees that waved in the wind, creating a canopy more beautiful than you’d allowed yourself to admire in years. Despite it’s flaws, Hyrule was unrequitedly beautiful, all towering peaks and sloping hills, wispy groves and crystal lakes. It was the perfect land, as wonderful as it was terrible. 

Which is why, when a fragmented memory of a skeleton in a pool razed your mind, you wanted to dismiss it. Just once, you wanted to forget, if only for the sky and the stars, so you could gaze at them with eyes reborn, but the visual of a blue tunic followed shortly, and you shot up, fantasies all but forgotten. 

You… you had found the hero; the Hylian Champion, the savior of Hyrule… dead. A body in a pool. Red tinted water and salty tears were at the forefront of your mind as you considered the reality of the situation… and what it meant for the land you loved so dearly . 

There had to be a way to rescue Hyrule, it couldn’t end like this. You refused to live with the knowledge only you possessed, unable to return to bliss. 

There was another call of your name, so clear that you couldn’t help but whirl around, facing the Goddess Statue looming beneath a large oak. 

“Where am I? ” were the first words to leave your throat, still raw from hours without water. The heady beat of your heart was at the forefront of your senses, thumping in your chest like a war drum. Then, in dutiful exchange: “Please, Hylia–”

Silence , said the statue as the sky turned dark, and the forest faded away, leaving you alone, floating in an abyss only fathomed in your wildest nightmares. There was a pregnant pause as you attempted to decide whether you had truly gone mad. Is the champion all that you seek?

There was no question, only an answer. Resolve steeling, you forced your emotions to the backburner. “Yes.”

Explain it to me , demanded the statue, crystal clear in the fog your mind had become. Vent your desire.  

“I need…” you hesitated, words trailing to nothing more than hissed syllables on your tongue. How were you to explain your greatest want to a deity, assuming this wasn’t some wretched fever dream? The answer was practically inscribed on the thudding caverns of your heart, and yet you couldn’t voice them when it mattered, settling lamely with. “. ..a hero. ”

Why? The statue’s gaze prompted, more lifelike than you’d thought possible. 

“I…”

What has made your destiny incapable?

You froze. 

“My… destiny?”

The statue was silent, and the glade began to flicker in and out of existence, a terrifying meld of comfort and horror. Your first instinct was to fight, but with the discovery of your missing sword, all you could do was jump to your feet with the care of a newborn deer, wobbling as fate flashed before you. Only the statue remained the same, a relic of love and fear, of devotion and obsession. 

“Stop!” The words left your mouth before you could stifle them, ringing loudly in the whirling cacophony. “I said STOP!”

And stop it did. The darkness returned just as your legs gave out and you felt as thought this was the end. Fear made you crazy, if yelling at a goddess wasn’t already an indication, but you were too frazzled to care. With exhausted eyes and a voice quieter than a mouse, you whispered. “Forgive me.”

But there was no answer. The darkness crept further, and your last thought before it consumed you was how useful a sword that sealed darkness would be. 

There was a small shack south of the Temple of Time. 

Dawn had just begun to break when you awoke at the feet of the statue, hands still clasped pleadingly over cold stone robes, flecks of sleep caked in the corners of your eyes. Finding your feet was a feat in itself, every step you took from the blasted temple razing your shins like a wildfire. You don’t know how long you walked, or even what you were looking for, but the cabin nestled among a grove of trees was the closest answer your prayers had received in years. 

There was no door, so you stumbled in without much care, examining the sparse layout of the cabin. Whoever built it obviously hadn’t heard of insulation, judging by the myriad of cracks between the thick logs that made up the walls. A small table occupied the wall closest to the ‘door’, a worn journal resting atop it. You ignored the book and walked to the furthest spot inward, plopping down with a groan as your weary back pressed against the wood. 

It was  a labored sigh that you brought your knees, burying your face in your hands. Strands of hair cascaded over your eyes, falling prey to nervous, tugging fingers as you fought to ground yourself. Every part of you ached and you wanted nothing more for the earth to swallow you up. You never considered peace an option, but now…

No. 

There was a solution, you just knew it, because why wouldn’t there be? Hope was a fickle thing, but maybe you were determined enough to hold on to it. 

Until the pointed metal on your knee brushed the scar on your chest over your armor and all you knew was pain . A scream wrenched from your throat as you forced yourself to uncurl, legs straightening within an instant. Your fingers shot to your chest, frantically pulling at your breastplate. It fell easily, and you wasted no time yanking the chainmail shift from your body, tossing it carelessly across the room. Then came your tunic–which met the same fate as your poor shift–and the cause of your pain was finally revealed. 

It was a brand, a fucking brand . Two curved lines extended from the original wound in your chest, like the wings of some godforsaken angel, raised and angry. A spear-shaped mark connected with the bottom of the wound, the tip disappearing into the bindings over your breasts. You traced the brand with a single finger, sending powerful shockwaves down your very spine. 

The longer you looked, the more affronted you felt. It was obviously the Goddess Crest, a mark used to identify followers of Hylia for as long as anyone could remember, but the lack of choice–yours, specifically–in the matter only fueled the fire raging in your belly. In the center of the accursed mark was the wound that almost killed you, flanked by a crest that fit so perfectly it made you want to tear your hair out. 

There was no other way around it; the goddess had branded you her own, for better… or worse. 

But for now, you needed rest. And, if not more desperately, food and a bath. You’d left your pack with Rala, thousands of feet below the plateau’s edge, so retrieving it was out of the question, though that didn’t mean you weren’t capable of hunting for yourself. It was the reason you kept a spare fishing line in the pouch at your hip, and a quiver of arrows at your back–a bitter representation of why you would never let yourself be overtaken again. 

Everything was bitter. Cathartic. Resentful. 

Will rest come? You wondered, feeling yourself relax fully against the wooden wall, head lolling to lay against the leftmost corner. Or were you simply delaying the inevitable, no more prepared than a child? That part of you died with Lurelin, but, in the dead of night, you would awake in a cold sweat, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. They spilled down when you blinked, creating thin, salted tracks that shone in the magenta moonlight. There were nights where you were inconsolable–a hair’s width from screaming your frustration to the sky till Hylia herself cut you down–and others where melancholy replaced rage. Your body had never felt so broken, so disconnected from the hazy abyss of your mind. 

You allowed your eyelids to close, the heavy thud of your heart deafening in the quiet space. Peace, however temporary, was not to be taken lightly. 

In Hyrule, when it rains, it pours . 

As a fisherman yourself, rain meant food. It meant comfort, celebration, and rest–often foreshadowing a successful catch. You felt inclined to believe it, as two freshly-caught bass dangled from your grip, so fresh that they continued to twitch with the bitter remnants of life. 

You had ventured out as soon as you awoke, determined to make the most of your current situation. There was only so much time you could sulk in a day, and you refused to let it boil over in such a way. Moreso, you were still Hylian, despite all intents and purposes, which conveyed a sense of responsibility that forced you to your feet amidst the thundering sky. 

Setting fishing lines from your emergency stash was all but instinct. Within minutes, you made your first catch and everything seemed right in the world. The bath that followed was comparable to the stories your father told you of a place called ‘Heaven’, and you trudged back to the house with the ghost of a smile forming on your lips. 

The small fire crackled amidst the thundering sky, two fish skewers set securely above the curling, flickered edges. The scent of roasted fish filled the air, as did wisps of smoke the fire generated, swirling around the space in thin streaks. Fat drops of rain pattered the foyer, and you were glad you had the foresight to move the fire inwards. 

Within minutes, the fish were done. You used an arrow to flip the spit upwards, catching it cleanly in your other hand, scoring a large bite seconds later. And, by Hylia, was it worth it, as you doubted you had tasted better food in your whole life. Within no time, the first fish was but a pile of bones, picked clean, tossed beside the fire, and the second one wasn’t far behind. You wiped your chin with a satisfied groan, reclining against the wall once again. Despite the dampness of your pants and undershirt–because there was no way in Hylia you were going to willingly  deal with rusted armor–it was the best night you’d had in a while. Lonely, sure, but calm? Absolutely. 

There was much to be thought in the silence. You mused over what your life had become, and how long it would take for something spectacular to occur. Perhaps the mark would begin to glow spontaneously while you took a piss, or maybe your sword would speak to you in the common tongue in the dead of night. Either way, it was expectedly unexpected, and you found yourself falling deeper into stagnancy. 

The sky was still terribly dark, and exhaustion weighed on your every pore. Even so, your path was clear; you had already left Rala alone for a few days, which was unacceptable in the world you lived in, and she was your first priority. Then, you would resume your travels, slaying any and all monsters you encountered. Perhaps you would hop from town to town, or simply find a single area to protect until you couldn’t. Visiting Lurelin was another tick on the list, but that would come later, when the scent of smoke no longer carried in the sea-salted breeze and you could finally walk around without a smoldering beam crashing down on you. 

A burst of lightning drew your attention back to the thundering heavens, illuminated the thick clouds in brilliant white light as another torrent bombarded the roof. Only a fool would miss the tell-tale creaking of the wood, and it only solidified the fact that leaving soon was the best course of action. 

But first, sleep. It had been a hell of a day and you were keen on getting one last bit of rest before heading out for good. You could already feel your body relaxing into the wall, uncaring of the hardness of the wood–you could handle a backache any day. 

That is, until another peal of thunder rang out and the sky was awash in light once more, though you hardly felt it over the spontaneous sear of heat over your chest. Your back became ramrod straight, clutching your hands to your sternum with thick, gasping breaths. Every second felt like a blinding slew of days, months… even years , and there wasn’t much that you could do past hold yourself like a scared child, eyes screwed shut hard enough to never open again. There was another burst of light, though suspiciously without the telling herald of thunder, and you forced yourself to glance forward. 

A spark of white danced in the air, inches from the ground. The pouring rain created a sort of cathartic backdrop as you tried to decipher what exactly you were seeing. It was undoubtedly real–the blinding edges curling like a miniature flame–but you couldn't place its purpose for the life of you. 

It was with half-steady hands that you reached forward, fingers outstretched cautiously towards the flame; the meager light blazing brighter and brighter with every inch that died between you–

Ssc!

You jerked your hand back as soon as the tip of your finger came into contact with the glowing surface, sucking it into your mouth to soothe the small burn, because, fuck , it was always the little things that hurt the most. The flare in your chest had faded to an uncomfortable stab with every raspy breath you took. You wanted to scream and you wanted to dash your hand through the flame, only fearing a second, more powerful burn. 

“Get out of here,” you hissed softly, as if your words held any weight in this situation. “ Leave .”

But the flame–or was it more of a burning wisp–remained, glowing cheerily in the raging storm. You watched it with a resigned expression, injured hand creeping up to rest against your chest. “You hurt me,” you said, without any real heat. You needed to hear words again. You needed to think again. “I don’t want you here.”

Nothing. 

Until the edges of the flame flickered purple, and it fizzled into nothing. You blinked as it reappeared at the threshold of the shack, inches from the merciless rain. A particularly large drop collided with the wisp, razing a hole through the center of it. 

Your expression softened as the flame… shivered ? Was that the right word to describe an supposedly nonhuman object or were you simply out of practice? Another droplet dashed the flickering apparition, followed by a cloud of steam and thin hiss of steam, and you felt yourself sigh. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You gestured to the glowing embers of the campfire in a manner that was supposed to be joking, but the short hiss of steam forced your hand. “If you burn me again, I’ll throw you out.”

With an almost delighted… crackle(?), the flame reappeared over the main fire. You watched with mild interest as it floated prone-ly, simply existing among the dancing flames of the larger fire, never once losing its signature color. 

“What are you?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

The flame made noise similar to a log being dumped on a roaring bonfire, and, after absentmindedly nodding along, you began to wonder if you had finally gone mad–if you weren’t already after what you saw in the shrine. None of this should have been possible, yet here you were, acknowledging a flame like a person. 

Was this insanity?

Either way, you were wholeheartedly exhausted and even keener on getting a good night’s rest. With a final, insane nod to the living flame, you tilted your head against the wall and allowed sleep to consume you. 

The plot thickens!

[bluecapsicum]

Cold winter skies illustrations for my daily meteorological fiction project, Reports From Unknown Places About Indescribable Events (Twitter, Instagram, Mastodon, archives on my website).

Keep reading for the companion texts.

December 31st: We report: sometimes, we think we know what to expect when it comes to the sky. We go a few days, maybe a couple of weeks without much happening, a rainbow perhaps, a contrail... We think we know the sky. It happens then, that the clouds twist and knit into impossibilities.

January 4th: We report: we went to the planetarium with our expert, once. We spent an hour watching as we got further, and further away from Earth, then the solar system, our galaxy, and then our galaxy group, until there was nowhere to go anymore. We got brought home, to our beating heart.

January 11th: We report: good morning, we would like to draw attention to a lovely and unexpected event occurring at this moment. Would you please look up to the clouds and notice how, though the sky is largely grey, the gulls flying overhead are tinted orange by the sunrise light? Thank you.

January 12th: We report: in the hollow of a valley, sleepy lightning bugs. There is grey little light dragging itself through the air like it does not want to be here, and we are cold with our hands in our pockets and our nose in our scarf and our ears exposed and bright red (nobody sees).

January 22nd: We report: we have missed a train today, but we can only hope that the train dearly missed us in return. We waited at the station for the next one for a long time, watched people get off and on different trains until it got too cold for us to wait outside. Wispy cirrus.

January 27th: We report on a winter morning: there was a robin and a few hares, blending in with the snowy grass. The snowflakes were heavy enough that we could hear them fall around us. We could smell the cold air until our nose started running. Grey sludge on the side of salted roads.

January 28th: We report: it is after nightfall, but there are still many sparrows chattering in the trees. The air is dank out here, and as we walk, we can feel condensation forming on our face, the white puffs of our breath dissolving into the night. Our expert walks a few steps behind us.

January 31st: We report sometime around sunrise (what sun, rising from where, one might ask on this cloudy morning). The light, weak and mournful, does not weigh enough to reach down the deep blue dark of the ocean. The sea, torn by the wind, is busy frothing and making everything capsize.

February 20th: We report: the barometer and the thermometer are both down. It rained a lot last night, and today, the waters are murky, agitated even through the advection fog. We cannot see the horizon. We picked up a nice, pearlescent seashell that glimmered in the sand amidst all the grey.

February 24th: We report: hares in the fields, then a partridge later. The mud is frozen, the clouds are thick. Not much wind. Some colza and daffodils blooming on the roadside. A little bit more of February, its low skies and its half-steps, the transitions in the light and the time.

[amilfdala]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ perdition.

pairing: cain x lane. — tw: assault, death. — words: 2.2k. — rated: t. — chapter: 1/?. — high school graduate lane & priest in training cain happens to cross each others path. — tag: @rc-catalog. — fandom: heaven’s secret: requiem.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎chapter one. — the first sin.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lane stood near the swingset, noting the rust and dampness on the seat as she contemplated. the wind fiddled with her hair, blowing a few wispy strands into her eyes. it caused her to blink once, twice. her actions looked automated, as if her physical body obeyed a set of pre-programmed motions, done in an attempt to make her appear human. a traitor in the pack, one would say, or an anomaly to fear.

there was a puddle nearby, and her reflection in it looked alien and lost, as if her physicality no longer belonged to her, and her conscious mind dawdled down to a thumping noise. to realign herself, a task herculean in its weight, required venturing past this haven of comfort that the park had become and welcoming a change of pace.

after adjusting the strap of her school bag, which hung haphazardly over her shoulder, lane shed the unnecessary trinkets she was forced to take home as parting gifts into a trash can. she watched as it all fell with a clang, burrowing deep with the rest of the litter and fading from her disinterested view. although this extra weight was eliminated, there was still something pressing down on her. but alas, she was not atlas condemned to hold the sky, so she ignored the throbs.

lane’s blazer was left open, allowing the dewy but fresh air to wash over her, cascading in gentle waves. instead of taking the usual route home, she opted for the bystreet near the main compound, where people hung by the windows like ghosts. maybe not the sanest of decisions, considering her self-preserving nature, but that peculiar throb, irritating and insistent, had urged her forward.

her strides echoed ominously across the pavements as she sped through the winding pathway into an open road that led nowhere. thick fog formed around the town with a creamy consistency that made it impossible to discern any shape or form. and it looked like, somewhere along the way, lane had teleported, and now stood stranded on an alien land where the price for life was obscurity, and death.

she took in a deep breath. calm and collected, that’s how she should approach any situation, and how she must behave, as drilled into her by her parents. but it felt like a daunting jab, rather than well-meaning advice. they did not care about her, and had her almost out of pity for themselves, so any life lessons they imparted felt like hot stones being rubbed into her skin; sizzling her flesh and charring the bones beneath.

a chuckle left lane’s mouth, lips pulled into a thin line of mockery for her redundant life. what decision was there to make, anyway? the road ahead was haunted, she knew for sure, but so was home, and so was her life. the staggering realisation only lay in the fact that even an abandoned lane was as familiar as the place she referred to as home.

such thoughts only served as a fortitude for despair, and lane neither had the time nor energy to expend on such harrowing introspections. at least, not at the moment anyway, as there were plenty of chances for that, and plenty of chasms to fall into, once she returned home. so for now, the road less travelled will suffice.

and so she continued, a treacherous trek into the unknown, until she finally sensed some human activity. the toll of a bell was what she first took notice of, as it rang with clarity and cadence. then came the echoes of distant chatter, motorbike rumbles, and the permeating scent of an ordinary life lived. lane let out a heavy breath she didn’t know she had held in. it came out in wisps, challenging the mist around her parted lips.

she could vaguely make out the city square, the centre of lush civilisation. how she ended up there was a confusing ordeal, considering she took a route that led her away from this compound in the first place. but she appreciated the outcome nonetheless, as the derivative chill from a lonely, abandoned road was not as sprightly as she had initially imagined.

but her merriment dissipated right as she took another step, ramming into an obstructive figure. the force of the hit propelled her backwards, and the weight of her bag made her stumble even further. but lane got herself in time, swinging the bag from her back to clutch it to her chest as she looked up at a man leering down at her.

lane’s expression remained impassive, and she offered no apology, for this was not her mistake. her face almost contorted into an unsavoury expression, reeling at the sudden interruption of an otherwise peaceful outing.

the man did not let it slide. lane expected as much.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“where are you off to, conniving bitch?” he sneered, spit flying.

he was short and stout but proud of his stature. he gave off a threatening aura, which contrasted heavily with his haggard look. lane did not bother to make out much of his face, half concealed by the fog and by her own disinterest. but she knew, from his caustic tone, and the way his neck turned red from fury, that backing away was not an option.

retrieving a blade from her side pockets almost imperceptibly, lane stepped aside and mouthed an excuse me, unwilling to engage in violence unless provoked first. the man, however, had no intention of letting her go, and immediately lunged forward, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip.

lane yelped and hissed, her bag falling to the ground with a thud, and her along with it, as the man brutally shoved her down and hovered over her with a maniacal grin. “don't be shy” his acrid stench was unbearable, “you may beg for my forgiveness, through other... services”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her answer was a slash of her blade.

he sprung away, howling as if the blade had severed his heart and not his cheek that spurted a measly amount of blood. lane supported herself on her elbows, watching and observing from the ground as the man clutched the side of his face, which she finally feigned attention to, and regarded her handiwork with satisfaction.

but she had to leave, and fast. however, in her adrenaline-driven state, lane had failed to register her twisted ankle, caused by her sudden, brute fall. the impact even left behind cuts and bruises, courtesy of the gravelly road, and she remained in its prickly embrace even after several attempts to get up.

the man’s wailings had stopped, and lane had factored this development in too late. his laboured breathing slowly approached her fallen self, feet scrapping across the rock-strewn path as he looked determined enough to kill.

one step, two, and a third one. thud, thud, thud. the master with a scythe has approached to quell.

but the scythe did not swing. the master took no further steps. because a greater being took hold of its skull, and bashed it in.

lane noted the gleaming white fog, shimmering like stars. the glow brightened, eclipsed. she could vaguely make out two figures, one slumped, wrung like a ragdoll. and the other;

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he appeared, like a burst of supernova, pulling everything toward him with a force so divine the space around him contracted, and in a blink, exploded into a brilliant shower of sparks. the blinding lights around him parted, with the same ease of a curtain pulled, and he took on a concrete form, as if shedding his luminous light to remain compliant to earth’s strict regulations.

he had his fingers wrapped around the limp neck of the man who had attacked her, now blistering under his tight grip till the blood in his body flared and spluttered. lane had an odd wish to press her thumb to his pulse point, to feel the life in his body disperse in agonizing lengths. but her attention did not linger long on the writhing body, as she had a miracle to behold.

an angel, she realised, with staggering reverence and piety. she had half a mind to believe this was a farce, conjured up by her frightened state of mind. but she knew, goodness she knew, that this was no illusory trick, as his indomitable presence held a severity incapable of being recreated by the human psyche.

he was real, and he was here. while she was sprawled on the ground, kissing calamity in the face as she watched god’s creature smash a man into an adjacent pole, toppling it over.

when his attention shifted to her, languid in its movements and thoughtful in its gaze, lane suddenly felt conscious of her current disposition. she hid the blade in her palm, dripping with the man's blood, and the warmth of the liquid was cathartic enough not to make her lose her mind. when the angel inched closer, she scrambled back, huffing and glowering, and he stopped, pushing his hands up in a placating gesture, and waited.

he didn’t intend to leave, that much was evident from his body language, positioned toward her with an anchored resolution. lane bit the inside of her cheeks, sprawled on the ground like a crushed spider, flanked by his inscrutable presence. was there a proper etiquette to greet the heavenly messenger of god? she wouldn’t know, as she wasn't a frequent visitor of the church.

but the flashing pain in her ankles, acute and searing, drowned out all other worries and focused rabidly on one thought, to find an elevated platform to rest. she stood up in an attempt to move to a bench nearby, but her legs, which remained uncooperative to strenuous movements, buckled right before she could find solid purchase.

the world slipped, rushing past her vision with incredible speed, but then stopped just as abruptly, standing still like an obedient child. lane blinked, surprised, then slowly sensed the ice-cold grip on her elbows, and her heart sank just as it rose.

the angel was near her, dangerously close, who had wrapped his long, ivory fingers around her arm, and the air clashed with a static shock. she couldn’t help but choke on a strange morbid feeling as she looked up and met his empyrean gaze, which never wavered and silently took hold of her bereft soul.

he was beautiful, like that of a moon in the morning, all firmament, majestic, and evocative, but defying the rules of nature, appearing where he should not be. he had a sculpted, aristocratic face, framed by lily white hair and eyes so piercingly blue that it shamed the skies and the heaven it housed. he shifted, guiding the young girl to the damp bench, and diligently ignored her incredulous looks and appraisals.

all the events that led up to this moment created a startingly emotive effect, and it was incongruous enough to shush her body and mind, letting it slink back against the creaking backrest. taking advantage of her momentary distraction, the angel spoke, his silky smooth voice cushioning her leaden thoughts.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“you have nothing to be afraid of”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lane looked at the body of the man beside them pointedly. “the evidence suggests otherwise”

the angel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and after brazenly sweeping his gaze over the unconscious body, settled on gracing her retort with a subtle smile. it unsettled lane, but it piqued her interest nonetheless, and she realized that she was inadvertently falling into a cesspool of emotions that were becoming increasingly harder to detangle.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he inched closer. “then lend me your trust, just for the day”

lane frowned, startled and confused. the blade between her fingers left another cut, like an amorous kiss of a parting lover. she savoured the sting, letting it ground her to reality as she pondered the irrefutable existence of him and this calamitous incident.

but right now, as she realised that the angel’s attention had pivoted to a space beyond her grasp, lane decided that such a stifling discovery could await its deserving reaction after she had made it back home.

instead of bombarding him with questions about his kind or asking after the penultimate truth of the world, she suppressed her sweltering curiosity and settled on a simple observation task. her eyes wandered unceremoniously over the angel’s figure, noting his athletic stature, the rigid posture, and the porcelain make of his face and skin. flawless, timeless, he stood tall, with a white button-up shirt, loose black pants, and a rosary wrapped tightly around his left palm.

the latter part spiked her already elevated interest. she wondered, for a brief moment, about what would happen if she threaded her fingers along his, snaked through the beads, and yanked it away from his palm. would he fall apart, then? would the mist take the earth's guest away, wavering like a reflection on unsteady waters, before the seams burst and the stars welcomed back its light?

lane didn’t linger long on her thoughts, unnerving and strangely addicting as they were, as a slight rustle forced her privy eyes up, and she caught sight of it. the thing that separated humankind from immortals, the anatomical difference that immediately stood apart; the wings.

but the angel shifted, breaking the spell with a divot of his movement, and caught the flitting eyes of the girl, urging her to cease her rove. he cocked his head to the side, crossing his arms across his chest, which crunched his flimsily buttoned shirt. impassive as he may, he had his moments of indulgence in human emotions, so he spoke, mimicking the tenderness of a leaf caressed in the wind. “i’m cain”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎his extension of trust, she presumed.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“my name is lane”

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Real or Not Real?

Chapter 1

Pairing: James Potter X reader, Sirius Black X reader (platonic) Remus X Reader Platonic.

Word count: 7.3k

Warning: Slow burn!

Series list

Autumn in the Scottish Highlands was, in itself, a reason to attend Hogwarts. Blue September skies, speckled with wispy clouds. The falling bronze leaves and the red hued sunsets.

This was no less than a second home to most students. A safe haven if you will. It was good to be going home.

She had grown up with Sirius and Regulus so her regular residence wasn't much of a home. Her parents Ignatius and Lucretia (Black) Prewett had left her to Orion and Walburga often so they could travel around France. No one actually knew where they would be or for how long they would travel. Only that they were always gone for indefinite amounts of time. They never sent letters, maybe an odd postcard or two. Y/N kept them hidden in a drawer in her room. (Call her sentimental if you will.) The terrible house of Black had adored her until she was sorted into Gryffindor along with Sirius. After that, they were both called blood traitors and treated as such. However, being someone else’s child, they treated her with less disdain than Sirius. That being said, they weren't the kindest of people, if at all.

Y/N would bring Sirius half her food when he would get sent to his room early without dinner. (which was quite often.) Sneaking things in her long sleeves and pockets whenever she could. Strangely, Kreacher had caught her once, but he said absolutely nothing and pretended that he saw nothing. (She would not forget this kindness.)

Things only escalated when they reached now, their fifth year. Y/N always took her yelling's, occasional threats, and hexes in silence whereas Sirius would fight back. In a way, she admired him for his bravery, knowing that he possessed the strength that she lacked. Whereas, his admiration for her resided in her refusal to back down, cry or beg. They had a mutual respect for one another. On another hand, she was somewhat envious of Regulus, he was apparently the perfect child who was, (seemingly) loved.

That was until she started to notice the bags under his eyes at the beginning of this year. She hadn’t really had the chance to talk to him, between Walburga’s looming presence and by the younger boy’s being sorted into Slytherin. However, she had the feeling he wasn’t exactly taking up his family ideals to heart.

Ever since fifth year began, Y/N and Sirius would never again call 12 Grimmauld Place home.

~

Y/N kicked her feet rhythmically, leaning her head on Lily Evans' shoulder. Their Hogwarts express compartment was filled with chatter, a welcome distraction from her thoughts. Somehow, over the past four years, she had been adopted into the Gryffindor group of girls in her dormitory. Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas. They had patiently and painstakingly, coaxed the girl out of her shell. Y/N was truly grateful for their friendship. In the beginning she couldn't help feeling that their kindness was based on pity. That had made it hard for her to trust them. Meaning, that before fifth year, she had never really interacted with them outside of the Gryffindor house dorms.

Marlene and Dorcras were pelting question after question at Alice, wanting to know the details of her crush on Frank Longbottom. Ever the curious couple, Y/N felt slightly glad that she wasn’t on the receiving end of their questions.  

‘You’ll be “Alice Longbottom” one day.’ Y/N grinned teasingly at the girl with the pixie cut. 

Alice laughed before shrugging good naturedly, 'We’ll see. Frank is awfully shy. I might have to be the one initiating everything.’

Marlene cut in with her arm around Dorcas, ever a picturesque couple.  ‘And Lily’s last name will be “Potter!”’

Y/N stifled a giggle at the comment. 

Lily gagged before letting out a sigh, ‘It’s not that Potter isn’t just a complete tool. I’m also just not into men.’

Y/N shrugged. ‘Yeah, you keep making eyes at Emmeline Vance during charms. It’s actually kind of sickening how adorable your pining face is.’

Lily flicked Y/N’s nose. ‘When are you going to start hanging out with us outside the dorms? All you do is go to the library or hide in the kitchens and bake while chatting with the elves.’

Dorcas pouted, adding, ‘You don't even sit with us during class!’

Y/N winced while casting her eyes down. Another thing, she really didn’t like drawing attention to herself or loud noises. Loud noises or attention usually lead to shouting and maybe a raised hand back at Grimmauld Place. They usually caused an unpleasant reaction out of the girl. 

‘I can’t do crowds, I really am sorry. It’s not that I don't want to, you’re all lovely but-’

‘That's alright, you take your time love. You'll come talk to the rest of us when you're ready.’ Alice gently reassured her, patting the girl beside her on the arm.

Y/N smiled gratefully. The girls weren’t at all pushy about getting Y/N to hang out with them. However, they did always ask. They wanted her to feel and be included. None of them ever took a rejection personally. It was what made Y/N lower her walls all the more.

Lily ruffled Y/N’s hair affectionately. The rest of the girls continued their chat whilst the introverted girl stared out the window, still leaning on Lily’s shoulder, taking in the view and enjoying the company. The dark pine trees that littered the lands surrounding all the lochs that glittered in the rare sunlight. She let out a soft sigh, allowing herself to relax, just for that moment.

~

The hustle and bustle of the students, all ecstatic to see each other again made Y/N giddy. She had, however, skipped the feast, opting to go say hello to all the elves who had finished preparing the feast. She particularly enjoyed Wigby’s desserts. (He was admittedly her favourite house elf.) He made the best sweets which led to Y/N learning all her baking skills from the friendly house elf. 

The halls were electric with energy, almost tangible. This year Y/N and her friends were to be taking their O.W.L exams. To be honest, she was completely ready, having already studied up to the N.E.W.T level of all her subjects. Studying and reading at Hogwarts was her escape, truly. She padded into the first class, Potions. She slipped into the seat next to Lily, quickly giving the red haired girl a gentle squeeze on her hand and flashing a smile at the rest of the girls who greeted her enthusiastically. They had convinced her to sit with them during classes this year instead of her usual spot at the back away from prying eyes.

As they continued their conversation, Y/N unpacked her quill, and parchment while waiting for the lesson to start. As she doodled a small picture of a cauldron, a cocky voice crooned out. ‘Ah, my sweet flower, how I’ve missed- Who are you and why are you in my seat?’ James Potter (Lily’s self proclaimed “sweetheart”) word vomited at the poor girl.

Y/N gripped the desk tightly, her knuckles turning white. Confrontation, how lovely. As much of an amusing topic of complaint he was that she had heard from conversation with the girls. She wasn't sure of his thoughts of her. What if he thought she was a complete weirdo? She found a spot on the table and stared at it with the utmost concentration, unable to bring her eyes to meet the owner of the voice. Lily, also ignored the voice. Instead opting to cover Y/N’s hand with her own, continuing her conversation with Marlene, and Dorcas about the importance of studying for their O.W.L’s

‘Ah, you’ll survive the lesson James, come on,’ a voice drawled, waving James away. A voice which Y/N immediately recognised as belonging to Sirius.

Y/N looked up and turned around, wanting to meet Sirius’s eyes to mouth a, “Thank you” but her eyes met hazel ones instead. 

‘Oh.’ James mumbled with wide eyes. He was standing right behind her, not having moved back to his actual “spot”.

Y/N’s eyes darted away immediately before finding Sirius’s. His eyebrows were raised with mirth and he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. She flashed him a small smile before turning around, basically ignoring James Potter. This was new. People didn't usually ignore him. They would at least acknowledge him, but to be completely silent? James was puzzled. Had he offended her in some way before? 

‘Mr Potter, I trust you will be able to find your seat?’ Professor Slughorn called out, striding into the classroom, his large belly preceding him through the door. He was Y/N's favourite professor. He was kind to Lily and Y/N. (Probably due to their prowess in potions but nonetheless!)

‘Yes sir.’ James sat down without protest, his gaze lingering on the unfamiliar girl before his thoughts were interrupted by Professor Slughorn. He hadn’t noticed her before. How had he not noticed someone for four years? He was always making friends with people.

‘Today, we will be assigning our first assignment of the year. An essay on polyjuice potion. Four weeks sounds like ample time does it not?’

As the professor announced their first assignment. James couldn't help but notice how Y/N avoided looking in any direction that wasn't the front or her notes. He leaned in close to Sirius, whispering just loud enough for him to hear amongst the groans of the class,

‘What's her deal?’ He asked, glancing at Y/N again.

Y/N dutifully jotted down the specifics of the assignment, (unbeknownst to her) under James’s gaze. She allowed Lily to periodically glance at her notes. She whispered something into Lily’s ear to which the redhead smiled at her and nodded.

‘What are they whispering about?’ James nudged Sirius again.

‘Y/N probably asked if Lily wanted to pair up.’ Remus interrupted. ‘She is rather shy.’ As Sirius shot James a look for nudging him repeatedly.

‘You know her?’ James gaped at the sandy haired boy.

‘James, Y/N has been in our classes since first year. She just doesn’t really talk.’

‘Besides, you’re too busy pining over your “Lilypad” to really notice any other women.’ Sirius mused with his arms crossed, feeling slightly protective of his little cousin.

‘And how do you know her?’ James retorted. Ignoring Sirius's quip, however true it could have been.

‘She’s my cousin.’

‘Huh.’ Remus blinked.

‘You didn't know that?’ James glanced at Remus ‘I thought you knew her?’

‘No, I just know she’s practically topping almost every class, she doesn’t really speak to-’

‘Now boys, would you like to share your conversation with the rest of Gryffindor and Slytherin?’ Slughorn called out to the boys, his large walrus moustache twitched above his lip, the man seemingly amused by their chattering. 

‘No sir.’ Remus replied evenly. 

‘Well then! I shall announce the pairings for the assignment!’ He smiled merrily, ignoring the cries of protest from the rest of the class. 

Y/N’s face paled and she whipped her head to look at Lily. Usually they were paired off in their seats, not randomly. Y/N had truly enjoyed his classes up till now but this? Suddenly Slughorn was rapidly losing his status as favourite professor.

Lily looked at her worriedly, “Lets just hear who you have to pair with. If it's someone obnoxious, we’ll go speak to the professor or I’ll swap with you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion at her friend's empathy. 

‘I couldn’t ask that of you Lily.’ Y/N whispered, misty-eyed. Kindness was a luxury that Y/N had so often been not able to afford for so long. Seeing it up close and displayed just for her, she couldn't help but be slightly overwhelmed.

‘It’s okay, I’m the one who offered.’ Lily patted her arm, reassuring the fidgety girl.

‘If I could marry you Lily Evans, I would do it in a heartbeat.’ Y/N tugged at Lily’s sleeve, looking down bashfully.

‘Now if only you were into women.’ Lily grinned, squishing Y/N’s cheeks with her hands gently. ‘What a treat you would be.’

‘Lily!’ The shy girl pouted, batting away the other girl's hands playfully.

‘Ms Mckinnon, and Ms Meadowes,’ To which the couple let out a happy cheer.

‘James Potter, and Lily Evans,’ Lily slumped over immediately, letting her head rest onto the desk with a quite audible Thwump! To which Y/N giggled, at her sudden change in demeanour.

 James was completely caught off guard when Professor Slughorn announced his partner for the assignment. He had been so preoccupied with the revelation of Y/N being related to Sirius and trying to figure her out that he hadn’t even been paying attention to the teacher. He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at Lily’s exaggerated head bang onto the desk after hearing her own partner. Before he could think of a witty comeback, he heard the next pairing.

‘Sirius Black, and Y/N Prewett.’ Y/N perked up, looking at Lily with bright eyes, shaking her head with a smile. This was one of the people she would be able to work with!

‘Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew.’ The two boys subtly high fived. Strangely enough, James wasn’t making a huge fuss over being paired with Lily. Strange enough for even Y/N to take notice, though she refrained from commenting.

Remus took a side glance at James, he wasn't sure if he would regret asking his friend his question.

‘You're not ecstatic over being paired with Lily?’ Remus questioned. 

‘I am, I just...’ James shook his head. At this point, he knew Lily wasn't into him. In fact, he wasn't even sure she liked men. He wasn't the only boy in Hogwarts to have ever asked her out. At this point, it was just a long bit and a way to keep other girls from approaching him. 

Sirius smirked knowingly. He may have been a lazy student but he sure as hell wasn't stupid. He could tell that after three years of incessant rejections, James had quickly lost his desire to date Lily.

‘Since you all feel the need to cheer at each pairing. I shall leave the list on the board and you can all cheer at the same time. Take this time to move into your pair and discuss your assignment. That'll be all for this lesson. Welcome back students.’  Slughorn's eyes glimmered with amusement, revealing the quip towards the class to be good natured.

The professor sat back down at his seat as the class began to disperse once again into chatter and movement. He generously answered stray questions from the students who wandered to his desk in need of assistance.

Y/N stood up and walked over to Sirius’s desk and nudged his foot with her own. Grabbing his attention soundlessly.

Sirius gave her a genuine smile and shoved James with his shoulder. 

‘Go over to your “Lily flower”. I’ve got to discuss the assignment with my partner.’

James blinked owlishly at Y/N, still taking in her very existence.

‘Sorry?’ Y/N whispered, looking at him hesitantly. 

‘Quite alright,’ James nodded, standing up to walk towards Lily without his signature smirk.

Y/N sat down with Sirius and smiled shyly before asking, ‘Is Potter alright? I thought he would be thrilled to be up partnered with Lily?’

Sirius blinked, ‘You keep up with this stuff?’

Y/N tilted her head from side to side, ‘Not particularly, more like I listen to Lily complain in the dorms. It’s hard to miss. She says he's quite…’

‘Stubborn?’

‘We’ll go with that.’ She quickly agreed, not wanting to rat out her friend. 

‘Hey so this means you finally have to talk to me outside of our house.’ Sirius teased. Honestly, they had never really talked, at Grimmauld Place or at Hogwarts.

Y/N grinned at him and retorted, ‘I’m not sharing my food with you here at home Sirius, we get plenty to eat at here.’

They shared a smile. Knowing they had each other's backs even without constant catch ups was a good feeling. The unspoken bond they shared wasn’t obvious to outsiders, but Sirius and Y/N knew, and that was enough.

‘So, the assignment. We’re describing how to brew the potion, all the ingredients and for extra credit, we can list out the dangers of brewing potion such as the errors and misuse!’

Sirius sighed, ‘I’m not really good with the-’

‘You’re good at finding information, I’ll handle the writing, you just tell me the information and I’ll make it sound good!’ Y/N nodded excitedly. 

‘What do you mean?’ Sirius stared blankly at the girl, completely unconvinced.

‘You always know where, how and who to prank! It's the same thing!’

‘It’s completely different.’ Sirius deadpanned.

‘Where did you learn the hair changing spell?’ Y/N crossed her arms.

‘In a transfiguration textbook. I was putting the books back in the library after Remus and oh-’ Sirius nodded slowly as he came to realise what the girl meant by being “good”.

‘See?’ Y/N smiled at him brilliantly, seeming proud of his (apparent) talent.

‘Y’know, this is nice, why don’t we do this more often.’

‘I don’t do-’

‘Crowds, yeah I know, and at the house, we’re too emotionally exhausted to talk.’ 

They both let out a heavy sigh before chuckling at their shared experience. Comfortable silences were rare, but together, the cousins were able to revel in each other's company. A truly unique connection formed by trauma. 'At least something good came out of it?' They had mused.

As the rest of the class chattered away, discussing the project or gossiping, Y/N and Sirius decided to meet up after dinner that night and every Wednesday. The pair discovered they had Defence Against the Dark Arts next. Sirius offered to walk with her to class, to which she accepted gratefully, mentioning Lily and Alice would probably also be with her. 

As the class began to filter out, Lily and Alice had walked over to Y/N to wait for her. 

‘You’ve got DADA next, with us right?’ Alice beamed. 

Y/N nodded, somewhat feeling excited to have people to walk to class with. Being with three people wouldn't be a crowd! 

‘There's a new teacher this year!’ Lily supplied this new information.

‘Again?’ Y/N wrinkled her nose. It was rather odd actually, ever since professor Merrythought had retired, it seemed as if every Defence teacher had resigned after a year.

A rather strange situation, but, none of her concern. 

‘Who is it?’ She asked as a passing question, not overly invested in the answer.

‘Some guy named Knittingley.’ Remus piped up from behind them, startling Y/N into almost dropping her books. She scrambled to regain her grip on them, before the culprit himself had taken some of them in his arms.

‘Sorry love,’ he grinned sheepishly, ‘you alright?’ To which she nodded and gave him a forgiving smile. He held onto her books, silently offering to carry them for her.

‘Ah, you down right scared the poor thing, Remus. Now she won't ever talk to us again.’ Sirius whined before breaking into a cheeky smirk, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Y/N considered throwing something at her relative but then decided it would be too much work and that her books weren’t made for throwing.

‘What’s the hold up?’ James questioned from the doorway, calling out to the group, ‘Lets go, Peter’s already gone ahead.’

Suddenly it wasn’t only three people anymore.

Somehow, Y/N had been looped into walking to class with five other people. Technically five was a group, not really a crowd, right? Sirius had swung his arm over Y/N, as if preventing her from running away. Okay well now it's definitely a group.

Lily and Alice were in the front, enthusiastically discussing the topics of the next class. They were fervently hoping that their first class wasn’t going to be a revision on Boggarts, as they knew it would be in the curriculum. Meanwhile, in the back, James was asking Remus about something about mandrake leaves and cycles of the moon.

In the midst of her conversation with Sirius, their formation, Y/N noticed. It seemed like almost a barrier against other students? Y/N internally shook her head. Most likely a coincidence, right? Why would it be intentional?

Sirius was babbling on, about the effects of conditioner on hair and how he found it amusing that James would use one that had a charm to make his hair extra bouncy. Y/N had stiffened a chuckle at this while James whined as he heard this and protested that he needed the extra shine and bounce.

‘It makes me look nice!’

To which Y/N nodded along, looking at Sirius, not noticing that James had beamed when she seemingly agreed. Remus looked on with a rather pleased smile, his nose scrunching. He had always wanted to befriend the shy girl. Now that she had somehow mustered up the courage (been practically physically restrained) to hang out with their group. He, along with the rest of the group, was excited to witness this side of the girl they had never seen before.

As the entire group arrived at the classroom on the third floor, Y/N’s gaze drew to the sweeping ivory dragon skeleton that hung from the ceiling. This had to be one of her favourite classrooms, just for the dragon. Even as she had grown up in the Wizarding world, there was still an element of wonder that she could never get used to.

While Slughorn was her, (almost former) favourite professor. Defence Against the Dark Arts would have to be her favourite subject. Although she was unable to defend herself at home, here in the classroom, she could learn to defend herself from things in the outside world. An escape from reality.

‘Now now, step lively everyone!’ A low voice announced, from the top of the staircase. A tall, thin, almost elderly man skipped down the steps. His bright pink cloak floating behind him, desperately trying to keep up. He had a pleasant looking face with a well kept beard, one that reminded Y/N of the old white haired wizards from fairy tales. His clothes were flashy. A nice cream coloured suit under his cloak, decorated with white stars that shimmered with his movement. He looked rather spry for his age.

‘Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts students,’ he gave a small bow, ‘Now, I trust all of you have noticed the shaking closet?’

To which most of the students nodded. It was reflective, periodically clattering, rattling. As if something was trying desperately to escape.

Lily and Alice quickly paled. 

‘Well then, quickly, let’s all make a line,’ The man called out, causing the students to scramble to try and position themselves to be nearest to the back.

Lily and Alice were frozen still, not only shocked that their predictions had been correct. But also they remembered their rather tormenting experience in third year with boggarts. It was obvious to say that they did not want to be facing this creature again.

With a sudden burst of courage and empathy, Y/N took both the girls hands and led them to stand behind her, not realising that she was now at the front of the line.

‘Wait-’ 

‘Ah, we have a brave volunteer! Step forward Ms…?’

‘Y/N Prewett..’ she replied hoarsely, suddenly extremely aware of her tongue.

As she nervously stared at the reflective closet, Professor Knittingley peered at her through his round spectacles. (They reminded Y/N of Professor McGonagall's own glasses.)

‘When facing a boggart, the spell that we use for the incantation is called, “Riddikulus.” Now, without wands, come on, all together!’

The class repeated after the Professor with unsure voices. Y/N hesitantly mumbled out the word in time of the class. She wasn’t worried about what the boggart would turn into. No In fact, the girl had a very good idea who it would turn into. Her only worry was what her friends would think. Would they laugh at her? Would Sirius be offended?

Y/N’s spiral was quickly cut off by Lily’s comforting hand on her back and Alice’s hand squeeze. 

‘Yes and the thing that finishes off a Boggart most is laughter!’ The professor bounced, seemingly excited to see his students fend off their worst nightmares. He waved Y/N forward and whispered in her ear.

‘What do you fear the most Ms Prewett?’ His question was immediately answered with,

‘My aunt.’ 

Professor Knittingley’s eyes flashed with sympathy. It wasn't unknown that she was staying with Walburga and Orion. Actually, most of the teachers knew, which was why they rarely if ever picked her to speak in class. The reputation and beliefs of the Black family was quite well known within the wizarding world.

‘Well, I want you to,’ he wiggled his bushy eyebrows, 'picture her with a beard, and wearing my clothes. White stars and all!’ His eyes were glittering with amusement, as he stepped back. Y/N gave him a panicked glance as he backed away from her.

‘Wand at the ready!’ He encouraged her. ‘When I open this door, you shall repeat the incantation and turn your boggart into,’ he whipped around to face his students, ‘something funny!’

The professor flicked his wand, opening the closet to reveal darkness. For a second, Y/N was filled with false hope, maybe the closet had been empty. 

She was wrong. 

A pale boney hand reached out, gripping the side of the door.

‘Steady.’ The professor called out, ready to jump in if things went awry.

The slightly trembling girl gripped her wand tightly, waiting for the creature to fully reveal itself. The hand led to an arm, a torso and then the severe face of Walburga Black. The rest of the class was silent, watching the girl in the front of the line. Each student felt sorry for the girl but none were willing (or able) to take her place.

Y/N took a short, sharp breath as the boggart, now in the shape of her aunt, took its steps out of the closet. Y/N steeled herself, lifted her wand and shouted, ‘Riddikulus!’ Picturing her least favourite aunt in her new professor’s clothes.

With a whip cracking sound, the woman in front of her instantaneously grew a stringy beard, her clothes now morphed to match the Defence teacher. Y/N let out a small relieved giggle as the creature looked around confusedly in its pink star spangled clothing. The mood of the classroom seemed to have considerably lightened as excited whispers and laughter broke out.

‘That's it! Let’s keep the line moving!’ The cheery professor gestured for the line to keep moving.

One by one, the students moved through the line. Each defeating their own fears, Sirius’s being himself, in Slytherin robes. Lily was a young girl, black hair, and shrewd eyes.

Remus was coming to the front of the line until the chiming of a clock rang from the front of the classroom. Saved by the bell, or in this case, alarm clock.

‘I’m afraid that is all we will have time for today!’ Professor Knittingley clapped his hands together. ‘I shall see you all next lesson where we will be learning the Human-presence-revealing Spell!’

As the class trickled out, Sirius and Lily dashed towards Y/N.

‘I’m so sorry you had to go first.’ Lily’s apology was hurried, grasping Y/N’s face to check if she was alright.

‘Let her go Evans, it's not like the Boggart had a wand.’ Sirius laughed before turning to Y/N and giving her a great hug. 

‘You were so brave. One day, you’ll be able to stand up to that old bat.’ He whispered, voice full of pride. 

Y/N relaxed, realising that Sirius did not think any less of her for having his mother as her boggart. In fact, he was more worried about whether or not his cousin would be able to handle her own. 

James and Remus followed suit, both giving Y/N a pat on the head whilst Alice looped her arm around Y/N’s, leading her out of the room.

The rest of the day went rather smoothly. Y/N hadn't encountered any other boggarts or frightening creatures, nor was she called on to speak. As all her classes finished, she had an hour of down time that Sirius and her had decided earlier to appoint as their essay time.

Y/N made her way through the sand stone corridors, making a note that dinner was in an hour and that she should probably go visit the kitchens again. She missed the fragrant smell of baking cookies and icing.

As she lightly stepped into the library, making sure not to alert Madam Prince of her presence. It was easy to find a seat, seeing as it was only the first day back and most people had opted to spend the day reconnecting with friends.

Y/N smiled, she could have the whole desk to herself for once! (at least until Sirius came.)

Placing her books onto the well worn dark oak desks, she walked over to the shelves of books and began her search for a copy of “Book of Potions.”  Y/N’s eyes darted along the book's spines, making a swift assessment. It wasn't here. With a great pout, she left the B section (The book was written by potioneer, Zygmunt Budge.) and slumped back over her desk. How had someone beat her to the book? There was no one else from fifth year here apart from herself!

‘Looking for something?’ A low, smooth voice interrupted her mini tantrum.

‘Sirius!’ She looked up, looking startled. 

‘Why the tone of surprise?’ He grinned down at her, ‘Did you think I would be late?’ He took a seat next to her, book in hand.

‘No,’ Y/N shook her head, ‘It’s just that,’

‘Mind if I join you?’ Another voice interjected, slightly higher, smoother and calm.

Y/N cocked her head to look at the person behind her cousin. ‘Remus?’

The boy flashed a shy, but pretty smile at Y/N, ‘Y’know I’m surprised you’ve let me an’ James talk to you. I’d expected you to ignore us. Of course, Lily and Sirius talk about you all the time and they’ve only ever had lovely things to say.’  Remus rambled nervously, taking his seat to the left of Y/N while Sirius took the right.

‘That's why James and I were so familiar with you. I hope it didn't make you uncomfortable.’ The boy finally finished, seeming slightly anxious at her response.

‘It’s the same for me,’ Y/N beamed, ‘Lily says you’re quite calm and that I would probably like studying with you.’ She unpacked her quills and continued, ‘I also know you’re about to take my top spot in transfiguration if I’m not careful!’ She teased, letting him know she was perfectly comfortable.

‘That’s my girl.’ Sirius ruffled her hair, exceptionally proud that she was finally talking to people she usually didn’t. 

Remus’s ears were flushed red at Y/N’s compliment. It was true that Remus was actually quite talented in spells. But he was sure he wasn’t coming quite as close to first in class as Y/N was making him out to be. Lily had been right, Y/N really was quite loveable.

‘Oh! I also hear that James is an exceptional flyer?’ She hummed, flipping through the potions book that Sirius had given her before. ‘He seems nice, I do like the funny things he does when he moons over Lily.’ Y/N let out a quiet giggle. 

‘You have to hear about that quite a bit don’t you.’ Remus laughed, knowing his friend’s unsuccessful attempts to charm the red haired girl.

‘I don’t even think she likes men.’ Sirius mused, to which Y/N raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile.

As they continued to chat, Y/N and Remus had begun on their essays, Peter had joined them at some point. For the first time in a while, she felt safe with people who weren’t her Gryffindor girls. It was a welcome feeling. Secretly, Y/N hoped that this would last until graduation or even further. A fool’s hope really. As they continued to work, Remus had asked her how she was able to write to such a high standard. Y/N simply replied that she referenced fiction, non-fiction and textbooks and used their writing styles to improve her own. 

Soon, the small group’s work was interrupted by a sort of,… growling noise. Y/N looked up, meeting Sirius's eyes.

‘Dinner time?’ She whispered, attempting to hold back her laughter and somewhat failing.

‘Yes please!’ he replied, unashamed of his loud complaining stomach. 

Making their way to the great hall, Peter led the way while chatting with Sirius about how he wanted to buy some licorice wands on their first visit to Hogsmead. Remus was walking slightly behind her, his shoulder brushing against her back. 

‘You’ll sit with us right?’ 

Y/N’s lips drew into a thin line as she looked at his pleading face. His eyes were wide and brown, sort of akin to a puppy begging for pats. Her resolve was quickly shaken. If it wasn’t obvious now, Y/N had a weakness for pretty things.

‘Yeah but only if I don't have to-’

‘You’ll sit between me and Sirius, or Lily, or one of us. Don’t worry.’ Remus said cheerfully,  gently putting his hands on her shoulder. She could have shaken him off if she wanted to, but she found that she rather enjoyed the affection of her new friends.

Approaching the table, James called out from his seat, ‘Oi, I’ve got news, Gryffindor tryouts for the quidditch team are tonight, right after dinner! You lot wanna come watch?’ He said, before spooning some pumpkin soup into his mouth. The rest of the 5th year girls were there, waving at Y/N excitedly.

‘Chew with your mouth shut mate.’ Remus grimaced.

‘Im swallowing. It's just soup.’ James pouted, before spotting Y/N.

‘Hey,’ he patted the empty seat next to him, ‘Come sit!’ 

His enthusiastic greeting was hard to ignore. She took the seat beside him cautiously, giving Lily a ‘what is going on’ look. Lily nodded encouragingly whilst Dorcas slid a dish containing all her favourite foods over to Y/N. 

‘You guys are the best.’ She whispered to the girls, happily picking up a fork and beginning to dig in.

‘Right, Y/N I’m going to be trying out to be a keeper.’ Marlene said with gusto. ‘You’ll come with Lily and the girls to watch me sweep the competition won’t you?’ 

Y/N made a non committal noise, too busy revelling in the taste of the food that Dorcas had given her.

‘Wait, how come try outs are so early this year?’ Sirius asked, reaching for a drumstick and putting one in Peter’s plate and then grabbing another for his own.

‘Well, I want to get a headstart on the rest of the teams.’ James shrugged. ‘Early bird gets the worm.

‘Merlin's beard James,’ Y/N looked up at the curly haired boy with wide eyes. ‘Are you Quidditch Captain this year?’ Her shyness suddenly forgotten in her surprise.

James flushed slightly at her revelation. Usually he would have taken it straight to his ego but somehow the wide eyed look from Y/N left him feeling rather shy.

‘Yeah, Minnie told me just before my last class so I told her we would hold tryouts tonight.’ He shrugged humbly, somewhat unnaturally. ‘She said would make sure everyone knew by dinner.’

Lily raised her eyebrows. Since when did James Potter know how to take compliments gracefully? She turned to glance at her friend, who was congratulating James on the title and smiled. It seemed as though Y/N was a good influence on him. She turned to Alice and nudged her, nodding her head in Y/N’s direction.

‘Wouldn’t it be great if Y/N was always around? Then we’d not only have our girl with us, James wouldn't be such a cocky prick all the time.’ 

With that, both witches dissolved into fits of giggles.

~~~

With dinner finishing, Y/N had hesitantly agreed to come watch the Quidditch try-outs. The reason? Lily had promised to stay beside her with Sirius all night. (and promised her a chocolate frog.) The group took the path from the great hall to their portrait hole, expertly navigating the moving stairs. The boys, except James who had to get changed, said they would wait in the common room.

Y/N and the others reached their room and the girls began to scramble for scarves and gloves whilst Marlene got changed into the Quidditch robes. 

Y/N looked pointedly into her trunk, she didn’t own a pair of gloves. She had hardly needed them since she never left the castle of her own free will. Sighing, she wrapped a tattered scarf that she had taken from home.

‘Y/N, sweetheart, that isn’t going to be enough.’ Marlene shook her head, pulling on her Quidditch gloves.

‘I don’t have any gloves.’ She pouted, holding out her hands for her friend to see.

‘Y’know what, you can borrow mine, and the next Hogsmead trip, we’ll go buy a pair for you together. What do you think?’ Marlene gently slipped her own gloves onto her friend’s outstretched hands, holding them after she was done. She was heavily anticipating Y/N’s answer, Y/N had never agreed to-

‘I would love to.’ Y/N replied without hesitation, bouncing slightly on the spot.

Dorcas, Lily, and Alice gaped at the girl. Had she just agreed to leave the castle? Twice in a day? After all these years of them trying, it had finally paid off! The girls rushed to envelop Y/N in a hug, tackling her to the ground.

‘Oomph’ 

‘I can’t believe you said yes!’ A very excited Lily crowed, jumping up and down on the spot.

‘We have to celebrate!’ Dorcas exclaimed, equally as joyful.

‘We will! But first, we have to get to the Quidditch pits! I don’t want Marlene to miss the try outs!’ Y/N ushered the girls out of the common room, flustered from the exchange but jovial nonetheless. She really finally felt ready after four years. She trusted these girls, and even without the addition of the new friends she had made, Y/N knew that she had wanted to make an effort for her friends this year.

As they made their way back to the common room, they were greeted with,

‘There you are! Come on now, we’re going to be late!’ From an impatient James.

‘Are you warm enough?’ Peter asked Y/N, noticing her dishevelled scarf.

‘I think so?’ Y/N looked at the end of her fraying scarf before suddenly it was being unwrapped from her neck.

‘Here, you can borrow mine.’ Sirius instead, coiled his own warm scarf around hers, then reached for James’s and tugged it off him.

‘I’ll just take Jamie's!’ He snickered while James protested. 

‘Ah come on, you’ll be flying. You don’t need it!’ He gave Y/N a wink, while ushering everyone out of the portrait hole.

The merry group made their way outside of the castle and onto the path that led to the Quidditch pitch. James and Marlene chatted about the possibilities of their teammates this year. Marlene wasn’t threatened, she vowed that she would out fly everyone (Not James but she wouldn't admit that.)

Y/N and the rest of the Gryffindor group shuffled into a stand to watch, sitting down and discussing the prospects of this year's team. 

Now despite never really watching Quidditch or having an interest in the sport. Y/N could tell James was on another level to the other players. When he wasn’t showing off to his friends, he was focused, and driven. Outflying all the others expertly while handling the Quaffle, dodging and weaving between the bludgers aimed at him. Y/N was in awe.

As the sun was setting, the trials had come to an end. James had announced that he would be putting up a list soon and assured that everyone did well. He made his way back to the group where he let out a big breath.

‘Bloody hell I am tired.’ He sat down, practically collapsing. Whilst Lily, Y/N, Dorcas, and Alice were fussing over Marlene. The boys were whooping over James’s successful tryouts. James responded by saying he was sure that his team would win the house cup this year. Y/N looked up at the moon in its waxing gibbous stage. It would be a full moon soon. She wanted to remember this moment for a long time, being with her friends, old and new. Her heart swelled with emotion watching her friends interact with each other. A happy memory, one to cherish.

James and Marlene had ended up packing away the equipment and getting changed in their respective locker rooms. Y/N had been murmuring to the group about how she never really learnt to fly properly. She wrinkled her nose in disapproval, remembering her lessons with the rest of the Gryffindor fifth years. She had hovered for maybe about a foot off the ground and that was it.

‘Yeah, I don’t think flying is for me.’ Y/N said with a grim face.

‘Blimey Y/N, you can’t be friends with the Gryffindor house captain and think that way!’ James trotted over, in his school robes. He was grinning cheekily, something Y/N would in time learnt meant James Potter had an idea.

‘James! You were amazing! You and Marlene absolutely blew everyone away!’ Y/N exclaimed, half truthfully and half hoping he would forget what she had just said. To be honest, Y/N had always wondered what it would feel like to fly. She had heard it was better than apparition.

‘Has anyone ever offered to teach you?’ James asked, while the group trekked back to the castle. The rest of the people pushing up front, talking about maybe getting a late night snack.

‘Well, Sirius actually hasn’t offered before. We don’t really get that much time to uh,’ Y/N winced at the mention of their house life. ‘We don't really have much time for extracurricular hobbies back, y’know..’ She shrugged, not completely bothered.

‘Well, how about this,’ James ran a few steps in front of Y/N, stopping to face her. ‘If Gryffindor wins the house cup, I’ll teach you to fly!’ His eyes glimmered with eagerness, somehow similar to Remus’s puppy eyes.

‘Aw man. HOW do you guys do the puppy eyes so WELL?!’ Y/N groaned with a smile, rolling her eyes. ‘Alright, IF you win the house cup, I’ll let you teach me to fly and not a moment sooner!’ She teased him, bumping his shoulder as they continued to walk.

As they walked, the group ahead of them had now changed conversations, talking about how glad they were that Y/N was finally opening up to them. They had also decided that the group would be visiting the kitchens for a late night snack.

‘Y’know, you’re friendlier than I thought you’d be.’ James caught up, looking at her with a small grin. He wasn’t sure that she would have accepted the rest of his group if not for Lily and her friends.

‘I’m like this only to my friends. The girls trust you guys so I trust you.’ She gave him a small wavering smile. ‘I’m still nervous but, so far I’ve had no reason to challenge that trust in you!’ She looked down at her feet, making sure she wouldn’t slip on anything. It had gotten significantly darker.

James’s gaze softened, his eyebrows relaxing. ‘You’ll be safe with us Y/N. I promise.’

‘Really?’ Y/N said half teasingly, a sliver of hope slipped through her voice.

‘Really.’ James nudged her with his shoulder. ‘Come on, let's get back before curfew!’ He took Y/N’s hand and bound up the steps to the castle. ‘Last one back has to wash my robes!’

‘EW’ A chorus complained, before chaos ensued. The girls pushed past the boys and ran after Y/N and James, who had already made it to the grand staircase. Cries of betrayal from the boys, who were quickly catching up, rang through the halls as the girls burst into laughter. 

‘We’ll get you!’

‘Run!’

‘Nowhere to hide ladies!’

‘Nuh uh!’

Y/N laughed at the sight of her new and old friends scrambling to follow after her. This year was definitely going to be something special.