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#Oliver’s eyes look off but I can’t figure out how to fix it so yeah

backtothefanfiction · 5 months

Text

Nicknames

Summary; explaining where you and Felix get your nicknames for each other from.

Warnings: fluff, tragic backstory, neglect, sibling bullying

A/N: the whole point of the Summer at Saltburn shorts is that you can read them in any order and they make sense but this is probably one with the most context as to why reader lives/spends their school holidays at Saltburn.

Summers at Saltburn Masterlist

You can’t remember a single summer you haven’t spent at Saltburn. Even as a kid, before your father ran off to South America (when he came under investigation for embezzling company funds), you had always spent some time at your Godfather’s house; because his kids were the same age as you. You were the youngest of four, a “happy” accident 6 years after your older brother had been born. He was supposed to be the baby of the family, not you and the age difference between you and them (they all had only a year or two between them) made them cruel.

Felix had started to call you Daisy in response to hearing your older brothers and sister refer to you as Oopsy at one of his parents parties.

“Why do you call her Daisy, my darling?” Elspeth had asked her son when she realised he’d started to refer to you exclusively as the small yet resilient dainty flower.

“Because her family call her oopsy, as in oopsy Daisy.” He says through a mouthful of food.

“Oh how horrible. Is that true darling?” She says turning towards you. Elspeth had always treated you as if you were one of her own and the thought of people being so cruel to you made her blood simmer under her collected exterior.

You paused before saying “yes,” unable to look her in the eyes.

“Well,” she said, patting your hand that lay resting on the table between the two of you, “I much prefer Daisy, because you are. You are beautiful and strong and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

——————/////—————

You had taken to calling Felix “Fix” only a few summers back, when he finished secondary school and brought his first school friend home for the summer. It wasn’t until another 3 summers later and Felix brought Oliver home for the summer that he finally asked you why.

You had decided to hide yourself in the field in hope of actually trying to get through one of the books you’d brought with you to read this summer. You actually hated the field. It had a very specific rule, if you were going to lie out in the field, you have to do it naked. It wasn’t the rule itself that made you hate it, but the fact you always seemed to get bit by something hiding in the long grass.

You’d managed to sneak away and remain undetected for all of 30 minutes (which was a new kind of record because searching the whole house for someone could take up to an hour at times) before Felix came stalking across the field towards you.

“Clothes.” You called out from behind your book.

He was silent as he stripped off his polo shirt and shorts before stomping through the long grass towards you. He remained silent as you continued to read but his fidgety fingers and legs told you there was something he wanted to talk about.

“Just say it.” You say, your eyes pausing at the end of a paragraph to make sure you wouldn’t lose your spot, hoping his question would have a quick answer and you could go back to the novel in your hand.

“Why do you call me Fix?” He says.

It’s not a question you were expecting and find yourself dropping your book into your lap to turn and look at him. “I thought it was obvious.” You say, peering over the tops of your sunglasses at him.

“Well apparently it’s not.” He replies.

“It’s because you like to fix people.” You say, lifting your book back up to your eyes, figuring it was answer enough, but alas, Felix protested.

“I don’t like to fix people.” He scoffs and as you look over the top of your book at him, you can see the small scowl forming on his face around his furrowed brow.

“Oh yeah?” You say before you both get distracted by the sound of another pair of feet making their way across the field towards you. You look to see Oliver making his way towards you both and it’s like the god’s have just handed this to you on a plate. “Ahhh look,” you say, seizing the opportunity, “here comes exhibit C.” You say to Felix, before shouting a reminder of “Clothes!” At Oliver.

Felix doesn’t say any more about it that afternoon, but when he corners you that evening before dinner, he has to ask. “Okay, so if Ollie is exhibit C, I’m assuming Michael was exhibit B…” he pauses as he waits for you to give him a small nod of confirmation before he asks, “Who’s exhibit A?”

“Me.” You say, as if it’s obvious. One look at his face tells you that you’ve stunned him into silence. Your face is calm and confident as you make your way into the dining room, leaving him alone in the hallway to ponder his thoughts.

#felix catton imagine #felix catton fluff #felix catton x reader #felix catton #saltburn #saltburn imagine #fluff #summers at saltburn

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empty-masks · 2 years

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Book Three, Chapter One

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

YOUR POWER’S NAME, ONYX, IS “THE IMPACT.” YOUR USE OF IT WAS IMPRESSIVE, DESPITE YOUR UNFAMILIARITY— I HOPE IT IS NOT PRESUMPTUOUS TO SAY THAT YOU WILL CONTINUE TO IMPRESS.

Azariah’s eyes creak open to the early-morning sun. He looks around the camp— everyone is present and sleeping but Judith, who’s sitting up against a tree with everyone’s backpacks strewn about her. She has a stubby pencil between gritted fangs and a clipboard in her hand. Each passing second, she bites a little deeper into wood, and she taps a nervous rhythm into the board with her fingers.

Azariah yawns loudly to get her attention, sitting up from his makeshift bed and stretching. “Mornin’, Judith,” he says, scratching his back.

She scowls, dropping the pencil from her mouth and catching it with some free fingers. “I thought you were dead. Cherry thought you were dead. Why’d you have to do that?”

He returns the frown, albeit softer. “There’re just some things you gotta do.”

“You’re the only thing keeping us together, asshole! If you had died fighting that thing, we would’ve been fucked!”

“That’s awfully kind of you, Judith,” he says. “If I’m the heart of this group, though, I’m surprised we haven’t keeled over yet. You know better than that.” The sincerity in his voice takes Judith off guard, and she puts down her clipboard in a huff. “Well you made a dumb fucking call, Azariah. And I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.” Afterward, she tugs on the mask around her neck.

“Y’all would’ve survived. I don’t doubt it.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I most certainly am not.” The Hare stands up and searches for his jumpsuit. “You would’ve taken charge, and I trust you enough to put everyone on the right track after so much. Only person I worry ‘bout is Leon, but that’s ‘cause I think a lotta things scare him. Besides, Cherry cares too much for any of y’all to bite it and Olive knows better than to scatter the group.”

“Just don’t do it again.” Judith’s lips purse for a moment, but only until she speaks again, saying, “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

“Good.”

“In the meantime, have you seen my uniform? It’s gettin’ chilly out here,” he asks, beginning to sort through the pile of clothes that Judith had been taking inventory of.

“Yeah, it’s in there somewhere. I don’t remember.” Something else crosses her mind as he leans down, and she snaps her fingers to get his attention. “How didn’t you die, though? How didn’t he snap you in half?”

“You know how Olive and Cherry were talkin’ ‘bout what kind of superpower I had?”

“Having more shit to kick out of you isn’t a superpower, Azariah. You were moving so fast it hurt to watch. I’m pretty sure that’s your power.”

“Hey, you never know! Maybe Blondie hit a nerve and turned my clock back forty years?” He laughs. Judith’s eyes widen. “He realigned your back! You lucky old shitbag, he fixed your back!” Azariah bends forward to touch the ground, then leans back far enough to create a right angle. “He definitely did somethin’ to me. I’m feelin’ better than I have in a few decades.”

“And if we’ve got rocks in our bones— he could’ve cracked a brick in his hands like… like, god. I can’t even think of anything.”

“Funny how things work out.”

“Go play the lottery, dick,” she says, shooing him away. “Get us some food, will you? Olive’s not awake, and I’m not done sorting through our shit yet.”

He picks up, steps into, and zips up his jumpsuit, then slips on his mask to avoid breathing in any further ash or wayward smoke. A thought crosses his mind, and before heading out into the nearby woods he mentions to Judith, “I had a meetin’ with that thing last night. Figured I’d let you know.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. My power’s named ‘The Impact,’ an’ the thing told me it was impressed with what I did with it,” Azariah says, thumping his chest in jest. “It’s nice to hear that someone appreciates the work I do ‘round here.”

“I don’t think getting praise from something that names its superpowers shit like “The Impact” is something to jerk yourself off over.”

“If it’s powerful enough to give us all somethin’ special, I’d say it's justified.” He pauses for a moment. “You tried findin’ yours yet? It might come in real handy in the future. You know, right beside turnin’ into a wolfy hulk and tossin’ bad guys around.”

Judith sighs, and aggressively slides her pencil into the clipboard’s head. “I don’t want to think about it. That shit stresses me out, Azariah. I don’t want to fight, I just want to crunch numbers.”

“Well, if you start doin’ something weird, make sure to take note of how you did it. I’m still figurin’ how I turned mine on in the first place.”

“Yeah. Can you go get breakfast now?”

“Already on my way.”

==============================================================

He had tried very, very hard to manifest a visit with It. He could feel it straining his brain before he went to bed that night, a pulsing, dull pain that would interrupt his intermittent sobbing. He had to talk to it again. There were so many things he needed to ask It, so many questions that were being left completely unanswered. And just as he began to drift off into dreamland, he could feel one of those glassy tendrils wrap around his waist, dragging him down, down to the smoky abyss once more.

As he feels himself come to on the floor of the thing’s room, he stands up and stares at the wall of fog. Tears want to spill from his eyes, but he puts in an effort to keep them from coming.

“Uh, hi. Mountain, thing,” he says.

Something rotates from beyond the fog wall, eventually settling in to face him. GREETINGS, CITRINE. YOU ARE THE FIRST TO REQUEST A VISIT.

“Yeah, well, I really wanted to ask you about some stuff that’s been bothering me. Like, uh, how my life has gotten substantially worse since you gave me these powers?”

YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE WORSE OFF WITH YOUR GIFT? It responds. He can feel It lean in from beyond the fog wall. CITRINE, WHAT IS THE MATTER?

“Things just… haven’t been good for me, or for anyone else, since that first accident. Yeah, it’s been kinda fun in some places, and it’s super cool to have the power to take things apart with my mind—”

THAT IS THE WAY YOU HAVE BEEN APPLYING IT? INTERESTING.

“Yeah, I have, I guess. But, what I was saying was, uh, things have been cool, sometimes. But other times… things have really,” Cherry finds himself beginning to choke on the words, “really, sucked. I saw my best friend nearly die. I’ve nearly died at least three times now in the past couple weeks.”

It doesn’t respond.

“And, uh, that hasn’t been great. I’ve felt really bad about it.”

It still doesn’t respond.

“So, I guess what I’m trying to ask is… why?”

WHY?

“Yeah. Why us?”

RANDOM CHANCE.

This time, it’s Cherry’s turn to be silent.

I GUIDED YOU TO MY DOMAIN, OF COURSE. I EXAMINED YOU FOR THE PROPER TRAITS. AND I RELEASED YOU UNTO THE WORLD, GIFTS ABOUND. BUT, INITIALLY, IT WAS RANDOM CHANCE THAT BROUGHT YOU TO MY ATTENTION.

As the words ring true through his head, Cherry feels himself beginning to lose his grip. There is no reason, then. There’s no reason for it beyond the whim of something beyond his control. Their suffering, his suffering, is the product of a higher being’s random-chance fascination with him and his life. The realization starts the sobbing again, and it doesn’t take long for him to be down on his knees, crying into his hands.

CITRINE— CITRINE, PLEASE DO NOT CRY, It pleads. CITRINE, I AM NOT THE CAUSE OF YOUR PAIN, NOR HAVE I ENABLED IT. THE SOURCE OF YOUR PAIN IS IN THOSE SEEKING YOUR DOWNFALL.

“How do I know you’re not trying to screw us over, though?! We wouldn’t have everyone trying to kill us for our bones if you hadn’t put fucking gemstones there in the first place!”

CITRINE, I—

“See?! See,” Cherry interrupts, holding up a hand. “You call me by the rocks you put inside me! You said you searched us for what you wanted, but do you even know my fucking name?! Was my name part of those requirements?!”

CHERRY. Its voice booms, resounding off the inside of his skull until he can’t hear his own thoughts. CHERRY. YOU MUST CALM YOURSELF.

He stands up, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

MY MEDDLING WAS INITIALLY TO SAVE YOUR LIFE. I FOUND YOU WORTHY BECAUSE OF YOUR FLAWS, AND BECAUSE I SAW IN YOUR FUTURE A GREAT CONFLICT. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEEDS OF YOUR ENEMIES, I ONLY GRANT YOU THE TOOLS TO FIGHT BACK AGAINST THEM.

Cherry moves to speak, but a tendril wraps around his waist.

I EXIST TO NUDGE THE STORIES OF MORTALS TOWARD POINTS OF INTEREST. IF YOU WOULD LIKE YOUR STORY TO END HAPPILY, I SUGGEST YOU START TAKING THE PEN FOR YOURSELF.

“I don’t know what that means…” He mumbles.

WE SHALL SPEAK AGAIN. FOR NOW, YOU HAVE BREAKFAST TO CONSUME.

Cherry stopped bleeding a while ago but there’s still some dried blood clinging to the underside of his nose, as his attention is held on other matters. Somewhere deep down, Leon wants to be the man that tells him the world’s not full of easily changed enemies of circumstance, but even he knows there’s a point where it’s just mean spirited. After all, plenty of stomping had already been done courtesy of that wolf bastard.

When Leon walks over and sits down with a thick huff, behind his mask his face attempts to twist into a concerned or even consoling smile, but the best he gets is something only a touch more positive than a deadpan. And then comes a heavy hand to rest on Cherry’s shoulder. “Sorry about everything,” the Orc says. “How’s your face?”

“Sore,” Cherry mumbles. “I wasn’t holding that gun right. Lucky it didn’t just explode in my hands.”

“You’re also lucky it didn’t push your nose through your skull. Not as lucky as Azariah, but lucky enough. Get your mask on, smoke’s bad for the chest.”

Cherry turns his head to run his eyes over Leon’s expression. The concern is noticeable in that same way a person can notice when somebody’s very out of practice when trying something for the first time in years. “I thought there was a better way. I really did.” He shakes his head. “He gave us a head start and everything. I figured that maybe he was just a decent man with a bad job. Everyone can change. Anyone could be a good person with a little elbow grease.” On come the straps, hooking his diving mask into place. It rests weird against the bridge of his nose, but it doesn’t start bleeding again— it just throbs dully with some soreness.

“Anyone can, but not everyone will,” Leon replies. Normally his tone had a cold matter-of-factness, but it’s softer at the moment. Not soft, not by a longshot, but he’s lowering his voice into something that might be some level of warm concern. “Some people just don’t want to. That guy wasn’t working for a family, or some friends, or whatever higher moral reason you can think of. He was working to hurt other people.”

Before Cherry can muster up a response, a whole heap of Owl nervously tumbles into a spot sitting on the other side of the young man, laughing awkwardly. Ash has collected on her hard hat and mask, making it an adventure to find her eyes underneath. “You don’t get to be like that if you ain’t doin’ it by choice, Cherry,” Olive says. “So strong, I mean. If my ribs weren’t fillin’ up with bits of rock I’m pretty sure I would’ve been crushed. Really, he could’ve shoved his entire boot through your chest cavity if it weren’t for Azariah.”

“Olive,” the Orc grumbles, “that’s not helping. I’m saying, there’s a cut-off point for decency, and Blondie’s been long past it. Think about who he’s working for, how he does his job, what he does…”

Cherry looks down, and Olive nods quickly. “Yeah, Cherry, there’s a point where you have to know they’re probably not nice. I could assume a couple of the foremen back at the site were decent people, even if they were rough around the edges. They’re not saints, but they’re not devils. Mr. Gilroy, the guy that basically owns the site? Probably a huge prick.”

Again Cherry tries to talk, saying, “I don’t like assuming—”

“Agreed. He routinely made choices that fucked us over. Case and point, the entire situation with the security team.” Leon mentions. She nods. “Yeah! My entire section got liquidated without any explanation and anyone who didn’t just walk got conned into minin’! Highway robbery!”

“Let’s not forget his top security choices,” he grumbles. “Jules and Lucille.”

“I’ll admit to a little attachment.” Olive rubs the back of her neck, laughing nervously. “They used to be pretty good bosses, everythin’ considered. You start to reevaluate things after they take you hostage, though.”

“What does any of this have to do with that big guy that almost killed us? Blondie? I’m talking about him.” Cherry asks, looking between the two bulkier forms on either side of him. “I’m not talking about some admin or those bounty hunters.”

Olive shrugs. “Oh, I just wanted to get in on the conversation. I’m still runnin’ high on adrenaline after nearly dyin’ just about five different times in the span of a day or two.”

“Okay, look. Imagine if Mr. Gilroy were combined with Jules and Lucille.” Leon’s hands raise slightly, gesturing as though to mix something. “Imagine that fucker, who took pleasure in working his employees to the grave. Put that personality and baggage into one really big guy, and make him more dangerous than all those idiots that tried to kill us earlier.”

Cherry frowns. “I don’t like that.”

“You shouldn’t, he could’ve killed us all without thinking twice,” Olive followed up.

A soft sigh escapes cherry as he rubs his face with his hands, leaning forward slightly and shutting his eyes. And then he sits back up, straightening out as he looks toward Leon.

The Orc could almost be described as relaxed in that moment, though relaxation isn’t something that settles easily on him. It’s a lot like seeing a bulldozer powered off and sitting without a purpose; sure, you know it’s actually good that it’s not operating all the time, but it still feels weird to not see it moving something or other.

“How do you know so much about what Gilroy chose to do?” Cherry asks, and what thin amount of relaxation rolls off of the other man.

“Judith.”

“Oh. Yeah, that scans,” Cherry continues. “Back on site it seemed like you two hated one another. She told you about the terrible decisions her boss made, willingly?”

Leon rolls somewhat in his seat, then moves to stand with a heavy and uncomfortable breath. “Cherry. Not everybody's kind, but you don’t need to like somebody to be stuck with them. We didn’t like each other, but she wasn’t about to complain to the other foremen, and I wasn’t about to bother with anybody who didn’t have access to my contract. We had nobody else. End of story.”

“You’ve got us now, though,” Cherry says without hesitation, his features pulling up somewhat. “I think at least Azariah and I have your back. I’ll say Olive does too. Right Ol—” as he turns his head, Cherry and Leon both see the Owl passed out on the ground. Cherry laughs. “Guess she didn’t sleep a whole lot after everything.”

“Yeah, guess so.” His face twitches. It settles back into a deadpan as the man’s heavy form walks off toward a pair of long, brown ears nearby. “I’m going to go help with breakfast.”

Cherry sits there for a minute looking up at the falling ash, then very gently mumbles, “I need a smoke.”

==============================================================

“What are the breakfast offerings, innkeep?” Brie asks, cupping her hands around a steaming cup of herbal-smelling brew.

The keep, cursing softly and frequently under his breath as he brushes another pile of blueish-grey ash out the front door, looks up at the two women. “I think it’s sausages today. Some kind of sage gravy, something like pickled greens on the side.”

“What sort of sausages?” Roxanne’s brow raises and her lips pull back into something of a faintly amused smile. “I’m rather picky with my mystery meat.”

“I dunno, ask my mom. I gotta get this ash outta here before the brunch rush.”

Brie sighs and turns back to Roxanne, who’s now busying herself blowing on her own cup of brew. “Do you think they could have arrived by now?”

“Considering,” the Medic replies, “that they more than likely traveled through Dragon territory, I doubt it. Good lord, this is strong.”

“Dragon territory?”

“Yes, Ms. Brie. This town is under the watchful eye of a Dragon, and everyone here knows it.”

The innkeep lifts his head up from his broom and adds, “I heard the Wyrm finally bit it, actually. You know, all the ash? There aren’t any volcanoes around here, and we sent out some badasses yesterday to finally take care of it.”

Both Roxanne and Brie seem shocked, the latter more than the former. They look outside the window of their booth, and find the town busy at work getting the ash, which is still flaking from the sky like light snow, into big piles outside their houses.

Every building in town no taller than three floors, has a foundation made from a large-cut, brownish-grey stone, and is packed close to one another along the thin roads, for ease of firefighting. To counteract its gloomy building palette, Fusillade puts on a town-wide festival every month that encourages citizens to decorate their property with all manner of tacky, ridiculous accoutrements. This month’s theme is the Harvest, and boy howdy, is it not hard to tell. Painted Pumpkin stems poke up from the tops of ash-covered gourds that inhabit every street corner. Leafy vines are strung up every lamppost, folks selling apples and other various produce have set up temporary stalls under buildings’ awnings. Even some of the Dragon-themed shops around town have taken to the theme, setting up mock dragons of orange, gold, and white.

The inn they sit in is decorated to theme as well— strings of vines lining the doorways and booths, apples being sold for fifty cents at the entrance, and a large, chalkboard advertisement for Painted Pumpkin wine being half-off all month. Outside of the theme, an attempt has been made to make the place more welcoming than its brown brick foundation might imply. Three massive, ornate rugs, imported from some place less under threat from a fire-breathing snake monster, help break up the chromatic monotony. Though, their quality has faded over the years thanks to repeated drunken dancing sessions as a result of pint night, and the general wear and tear adventuring boots apply to everything they come into contact with like some kind of rash. Roxanne and Brie sit in a booth, observing the town’s lack of jubilation for the supposed ending of their oppressor.

Brie in particular feels the urge to pull out her notebook and begin jotting down details, but the arrival of breakfast makes her hesitate. Before even picking up her utensils, she holds up a hand to the innkeep and asks, “Innkeep, did your hires ever come back from the job?”

“Nope. Haven’t seen ‘em at all. Have you?”

She scrunches up her face. “No sir. That will be all.” Turning to Roxanne, who is in the process of removing the casing from the mystery sausage. She opens her mouth to speak, but the Fox is already putting words in it.

“I don’t know how long it’ll take them to get here, Brie. It took us the good part of a day, and we were in a car. They’re on foot, and it sounds to me like they might’ve got caught up in a fire or two.” She puts a forkful of sausage into her mouth. “It’s deer, by the way.”

“Perfect. We will help with the cleanup, then. I feel as though I could use a distraction.” Brie takes a sip of her brew, and twists her face as though it was made of bagel dough.

“I said it was strong!” Roxanne laughs.

“Actually, pardon me for assuming—” she starts, shaking her head and putting down the mug. “Would you want to help out on the job? You do not have to, if you would rather stay on watch.”

Roxanne chews thoughtfully. “I suppose a search party could use a medic, couldn’t they? Perhaps we’ll run into them out there, Ms. Brie. It’s not as though you’re escaping your quarry by embarking on this side-gig.”

Just about to put a forkful of sauerkraut into her mouth, she drops her fork back onto the table. “That’s right. Darn.”

“I wouldn’t waste that food if I were you. We used to go on week-long trips for Fusillade’s pickled cabbage, it’s something of a staple around these parts.”

“My apologies.”

“Either way, you should still consider it. It could end up being more fun than this,” Roxanne scowls. “This trail of bodies we seem to be leaving in our path.”

Brie thinks about this for a moment. This job has easily tested her limits in ways that most haven’t— she doesn’t think she’s thrown up more in a single day than she did in Kiln, much less on a job. There could be some use in helping some townsfolk find their own. Perhaps it could be a temporary return to form, something that could help counteract the ridiculousness of her current situation. She sighs, and forks a portion of sauerkraut into her mouth.

“I agree. If there is a call, I will participate.”

“Good girl. Now, let’s eat.”

Breakfast is quiet. Though thoughts run like rivers through each of their minds, neither wishes to speak as there’s a decent meal to be eaten, which is a rarity in their respective fields of work. Roxanne finishes before Brie, and before she’s done chewing, she holds up a finger to indicate she wants to say something. Brie looks up from a slice of sausage, mid-bite.

“Ms. Brie, do you mind lending me your detecting skills? I’ve got a worry I’d like stomped,” Roxanne asks.

“Is something the matter?”

She motions out the window. “Why the ash?”

“The innkeep said there is a sizable chance the Dragon died.”

“Yes, I recall. But I can also assume that Dragons don’t explode in a puff of confetti when they die.”

“Are you attempting to imply something?” Brie sits up straighter, glancing toward the window.

“I’m wondering something. And what I’m wondering is that if the Dragon is dead then why did it snow ash last night? How much of the forest has to burn for it to get like this?”

“I can think of few things capable of stopping a fire-breathing Dragon from burning down a forest if it wants.”

“But, usually they don’t, Ms. Brie. Dragons aren’t wanton agents of destruction. They tend to their territory.”

“Wood ash is good fertilizer according to some of my friends who garden.”

Roxanne nigh hits herself in the forehead. “Let me just cut to the chase, Miss Brie. There’s a chance that, well, some of the people we’ve been following got caught up in this Dragon battle. And even if they didn’t, there’s an even better chance that the forest around them caught fire. I want your professional opinion on whether they could be in danger, at this moment, or not.”

“Oh,” Brie says. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “There is always a chance that they could be. But, then again, I don’t think there’s enough data to assume anything for certain. My professional opinion is that we should wait and see.” She ends the statement by chewing her last bit of sausage. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine, Miss Brie. I suppose I’m being unreasonable asking that of you.”

Something about the sentiment of that sentence hits her like a tractor trailer, but before she has time to comment, a crier comes in through the front doors of the inn, asking for the innkeep. The two converse for a moment, having some chatter about the weather and the ash, but eventually the crier turns back to the now-bustling brunch hour crowd, and announces, “On request of the Mayor of Fusillade, the esteemed Mr. Poolish, a commission is being put out for a search party! As you may know, two days previous we sent out hunters to take care of the Fusillade Wyrm. They have since not returned, and we wish to retrieve what is left of them whether living, dead, or otherwise! The quarry will take place as soon as the group has been formed, and it will be paid on arrival with evidence of the adventuring party’s fate.”

“Ain’t it clear where they went?! They went boom with the Dragon, ya’ idiot!” a particularly snide brunch-goer yells.

The crier ignores the heckler, and continues in long and throaty tones, “Inquiries about the job should be brought to the town hall, where Mr. Poolish will be organizing the required paperwork and payment. If you are interested, don’t hesitate to show up! Thank you kindly for your time.”

“Except that bastard,” someone else yells. “I hope you choke on your sausage.”

“Oh, I’ve got a sausage for ya’ to choke on, buddy!”

As the late morning argument descends into playground jeering between hungover adventurers, Roxanne and Brie look at one another and say near simultaneously, “Let’s go.”

Brie stands up from her seat, and Roxanne does the same, propping herself up with her cane. The Medic has to duck under a handful of sauerkraut pitched at high speed toward a man wielding a venison sausage in reverse grip as she leaves the inn.

“Good things come to those who wait, I suppose.”

“I hope they have got room for a medic and a detective,” Brie says.

“A medic, for sure. And you’re in luck, a detective might just get considered for a job that requires some detective work.” Roxanne laughs.

Chapter End.

==============================================================

[ Table of Contents ]

#b&tsm #empty-mask #writing #original content #oc #fantasy #adventure #creative writing #writeblr #original writing #serialized fiction #b&tsm-cherry #b&tsm-judith #b&tsm-azariah #b&tsm-olive #b&tsm-brie #b&tsm-roxanne

5 notes · View notes

hyunjilicious · 3 years

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backyard bbq party [bucky barnes]

Summary: You're a college student who hates visiting home. Bucky is new to town and works with your dad. Your mom thinks you need a break from studying and your dad thinks Bucky needs help meeting new people. Smut ensures. 4.5k SMUT

Warnings: Age gap, flirting in inappropriate circumstances, dirty talk, oral - m. receiving, Bucky is cocky and sees right through you, D/s vibes (but not really), very little Daddy kink (one mention), unedited.

A/n: I don't think I have to mention this, but 18+ please!!! Please reblog and lmk if you liked it ❤

"Hun-" your mother warmly called as she approached you, a transparent plastic container filled with freshly seasoned raw pieces of meat, in her hands, "Take this to your father, ok?"

With unmistakable disgust on your face, you still faked a smile - all for her sake and took the container from her. It was heavy and you did your best to look anywhere but at it as you crossed the backyard, approaching your dad. He was with his back at you, facing the grill, and a man - which you barely noticed at first, stood by his side.

"Dad?" you sighed, "Mom said you should make these right now"

Their conversation stopped in an instant, and the two men turned to face you.

A smile instantly made its way onto your dad's face, "Didn't think you girls would be done so fast" he commented.

You just shrugged, knowing damn well you did not help prepare the food in any way. However, your eyes landed on the man behind your dad. He was tall, definitely well built, his shirt a size too small and his eyes shamelessly boring into yours.

You fell under his spell in under a second. Or maybe he fell under yours. Something definitely happened. A switch flipped inside your brain, and you knew you'd have to work hard to not allow yourself to do, or at least try to do, anything stupid at your parents party.

His eyes trailed lower down your body, and judging by the way he fought back a grin, it was clear what he had in mind.

In order to keep things from getting awkward, his lips parted into a dazzling smile, as he extended his hand to you, "You must be, Y/n. I'm James Barnes. You can call me Bucky. Or Buck"

"Oh, yeah!" you dad smiled, "You two haven't met! James is the best damn mechanical engineer I've ever seen"

"You work together?" you squinted your eyes, "I never heard of you before"

"He just moved to the state" you father added, and Bucky nodded in agreement, his hand still slowly shaking yours.

Feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, you smiled and excused yourself, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes. I'll go now, see if mom needs any more help"

Bucky's eyes didn't leave your frame as you walked away, however you barely managed to take a couple of steps before you heard your mother's voice. "Y/n, baby? Can you go grab the glasses?"

"How many?"

"12" she responded in an instant, and then you took off towards the house.

It was dead silent inside. The house was empty, and already a mess. You took off your sandals and walked over to the cabinets above the sink, pulled out a tray and started looking for the fancy glasses your mother saved for special occasions.

You must've grabbed about 3 or 4 when a deep voice startled you, "Need any help?"

You lightly jumped in surprise, but hoped he didn't notice. "No, it's ok, thank you, though"

"Ok" Bucky mumbled, and you heard the smugness in his tone.

Unable to fight your instincts, you turned around and looked at him over your shoulder. Leaning against the wall with a small bottle of beer in his hand, he sent you a mischievous wink which almost brought a lump to your throat.

You hurried to turn around and keep gathering the glasses your mother asked for, struggling more and more with each one. When you cleared the first shelf, it was obvious you'd need help reaching the ones higher up, but you weren't about to ask Bucky. Instead, you hiked your dress up your thighs and pushed one of your knees on top of the counter, lifting yourself up just enough to reach the remaining glasses.

"Careful up there," Bucky laughed, walking over to you.

On a normal day, your palms wouldn’t be shaking and you wouldn't even think about the possibility of dropping a glass or falling off the counter. But he was too close, taking way too much satisfaction from seeing you struggling to maintain your balance. Not to mention the skirt, and the way almost all the skin of your thighs was on display for him.

"You could've asked me to help, you know?" he taunted, taking one more step towards you. There were barely a few inches separating your bodies now, and although you were sure it was your mind playing tricks on you, the heat from his body flooded your senses. He was too close. Too smug, looking at you. But the last straw was when he placed his left hand on the counter, inches away from your knee. That was when you noticed the prosthetic arm as the metallic sound of its vibranium plates overlapping grabbed your full attention. After a momentary lapse of composure, you looked into his eyes but all he did was raise his eyebrows. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Uh, it's ok" you shook your head, turning back to look at the cabinet. "Just five more"

For the remaining glasses, you grabbed them from the shelf, handing them to Bucky to place them on the tray.

When you were finally done, with a gentle grab of your hips, Bucky helped you off the counter, his hands lingering against the thin material of your dress for a bit too long. But you didn't mind. His touch burned and under his gaze, you found yourself turning around to face him, the proximity being nothing other than obscene especially if you were to take into consideration the age gap, and how you met him.

But that was 20 minutes ago. A moment not so conveniently interrupted by your mother barging in, wondering what was taking you so long. Bucky helped you carry the glasses to the table outside, and after that, you parted ways.

Even though he went back to the rest of the men gathered around the grill, your mind remained fixed on him. You found it almost impossible not to look for him every other minute, and the fact that he managed to catch you staring everytime, made the butterflies in your stomach go even crazier.

And then it took a little bit of devious and manipulative work on your part - to convince your aunt she got the wrong seat. You told her there was a seating plan, and that she was supposed to sit next to your mum. That opened up a seat left of Bucky, and since that seating plan was as unreal as your chances with him, or so you thought, you had to make sure the seat wouldn't be taken by someone else. And you didn't want to make it obvious - didn't want him to know you only chose that spot after figuring out it was right next to his. So you sprinted back into the house, grabbed your purse and placed it on the chair, pushing it as close as you could to the table, so no one could see it. Maybe it's been there for hours, even before any of the guests even showed up. Who'd know?

But of course, once the food had been served and you were all seated, you had to play your cards right. All your confidence seemed to have vanished ever since Bucky took his seat next to you. Casually sipping his beer, having a taste out every single type of food laid out in front of him, cracking jokes every now and then, and the glimpses… And the winks... And the way whenever he had to turn in your direction, his eyes would first land on you, and only then travel to the person he was having a conversation with.

But that was just the start. Soon enough, his attention was more and more directed towards you. His arm on the back of your chair. His jokes solely for you.

When you figured it was your time to make the next move, after giggling at one of the stupid puns he just made, you cleared your throat and scanned the table. "James, where did you get the olives? Can you hand me the bowl please? I can't see it"

"Oh, yeah" he said, pushing himself up to grab them for you. But conveniently, the bowl was empty. "There aren't any left, doll." he announced after settling back in his seat.

"That's ok" you smiled, ready to stand up, "I'll go see if there are any inside"

The "No" he whispered was way too low for you to hear, but his metal hand grabbing your thigh and pinning you down in your chair got the message across. You turned to look at him confused, but your plan was already going in a completely different and indisputably better direction.

"Here-" Bucky said, using his fork to pick up one of the olives on his plate. "I'm full anyway"

"Thanks" you nervously laughed, raising your hand to grab the utensil, but he stopped you.

"Open up"

Only for a second did you stop to consider just how bad of an idea that was, but you hurriedly pushed the thought aside and opened your mouth. Your eyes met his as you lowered yourself and grabbed the olive with your teeth, barely managing to hide your enthusiasm as you slipped it off his fork.

"Good?" Bucky asked.

You nodded, "Very. Thank you"

"No problem, doll"

After that, you returned to your plate - some cheese and salad left. None of them looked too appetising right now, you knew what you wanted - two things, but only one of them would be acceptable. So, you lazily gathered some salad leaves into your fork, and turned to Bucky. "Can I have one more?"

"Hm?" he muttered, removing the beer bottle from his lips and looking at you confused.

"One more olive? Can I?"

Instantly, he smiled. "What was that?"

"Can I have one more-" and when his amused smile turned into a devious grin, you realised what he actually wanted from you. "Please?"

He still wasn't satisfied so he just raised his eyebrows, telling you to try again.

"James? Can I please have one more olive?"

"Of course" he taunted.

You didn't know what you expected, of course you'd have to eat this one out of his fork too. However, this time, he didn't bother helping you at all, instead making you lean all the way into him to grab it.

"Thanks"

"And call me Bucky, ok?"

"Yeah, ok. Bucky"

As much as you wanted to keep this game going, the atmosphere around the table shifted. Even though your parents were seated at the other end of the table and on the same side, making it impossible for them to see what you were up to, you still felt like you crossed one too many lines.

When your demeanour changed, so did Bucky's. He leaned back in his seat, shifting uncomfortably for a couple of minutes, until he decided to stand up, announcing he was grabbing another drink for himself. You wanted to ask him to bring one for you too, but before you even managed to get a word out, he was already sprinting towards the house.

In his absence, you tried to calm yourself down and regain your composure, but there was only one thing on your mind. Him. So, against your better judgement, you left your seat at the table too, innocently heading towards the house.

There you found Bucky, leaning almost all the way in into the fridge, scavenging for another beer. The man emptied your dad's stash before the second course was even served.

"Whatcha looking for?" you beamed, walking up beside him.

"There's no more beer left" he announced, straightening his back and turning to face you. "I guess I'll have some water"

"I can go and see if there's any in the basement" you offered, "Or you could always go for something stronger"

"What do you suggest?"

"What are you into?"

"What am I into?" Bucky laughed.

"Whiskey?" you questioned, walking around him to open the liquor cabinet. "I hate this rum so I don't recommend it." You grabbed another bottle, "This vodka is amazing, no headaches the morning after."

"That won't be a problem" Bucky chuckled, leaning against the counter. "I'll have whatever you wanna give me"

"You seem like a whiskey kinda guy, is that ok?"

He nodded in approval, and then watched you pad around the kitchen, grabbing a glass and some ice. "What makes me look like a whiskey kind of guy?"

You took a deep breath, weighing your next words. "Rugged, tall.. handsome. Not my age." You shrugged. "Whiskey". Before allowing him to comment on that, you spoke up again. "What kind of drink do I remind you of?"

He pondered for a second, his eyes studying your every move. "One of those overly sweet girly cocktails, that has way more alcohol than my whiskey, but it's masked by all the syrups and preservatives inside it"

"Really?" you laughed out loud, handing him his glass.

Bucky smiled as he took it from you, raising it as if making a toast, and then took a sip. He licked his lips and sent you an approving nod.

Slowly, you both turned around and started walking out of the kitchen, but unlike you - Bucky stopped in the middle of the house, his voice urging you to do the same. "I'll go out front for a cigarette"

"Can I come, too?" you asked, heart beating out of your chest.

"Please" He urged you, stepping aside and allowing you to walk in front of him.

With a hand on your waist, he followed you out the front door. It was quiet, the sun shining a bit too bright for your liking.

You skipped down the stairs onto the pavement, but he stopped and sat down. Bucky spread his legs wide and motioned for you to come in front of him. After you did, with a gentle tug on your hand, he got you to kneel, one step below him.

"Want a cigarette, doll?" he asked, leaning back to retrieve the pack and lighter from his jeans pocket.

"No, thanks"

"Don't smoke?"

"Not if there isn't at least a mile between me and my parents" you giggled, placing your hands on his knees.

"Why?" he raised an eyebrow, lighting up his cigarette and taking a puff. You watched the smoke dissipate to the side, only to have your attention grabbed by him when he placed his free hand on your shoulder. "You're an adult. Have been for years. You live on your own. Why not?"

As he spoke, his fingers curled around the strap of your dress, nonchalantly pulling it down.

You swallowed thickly, but due to the way he was making you feel, you decided to ignore his action. "What they don't know, can't hurt them, right?"

"Mhm" Bucky agreed, taking another puff and then moving to play with the other strap. "So I was right?"

"About what?"

He shook his head, "Nevermind"

"Tell me!" you whined, pushing yourself up against him. His thighs completely framed your body as you closed the distance between the two of you. "Tell me!"

"Nope" he grinned, his proud smile inches away from your hungry lips.

"Bucky, come on" you pleaded, framing his face into your palms, "Tell me, please"

"No, doll-" he dismissed you, turning his head to the side to smoke. After blowing up the smoke, he threw the cigarette into the ashtray, his hands coming up around your body to rest on your ass.

"Pretty please?" you whined.

"Don't push me" he threatened, his grip on your ass tightening to the point where you almost whimpered out loud. Instead, your eyes just opened wide and you bit your lips.

"Ok" you sighed, playfully defeated, "Ok, fine. Don't tell me. But now I'm sad"

"Of course you are, doll" Bucky laughed, grabbing your chin. "I can tell how sad you are. You're not almost bursting into laughter at all"

"Shut up!" you scoffed, slapping his side, but he interrupted your antics with another rough squeeze of your ass.

Unable to keep calm anymore, you dragged your hands up his thighs, stopping inches away from his member. When you looked up to see his reaction, Bucky was already watching you.

"Can I?" you pouted.

"Stand up"

"Why-"

"Stand up" he commanded again, slapping your ass before you stood up and settled in front of him. "Take your panties off, doll"

"Here!?" you gasped, "What if anyone-"

"No one's gonna see you if you keep quiet and shuffle out of them like a good girl"

With your heart panging in the back of your throat, you slowly reached under your dress and pulled your underwear down. The feeling of cotton slipping down your legs made your shiver, and by the time your panties fell to the ground, Bucky had already stood up.

Wordlessly, you grabbed them from the floor and handed them to him, "Good girl" he nodded and then stepped out of the way, motioning for you to head inside.

You did so without any further form of complaint, determined to have your way with him by the end of the party. Dessert hadn't been served yet, so you knew there was still time to get to him.

But once you stepped into the house, you barely managed to make it past the hallway before Bucky grabbed your elbow and dragged you to the side. He forcefully pushed you into the small bathroom by the guest room, slamming the door behind him and locking it in one smooth movement.

Now it all made sense. Nerves and anxiety washed over you, but the good kind. You were bursting with emotion, shivering from every joint as your juices finally started running down your legs. You licked your lips and waited for instructions from him, ready to do absolutely anything he'd tell you to.

"Why don't you show me what you're made out of, hm? I wanna see how fast you can make me cum with that pretty little mouth of yours"

And that was all you needed to hear before you dropped to your knees in front of him, drooling like a good little girl as you watched him undo his pants. Your eagerness got the best of you. He looked divine, especially from that angle. His thick thigh inches away from your face, his metal hand playing with his belt, his hungry eyes staring down at you, his rugged breathing and the perverse view of his cock straining against his clothes.

Thank god he was fast, because you didn't know how to control yourself anymore.

When he finally pushed his underwear down and leaned against the wall, you were ready to show him what you were capable of. You wrapped your arms around him, settling your palms on the back of his thighs and sloppily took his cock into your mouth.

"Holy shit-" he cried out loud when you first sucked on his tip, bucking his hips and clenching his thighs.

Eagerly working him from between hollowed cheeks and with your tongue pressed to the underside of his hardening member, you proceeded to look up, innocently blinking at him. The corner of Bucky's mouth tilted upwards, perfectly expressing the immense amount of satisfaction he was getting.

When the strain on your neck became noticeable, you slipped his cock out of your mouth and wrapped your hand around his base. With delicate and experienced flicks of your tongue against his slit, you worked on shattering his self control, getting more and more wet as his breathing started to accelerate.

"Fuck, Y/n, you little slut-" he gasped, bringing his hand to rest on the top of your head.

You knew what he wanted, but it wasn't his turn to make decisions. Instead, you ignored his gesture and lowered yourself further between his legs, wrapping your lips around his balls. You sucked slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure that you hoped would drive him up the walls.

"Doll, so good. So, so fucking good" he panted, his cock nearly twitching in your hand as you kept pumping along the length.

Pulling back when your neck needed a break, you settled in front of him again, this time mouth open, and placed his tip on your tongue. No physical pleasure from that, but no amount of shadow could hide the pure bliss in his features. Just having you there, on your knees, with his cock on your tongue, was exactly what he needed to see.

"Come on, baby. It's not gonna suck itself" Bucky grunted, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You nodded eagerly, but he stopped you before taking him back into your mouth. "All the way down, ok? Take my cock all the way down your throat, and when you feel like you can't anymore, go a little further"

You nodded again.

"And don't worry, I'm here to help you, doll"

You wanted to mumble a 'Thank you' but didn't get to, since he hurriedly curled his fingers around your roots and forced your head down his cock.

The feeling of your throat expanding around him reached your core in no time, making you shiver under his hold. You crumbled to the floor, your knees weak from the sheer feeling of it all, blinking wearily as he kept you down.

A mere few seconds had passed before, out of nowhere, Bucky pushed you off of him and looked to the door, eyes wide with shock.

"What happened?" you mumbled, wiping your chin.

"Thought I heard something"

"You locked the door" you reminded him, "No one's gonna catch us. And that's a bit of a shame, if you ask me"

"Huh?" Bucky frowned.

"I wouldn't mind people seeing me with your balls in my mouth"

His mouth fell open. "You dirty, little whore"

Wrapping your hand around his cock, you licked his tip and looked up, "Don't act like you don't like that about me"

"I absolutely fucking love it" Bucky scoffed, "Don't know what could have possible made you think I don't like it"

"I was just saying"

"Just.. stop talking. Put that mouth to better use for me, ok?"

"Yes, Daddy" you teased and wrapped your lips around his tip again.

"You little-" Bucky started cursing as he shook his head in disbelief, before a rapid knock against the wooden door made your heart stop.

"Buck?" your father's voice echoed around the bathroom, "You in there?"

Without even thinking twice, Bucky forced you back all the way down on his cock, completely blocking your air supply.

"Yeah! I'm in here!" he yelled as you struggled to keep quiet and muffle the way your body desperately begged for air.

"Have you seen Y/n?"

"Nope"

The panic that was running through your veins had your oxygen burning faster than normal, the tears in your eyes being the first sign of it.

"I can't find her anywhere" you dad went on.

No matter how much you tried and how much training you had, in that moment right there, you found it impossible to fight your gag reflex. Before you knew it, a choked down whimper erupted from your throat, forcing Bucky to cough, loudly, hoping to cover you.

"I haven't seen her, man. But, urgh-" The way your throat convulsed around his cock made Bucky weak too, way too close to his release to be able to sound inconspicuous. "Can I- can I have some pr- privacy now? Please? Just - just a sec"

"Are you feeling ok? Do you need-"

"I'm fine!" Bucky yelled. "I'll be out in a sec"

It was not like you were able to hear anything or even concentrate, but as soon as it was clear, Bucky let you off his cock, as he fell back against the wall and you stumbled into the sink.

Gasping for air, you heaved under his stare, eyes wide in shock. "You know I could've kept perfectly quiet without your cock blocking my throat"

"Where's the fun in that?" he panted, getting ready to finish on his own.

"No!" you stopped him, crawling back to him, "Let me!!"

"Just open your mouth" he grunted, and you obeyed.

It took him approximately 30 seconds to reach his orgasm, his hot cum landing perfectly on your awaiting tongue. His moaning and his breathing, and the way his face contorted through endless expressions of pure bliss, had you neatly coming yourself.

When he was done and after you proudly swallowed all that he had to offer, you stood up to fix your lipstick while Bucky cleaned and dressed himself back up.

"Your best friend called. She's having an emergency, you need to get there as soon as possible"

"What-?" you gasped, confused for just a second before you realised there was no way that could have been true.

"Yeah, and I'm not feeling well, so I'll head home. I can drop you off if you want"

And that was what you told your parents. That they couldn't find you earlier because you were talking on the phone with your best friend, reassuring her that everything would be fine and that you'd meet her as soon as possible.

Your parents weren't happy about it, but they didn't shy away from thanking Bucky a million times for offering to drive you. After a sappy round of goodbyes and promises to visit more often from now on, your parents finally returned to the party while Bucky led you to his car.

Once you got in, you didn't even manage to put your seat belt on before Bucky grabbed your chin and forced his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth, tasting every inch of you. He dominated the kiss as you melted in his hold, moaning against his lips before he pulled away.

"Been waiting to do that since I first laid eyes on you"

"What stopped you?"

"Had a feeling it wasn't a good idea" he laughed, starting the engine, "Saw what you did to my dick. It was all pink. Don't know how I would've explained lipstick all over my face to your parents"

"Well, excuse me for not wearing blow job proof lipstick to my parents barbecue"

"You're forgiven" Bucky teased, squeezing your thigh as he pulled out of the driveway.

"But why are we leaving though?" you questioned, "You know I have my own room upstairs, right?"

"I know, I know.. but next time we're nearly getting caught, I don't want it to be by anyone who's seen you in diapers"

You burst into laughter, "Oh god, you're right, yeah, that makes a lot of sense! But where are we going?"

"You'll see"

Please reblog if you enjoyed this and hmu with concepts!!!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Failed, Faked, Fallen - Harry Styles

a/n: this story was a pain in the ass, not gonna lie and i really thought i would just end up deleting the whole thing but I MADE IT TO THE END YAY so now please take the time to read bc it literally made me want to jump off a cliff lol

special thanks to @pastequeharry for putting up with me throught the writing process, she is the reason i didn’t just delete the whole thing haha

pairing: Fratboy!Harry x Reader (fake dating AU)

word count: 16.6k

masterlist

Tonight has been in the making for ten years. Every fiber in your body is protesting against it, but you just can’t carry this massive secret around any longer. You need to tell your best friend that you are in love with him, have been since middle school when you first met him. It’s a scary thing to come clean about your feelings for someone, but you feel like it’s now or never.

Your friendship with Oliver has been always a little… blurry. You were just regular friends when he was dating someone, but whenever he was single, he seemed to seek comfort and intimacy with you. It always starts with him getting a little more touchy and cuddly with you, then comes the kissing and hugging, his hands wandering to places friends shouldn’t explore and you somehow always end up in a bed…

Then it would immediately change once he got himself a girlfriend and you figured he has just been confused about his feelings for you. It has to be that, right? These past few weeks the situation was the same. He broke up with this girl he was seeing all summer before you all came back to school and you think this is the perfect time to finally talk about what’s really going on between the two of you.

Your roommate, Sandra has helped you with your makeup for tonight’s frat party and now you are deciding on the dress. You want to look your best so when Oliver confesses his love for you tonight, you’ll look as dreamy and pretty as you always dreamed about.

“The black one is fucking mint,” Sandra points at the black bodycon dress lying on your bed. “I can give you my red leather jacket,” she offers, finishing up putting her hoop earrings in.

“The red jacket?” you eye her in surprise. Sandra loves that jacket more than her own life. The two of you have been sharing your clothes since you became roommates last year, but the jacket has been off limits always.

“I know how important tonight is for you. The occasion deserves the red jacket,” she chuckles, stepping to her wardrobe to get the jacket. It’s the most badass leather jacket you’ve ever seen, looks so perfect on Sandra every time she wears, you feel honored she is letting you take it for the day.

“Oliver won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you,” she smiles at you excited once you’re all dressed. The jacket looks amazing, pulls the look together perfectly, you can’t deny that.

Soon enough, the two of you leave the dorm and head in the way of Kappa Chi, that’s only a fifteen minute walk away from your dorm. They are having a party almost every other week, those boys would celebrate the stupidest shit just to fill their house up with people and booze as much as possible. You and Sandra have been attending their parties since first year, it’s always a great way to unwind after a tiring week at uni.

“When is he coming?” Sandra asks over the music once you two arrive and head to the kitchen for a drink.

“Um, he texted me ten minutes ago that he is about to leave soon. He’ll be here shortly,” you tell her and thank her when she hands you a beer in a red solo cup.

The house is packed, just like always. Most of the football players from school are member of Kappa Chi, so naturally, all girls want to be around when they are throwing a party. You could say they are the popular guys, but it’s not like in the movies. They are just some particularly handsome guys living together, attracting a lot of girls. They are not at all unreachable, you are kind of friends with a few of them as well even without being a sorority girl yourself.

Standing in the kitchen you get into a conversation with a few girls from your dorm, that’s when you see Harry Styles storm through the house, Naomi Saddler following behind him, seemingly very much in the middle of a fight he doesn’t want to take part in. You know Harry, but you couldn’t say you two are that close. You did a group project last year together and he is actually a really smart guy despite the gossips about him just being a dumb womanizer. He surely is a ladies’ favorite, but you wouldn’t say the description fits him. You haven’t actually seen him with more than three girls since freshman year, unlike some of his other teammates that hook up with a different girl every weekend. He and Naomi have been in this on-off relationship for a few months now, but you don’t know much about them. You don’t run in the same groups to know the details.

The two of them disappear upstairs and you are pulled out of your thoughts when someone asks you a question, so you forget about Harry and Naomi in a blink of an eye.

An hour passes and still no sign of Oliver and you start to feel anxious. You shoot him a text, struggling a little with the typing thanks to the alcohol you’ve been consuming to keep your cool. Surprisingly, he answers right away.

Oliver: Be there in 3. Meet me outside?

Y/N: Sure!

“Alright, wish me luck,” you tell Sandra as you fill your cup again and head outside.

Kappa Chi has a nice backyard with a decent sized pool, some beerpong tables and lots of lounge chairs. You walk past the beerpong games, paying no attention to them at all as you go for an empty lounge chair. You sit down, fix your dress nervously and wait while you try to think through what you’ll tell him.

You can’t believe you are finally telling him how you are feeling. Your teenager self would be peeing herself is she knew what you are planning to do now. All those years of pining and crying whenever Oliver had a girlfriend in the past, now is your chance to finally be that girl and you’re actually quite convinced he’ll say he feels the same way about you.

Fidgeting with one of the zippers on Sandra’s jacket, you nervously wait for Oliver to show up. You look in the direction of the backdoor right when he appears from the crowd inside. Your heart skips a beat as you stand up quickly, a smile tugging on your lips. You are just about to wave in his way to catch his attention when you see some brunette by his side… holding his hand. And then she kisses him shortly right before they step out of the house.

What the fuck?! This cannot be true. Who is she? And why do you know nothing about her? Did Oliver keep it a secret that he is dating someone? But why?!

For a moment you actually feel like you are about to faint. Blood rushes out of your head as you see the couple walk their way around the beerpong tables, Oliver obviously looking for you, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

“Y/N! There you are!” he beams happily, pulling the brunette with him when he finally spots you. You need a moment for yourself to get over the first wave of your shock.

“Oh, yeah! Hi!” you smile awkwardly, eyes meeting with the girl’s. She is so pretty and actually seems nice. You hate her for that.

“Y/N, I want you to meet Lexi,” Oliver introduces the brunette. “Lexi, this is Y/N.”

“I’ve heard so much about you, Y/N!” she smiles, pulling you into a hug that catches you off guard for sure.

“Wow, I… wish I could say the same,” you bitterly reply, eyes meeting Oliver’s once Lexi lets go of you. He is clearly uncomfortable at your comment, but tries to mask it quickly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to tell you about Lexi. But it’s kind of new.”

“How new?”

“We’ve been going out for about three weeks,” she answers your question, her hand finding his pretty quickly as she smiles up at him with so much adoration.

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out for a moment. You still haven’t completely processed that your plan just went straight out the window and that once again, Oliver chose another girl over you.

But then, the more you think about it, the angrier you get. You are tired of this stupid game you two have been playing, but you also have no idea what to do about it.

“I thought that Y/N, if you have a boyfriend, we could maybe go on some double dates! Would be so much fun!” Lexi suggests, but her words make your stomach churn. You have always wanted to go on double dates, but with Oliver being your date. Not someone else’s…

“I uhh… I don’t…” You are so frozen, you can’t even think of an answer, you just want to leave as soon as possible, so you can cry yourself to sleep. Oliver brings an arm around Lexi’s shoulders, looking down at you as if he wasn’t cuddling you just not that long ago. As if he wasn’t preaching your beauty a few weeks ago, making you feel like the only girl in the world. This is so not fair.

“Y/N is not a fan of double dates.”

Suddenly, an arm swings around your shoulders and a tall body stands next to you, pulling you to his side. Turning your head you are shocked to see Harry standing there, smiling at Oliver and Lexi as if this discussion was completely his business.

Oliver seems just as shocked as you are. He is staring at the football player by your side with wide eyes.

“Wait, you two are… dating?”

“It’s pretty new, but yeah. Y/N and I have been going out for a while. Right, baby?” He squeezes your arm, glancing down at you and when your eyes meet, he gives you a look that says ‘just go with it, I’m saving your ass’ and you decide to play your part.

“Oh, umm, yeah. We’ve kind of reconnected when we got back after the summer,” you nod, hoping that your voice doesn’t give you away.

“That’s amazing!” Lexi cheers, clearly eating up the impromptu lie, but as you glance at Oliver, you can tell he is sceptic.

“I didn’t even know you were friends in the first place,” he comments, eyebrows furrowed a little as he eyes Harry’s hand on your shoulder.

“We were! We had a great time working on a group project last year and then later I asked for her number. But the summer was so busy for both of us, so we kind of fell out, but then we met again in September and I finally manned up to ask her out.”

You are impressed by how easily Harry is lying. If you didn’t know it wasn’t true, you would eat it up just as easily as Lexi is doing right now. Especially because his body language matches up with what he is saying so well. He is keeping you close, fingers dancing on your upper arm and shoulder, anyone would think he actually has a thing for you, but you know that’s not true. You two are barely even friends.

“That sounds so nice. We definitely should meet up sometime, the four of us!” Lexi suggests again and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“We’ll see about that. But I’ll have to steal Y/N away now, I have something to show her.” Harry bids his goodbye quickly, pulling you away before Oliver could even say a thing and you just blindly follow him inside the house.

You don’t even process what’s happening. Harry takes your hand, pulling you through the crowd and you catch Sandra’s gaze who is still standing in the kitchen, her eyes widening when she sees you with Harry. You just shrug in confusion, following Harry upstairs until he leads you into a room that, you assume, is his.

When he shuts the door closed, the noises of the party gets muffled and you look at him with probably the stupidest look ever.

“Alright, let me explain myself,” he breathes out. “I’m sorry if I stepped over some boundaries, I just… I was outside and heard the conversation. Thought I would help you out.”

“But what made you think I needed help?” you ask. The conversation was very innocent for an outsider. He couldn’t know what you were planning to do, so why did he think you needed his help?

Harry gives you a tight-lipped smile, cocking his head to the side.

“Y/N, we might not be close friends, but I’ve seen you around with Oliver. It’s written on your forehead that you have the fattest crush on the guy.”

“What?!” you snap, feeling your cheeks heating up. “Is this really that obvious?!”

“Don’t worry, seems like he is one of the few that don’t seem to notice it. I saw how uncomfortable you were when he introduced the girl. Seemed like you needed the help.”

Nodding you take a few seconds to process everything that just happened. You shouldn’t have drunk that much, because now your brain has to work even harder to put the picture together.

“Alright, but… now they think that we are dating. Lexi will want to meet up with us and it will look stupid if we never even show up again together.”

Harry nods, his lips rolling into his mouth and you know just from his look that there’s more.

“Yeah, about that. I might have had some selfish reasons behind my actions as well.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry walks past you, over to his bed and sits on the edge, leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs. You’re not sure what to do with yourself, if you should sit next to him or somewhere else, he has a few beanbags in the corner of his room, but you decide to just keep standing.

“So, I don’t know if you know this but I had this thing with Naomi Saddler.”

“Harry, everyone knows it.”

“Right, yeah,” he chuckles awkwardly. “So the thing is, we have broken up a long time ago, but she keeps coming after me and I’m just so over it. So when we were fighting earlier today I told her that I’m dating someone else so I would appreciate if she left me alone.”

He doesn’t need to say more, you finally see the whole picture. He helped you because he felt sorry for you, but also because he thought it would benefit him as well. You could be his new girlfriend so Naomi would finally let him be. You have to admit, it’s a lucky coincidence, but still, the situation is a little absurd for your liking.

“So… what are we supposed to do now?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. Harry looks up at you, seemingly surprised you haven’t snapped at him.

“Well, I know it sounds crazy, but I think we both would benefit from it if we just… pretended to be a couple,” he clears off.

“Like, a real couple?”

“Well, obviously not real, but it would look real to others,” he chuckles, standing up and taking a few steps closer to you. “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m convinced we could pull it off.”

“We barely know each other.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that, won’t we?” he asks with a boyish smirk. “Look, we just have to appear together here and there. I’ll pick you up sometimes, we can go for lunch or dinner sometimes, and I’ll get you tickets for some of my games. That’s it. People will see us out together and that’s gonna be perfectly enough. Or do you actually hate me? Now is the time to tell me.”

“I don’t hate you, I don’t know you that well,” you reply with a soft chuckle. “But I’m not convinced enough this is a good idea at all.”

Harry sighs and walks closer until he can rest his hands on your shoulders. You look deep into his green eyes as he smiles at you warmly.

“Let’s make a deal. You can use me as an excuse whenever Oliver and Lexi wants to hang out with you, or if they actually force you to meet them, I’ll go with you so you won’t be the third wheel. And you’ll just have to say that I’m your boyfriend and spend some time with me so Naomi believes I’m dating you. I think it’s a fair deal for the both of us. And you can call it off anytime, I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You chew on your bottom lip, thinking hard to figure out what to do. Judging from this short conversation with Lexi, you’re sure she’ll try to keep you around often, but you are not in the mood to watch Oliver be all lovey-dovey with someone else, so you could actually use a solid excuse, which Harry just offered you on a silver plate. You just have to spend some time with him in exchange and tell people he is your boyfriend. It’s not that horrible and you always thought Harry is nice company, you two just never was in the same friend group to get closer. You can’t really bring up anything against his plan.

“Okay,” you finally nod, Harry’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Really?”

“Why are you so shocked? Your points were valid, I’m willing to give it a try.”

“Yes! Thank you!” he cheers, arms wrapping around you as he hugs you tight in excitement. “I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, you won’t be disappointed!”

You want to say how it’s easy to be the best because you’ve had none so far, but you decide to keep this information to yourself.

“We need to get our story straight though, so we don’t mess it up when someone asks.”

The two of you go over an elaborate timeline of your nonexistent relationship so you’ll be able to tell the same story. It’s the same he told Lexi and Oliver outside, you just agree on the details, like when you started dating, how he asked you out, what you’ve been doing as a couple lately.

When you leave his room a little later you’re still a tad bit shocked where this evening ended up heading. You really thought tonight would be the turning point for you and Oliver, but now you are in a fake relationship with Harry Styles, ready to fool everyone around you.

Walking down the stairs Harry takes your hand and laces your fingers together. You agreed on no kissing on the lips for now, but other touching is allowed, you’re just not used to have someone other than Oliver touch you like this.

“Want another drink?” he asks as the two of you walk into the kitchen. You’ve already caught some wide-eyed look upon your arrival, but you’re trying your best to ignore them.

“I surely need it,” you nod, making Harry chuckle.

Sandra and the other girls are still in the kitchen and she immediately pulls you to the side when Harry lets go of you to get drinks.

“What the fuck?!” she snaps, clearly a little drunk, but not enough to ignore the fact that she has seen you now two times holding Harry’s hand.

“Sandra, don’t freak out, I’ll explain it all when we go home, alright? But… as far as you know, Harry and I are dating.”

“You what? You better fucking tell me everything when we get back to the dorm!” she demands right when Harry appears, two cups in his hands, giving you one of them.

“Here,” he smiles warmly.

“Thank you. Harry, this is Sandra, my roommate.”

“Hi, I think I’ve seen you around, but we just never met.” Harry holds out his now empty hand and Sandra shakes it with a dramatic smile, clearly still confused about the situation.

“Yeah, but I guess we’ll be… seeing each other more?” she implies, telling Harry she knows something is up without using those words.

“Ehm, I guess,” he nods, a little uncomfortable before he turns to you. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Let me know when you want to go back to the dorm.” “Sure,” you nod, Harry squeezes your hand gently before moving away.

Sandra is dying to know what the situation is with Harry, but you don’t really have the chance to talk in the middle of the party, so it’s postponed to later. You and Harry do your own thing through the rest of the night, occasionally interacting whenever you cross paths. When that happens he makes sure to touch your arm or face, have a few words with you so people see that the two of you have a thing going on.

It’s a little past one am when you and Sandra decide it’s time to head home. As promised, you shoot Harry a text that you’re planning to leave and he replies with one saying he’ll meet you outside at the front. By the time you and Sandra step outside, he is already there waiting.

“Ladies, let me walk you home,” he smirks charmingly, offering his arm for the both of you, so this is how you head home: you, Sandra and Harry walking side by side with linked arms.

“Mm, Harry, I hope you know you won’t be spending the night in our room,” Sandra sighs, clearly a little too lost in her drunk thoughts. Harry chuckles, finding it amusing that Sandra is so blunt.

“Weren’t planning to.”

“Good. I’m not gonna listen to you guys have sex all night.”

“Sandra!” you snap at her, gasping. It’s funny how she also believed the little act you and Harry put up tonight.

The walk back to the dorm is short and it’s mostly filled with Sandra’s babbling about whatever catches her attention. Arriving to the building Sandra says her goodbye to Harry, heading up to the room on her own so you can have a minute with Harry.

“I’ve had at least ten people coming up to me tonight, asking about you,” Harry tells you, an excited sparkle in his eyes.

“Really? And what did you tell them?”

“What we agreed on. That you’re my girlfriend.”

“Sounds so weird,” you admit with a chuckle.

“You’ll get used to it,” he nods smiling. “Well, I’m gonna head back. I’ll talk to you later, okay? We’ll discuss the dates and all.”

“Very romantic,” you point out smirking, but Harry just laughs before he gives you a quick hug.

“Good night, Y/N. Or should I say, baby?”

“Bye!” you sing waving in his way as you walk into the building.

It’s no surprise that Sandra is already out when you walk into the room. Her clothes are in a pile next to her bed, but she managed to throw on at least a t-shirt before she passed out. You just smile at her before doing your quick night routine and go to sleep yourself.

“So… you are fake dating Harry, because Oliver introduced you his new girlfriend and also because he is trying to get rid of Naomi? Am I getting this right?”

Sandra narrows her eyes at you over her morning coffee the next day, though it’s already past noon. Waking up was a little painful for the both of you, but especially for her, the two of you decided to treat yourselves for a very late brunch while you tell her everything she needs to know about last night.

“Yeah,” you nod, taking a bite from your waffles. “I know, it sounds stupid, but… it can easily work great for the both of us.”

“I can’t believe he just came up with it. You guys are not even really friends.”

“I know, I was shocked when he appeared all of a sudden and called me baby. Almost fainted,” you chuckle.

“I hope you know you’ll be one of the most envied girls in school if the news spread and I’m sure it will, because even I heard people talking about you and Harry last night.”

“I know, but there’s not much I can do about that,” you shrug.

“I feel like it’s the plotline of some teenage rom-com,” Sandra huffs. “Just be careful, Y/N,” she sighs, finishing off her coffee.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that pretending can easily turn into reality. If you’ll spend so much time with Harry, there’s a chance you’ll develop real feelings for him. Just make sure you won’t end up with a broken heart.”

“That’s silly, I won’t fall for Harry. I…” You cut your words, thoughts wandering over to Oliver right away, and how you felt when he introduced you to Lexi.

“I hope you’re right,” Sandra tells you, stuffing the last bits of her muffin into her mouth.

The weekend flies by fast, you busy yourself with doing laundry and finishing a paper you need to turn in soon. Harry text you on Sunday that he’ll walk you to class on Monday morning and you agree to meet up a little earlier so you can actually talk it all out.

Sandra is still in bed when you leave in the morning. Just as Harry promised, he is waiting for you in front of the building, wearing his usual black skinny jeans and a loose grey shirt and a zip-up hoodie. His curls look untamed, a little all over the place, but it looks good on him. You have to admit, that he is definitely handsome, you understand why so many of the girls at school are after him.

“Good morning, girlfriend,” he smirks, holding out his hand for you that you take, still feeling a little weird about walking around campus hand in hand with him.

“Good morning. How was your weekend?”

“Pretty boring, we had to clean up after the party,” he chuckles. “Wanna grab a coffee?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You swing by the little café that’s on campus before aiming for a bench under one of the pergolas near the main building.

“So, you still haven’t changed your mind,” he speaks up. It’s not a question, more like a comment.

“Not yet,” you chuckle softly, sipping on your cappuccino.

“I meant it that you can tell me whenever you want out. I don’t want to force you into it in any way.”

“I know,” you smile at him. “I’m fine for now. It’s just still a little weird.”

“I know, but I’m kind of happy you are the one I’m doing this with.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know, you seem like a cool person. I actually enjoyed working with you last year on that project, you are funny and smart, I think we’ll get along pretty well.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he smirks at you, taking a sip from his coffee. “You know, if I’m being honest I never understood why you and that Oliver guy were so close anyway. You’ve known him for a long time?”

“Yeah, met him in middle school and we’ve been friends since then.”

“And how long have you been… you know,” he implies, seemingly very careful not to ask something that would upset you.

“Pretty much ever since I’ve met him,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. It sounds so embarrassing to admit that you’ve been in love with your best friend for so long and never worked up the courage to do something about it.

“You never even tried to tell him?”

“I was too afraid of his reaction. I was planning to come clean at the party finally, but then he arrived with Lexi and… you know the rest.”

“I’m sorry. I know how shitty it is when you have feelings for someone and they don’t feel the same about you.”

“So what’s the situation with you and Naomi then?” you ask, thinking it’s only fair if you also know his story now that you confessed him how ridiculous you’ve been with Oliver all your life.

“We dated at the end of last semester, tried to keep it up in the summer as well, but it didn’t work. It made me realize I don’t even want it to work so I told her that we should just go our separate ways when I got back after the summer, but she wasn’t a fan of my idea.”

“She’s still in love with you?”

“I’m not sure if she ever was,” he truthfully answers. “I think she liked the idea of dating someone more than she liked me.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he smirks at you playfully. “I’m all good. I just wish she could accept that I want to move on. It’s not ideal that I have to fake date someone to get rid of her.”

“She always seemed like a nice girl to me, I wouldn’t have guessed she can be so stubborn.”

“Well, she is a nice girl,” Harry nods. “We were just not compatible on the long run, you know? I couldn’t see it work in the future, so I didn’t want to waste more time on it.”

You just shyly nod, even though you don’t really know about it. You can’t, because you’ve never been in a similar situation. You’ve had a few attempts at dating in high school, but they never turned out the way you wanted and you always ended up pining after Oliver at the end, so you eventually gave up. But you’re not willing to admit that to Harry. It’s pathetic enough that you’ve been so hung up on Oliver your whole life, he doesn’t need to know that you gave up your whole dating life for the wait for him.

“Well, aren’t we a nice pair then? Two ridiculously failed love stories, how tragic,” Harry chuckles softly as he finishes up his coffee and throws the empty cup into the bin next to him.

“Yeah, pathetic,” you agree with a tight-lipped smile.

It takes some time for word to travel, but by the end of the first week of your fake relationship, it becomes a well-known fact that you are indeed dating Harry Styles. You don’t overdo it though, only meeting up once or twice a day, Harry usually walks you to your classes in the morning if he doesn’t have a lecture himself, you’ve had lunch together twice and you went to the library on Thursday together. It’s been pretty casual and you’ve been actually enjoying spending time with Harry, especially because it seems like Oliver has fallen off the face of Earth lately, barely even talking to you.

The more time you spend with Harry the more you realize he is nothing like others try to make him look like. You’ve heard many gossips about him being an empty-headed womanizer, but he is a lot smarter than people assume him to be, but he has proven it before as well. He actually has a great point of view of life and it’s nice to discuss basically anything with him.

Friday brings another party and though you didn’t plan on going, you had Sandra and Harry convincing you this time. Then later Oliver texted you asking if you’d be there and it angered you a little. He barely spoke to you and is now asking if you are coming to the party where he’ll probably keep ignoring you for Lexi. So you told him you and Harry would be there. He didn’t reply to that.

You and Sandra call an Uber, the Omega house is a little farther away from the dorm than the Kappa house. Harry called you to tell you he’d be a little late this time because they are having a double practice today, but he would come and find you when he arrives.

“Isn’t it a little weird you can’t hook up with anyone because of the Harry situation?” Sandra asks as the two of you make your way through the spacious living room, heading to the empty loveseat in the corner.

“As if I did a lot of hooking up before,” you scoff, taking a sip from your drink.

“Okay, but you could be doing it now, but you can’t, because people would think you’re cheating.”

“It’s a good thing then that I’m not into hooking up,” you point out with a shrug. You were never a fan of just hooking up with someone and then move on the next morning, that’s just not for you. It’s not a big deal that you are kind of out of the dating scene because of your arrangement with Harry, you don’t feel like you’re missing out on anything.

The two of you are joined by a few peers from one of Sandra’s classes and you barely even notice when Oliver and Lexi arrive, however, they immediately spot you.

“Y/N! Hi! So good to see you again!” Lexi greets you, pulling you into a completely unnecessary hug.

“Oh, hi. Good to see you too, I guess,” you chuckle awkwardly. Oliver gives you a side hug as well, but it seems like he is not entirely present in his head.

“Where’s Harry?” Oliver questions.

“He’ll be here soon, he just had double practice today,” you tell him and he nods shortly, but something feels off about him.

Lexi makes you come to the kitchen with them so she can get a drink and you can’t really think of a reason why you shouldn’t, so you find yourself listening to her nonstop chatter while Oliver is mixing them something to drink.

Y/N: Harry, SOS! When are you getting here?? I’m stuck with O and L…

You really hope he is somewhere close, because you’re not sure how long you can put up with their company.

“I know last time you said you’re not a fan of double dates, but I really think we should give it a try!” Lexi begs you, she even puts her bottom lip at you and it annoys you how she can’t just leave you to be.

“Yeah, I would love to get to know Harry better,” Oliver chimes in.

“You do?”

Relief washes over you the moment you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, a moment later you feel his palm on the small of your back and you’re finally rescued. He smells like fresh body wash, he surely just had a shower right before he came here. You let yourself lean into his side, curling an arm around his waist.

“Harry, nice to see you again,” Oliver smiles at him dryly and now you’re sure something is up with him, but what is it?

“Sorry I’m so late. Everything alright?” Harry looks you in the eyes and you know his question is more than just him being nice. He wants to know if Oliver and Lexi has driven you up the walls.

“I’m… fine, yeah,” you nod and he holds your gaze for another moment before nodding to himself.

“We were just talking about how amazing a double date would be. I’m sure you could convince Y/N to come, right?” Lexi smiles at Harry and you catch a small frown on his face before he returns the smile to Lexi. You find it funny, but you push down your laugh.

“Um, not sure. Y/N always has a strong will, not sure I want to go against it.”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!”

“Y/N doesn’t like PDA, I’m sure double dating is a lot for her,” Oliver comments and your eyebrows shoot up at his words.

“How would you know if I disliked PDA?”

He has no valid information about it. He wouldn’t know, because the only person you ever wanted to get touchy and lovey in public was him, but he only let you get physically close to him when no one was around. When he felt like he needed someone in his bed so he didn’t feel too alone. When he let his hands roam your body under the blanket when you were watching a movie. He never let it happen with others around though, so how would he even know what you like? Hell, even you don’t know it…

Oliver’s eyes meet yours and it’s clear that your question caught him off guard.

“You told me,” he simply answers.

“I don’t remember,” you retort, not letting him get away with it this time.

“This is how you’ve always been.” He is clearly pissed that you are going against him.

“You know what? Let’s do a double date next weekend, alright? But we have somewhere to be now, if you’ll excuse us,” Harry cuts in, taking your hand as he pulls you away from the happy couple. You glance back at Oliver one last time before turning around.

Harry walks you out to the backyard and the cool air hits you hard in the head. You haven’t even realized how hot you were getting in there, but you’re not entirely sure it was because of all the people, rather of because Oliver’s behavior.

“Okay, what the fuck was that in there?” Harry questions.

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’m not dumb or blind. Lexi might be oblivious to whatever you and Oliver have going on, but I’m not. Something has happened between you and him, right?”

You chew on your bottom lip, crossing your arms on your chest, not too keen on admitting it. You have never told anyone about it in details, not even Sandra. She knows you and Oliver get a little too close at times, but she has no idea you’ve slept with him on several occasions. You always thought you were a fool for sleeping with him and then watching him date other girls.

Unfortunately, your silence is enough for Harry to draw his conclusion.

“Wait, what? Did you two…?”

“Yes,” you shortly nod, feeling uncomfortable, but you can tell you can’t dodge this conversation this time.

“You’re telling me he has the nerve to sleep with you whenever it’s convenient for him and then drop you when he starts dating someone else?”

“It sounds worse than how it really is,” you mumble, but you don’t truly believe your own words. It’s pretty bad either way.

“Y/N, this is fucked up. A friend wouldn’t do that to you. It’s one thing to seek comfort at your friends, but using them for your own physical needs is just way beyond the line.”

You have nothing to say. Deep down you know he is right, you’ve always known, but you never knew what to do against it. Before you could even stop yourself, you feel your lips trembling, tears bubbling in your eyes as you glance at Harry. You expect pity from him, an act that tells you that you brought it all to yourself, but that’s not what you see. He gives you an apologetic look and he is quick to pull you into a tight hug, exactly what you need right now.

“I know, I’m so stupid,” you mumble into his chest.

“You’re not. He is just an ass,” he corrects you, earning a small chuckle from you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asks, pulling back so he can look into your eyes.

“You just got here.”

“Yeah, but I’m not really in the mood to party. Want to have a bite somewhere?”

“That would be… great,” you nod with a small smile, sniffling a little before you wipe your cheeks.

You let Sandra know you’re leaving with Harry and she can tell something has happened, but you just tell her you’ll talk later and she doesn’t push it further. Harry takes your hand as the two of you make your way through the people and you spot Oliver near the kitchen, one arm around Lexi’s shoulders as his gaze meets yours. You see him clenching his jaw when he sees your hand in Harry’s hold, but you don’t pay much attention to him, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

Luckily Harry drove to the Omega house so now you don’t have to wait for a car or take a long walk, you can enjoy the comfort of his Rover as the two of you leave the party behind. It’s silent in the car, you fold your arms over your chest, your head resting against the car door, not even questioning him where you are headed.

About ten minutes later Harry pulls up at a little diner, the two of you walk in and it’s not surprising there are just a few people lingering around at this time, though you know later they’ll have quite a few drunk students that are on their way home and in desperate need of a late night bite.

You take an empty booth and a waitress arrives immediately, handing you each a menu.

“Do you go here often?” you ask quietly, eyeing the options.

“Sometimes. They have great fries.”

You nod and decide to have just a cheeseburger with fries and a lemonade while Harry gets the veggie burger and a milkshake. The waiter takes the order shortly and leaves you alone. You’re not sure what to say, but you feel like you need to say something.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, staring down at your arms laying on the edge of the table, your right hand covering your left.

“For what exactly?”

“For… I just feel so stupid about this whole… Oliver thing. I know I shouldn’t have done what we did, but I just… couldn’t say no. I know, sounds ridiculous.”

“No, not at all,” Harry shakes his head. “You fell for him and he used you. If there’s anyone to blame it’s him, he shouldn’t use a friend for his own selfish needs. I’m not judging you, it’s easy to fall into holes like this.”

“I just really thought that he came to me because I meant something for him, but I can tell that… it wasn’t anything like that. The way he acted today was shockingly sobering,” you chuckle bitterly. “I think he is mad that I’m not available for him anymore and he is trying to play us down,” you say pointing at him and yourself. “So when he breaks it off with Lexi he can count on me, but it’s not happening.”

“I am happy to help you teach him any kind of lesson,” Harry grins just as the waiter arrives with the food and you start the feast. “I know you despise the idea of going on a double date with them, but I think we could have a lot of fun,” Harry points out while eating.

“How?”

“It’s obviously bugging Oliver that you are dating someone, we could give him the extra happy couple act, make him question why he was always such an asshole to you.”

“You think it would bother him?”

“Absolutely,” he chuckles. “We would serve him all the sappy, lovey couple shit from movies and get under his skin. I think it would be fun.”

“Okay, let’s do it,” you nod and Harry grins at you from across the table.

“Yes! Fake dating on maximum level!” he cheers, punching into the air, making you laugh.

As the two of you eat Harry talks your ears off and you know exactly why he just keeps on talking. He wants to take your mind away from everything about Oliver and he succeeds. He tells you stories about what it’s like to live in the frat house, all the funny things they’ve done with the boys and you just keep laughing and laughing until all the food is gone, the table is cleared off and it’s nearing one in the morning. Just as you expected, people from around the campus start dropping by for their midnight bite so the two of you slowly head out, not really wanting to run into someone you know. Harry drives you back to the dormitory and walks you up to the entrance.

“Thank you for tonight,” you breathe out, still feeling a little helpless and pathetic, but he definitely made it better with his company.

“No worries. After all, this is what boyfriends are for,” he chuckles lightly. “But I hope you are not gonna sink into self-pity over that douche.”

“Just a little?” you peek up at him with a scowl.

“Nope, not even a little, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve your time. If he is really gonna let you slip through his fingers, he is the biggest idiot on Earth. And he also has to be blind.”

For some reason, Harry’s words bring a blush to your cheeks, even if there’s a chance he doesn’t really mean them.

“Thank you,” you breathe out and he pulls you in for a hug without hesitation. You wrap your arms around his waist and inhale his sweet scent, melting into his warm embrace before you force yourself to let your arms fall from around his frame.

“Have a good rest of your weekend, girlfriend,” he smirks, backing towards his car. “I’ll see you on Monday!”

“Bye Harry!” you smile in his way before making your way inside.

Not too willingly, but you talk to Oliver the next week about the double date. He sounds clearly surprised that you brought it up yourself and he tries to talk you down, but you’re now way too curious about what would go down, so he has no choice than to say yes. You fix the date to Saturday and Harry says it’s fine for him and that the two of you can go over to the frat house later, they are gonna have a small get together for one of the guys’ birthday. Not a party, more of a beer and pizza type of evening since Clyde, the birthday boy is not that big of a party animal.

The week passes by as usual, you spend some time with Sandra and a little more with Harry. Since you’ve started this whole dating thing, you’ve found yourself getting used to have him around. It doesn’t feel forced anymore, you actually like hanging out with him, have him beside you in the library even if you’re not even talking and whenever you spot him waiting for you in the morning or after one of your classes, you have this stupid smile on your face walking up to him, especially when he calls you girlfriend. Sandra’s warning words pop up in your head time to time, telling you to be careful with having actual feelings for Harry, but you keep telling yourself the two of you are nothing else than just good friends.

Saturday morning you get your nails done with Sandra, have some much needed girly time since you’ve had little of that lately, even a fake relationship needs a lot of time and energy, if you’re being honest.

Sandra catches you smiling down at a text that’s from Harry, he just joked about wearing a tux to the roller-skating rink and you imagined it right away, the picture of everyone else dressed casually while he is dressed for a royal ball is just hilarious.

“So how are things with Harry?” she asks from the chair next to you.

“What do you mean?” you ask, eyes fixed on your nails as the lady is carefully painting them a light pink color.

“You two are like glued together.”

“Yeah, I like spending time with him. And like, we are dating,” you smirk, finding it funny to just casually say it.

“You do know you don’t have to keep the act up with me, right?”

“I know, but we really are friends,” you nod.

“Just friends? Because sometimes being friends with someone is a bit more to you,” she comments and your face falls. She right away realizes it was a little harsh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t want to see another guy taking advantage of you.”

“He is already taking advantage of me in a way, but it’s mutual,” you shrug, trying to mask the fact how much her words hurt. You’re still trying to get over the whole Oliver thing and though it’s been easier with Harry around, you still feel hurt over how badly he has been using you in the past years.

“And… you don’t have feelings for him?”

“We’re friends,” you tell her again.

“Yes, but you can have feelings for a friend too, Y/N.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it. We are doing fine, I enjoy being with him, that’s all.”

“Alright, I believe you. Just want to make sure you are not getting yourself into another Oliver situation.”

“I’m not. Harry is not him,” you firmly state and it’s the truth. Even if things go south with him, you can never see him do the things Oliver did. He is not him in the best possible way.

For the double date you choose to wear your favorite pair of light-washed mom jeans with a tank top tucked into it and a colorful cardigan under your jacket. Harry texted you that he would pick you up at six and because you are ready by half past five, you sit around in your room a little anxiously. You honestly have no idea what’s gonna happen tonight, where it’s gonna head but you can only hope it won’t be scandalous. People already talk enough about you for dating Harry, you don’t need to be known about being the girl who made a scene at the roller-skating rink with her boyfriend and best friend. It wouldn’t do good to your reputation.

When Harry finally texts you letting you know he has arrived you rush down the stairs, still haven’t been able to shake your nerves off, but as soon as you spot him standing by his car, you kind of forget about everything else. He is wearing his usual skinny jeans with a black shirt, of course, the first few buttons left undone. His hair is getting longer, curls constantly falling into his forehead, but you love it. Makes him look soft and like… like a prince.

“Hey, ready to have fun?” he smirks at you, opening the door to the passenger seat to you.

“I don’t think I will ever be ready for this kind of fun,” you admit with a soft chuckle before getting into the car.

“I’ll be right there with you, okay? We’re gonna crush them,” he grins at you driving. “And we can just leave whenever you want to.” Reaching over the console he takes your hand and squeezes it gently. The gesture sends a shiver running down your spine. It feels so good to have his support, you wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else than him.

Oliver and Lexi are already at the arcade that’s connected with the skating place when the two of you arrive. She looks ecstatic about tonight and it’s almost kind of cute, you’re convinced you’d actually be friends with her if the two of you met under different circumstances.

“Hi! Thank you so much for coming! I know it’s not really your thing, but I’m so happy we can finally hang out!” she cheers, giving you a hug. Oliver and Harry shake hands and Harry gives Lexi a short hug while you just awkwardly nod in Oliver’s direction, already feeling anxious in his presence. Harry takes your hand walking in and squeezes it gently. Peeking up at him he gifts you with a warm smile that tells you: it’s gonna be alright, I’m here with you.

Once all four of you have changed your shoes to your skates and put your belongings to the lockers you head to the rink, you and Lexi in the middle, Harry on your other side while Oliver is on Lexi’s other side.

“Y/N, Oliver has told me a lot about you. What was it like, growing up with him?” Lexi asks as the four of you roll around. You’re not the worst at roller-skating, you can move confidently, but it seems like Harry is the best out of all of you, easily moving around, as if he were on his feet.

Thinking back at your time with Oliver now at Lexi’s question, it’s quite bittersweet. Because you are starting to realize things you didn’t see back then. Like how you were always in his shadow, he was always the guy everyone liked and you were just the girl that tagged along.

“Um, not sure what you want to know about,” you chuckle awkwardly as you watch Harry throw his ball for the first time.

“Was he a womanizer? Tell me the truth! He says he barely dated a few people,” she chuckles, taking Oliver’s hand. He is pretty much avoiding to look you in the eyes as you glance over him and you really wish she didn’t ask you about it.

“He had quite a few… flings,” you say, not entirely sure how to phrase it. He wasn’t a womanizer, but he did start to hook up with you between girls a while ago, making his reputation a little questionable.

“I knew you were downplaying it!” she playfully smacks his chest and you just bite into your bottom lip. This is already so awkward.

“I think Y/N is just exaggerating,” Oliver chimes in, seemingly not a fan of the conversation either.

“Sure, it’s always me,” you mumble under your breath.

Harry takes your hand and gets a little ahead of you before turning around so he is facing you while skating backwards.

“Hey baby, want me to teach you how to go in zig-zag?” he smirks, clearly wanting to ease the tension. Nodding you let him take both of your hands as the two of you stay a little back from Oliver and Lexi. “Don’t let him get under your skin. He is a fucking asshole,” he tells you when he knows they can’t hear him.

“Was he always like this? I have no idea how I could put up with his act,” you mumble with a scowl.

“Fuck them. Come on, let’s have a good time,” he grins before taking the lead.

Harry makes your forget about them so easily, like it’s not even a double date, just the two of you hanging out. He keeps teaching you moves, laughing together whenever you get wobbly. He catches you every time when you’re about to lose your balance, he doesn’t let you fall and every time his arms circle around you, keeping you on your feet steadily, you find yourself blushing at how close he is getting to you. His hands holding yours, small touches on your arms and back, he takes every chance to connect the two of you and you enjoy every second of it.

“Harry, no!” you laugh as he holds your hand, still going around.

“Come on! Just try it! Just a little jump!” he encourages.

“Do you want to see me fall?”

“I would have let you fall a long time ago if that’s what I wanted,” he smirks. He gets ahead of you again, both his hands taking yours and you still can’t get used to how soothing his palms feel against yours. “I’ll catch you this time too, don’t worry.”

“I swear you are trying to kill me,” you groan as you try to figure out how to do a little jump without breaking a bone. “But just a little one!”

“The tiniest one,” he chuckles nodding.

You let him take the lead and he starts pulling you again, skating backwards like he did all evening and when you feel like you’re stable enough, you give it a go.

Unfortunately, what happens is exactly what you were expecting. When your skates meet with the floor again after the little jump, you don’t find your balance and immediately feel your feet rolling out from under yourself. Harry reaches out for you, just like he promised, grabbing onto your arm with one hand while the other one presses into your back, but this time he can’t save you and you pull him with yourself as well. The two of you end up falling to the ground in a laughing mess as Harry is partially lying on you, an arm stuck under you while the other one is across your chest.

“I told you!” you cry out but it turns into laughter pretty fast.

“I’m sorry, baby, are you okay?” he asks laughing and your heart skips a beat at how he called you baby again and Oliver is not even around.

“I-I’m fine,” you breathe out as he peels himself off you, helping you up with him as well. He is so close to you as you finally stand on your feet again, your noses almost brush against each other as you blink up at him nervously.

It would be so easy to kiss him. You want to know what it’s like to feel his lips against yours. Maybe if you move just a little…

“Are you trying to break a bone, Y/N?” Lexi rolls up to you, totally breaking the moment as you both turn to her. Harry leaves an arm around you, hand resting on your waist and you lean against him to steady yourself on your wheels.

“It was Harry’s idea, but I knew I would terribly fail,” you chuckle slightly. Oliver appears behind Lexi, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and you clench your jaw at the gesture. Harry must have noticed the shift in you, because he tightens his hold around you, his hand soothingly running up and down your side. And just like that, Oliver is long forgotten, you can only think about how it feels to have his fingers dancing on you.

“You were never really into athletic things, Y/N,” Oliver comments and you grimace.

“Just because I didn’t play any sports in high school, doesn’t mean I can’t try things now.”

“I think you did great,” Harry smiles down at you. “You just need a little more practice and you’ll be better than me, baby.”

Baby, there’s that pet name again. It’s doing things to you for sure.

Glancing over at Oliver you catch what looks like an eye-rolling and he genuinely looks annoyed by you and Harry and it’s making your blood boil at this point. Why can he be the only one to date someone? Why can’t you have a good time with someone? Now that you are thinking about it, he did it not only with guys, but also with anyone who tried to be friends with you. Oliver wanted him to be your only friend and sneakily ruined every friendship you ever had. Sandra is your first real friend other than Oliver, only because he couldn’t do anything against you forming any kind of relationship with your roommate. But you are now getting quite fed up with his little games and Harry might not be your real boyfriend, but you are friends with him and Oliver can do nothing about that.

Soon enough you decide you’ve had enough of the skating, so you move to the side and start changing back to your shoes. Lexi runs out to the restroom and while you are putting your sneakers back on Harry spots someone he knows, working at the buffet so he steps aside for a minute, leaving you and Oliver alone.

“Are you really dating him?” you hear him speak up and you can’t help the scowl on your face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He is just so not the type of person you hang out with,” he comments with a shrug and your eyebrows shoot up.

“First of all, how would you know? My friends were always kind of more your friends, never really had the chance to find my people. And second, what’s the problem with him?”

“The problem is that we all know what he is like. Everyone on campus knows that Harry is famous for going after a lot of girls.”

“And you believe what others say? You know nothing about him. He is not what people try to make him appear to be, but you wouldn’t know, because you don’t know him like I do. And for the record, yes, I really am dating him and I’m very happy about it.”

You can tell he doesn’t like your reaction and he is probably fighting back to snap at you, but Harry soon returns, oblivious to the scene that just went down, however he can sense the shift in the atmosphere immediately.

“Everything alright?” he asks, seemingly innocently, but you know he is asking if Oliver has done something.

“Yeah. Can we leave?” you ask, not too keen on staying with Oliver any longer. It’s getting hard to imagine how you could ever put up with him and his act.

“Are you guys leaving? We could grab a bite together!” Lexi chimes in arriving back from the restroom. You are about to decline, but Harry speaks up before you.

“Oh, we have plans already, but maybe some other time,” he politely says, a hand on your lower back as he pulls you to his side and you’re thankful for his close presence now. If he weren’t there, you would have already jumped at Oliver’s throat probably.

“Oh, okay! I’m glad we got to do this though,” she smiles warmly, taking Oliver’s hand while you just chew on the inside of your cheeks, very keen on leaving as soon as possible.

Your force a smile on your face, bidding goodbye before Harry takes your hand and the two of you head out to his car.

“Hey, everything okay?” he asks when it’s finally just the two of you. Staring down at your hands on your lap, you bite into your bottom lip.

“Just… let’s leave. I had enough of Oliver for a life today,” you mumble and luckily, Harry doesn’t try to keep asking around, just starts the car and leaves.

On the way he asks if you still want to come over to the frat house and you say yes, because you feel like you could use the distraction. You’d rather spend some more time around him than go back to your dorm room and be alone with your thoughts.

Just as he promised, it’s nothing big, just a few close friends of some of the frat boys, pizza boxes are piled in the kitchen, music is playing in the background but it’s not blasting like when it’s a party. A big group is playing UNO in the living room using two deck of cards so the rounds don’t end too soon.

You and Harry get a slice of pizza, already starving after the skating and when you’re done with that, the two of you wander into the living room. There’s no more room left on the mismatched couches so Harry plops himself down to the ground and you stop for a moment, because there’s someone sitting on both of his sides, leaving not much space for you, but he is quick to solve the problem by taking your hand and pulling you down so you sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest.

“Oh,” you breathe out from the sudden contact, but it feels nice. You cross your legs so his legs can bridge over them with his knees bent as he looks over your shoulders to see the game unfold.

“You guys want to play?” one of the girls asks.

“There’s not enough cards for the both of them to join!” another warns.

“We’ll just play together,” Harry speaks up from behind you and in the next round you join the game.

Harry rests his chin on your shoulder as his arms come around you, holding the cards so you can see them as well. It’s the closest he has been to you, basically wrapped around you and it’s definitely doing things to you. The way his chest warms your back, how you can feel every breath he draws because his face is so close next to yours, how his arms cage you gently, you are suddenly aware of even the smallest things.

“Pick one,” he murmurs when it’s your turn to throw a card in. You’ve been so occupied with him that you have no idea what color or number you should pick so you quickly check the deck in the middle before pointing at a red card. “Throw it in,” he tells you, pushing the card up with his thumb so you can take it and put it to the top.

Sitting here, on the floor of his frat house, his arms around you feels so much better than anything you’ve experienced with Oliver and the realization hits you hard in the chest. Turning your head to the side you let yourself take a good look at his perfect side profile, his chiseled jawline, the bridge of his nose and the little wrinkle between his eyebrows as he knits them together in focus, staring down at the cards in his hands. He catches you looking, his green eyes meet yours and a soft smile spreads across his face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head.

“Everything alright?” he quietly asks and you nod.

“Yeah,” you breathe out turning back, but you still feel his lingering gaze on you for a few more moments before he turns away too.

You keep playing as the night moves on, drinking some beer, making you relax even more, though Harry’s closeness does the job just perfectly. Even when you are not sitting on the ground anymore, he always keeps close to you. Curling an arm around your waist when you stand in the kitchen talking with others, he keeps giving your hands and hips assuring little squeezes and you can’t help but lean into his touch every time. You want him close, you want to feel his touch, you love it when your eyes meet and he always shoots you a small smile, it makes your heart flutter, like you’re a little school girl with a silly crush.

Because now you are more than sure that you’re crushing on Harry. How can you not? He has been so good to you, did more than Oliver has ever done and you’ve been friends for just a few weeks.

You leave him for just a few minutes while you use the bathroom and as you return, you catch some of the conversation he is having with one of the boys, Jake.

“Dude, can’t believe the ladies’ favorite Styles is taken,” Jake laughs and it makes you scowl as you stop at the corner, listening on them.

“Jake, I told you to stop calling me that,” Harry huffs.

“I’m just telling you the truth. Every girl on campus is after you.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me being in a relationship.”

“I just thought that the womanizer Harry Styles wouldn’t settle again for a while.”

“Jake, I’m not a womanizer, stop this bullshit. Just because girls try to get together with me, doesn’t mean I want the same thing.”

You choose this moment to walk in, knowing well Harry must be losing his patience with Jake and his irrelevant accusations. Walking in you smile warmly at Harry, curling an arm around his waist as you lean into his side. His arm comes around your shoulders and he pulls you close. Jake eyes you with an unreadable expression before his gaze returns to Harry.

“Hope you know what you are doing, mate.”

“I surely do,” Harry firmly answers and it makes you smile, especially because you know what they’ve been talking about.

When Jake walks out you turn to face Harry, playfully poking his tummy as you glance up at him.

“Hey,” you smile up at him, your arms wrapping around his waist as his hands fall to your shoulders.

“Hey,” he chuckles. “Why are you so smiley?”

“I can’t smile?”

“Of course you can,” he smirks. “Want to go back a little more?” he asks nodding towards the living room where there are still quite a few people. You nod and let go of him, turning around you are just about to walk ahead but you didn’t see that a girl was coming inside and you bump right into her, the liquid from her cup spilling down your shirt.

“Shit!” you gasp jumping back, colliding a little with Harry’s chest and his hands immediately grab your waist in case you might lose your balance.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” the girl stutters, reaching for paper towels right away, but it helps nearly nothing.

“It’s fine,” you breathe out pressing your lips together.

“Come on, I’ll give you a shirt,” Harry tells you, taking your hand, walking you upstairs. The fabric of your shirt is turning cold against your skin and you really want to get rid of it.

Harry pulls out a simple black shirt for you and shows you the way to his little bathroom. Changing into his shirt you make an attempt to wash yours out, but it doesn’t do much to the sugary spill.

“Do you mind if I stay in it for the rest of the evening? I promise I’ll give it back next time we meet.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles and you catch his gaze wandering down your body, his shirt hanging loosely on your frame. “Do you still want to stay or do you want me to give you a ride back to the dorm?”

“Uh, maybe I should head home,” you nod to yourself.

“Is it okay if I take a quick shower? I feel so sweaty after the skating, just five minutes.”

“Sure, go ahead,” you nod smiling before he disappears in the bathroom.

You hear him turn the water on and walking over to his bed you lie down for a little, feeling the tiredness coming over you all at once. It’s been a long and exhausting day and listening to the soothing voice of the running water you find yourself drifting off to sleep before you could stop yourself.

When you open your eyes again the room is completely dark, but you quickly realize it’s not your dorm room; you’re still at Harry’s. Turning to the side you see him sleeping peacefully on the other side of the mattress, lying on his back. Still groggy with sleep, you realize you fell asleep while he was in the shower and he probably didn’t want to wake you so just went to bed next to you.

He looks like an angel sleeping, his green irises hidden from the world, thick lashes fanned over his cheeks, his pink lips slightly parted as his chest rises and falls peacefully. Sleeping in his bed, wearing his clothes, seeing him next to you, he is all you can think about and it brings a smile to your face.

Gently, you scoot closer to him, but still don’t touch him, however the movement makes him huff in his sleep and turning to his side his arm falls across your waist, making you gasp in surprise. You freeze, thinking that he might wake up any moment but it doesn’t happen and you’re stuck in his hold, not that you mind it. You push yourself a little closer, your nose almost touching his chest as you make yourself comfortable and closing your eyes you go back to sleep without a worry in the world.

Waking up you find yourself curled up to Harry’s side, one of his army around you while the other is holding your hand on his stomach. Blinking your eyes open you look around and take a few seconds to fully wake up. Harry feels so warm against you, but you think he might not like to find you all melted against him so you try to move away but his hold tightens around you.

“Mmm, stop movin’ around,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Sorry, I just thought that… you might feel hot,” you lie in a whisper.

“I am hot,” he smirks with his eyes still closed and his comment makes you laugh.

“And so full of yourself!” you chuckle and try to pull away once again, but he locks you to his side, not letting you break the position you are in.

“I said stop movin’! I like being warm in the morning,” he murmurs, snuggling you more to his side and you bite into your bottom lip as your smile stretches wider with each passing second.

Yeah, you definitely have a crush on Harry and you can’t even act like you don’t.

“Sorry for falling asleep in your bed,” you mumble, closing your eyes as you let your head rest on his chest.

“Y’ looked cute,” he huffs with a soft smile. “S’alright. Give me five minutes and I’ll be awake to drive you back to the dorm.”

You hum a response and just enjoy it while it lasts, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. But you have to. Slowly, the two of you get ready to leave, you want to change back to your stained shirt, but Harry tells you to just keep the shirt, he has two more of the exact same one so you walk out of the frat house wearing Harry’s shirt, holding Harry’s hand and get into Harry’s car. He is everywhere and you absolutely love it.

“So we have this game next weekend and I thought you might want to come? You don’t have to if you absolutely hate football, I just thought—“

“I would love to,” you say cutting his rambling short as he smiles with his eyes staring ahead at the road.

“Cool. Bring your roommate if you want.”

“Sure,” you smile.

Football has never been your thing, but watching Harry is, so the game turns out better than you expected. Sandra tags along and luckily, she knows a little more about the game than you do, so you can ask her questions whenever you are completely lost about the happenings. Though you don’t know much about what a good player should be like, but it’s still clear to you that Harry is one of them. He scores half the points of his team and you are guessing that’s quite fascinating.

“Am I just dreaming or does he keep looking your way?” Sandra questions after you also just caught Harry’s gaze on you a moment ago.

“So what if he is?” you ask with a shy smile, eyes glued to his running frame on the field.

“Are you guys like… really together?”

“No,” you shake your head. “We are just friends,” you add, the term tasting a little bitter on your tongue.

“But you want more.” It’s not a question, Sandra can see right through you. Glancing at her you let out a huff before turning back at the game.

“It’s hard not to,” you truthfully admit, your eyes following Harry’s every movement on the field. Looking around you see that you are probably not the only one. Half of the girls on the bleachers are staring at him and you can’t even blame them. You have to be blind and stupid at the same time not to like him and apparently, you’re neither.

They win, no surprise. The whole team goes crazy as they score their last point and it puts them in the lead in the last minute. Everyone is cheering and screaming at the boys as they are celebrating their victory, along with Harry.

Jake starts running up and down the bleachers shouting that they are throwing a victory party at the frat house so now you know what you’re gonna do for the rest of the evening. As the team makes its way back towards the locker rooms Harry runs up to you, all sweaty and grinning crazily.

“Hey, you coming for the party, right?” he asks, still breathing heavily from the game.

“Sure,” you chuckle.

“Yes! You guys want a ride?” he asks in excitement glancing at Sandra beside you.

“That would be nice,” she nods happily.

“Alright, meet me at my car in fifteen,” he breathes out and before he runs away, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, then leaves in a rush, catching up with the other guys. Suddenly, it feels a lot hotter than before…

“Okay, there’s no way he is not into you too,” Sandra mumbles to you as the two of you head out to the parking lot.

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so,” she laughs, folding her arms on her chest. “That guy is like a puppy in love around you.”

“What if it’s just his normal?”

“I don’t know, is it? You’re the one who spends every possible minute with him,” she points out and she is right. This wasn’t like this before and as far as you know, he was never like this with anyone either. The only person you saw him act similarly was Naomi when they were dating, so could this be a hint for you that he feels the same way?

You’re still chewing on it when Harry emerges from the building, carrying his huge sports bag on his shoulder, his locks still wet from the shower he must have taken, his smile is still as wide as it was after the game.

“Ladies, fancy a ride?” he asks and as he walks past you he squeezes your hand gently before rounding the car and sitting behind the wheel.

By the time you arrive to the frat house the party is already on, music blasting in the living room where not so long ago you were playing UNO, sitting in Harry’s arms, booze is piling in the kitchen and more and more people are showing up.

“Hey, can you come up with me to drop my bag off and change?” Harry asks upon walking into the house and you nod. Sandra gives you a look that says ‘man up and talk to him’ before you take Harry’s hand and the two of you head upstairs.

“Be honest, did you bore yourself to death at the game?” Harry asks when you’re in the safety of his room.

“It wasn’t that bad, though I definitely need to learn more about the rules,” you chuckle admitting as you sit on the edge of his bed while he moves around, putting away his stuff. You watch him with a fluttering heart as you think about your conversation with Sandra. Even if she is right, how do you bring it up? You can’t just simply drop that you would like to turn your fake relationship into something real, you are not ballsy enough for that anyway.

“I’ll change quickly and we can head out,” he smiles, grabbing his usual skinny jeans and a white shirt from his dresser before disappearing in his bathroom.

While he is in there, you try to build your courage up to have the talk with him. Now seems like a good time, you’re alone in his room, no audience in case he rejects you painfully so no one would witness your breakdown. Chewing on the inside of your cheeks you stand up and start pacing the floor, stopping when the door opens and he walks out, smiling at you warmly as he fixes the dog tag around his neck.

“Everything alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I, uhh… I wanted to talk about something,” you start shyly, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Okay, go for it,” he nods walking closer.

“I just, I’M not sure how to bring this up, and I hope it won’t sound weird. But I’ve been thinking about, um—I thought about this, what we’ve been doing and I realized that I—“

Your rambling speech gets interrupted when Jake bursts into the room without even a knock or warning word.

“Dude, come down! We need you on our beerpong team!” he urges Harry who gives him an annoyed look.

“Jake, don’t just fucking barge into my room without knocking!” Harry snaps at him.

“Like I haven’t seen your dick before,” Jake snorts and you feel the heat crawling up your neck at even just the thought of Harry naked.

“I don’t fucking care, knock!”

“Okay!” Jake growls rolling his eyes. “But you gotta come down now!”

Harry looks back at you, knowing well you two were in the middle of a conversation, but Jake’s arrival threw you off completely.

“Go, we can… talk later, it’s not that important,” you smile at him weakly.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his hand taking yours.

“Yeah, totally. Just go and celebrate your win,” you chuckle and with that, the moment is already gone.

You return to the party and while Harry gets sucked into an epic beerpong game, you join Sandra in the living room, who eyes you with a curious look, but you just shake your head.

“Don’t even ask,” you mumble and grabbing her drink from her hand you take a big swig from it, hoping the alcohol might help you with your anxious thoughts.

An hour later you feel the buzz, but you’re not at all drunk, just a little… braver than usually. You’ve moved to the kitchen with Sandra and a few girls, you’re sitting on the counter, nursing another drink as you listen to one of the girls rage about her asshole ex. Glancing out of the kitchen your eyes find Harry standing in the living room and for your surprise he was already watching you. You catch his smile, his focus completely on you when the guys are talking to him in his little circle, but he doesn’t seem to care. His gaze brings the heat back into your body, he can make you go nuts with just a look and you want to hate him for that, but you can’t. There’s nothing you hate about this guy.

“Stop eyefucking your man and just… fuck him for real” Sandra chuckles leaning closer to you, so only you can hear her words.

“Sandra!” you gasp, smacking her in the boob knowing well she hates it when you do that. She just cackles, returning to the discussion with the girls.

Soon enough, you see Harry moving towards your little group, creeping his way into the kitchen, stopping right beside you, leaning on one arm, his hand placed dangerously close to your thigh on the counter.

“Hi,” he smiles with his rosy cheeks, he surely has drunk some as well, but he doesn’t seem drunk either.

“Hi,” you breathe out, feeling flustered by his closeness again, a smile stretching across your face as he keeps eyeing you grinning. “What?”

“Have I told you how cute your smile is?” he asks and now you’re sure you’ve turned into a tomato.

“No,” you mumble shyly and almost gasp when his hand moves from the counter to your thighs as if it was the most natural thing, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Well, it is cute,” he chuckles, before turning his attention at the conversation in the little circle, but his hand remains still on your thigh.

From there, the situation escalates pretty easily. All it takes him to get between your thighs is to reach for one of the drinks on the counter next to you, his hand still resting on your thigh, and as he is done with the drink, he places it to the counter, his other hand coming to your other thigh, now standing facing you between your legs. Before you could say anything, he pulls on you a little, so you press up against him, your hands instantly coming to grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself in the movement.

“Hi again,” he smirks with glistening eyes.

“You didn’t go anywhere,” you chuckle quietly, your fingers dancing up to the back of his neck, playing with his curls.

“I know, but it made you smile and that’s what I wanted,” he smirks, so proud of himself. He licks his lips and you catch his gaze wandering down to yours, instantly making you nervous as you think back at the failed conversation you had with him not so long ago. This feels like a moment that could head into a direction you are dying for, but without the talk, you’re not sure if you should take the risky step.

Good thing that Harry is not shying out of it. Pressing forward his forehead meets yours, noses muzzling together as his lips linger so close to yours. You suck on your breath, arms curling around his neck as you wait for him to move the last millimeters between the two of you, and seeing that you are not pulling back, Harry makes the final move.

His lips move perfectly against yours, so warm and welcoming, soft and intoxicating, kissing him feels like a gift from above. He is taking his time with you, tasting and savoring you and you’re definitely not complaining. You could spend the rest of your life kissing him and you’d be fine with it.

One of his hands stays on your thigh, keeping a firm grip on it while the other one moves up to cup your cheek as you angle your head to reach him perfectly. He licks into your mouth without warning and you almost let out a moan at the sensation, but you’re just too busy returning his kisses.

You have absolutely no idea how long you stay like that, kissing and touching each other, but when he pulls back, you can’t help the stupid grin on your love drunk face. Harry’s expression kind of mirrors yours as he pecks your swollen lips once more before getting back to his previous position, his hand never leaving your thigh and you hug his strong, tattooed arm, needing to touch him in any kind of way as the two of you reenter the discussion that never stopped. Sandra gives you a wide-eyed stare and you just bite into your bottom lip, turning into a giggly teenage girl all of a sudden.

For just a few minutes you are absolutely convinced the kiss was real, but that’s all you got. As you look into the living room you catch Naomi’s burning stare and it tells you right away she witnessed the whole scene and to make it even worse, Oliver was standing not too far, glaring at you firmly and they make you think.

What if Harry saw them near and kissed you just to mess with them? What if it was all just part of the act? You should have pressed more earlier and have that damned talk with him, how are you supposed to ask now if he meant it or not?!

The more you think about it, the more painful it becomes and the little evil voice in your head convinces you that he didn’t mean it. It’s not like you want to believe it, but you can’t ignore the possibility that slowly grows into reality in your clouded mind.

You lose both Harry and Sandra at one point after going to the bathroom and though you know they are somewhere around, you feel like you can’t stay any longer at the party. Before anyone could stop you, you sneak out of the house and head back to the dorm, hoping that a good night sleep would get your head straight.

Harry tries to call you, but you ignore them all, heading straight to bed when you arrive. You feel guilty for leaving without a word but there’s just too much going on in your head, you need time to process and figure out what to do.

You’re still up when Sandra arrives back but you pretend to be asleep, not feeling like dealing with her investigating questions about the kiss and why you left so suddenly. It takes over an hour for you to finally fall asleep and escape your buzzing thoughts.

Waking up you see no sign of Sandra and you remember she mentioned that her brother is visiting town so they might spend the day together. Amazing opportunity to bury yourself into your deep loneliness and try to figure out what to do.

Harry has been nonstop texting you, asking if you even made it back to the dorm safely and you just shoot him one message to let him know you’re still alive and then ignore him again. Thinking back at the kiss last night your heart flutters every time, you can still feel the touch of his lips, the way his hand cupped your cheeks, it’s driving you crazy. But then you remember seeing Naomi’s and Oliver’s face and you’re convinced Harry saw them too and you always get to the same conclusion: the kiss was just part of the act.

You barely leave the bed the whole day, lying under your covers and watching Netflix until your mind feels numb enough to stop torturing you with your thoughts. And then, there’s a knock on the door. You freeze, knowing well that whoever is on the other side, you don’t want to see them.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there, I heard you watching The Vampire Diaries,” Oliver’s voice calls out from outside and you let out a shaky breath.

Dragging yourself out of the bed you open the door and stare back at him with a blank expression.

“What do you want?” you simply question.

“I broke up with Lexi,” he answers and your eyebrows shoot up. Without asking for permission he pushes his way into the room, stopping in the middle with his hands on his hips. “Last night, I broke up with her.”

“I uhh—I’m sorry, I guess, but why? She was so sweet.”

“I miss you, Y/N,” he blurts out and your shock just raises. Did he just admit to breaking up with his girlfriend because of you?!

“What?”

“Lexi is a nice girl, but I miss you, I miss what we had.”

“And what is that supposed to be?” you ask with a bitter chuckle as you fold your arms on your chest. “You miss fucking me whenever it’s convenient for you? Because I certainly don’t miss that.”

“We both know it was more than that, Y/N,” he smiles warmly, but it makes your stomach churn. Nothing about that smile is friendly or nice, he is trying to manipulate you like so many times before, but it’s not working now. He lost his power over you.

“It wasn’t. You were using me, Oliver.”

“That’s not what it was. We were having fun!”

“I wasn’t! I had feelings for you and you used them for your benefit!” you snap at him, not in the mood to play by his rules any longer. You’ll not let him bring you down again. “A friend doesn’t do that.”

“You could have spoken up against it, but I didn’t hear you complaining,” he retorts and it feels like a slap across your face. “I know you miss it too, Y/N. You don’t have to act like you are into Harry, I can see through you.”

“Oh really?” you snort, finding his words rather comedic. He knows or sees absolutely nothing and he just proved it. “Tell me then what you see!”

“I see that you’ve been trying to make me jealous and I’m gonna give it to you, it was successful.”

“Amazing, only problem is that I never wanted to make you jealous. My feelings for Harry are more real than the ones I had for you and I would really like it if you just left right now.”

Grabbing the doorknob you hold it open for him, wanting nothing more than to get rid of him for once and for all. You’ve had enough of his toxic, manipulating ass for a lifetime.

“Are you really kicking me out and just gonna choose him over me?” he huffs in disbelief and you can tell you’ve hurt his ego pretty badly.

“I’m choosing myself and doing what’s best for me. Now leave,” you demand and he finally moves. Walking past you he stops and looks down at you one more time.

“You’re a fucking waste of time,” he sneers before walking out and you need every ounce of power in you not to go after him and punch him in his arrogant face. How could you ever consider him even a friend, let along sleep with him?! He is the most disgusting and degrading asshole you’ve ever seen and you’ll work on forgetting about his whole existence for the rest of your life.

You shut the door behind him and leaning your back against it you slide down to the floor, feeling your chest tightening at the intensity of what just happened. You lost the person you loved the most just weeks ago and realized that he was never who you thought him to be.

You feel like crying for a little, but the tears never come. Instead, a soft sense of relief washes over you, like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders, finally setting you free. One less thing to worry about.

As you push yourself up from the floor you hear fractions of a heated conversation outside and when you recognize both voices, your heart stops beating for a moment. Opening the door you hear the conversation between Oliver and Harry now fully clear.

“Stop fucking acting like you are the center of her world, Styles. She has no fucking idea what she wants,” Oliver snaps at Harry, clearly upset about something he said earlier.

“No one thinks that but you! Stop harassing her like a fucking psycho!” Harry fights back and your lips part at how he stands up for you.

“You’re the one harassing her! Don’t think for a moment you have a chance with her, she wants me, not you! You’ll never get into her pants like I did—“

Just when you’re about to barge out of the room to end whatever parade they are having, Oliver’s groan fills the hallway and as you step out, you see him fall to the ground after Harry’s has punched him right in the face.

“What the fuck?!” you snap in shock and they both turn to look at you in the middle of their fight.

“Your fucking boyfriend punched me for no reason!” Oliver spats, pushing himself up, holding a hand to his jaw that’s already turning red.

“Stop making yourself the victim, Oliver, no one buys it!” you groan at him as you step to Harry. He seems ashamed, even scared of your reaction about the fact that he just punched Oliver, but you are not gonna blame him. He did God’s work in this case.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re still taking his side!” Oliver snaps angrily. “You know what? You two deserve each other.”

“Shut up and leave!” you shout at him before grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him towards your room.

You hear Oliver mumbling something under his breath, but you couldn’t care less, shutting the door at him once again, this time with Harry in the room with you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just fucking lost my temper and—“ You wave him off, taking his hand in yours softly, taking a look at his knuckles.

“It’s fine,” you smile at him. “Does it hurt?” you ask, gently running your thumb over his reddened knuckles.

“No, it’s alright,” he murmurs, standing so close to you again. His green eyes search yours as his other hand reaches under your chin to lift your head. “You have been ignoring me since last night.”

“I just… had a lot of stuff to do,” you awkwardly answer clearing your throat.

“You sure it’s not because of what happened between us?”

“What? Of course not!” you huff. “I get it, you were just trying to make it convincing because Naomi and Oliver were both watching a-and so you just—“

“What?” Harry asks tilting his head to the side.

“I mean, that’s why you did it, right? I saw them after we—uhh after we you know, kissed.”

“Okay, I didn’t see them and that’s not why I did it,” he admits with a nervous chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck. “I thought we were on the same page, but apparently not. Y/N, nothing I did recently was because of Naomi or Oliver. If I’m being honest it hasn’t been about them for a while. I really like you and I know I should have talked to you first about it, because now it was all kind of confusing, but I wasn’t faking it. I meant everything I said and did.”

You stare back at him in awe, heart pounding against your chest as his words sink in. He wasn’t acting, the kiss was real and you’ve been acting like a lunatic since last night, completely ignoring him instead of just talking to him, you are such a dumbass!

“Really?” you breathe out, barely more than just a whisper.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “And I kinda thought you feel the same way, but then I came here and ran into Oliver who told me you two just had a chat about… possibilities between you and him?”

The hurt is clear in his eyes and your hatred towards Oliver is not on maximum level. You can’t believe he tried to ruin it all one last time even after you told him you want nothing to do with him.

“That’s not what we talked about,” you shake your head. “He came here, told me he broke up with Lexi and that he misses me, but I told him that’s too bad because I don’t miss him and his stupid little games anymore.”

“Oh!”

“And he tried to convince me to choose him over you, but I already chose you, so he had no chance,” you add, a wide smile spreading across your face as you see him realize what you just said.

“What, does this mean…?” he questions with sparkling eyes as he starts inching closer to you.

“Last night, when Jake barged into your room, this is what I wanted to talk to you about. That I’m not really faking anything anymore, but we were rudely interrupted and then… you kissed me and I thought things were finally going right, but then I somehow convinced myself that it was just because you saw Naomi and Oliver around and tried to upset them.”

“Fuck them!” Harry laughs, his hands finally reaching to grab you by your waist as he pulls you against him. “I don’t care about them anymore. I just want to be with you, no faking, no acting, just… you and me.”

“That sounds… perfect,” you admit with a tired smile before he finally leans down and presses his lips against yours.

“I have a warning for you, Y/N,” he mumbles between kisses, his lips moving against yours.

“Yeah? What’s that?” you hum, melting into him.

“I will not stop kissing you. It’s my new favorite thing,” he giggles, hands pulling you even tighter to him.

“Oh, how upsetting!” you chuckle without a care in the world before the two of you fall to your bed, a mess of kisses and giggles, but not an ounce of faking.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #fratboy!harry #fake dating au #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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julemmaes · 3 years

Note

ahem... cassian taking nesta to that bookstore (fluff, don’t try making shit sad aight?)

Our First Non-Date

SURPRISE I GUESS!!

Nessian Archeron x Cassian

You can find the first part here.

A/N: this month has been really nice on me. I finally feel better, not crying every day for literally nothing and I wanna dedicate this to my fren Sim (@perseusannabeth) cause homegirl just finished the offcampus series and she's grieving. I know she is. So yep. Take some Nessian fluff

And Nina, I had to add some angsty parts, but they're not Irene Angst Level, okay?

Word count: 6,833

When Cassian had called her back the night after their outing with Amren and Varian, she'd stared at the phone for a full minute until it had stopped ringing and she could go back to reading the article on poisonous plants that Elain had sent her.

It hadn't even been five minutes before the words had been obscured from the call screen again and the name "Cassian Navarro" appeared.

When she had ignored the call for the second time as well, he had decided to change tactics.

Hi Nes, I was thinking about when you'd be free to go to the library. I need a couple of manuals because I'm building a little gazebo in Rhys and Feyre's garden and your sister is putting a lot of pressure on me, so I was wondering if you had the day off tomorrow.

Nesta was stunned at the amount of useless information he had given her, but managed to reply with a simple, Working tomorrow, day off on Wednesday. Sending you the address later.

She certainly hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to get up that day, her will to live must have been hiding somewhere under her bed and Nesta didn't know if it was directly related to their going out or just her stupid brain not being able to connect to real life.

The only other worst thing she'd been able to think of at that moment was having to explain to Cassian what was going on, so, pulled out of bed by the future embarrassment they'd feel in such a situation, she'd managed to dress, wash and style her hair so that she had a braid crowning her head.

She hadn't put too much effort into deciding what to wear, after all, it wasn't a date and Cassian had seen her many times before in far more outrageous and scruffy clothes than the comfortable black jeans and grey jumper she was wearing right now.

The silence had made her uncomfortable at first, only because Cassian seemed to be really stressed - about what, she certainly wouldn't ask - but after about ten minutes, he'd turned on the radio and popped a CD into the player and the melody of a Verve song had filled the cabin.

She'd started humming under her breath and he'd looked at her with a faint smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling. She hadn't mulled over that look too much, but she'd started eyeing him more closely and noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at every street sign and how he ran a hand over his face every time a strand of hair landed in front of his eyes.

When Cassian had to blow the hair out of his face for the millionth time, Nesta pulled a rubber band off her wrist and handed it to him abruptly.

Cassian looked surprised, but took it almost immediately, brushing her fingers. Nesta immediately withdrew her hand, feeling how warm and calloused his were.

"Thanks, my hair is killing me today," he finally spoke.

Nesta continued to look ahead, noticing that they were about to enter the highway. "Well, it wasn't very wise of you not to tie it up before you got in the car. I never drive with my hair down."

He nodded slowly, still with the band clutched between his fingers. And then, suddenly he let go of the steering wheel, "Hold that for me for a second." and Nesta's eyes went wide, launching herself at him to grab it and keep the car in their lane.

"Are you nuts?" she almost shrieked, keeping her gaze fixed on the road and feeling every nerve ending vibrate with anger.

"Relax." he said in a calm tone, shifting her hands and gently pushing her back into her seat one more time. "It wasn't even five seconds."

Nesta huffed out a laugh that lacked amusement, "You do something like that again without warning me first and I'm getting out of the car."

Cassian looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "A bit dramatic, but alright."

She sighed, shaking her head slightly and resting it on her hand propped against the window.

That awkward silence fell again and Nesta couldn't figure out what the problem was. She hadn't felt any kind of unease three days before, but after all, they'd been with friends and busy walking, not stuck in a car for two hours with no chance of walking away or splitting up.

And in that moment, the reality of their situation overwhelmed her.

She forced herself to steady her breathing, opening the window slightly so that more air could get in. She forced herself to think about all the things she would see today at the library and how beautiful and spectacular it had looked from mere pictures. She wasn't going to let her twisted mind stop her from having fun with someone who was desperately trying to be her friend.

She took a deep breath and a surprising calm enveloped her. She looked to her left to see if Cassian had noticed that temporal change in her behaviour, but it seemed to her that he was just as fidgety.

She was about to ask him if he was okay, because the knee that kept bouncing and the fingers opening and closing on the steering wheel were obvious nervous tics, when he did the eye thing again, this time leaning forward over the dashboard as well, and the sharp turn he took to the right caused her to shift in her seat so much that she bumped her shoulder against his.

Cassian grimaced, "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" she asked, readjusting in her seat.

"Sorry?"

"What's the matter? With your eyes, I mean."

"Oh." he seemed surprised by the question, almost as if he hadn't realised she'd been observing him for the last twenty minutes. He cast her a curious glance immediately returning to the road. "I wear glasses when I drive, but I couldn't find them this morning and these contacts are the wrong shade and I can't see very well."

Nesta nodded thoughtfully, "Where do you normally keep them?"

"In the glove box. But I already checked," he replied, rolling his shoulders. Another nervous tic.

Nesta had to suppress a smile. There was no way he could be so worked up just because they were talking. She looked down at the phone in her hand to check the time, and a flash of light momentarily dazzled her. She blinked a couple of times and then scoffed, "Found them."

She reached a hand towards the hatch compartment and pulled out a pair of very plain black glasses, handing them to him. Cassian seemed to finally relax since she'd gotten into the car.

"Thank fuck." then he pulled into a lay-by and without turning off the car, slipped two fingers in his eye, removing one contact and then the other, leaving Nesta stunned. He put the glasses on his nose and flashed her a smile that went from ear to ear. And Nesta was stunned for other reasons.

She couldn't deny that Cassian was an attractive man. She wasn't stupid or blind, but the man next to her should have come with a warning sign or a bell.

Attention, hot stuff coming your way.

Nesta forgot the comment she had wanted to make about how antigenic and risky it had been to remove his contacts without first cleaning his hands and in such a dirty environment.

His hair tied back in a messy bun, with the hint of a beard he was letting grow, and now his glasses on, Cassian looked like a model on the cover of a newspaper about sexy carpenters. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore that pulled on his huge biceps every time he moved in the slightest was just one more point to add to the list of things that made him appealing.

"So," he began, getting back on the road, "what's your favourite colour?"

Nesta snorted, "Are you serious?"

Cassian seemed to blanch, "What?"

"Have you ever been out with a girl?" she asked him sarcastically, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle popped out on his face, "Only on dates."

"And this isn't a date." pointed out Nesta, holding back a laugh at how tortured he sounded.

"It's not."

Nesta touched the tip of her nose, thoughtful, "Shouldn't this be easier for you then?"

Cassian released a breath through his nose, "I'm under a lot of pressure right now."

"Yeah?" she asked, looking away and smiling.

"Yeah, and stop looking like you're enjoying it." he retorted.

She feigned innocence, "Enjoying what?"

"My pain." he sheeted.

Nesta laughed, unable to contain herself any longer and when he glared at her, she covered her mouth with one hand, laughing harder. Only when he snapped his fingers against the steering wheel did she stop, laying a hand on his arm, just for a few seconds, "I'm so sorry." she wheezed, "I just don't understand. When you're hanging out with my sisters or Amren, or Mor, I don't know, you don't seem to be in this much discomfort."

Cassian sighed again and Nesta chuckled one last time, stopping when he smiled slightly. "I'm just trying not to make you uncomfortable. You accepted I take you on this non-date, and I'm doing my best not to flirt badly with you every chance I get." he confessed, nodding slowly, as if to convince himself that he was doing the right thing and not wasting their time.

Nesta was genuinely surprised at his answer and decided to offer him an olive branch.

"My favourite colour is blue."

"Nice." he smiled, showing a hint of a dimple, "Mine is red."

"It's too bright of a colour," she said lightheartedly.

Cassian chuckled, "I'm pretty sure it reflects my peppy personality."

Nesta nodded, "I read an article once about how a person's favourite colour says a lot about the person themselves," she said annoyed, "It sounded like one of those quizzes you find in gossip magazines, like it was written by a third grader. I hate those things, like horoscopes."

He grunted, "God, Mor's obsessed with horoscopes..."

The conversation continued without any more awkward silences for the remainder of the ride, and when Cassian turned onto a bumpy road, Nesta knew they were close. Of course, even if she hadn't looked at the directions from her house to the place, the myriad cars parked along the road would have been an indication.

They parked in the first vacant spot they could find and as soon as Nesta was out of the car, an icy gust of wind hit her face, making her shiver with cold. She looked over the bonnet at Cassian and found him staring at her with a half smile on his face. He'd left his glasses in the car and had let his hair down again, her hair band on his wrist, and he looked even prettier than before.

"Do you want my jacket?" he asked her, with a conflicted look on his face, as if he didn't want to. Nesta narrowed her brows and he hurried to add, "There's no hidden agenda to my offer, just a friend lending a jacket to another friend."

Nesta watched him for a moment, trying to really understand his intentions, but then remembered reading in one of the reviews that the library was heated inside and shook her head.

Cassian gave a small nod of assent and then pointed down the street, "Shall we?"

From where they had parked to the library it would have been about a ten minute walk and Nesta couldn't help but notice the way Cassian kept his distance between them as if he was afraid she would get scared and run away.

He was back to fidgeting nervously with his fingers and when he realised she was looking at him, he put them in his pockets, smiling tensely at her. He took a deep breath and then said, "So, what do you know about this library?"

Nesta looked ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the building, but the foliage of the trees was still too thick and they were still too far away for it to see anything. She brought her hands to her stomach, crossing her fingers, "I actually did a bit of research before I came. Did you know that the Peace Treaty between Prythian and Hybern of 1864 was signed here?" she asked in an excited voice.

Cassian smiled at her so naturally that she felt herself blush. He had an expression she couldn't decipher, but Nesta had never been good at cracking people in general, so she didn't venture to continue until he said, "Tell me more."

And Nesta launched into a detailed description of the events that had taken place inside the building, which only a hundred years before had become a bookstore. Only one wing of the building had been furnished in such a way as to become a real shop, the rest had been set up to be visited as a museum, one of the oldest libraries. She talked about the architecture and how it was obvious that the palace had been built long before it became an important meeting place for scholars and researchers.

"And in 1932 a fire destroyed the science wing, burning more than a hundred textbooks." Nesta sighed, thinking how devastating that loss had been. She lit up with happiness when she remembered what happened next. "But luckily, one of the most important literary clubs in the city got together and they managed to recover a small portion of the books. It took them years to rewrite every manual, but they got help from one of the local researchers, a certain Mr. Hawthorn, I can't remember the name or details of the research, only that he's mentioned often in the article I read."

When she paused to catch her breath, Nesta realised with immense horror what had just happened. Cassian had not spoken a word after asking her if she knew anything about the place and she had monopolised the conversation without even acknowledging him once. She felt herself flare up and knew in that moment that any hope they had of becoming real friends was gone.

Sometimes she would get lost in thought and ramble on about the things she was passionate about. Quite often people had stopped her, letting her know they weren't interested in the subject, but Cassian had never interrupted her and she was afraid to look at him, convinced she would only find boredom and disgust on his face.

That was why, when he spoke, she was struck dumb.

"I'm impressed." he breathed, chuckling immediately afterwards.

Nesta pushed herself to look at him and he stood admiring her with his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn't find the words. She felt her heart clench in her chest so tightly that she didn't know if she could survive the pain. Who knows how many times he'd tried to stop her and she'd gone on and on about windows and arches and treaties of peace.

But when she got a better look at him, stopping in front of him, Cassian looked... happy.

He let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, and Nesta was distracted for a moment by the sway of his arms before she was brought violently back down to earth when he said, "You surprise me more and more every time, Nesta."

And the way he said her name - Ne-sta - made her toes curl.

"Why?" she managed to throw out in a weak voice.

Cassian laughed again, raising his eyebrows so high they ended under the hair on his forehead, locking his eyes to hers. "I have a degree in history and my final thesis happened to be on this very library." Nesta felt the ground open up beneath her feet and hoped it swallowed her alive. "I came out of university with top marks and various accolades for finishing my studies on time and you, dreadful creature that you are, have just taught me at least three new things about this place."

His gaze was so intense that Nesta had to lower her head to hide the satisfied and surprised smirk that popped up on her lips.

"You're amazing." huffed Cassian, "Perfect in every way."

She shrugged.

"Although," he clicked his tongue against his palate, "You made a mistake."

Nesta looked up at him, frowning, "Oh, yeah?"

Cassian nodded, smirking fiercely, "Why don't you turn around and admire the palace, and once we're inside, I'll explain what it is?"

She must have been so lost in her chatter that she hadn't noticed that they had arrived in the large entrance forecourt, because when she turned, her back to Cassian, the building stood among the forest trees, as imposing and splendid as ever. The photos had not done it justice in the slightest and Nesta was left speechless.

Living in a country with a history going back millennia, it wasn't hard to stumble upon historic streets with old buildings and monuments, but this was completely different.

She was still admiring the way the stone around the windows had been carved to look like trees trying to get into the building when she felt something settle on the small of her back. A hand.

Nesta stiffened slightly, before closing her eyes and relaxing.

Cassian must have noticed her discomfort because a moment later his hand was no longer touching her.

They entered the museum part of the building in silence and Nesta paid the entrance fees, reminding him of the tea he'd offered her last Sunday and Cassian hadn't been able to argue with that.

They had just passed the doors to the first room, the smallest in the entire palace, when he leaned towards her, to the point of touching her ear with his lips.

The fact that he was whispering as if they had been in a sacred place did things to her little icy heart, "Mr. Hawthorn was not a man."

Shocked by that information, Nesta's head snapped in his direction and she realised too late that she had miscalculated the space.

Her lips brushed against his cheek, the corner of his lips, before Cassian reacted so quickly he startled her, but avoiding them both an involuntary first kiss. His sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and he reached out his hands towards her, straightening as he held on to her shoulders.

Both of them were holding their breath.

Cassian cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the wall of books, but returning to look at her soon after, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, you just surprised me," she said when she had recovered. "I must have read the article wrong."

He was still watching her and shook his head, "Oh no, I don't think it's that. They only found out a few months ago that it was Georgina and not George Hawthorn. They found letters in the house of what was thought to be Hawthorn's wife. Some people think they were just friends, but anyone who has read the letters they exchanged knows full well that they were lovers. Anyone who says otherwise is either homophobic or stupid."

Nesta realised that she could have listened to this for hours on end. And so it was.

The visit continued relatively quietly, Cassian explaining every detail to her, expanding on things she already knew and when he forgot something, she would step in and have her say, commenting on every little aspect.

She'd noticed how Cassian hadn't tried to touch her anymore and how whenever someone was about to bump into her, he'd vocally warn her instead of wrapping an arm around her shoulders to move her out of their way like he had on Sunday.

The visit to the museum lasted less than expected unfortunately, because Nesta hadn't had this much fun in too long. It was becoming easier to smile at him or tease him when he said dumb things and even he seemed to finally be more at ease when he had to make jokes that smacked of him.

When they finally got to the shop, Nesta couldn't stand on her feet anymore, she just wanted to buy all the books she saw and go home and arrange them on her shelves.

"Which section do you want to see first?" she asked him, even though she had started hopping impatiently about the place.

Cassian gave her a smug look, "Why don't you go wherever you want and I'll look for the manuals for the gazebo in the meantime? That way you don't waste time keeping up with me. I'll be right there."

Nesta let out an excited squeal and ran off, hearing only the echo of laughter that shook Cassian from head to toe.

***

As Cassian flipped through the various books to find a picture of a gazebo that looked similar to the one Feyre had requested, he kept casting glances at Nesta.

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed book after book without even reading the synopses. She was in the romance novels section, from what he could see from where he stood, but soon ended up in the classics, where she grabbed just as many books. She moved to the mystery books section, this time stopping to read the plots and putting most of them back on the shelves.

Then, surprising Cassian, she walked over to where the historical novels were and turned to face him. He bent his head to the side, raising an eyebrow to ask her what she was doing there. Nesta seemed at a loss, trying to move all the books from one arm to the other to point him to join her, but Cassian was already halfway there and when she looked back up at him and found him standing in front of her, she gave him a bright smile.

"Hello." she exclaimed.

Cassian's breath caught for a second before he too sighed a greeting.

"I was thinking," Nesta began, running her eyes over the titles in front of them, "that you could recommend something about..." she wiggled her fingers as much as she could, trying to point to the shelf, and Cassian leaned forward, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Here," he removed the first stack of books from her arms and she sagged a little, giving him a thankful look. "I can go get a bag so you can put them all in there and you don't have to carry them like this," he said taking all the books and having her help him arrange them so they wouldn't fall out.

He smiled at her over all the books, looking down at her and she smiled back just as happily.

Hell, if she looked at him like that every time he took her to a bookstore he should do it more often.

He had just turned to go towards the entrance, where he had seen special bags for carrying books, but Nesta stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Wait!" she exclaimed almost impishly.

Cassian turned his head, genuinely worried that something had happened to her in the mere seconds he had been shot. He must have moved too fast, because one of the smaller classics flew off the top of the stack and landed right in her face.

Nesta groaned at the impact and brought her hands to her face, rubbing her forehead where it hurt.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" he asked with wide eyes. And then Nesta laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she stared at him and he visibly relaxed. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw a book at you."

She waved a hand in mid-air, to let him know it was nothing, and bent down to pick up what he realised was A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Of course Nesta was reading feminist classics.

She turned back to the books as if nothing had happened and Cassian had the urge to look for a list of all the bookstores in the world to take her to if it meant having her in such a good mood by his side, it didn't matter if she would never agree to go on a real date with him, he realised. As long as he could see her smile like that, he didn't need anything else.

"So, I was saying, before you battered me with a book-" she cast an amused glance over one shoulder at him.

He frowned, muttering, "I said sorry."

Nesta ignored him, "What do you recommend?"

Cassian blinked.

"You said you read historical novels right?" she asked, looking for confirmation, "You could recommend your favourites. But not the English or Russian classics. Or French ones. Chances are I've already read those."

Cassian was stunned. Nesta wanted advice on books. From him.

They were silent for too long as she turned around impatiently, "You lied?"

He looked surprised, "When?"

"When you said you were reading. Were you just doing it to impress me or were you serious?" she asked and maybe Cassian imagined it, but she looked disappointed.

He was quick to reply, "The Black Coat, by Neamat Imam. It's pretty recent, but set in the 1970s in Bangladesh. It's about a man who needs help and seeks it from a journalist he asks for work and one of the main themes is the famine that hit the country after it became independent. It's not my absolute favourite, but it certainly gives you something to think about."

Nesta nodded, searching through the titles and finding it almost immediately, "Anything else?"

Cassian felt his neck heat up and coughed a little before resuming speaking. "The Long Ships by Frans G. Bengtsson. Set in the tenth century, it's about a Viking who is called Red because of his hair and focuses on the European political outlook in the late Viking Age. Again, it's not as good as the historical classics, but it's nice and shows a way of life that we're definitely not used to. It's different."

After looking for a few minutes, Nesta gave up reading and turned to him, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to the side, watching him closely, "What's your favourite book?"

Cassian shrugged, settling the books against his chest, "I think at the moment it's The King Must Die by Mary Renault. But I change my mind every month when I find something more interesting or captivating."

She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll take that one then."

And Cassian wished he could change the title immediately because... what if she didn't like it? Or if she thought it was a stupid book? What would she think of him then?

But Nesta had already found a copy a few shelves down and there was no turning back.

He could counterattack, though, "What about yours? You're not going to give me any advice on feminist classics or blatantly trashy romance novels?"

Nesta opened her mouth wide, looking outraged as she placed the latest addition on the pile, settling the book under her chin, "How can you say they're trashy if you don't even know what they're about?"

Cassian chuckled, "On the cover of You Came," he said as he gave her a sly look, "there's something called a 'spicymeter'. How am I supposed to take you seriously?"

Nesta blushed, "I read erotic novels, so what? I have to keep myself busy in my spare time somehow."

And then he challenged her, "Get me the hottest book you've ever read," he said in a joking tone, "I'll go get the bag in the meantime."

She had already left for the section when he had an idea that would surely doom him depending on how Nesta would react.

He walked up to the cashier's desk, making sure she didn't notice, and begging the clerk behind the counter to be quick, paid for all her books, gently placing them back in the bags.

When he reached her again, she seemed not to have noticed anything.

"'So, what did you get me? Ride Me? Fucked You Good? Last Night I Gave You A Thousand Orgasms?" he teased her with an annoyed grin on his lips.

Nesta gave him a fiery glance before noticing the bags, quite different from those you put the things you wanna buy in, and closed her mouth tightly. She frowned and looked at them for so long before speaking that Cassian began to feel self-conscious.

"You paid for my books?" she whispered, looking at him.

He nodded.

"It's not a date, Cassian," she reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"I know, but-"

"So why would you pay for things that are mine?"

He couldn't read her. She wasn't hinting at anything.

She didn't look angry but she didn't look impressed or grateful either.

Cassian placed the bags on the ground between them and Nesta followed his every movement with her eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, "My adoptive family is filthy rich. I have a trust fund that I never get to spend on things I really want to do, the only way I get to use it is by giving gifts to my friends, so just accept these as my first gift - friend to friend - and call it a day."

Nesta continued to be impassive as she kept her eyes fixed on the books.

Perhaps he had gone too far. After all, she had taken more than a hundred and fifty euros worth of stuff, but he really didn't mind.

He was about to apologise, tell her she could give the money back if it made her feel better. Cassian would find a way to spend it back on her at other times anyway.

Then she raised her head, handing him two books with hilarious covers to say the least, "These two have storylines full of plot twists. You won't be able to put them down, but don't expect big epic battles or Viking warriors. It's just two college kids trying to survive in the modern world while finding solace in each other."

He didn't even have time to thank her that she was already across the room and waiting in line so she could pay them.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I guess you'll be paying for these two," he said as he caught up with her.

Nesta didn't even look at him, pulling out her wallet, "A gift from a friend to a friend."

As they walked back to the car, Cassian offered to carry the bags, but she didn't want to hear one more word so they had managed to compromise and had split the load equally.

They'd been on the road for about thirty minutes now and Nesta had gone through every book he'd bought her, talking about all the previous works by the authors she was holding in her hand at the moment.

Cassian could have died like that. Happy, relaxed, listening to the plots of those dirty books with no moral lessons to teach the reader, just pure entertainment.

He wondered at that moment if he would make it through the first few chapters of the books she had offered him and let out a heavy breath through his nose as he turned right towards the coast.

Nesta looked at him wide-eyed, stopping her rant about the headmaster's son getting the occasional model student to fall in love with him. She brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh dear, sorry, I'm boring you. I'm sorry."

He gave her a confused look ready to tell her she didn't have to apologise, but she continued.

"Sometimes I do and I don't even realize it. And I realize they're not challenging plots where you have to apply some hidden lobe of the brain to understand them, but they distract me from everyday problems, you know? It's fun to be able to unplug a few hours after I get home from work and-"

"Jesus, Nesta, stop!" he laughed, placing a hand on her thigh. She sighed. "You don't have to apologise. Not when you're so excited about something." he looked at her slyly, offering her a reassuring smile, "In fact, I'm glad you're talking so much today. Normally I have to pull the words out of your mouth."

She blushed slightly and then grew sullen soon after, sitting up straighter, "This isn't the way to Velaris, where are we going?"

Cassian didn't answer.

"You're taking me into the woods aren't you?"

"We literally just came out of a forest."

She ignored him.

"I knew it. You're a serial killer."

"Nes-"

"You're a little dense though. Why would you spend so much on someone if you're going to murder them?"

He decided to ignore her, chuckling, "I'm taking you to the beach."

"Why?" she asked, somewhat unconvinced.

Cassian shrugged, "I wanted to see the sunset."

"You didn't ask."

He sighed, gripping the steering wheel, "Okay," he whispered, then louder, "You want to go to the beach and watch the sunset?"

She nodded in assent and then continued to read the plots aloud.

And Cassian could have sworn he was in heaven.

***

Nesta gathered more sand, making a small ball out of it and placing it on the top of one of the towers she had made so far.

"Where did you learn to make such good sandcastles?" asked Cassian suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She jumped in the air, turning to face him and noticing the satisfied smile on his face for having taken her by surprise.

Nesta didn't answer him immediately, but allowed herself to admire him a bit.

Since they had arrived at the beach, they had taken off their shoes and were now both barefoot and then Cassian had bent down and started to roll his trousers around his ankles, offering to do it to her jeans as well, but Nesta had refused. She had sat down, looking at the sea for a while, while he walked along the shore and collected stones and shells.

When he had come back to her and shown them to her, asking her to make a sandcastle, she had laughed at first, but faced with his serious expression, she had been unable to do anything but get up and roll up her sleeves, moving to where the sand was a little more workable.

She looked away from that heavenly vision and made another ball, placing it next to the one she had just made. "When I was little my mum never let me do these, she said I'd get too much sun and forced me and Elain to stay under the umbrella all day," she replied truthfully, remembering the cruel bite of jealousy watching the children on the shore.

"And Feyre?"

Cassian had joined her, kneeling beside her and had begun to place the shells so that they served as windows to the towers.

Nesta sighed, "Feyre was still too little when Mini Me wanted to build sandcastles, but as soon as I became 'too old to play like a kid'," she gave him a knowing look, mimicking her mother's voice, "and Feyre started to figure out she was an actual being, Mama let her do whatever she wanted. Even stand in the sun for hours on end." she shrugged. "Whether it was out of indifference or love, I never understood."

Cassian had been silent the whole time and now he watched her, hands on his thighs as he waited for her to give him more. For her to tell him another little piece of her soul.

So she offered him a forced smile, "So to answer your question, it's all pent-up creativity."

"Well, you're very good at it," he granted her. "I can imagine what you could have done if your mother hadn't been so strict."

Well, yeah.

"What about you?" she asked him.

"What about me?"

"Did you go to the beach a lot?"

Cassian smiled weakly, getting up and heading towards the water to collect more shells. He nodded a couple of times and then said, "My mum and I loved coming to the beach and she loved making castles. And she always put so many 'windows' on the towers-"

Nesta turned to look at their work, realising how many shells he had placed on the piles of sand. She smiled softly, covering her eyes from the sun and watching him walk towards her.

"We always came when she was free from work."

A charged silence settled between them until Cassian chuckled, drawing her attention, "What?"

"You said this wasn't a date. And that we're just friends. Right?"

Shifting her gaze to him, she noticed how he kept his hands hidden behind his back and the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't reassure her at all. Slowly she stood up, nodding.

"So, I must treat you as I would treat my friends. Correct?"

"Cassian, I swear to god that-"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence that something wet and sticky landed in her face with a resounding splash, making her jump back.

She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it when a strong smell of stale water and seaweed flooded her nostrils.

When she opened her eyes again, wiping the seaweed from her face, Cassian was doubled over in laughter.

She didn't even give him time to get up when she started to run towards him - to do what, she had no idea - but he started to run away too and soon they were chasing each other all around the beach, not noticing the sweet looks they were getting from the people around them.

At that moment, Nesta was running so fast that she could feel the wind in her hair and the smell and sound of the sea, together with the laughter of the man who was chasing her, mixed with her own and the continuous tapping of her feet on the sand, made her feel alive.

She felt Cassian come closer every few metres until two strong arms wrapped around her waist and she was pulled up and spun around in the air.

A surprised yelp escaped her as Cassian laughed in her ear, "Gotcha!"

It wasn't until he stopped spinning with her in his arms that they realised the position they were in and immediately broke away, laughing embarrassed.

Nesta turned to face him, her face red from running and her breathing laboured. He was in no better condition. His hair was pointing in all directions and his sculpted chest was rising and falling with haste under the black fabric of his shirt.

He looked away first, scratching the back of his neck and fixing his eyes on the sunset, and offered her his arm as they returned to where they had left theirs things unattended.

Nesta shook her head, laughing one last time and started to run, " Last to reach the castle is stupid!"

Cassian burst out laughing, but he caught up to her in the blink of an eye and they both knew that she had doomed herself to lose. That's why, when he fell tripping over his feet, Nesta knew he had done it on purpose.

She helped him up and they sat back as in silence they watched the sun go down, disappearing past the horizon and the blending lights of the sky created a breathtaking spectacle.

Nesta couldn't have noticed, too busy admiring the clouds, but Cassian had been watching her the whole time, trying to understand how something as sombre and secretive as her could look so bright just by being.

The journey back was silent, but this time the silence was not awkward. They both welcomed it with open arms, a new awareness that there was no need for it to be filled with chatter and that gave Nesta the opportunity to close her eyes for a moment and doze off.

When the car stopped outside her flat, Nesta was surprised to find that she didn't want to get out.

She turned to Cassian after she had gathered her things and nodded, "I had fun today."

He gave her a genuine smile, looking surprised, "Me too."

And then she permanently shocked him, adding, "I'm not working on Saturday, we could do it again. Changing location."

He blinked once. Twice. Then he nodded, "Sure."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, so Nesta waved goodbye to him and then got out, not waiting for an answer from him.

Cassian stood motionless in the car park of her flat for another half hour, trying to figure out what had just happened, and when the reality of things finally dawned on him, he smiled, "Fuck yeah."

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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years

Text

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

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daddyjackfrost · 3 years

Text

Iwazumi Hajime;

Prompt 60: “You’re so beautiful in the sun.”

warnings: none! fluff! oh, it is self indulgent tho (sorry not sorry), also reading? books? yeah

iwazumi x f!reader

a/n: hi! okay so i wrote this as a treat after the bokuto angst. i think we all deserve something sweet after that. (especially since there’s more coming) this is just pure fluff. enjoy!

Iwazumi watched you with eyes filled with love, his sole focus on you as you slowly walked down the isle, your finger running against the spines of the books.

Your neck was slightly bent to the left as you read the names of the authors. You walked in an awkward position slowly as you looked for the books you had saved up for.

Every time you walked a bit too fast, the pinky that was linked with Iwazumi’s tugged you back.

You loved book shopping with Iwazumi because even though the man wasn’t as passionate about books as you were, he was always interested in the books you were reading, and often found the books you wanted before you did.

You had no idea how, especially since he usually only came into the store with you, but you never asked him. Though the books that just happened to appear on your bookshelf were a big indicator as to why he knew where all the books were.

Iwazumi would never tell you that he actually did like books. Not because he was sure you would beat him up for hiding it, but because he didn’t want you to stop reading to him.

He loved it when you read to him.

“Aha! I found it, Haji!”

Iwazumi’s eyes softened as his eyes fell on your excited face. You were holding the book with gentle hands as you read the back. You both knew you already knew what The Goldfinch was about, but reading the back of the book was a habit you were not willing to break.

Iwazumi watched as a small smile formed on your lips as you finished reading the back, and then he watched as the smile turned into a frown.

Your eyes looked at the spot the book was hiding. Someone had put it in the wrong spot. No wonder you couldn’t find it.

“What’s wrong, love?” Iwazumi asked you.

He knew what was wrong. The book was not in the right spot. The Goldfinch was written by Donna Tartt, but it was in the V authors.

“Someone put it in the wrong place.” Under your breath, you mumbled, “How hard is it to put a book back where it belongs?”

Iwazumi just snorted as he pulled you towards the cashier by your pinky. You gripped the book with tight hands, already anticipating reading it.

You looked down at your linked pinkies and smiled. Iwazumi wasn’t the biggest on PDA, but he was clingy, and he needed to be touching you or close to you all the time.

You didn’t like holding hands for a long period of time since your hands usually began to sweat and get clammy, and Iwazumi loved holding your hand.

So you compromised.

Your pinky and Iwazumi’s pinky were always linked. And would be linked forever, Iwazumi firmly believed it. There was no one else for him. Only you.

The cashier smiled at you and Iwazumi. Her kind elderly eyes brightened as she saw your linked pinkies, but neither of you saw that.

“Hello, darlings. Just the one book?”

You smiled and slid the book on the counter. “Hi! Yes, just the one.”

The lady scanned the book and punched a few buttons before speaking again. “And how would you like to pay?”

Before you could answer, Iwazumi held up his debit card. “Debit, please.”

You frowned and reached for his card, but Iwazumi just moved it out of your reach, and then pulled your pinky as a warning.

“Haji, no,” you scolded. “You paid last time! Let me pay.” You looked down at your card to make sure it was the right one when you heard the small beep of the card payment being accepted.

You looked up and scowled at a triumphant Iwazumi and a smiling cashier. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“So not fair,” you mumbled.

The cashier just laughed as she handed Iwazumi your bag. “You’ve got yourself a gentleman.”

Your eyes met the lady’s soft brown ones and you let out a small genuine smile that made Iwazumi’s heart flutter.

You squeezed Iwazumi’s pinky. “Yeah, I do.”

With a smile and a small wave, you walked out of the store, Iwazumi following close behind. Once you two began walking. you started to lightly swing your connected arms back and forth.

“Hajime, you can’t keep buying all my books, you’re gonna go broke.”

Iwazumi rolled his eyes. You two had already had this conversation one too many times. Why didn’t you understand that he wanted to buy all your books? He wanted to buy them because they made you happy. Because as much as you would deny it, he loved seeing the look of adoration in your eyes when he bought them.

“Yes I can, pretty girl. And no, I’m not.”

You just sighed and stuck your tongue out at him.

You two walked in comfortable silence. Today was a beautiful day. The sun was high in the sky, shining down. Soft white clouds decorated the blue sky and birds flew, putting on a show for all those watching.

As you admired the world around you, Iwazumi admired you.

He didn’t get many days off like this, and even when he did, you two usually opted to stay indoors.

Iwazumi’s olive green eyes wandered all over your figure. From your luscious hair to your spring dress. Iwazumi never understood how someone like you could be with someone like him.

And he probably never would.

But Iwazumi was thankful for it everyday. His life, mentality, happiness, and just overall being was so much better with you in it.

Iwazumi’s eyes landed on the familiar street sign and he frowned. He didn’t want to go home yet. He wanted to stay out and witness your beauty in the sun.

Iwazumi gently pulled at your pinky, getting your attention. The 5’10 college student’s ears were slightly red when you looked up at him.

“Hajj? What’s wrong?”

Iwazumi’s eyes landed on the park across the street.

“I don’t wanna go back yet, love.”

You nodded and adjusted your dress. “What do you want to do?”

Iwazumi looked down at you and your eyes sparkled. He had a feeling you knew what he wanted, but you were going to make him say it.

With a small smile, Iwazumi tugged you towards the park.

“Read to me under the sun.”

You laughed as you followed him, your eyes on his red ears. Seeing your boyfriend getting flustered was the favourite part of your day, and it happened so rarely that when it did, you couldn’t help but smile.

You and Iwazumi both reached the park. The park consisted of a large piece of land with a small children’s playground in the middle. Iwazumi led you to the other side of the park, away from the screaming children and the barking dogs.

Iwazumi stopped in a beautiful green patchy spot and you instantly sat down, fixing your dress and crossing your legs.

From the ground, you looked up at Iwazumi. The sun almost blinding you. You patted your lap and grinned at the wide smile that spread across Iwazumi’s face. The man instantly laid down, his head in your lap and his hands laced together on his chest.

You brought the book to your face, slightly further away so Iwazumi had a clear view of your face. You flipped through the first couple of pages and then cleared your throat, smiling for a second when your eyes met Iwazumi’s.

“While I was still in Amsterdam, I dreamed about my mother for the first time in years. I’d been shut up in my hotel for more than a week—”

Iwazumi was listening, he swear he was, but the way the sun shined on your skin, creating this beautiful glow that had allured him, had the words that slipped off your tongue uninterested.

Your free hand ran through Iwazumi’s dark hair, untangling the pieces. You read with a comfortable ease, having gotten used to reading aloud to Iwazumi. You could feel Iwazumi’s stare but you tried to ignore it.

After you had read almost two pages, you paused and your eyes flickered down.

Iwazumi’s olive green eyes shined as they looked up at you and you bit your lip, flustered at the intensity of his gaze.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Haji?”

“You’re so beautiful in the sun, my love.”

When you broke out into an embarrassed smile, Iwazumi’s heart clenched in his chest. He could stay like this forever. His head in your lap as you played with his hair, reading to him.

If there was a heaven, he knew that his would like this. With you staring down at him with a smile as the sun shined on your skin.

Iwazumi wondered if the rest of the park had fallen in love with you yet. If they too had been captured and blinded by your glow and beauty.

Iwazumi was so in love with you. He often wondered what he did to deserve you. You thought the same thing about him. What did you do in your past life to get someone like him?

Iwazumi brought his hand to your chin, gently rubbing your lips with his thumb.

This was it, Iwazumi thought. This is all I could ever want.

omg i’ve never written for iwa before. how exciting! i love him. i should write for him more.

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @iwasumi @snoozless @elektrosonix @bokuatsubro @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @addicedtoeverythinganime @uglystupidbxtch @qualitygiantshoepsychic @aoi-turtle @felixsamour

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq prompts #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwazumi #iwazumi hajime #iwazumi x reader #iwazumi imagines #iwazumi x you #iwazumi fluff #iwazumi hcs

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jawllines · 4 years

Text

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!”

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?”

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day.

Harry still doesn’t like the other camp counsellors but Y/N’s an exception

part 1

(tw: mentions of suicide)

ii.

Psst.

Harry was typically a heavy sleeper. When he was younger his mum used to joke that he could sleep through an earthquake-induced tsunami if someone allowed him to. An alarm would have to be pretty loud to stir him from his slumber, and unless he was on edge, a mere call of his name would not drag him from whatever dreamland he’d submerged himself within.

Psst.

There had only been two things before that could notably wake him. His mum, who was the sweetest person on this planet yet managed to be the cruelest being on earth when he needed to be up for something, and his childhood cat Molly, who sits on his chest and makes it hard to breathe (which, from what he’s learned, encourages his brain to panic and wake him up so he could fix it). Other than that, he was blissfully unaware of the world for hours at a time.

Yet, there was something stirring him now. A low sound that puzzles him as he toes the line between consciousness and his dreams, aware of the blankets that cover him but still dancing on a stage with his limbs thrashing wildly and people shouting his name.

Psst.

Was it an insect? Maybe he was performing outside then -- a crowd of thousands in an outdoor field to see him for... .what was it that he did again?

Psst.

Oh, he’s dreaming, isn’t he? How deep in his dream is he? He thinks this is the first time he’s ever been asleep and realized that he was asleep...he could probably conjure something up, right? Manifest something that he’s always wanted, try his hand in lucid dreaming. If only he could focus apart from the insect zipping past his eardrum.

Harry, please wake up, we’re being haunted -- or murdered, or something.

Harry’s eyelids flutter like swallowtail wings, his gaze blurry and unfocused as he comes to. He’s confused, piecing together the puzzle that always presents to him when he’s just woken up and has to readjust to the world around him. The whole process of it took nothing more than 10 seconds, maybe 15 if he’s really out of it, but that’s only because thoughts run through his mind at a hundred miles a minute.

What time is it? The room around him his pitch-black apart from a very small amount of light illuminating beneath the curtain covering the window he’s beneath, so it couldn’t be morning. Potentially early morning, but he would say that would be 3-4 AM. Did he need to be up? He didn’t think so, actually, because there’s no alarm buzzing him awake and as far as he’s concerned, he hadn’t signed up for any early morning shifts at the bookstore as of late. The last time he went in at 5 to open up shop while the owner was on vacation and Harry was more or less ran down by a mother raccoon when he’d stumbled upon her babies after getting out of his car -- Harry had been reluctant to go before sunrise since.

Where was he? He knows he’s not at home, that’s for sure. The sheets smell like him but not him enough to be at his own place -- and the bedding isn’t as soft either. He knows he hasn’t passed out at someone’s house because he only does that if the person is close enough to him that he would recognize their scent, or if he was too drunk to get home, but that was usually accompanied by a wicked headache and a sour stomach. No, where he was smelled like wood and generic fabric softener. There was an air conditioning unit that rattled and rumbled from where it was fixed to the wall, he felt a tension in his neck that he only experienced at one place and, yeah, he was at the camp.

He was at camp, in a cabin with Y/N, who slept with the lamp on because she hated the dark, was the owner of the voice that had woken him up in the inky black room.

“Hm?” He hums, brows pinching as he lets his eyes shut again, only to open them a few seconds later, “Wha’s wrong? Why is your light off?”

“I don’t know,” her voice is still just a bit over a whisper, and Harry wonders why she doesn’t just speak up now that she knows he’s awake, “I woke up a little bit ago and thought maybe there was a storm that knocked the power out or something, but I checked the weather and it’s been clear skies all night. I think our power line was cut which is like -- straight out of a horror film.”

Harry sighs, a bit of him regretting the number of horror movies they’ve been watching once they finally got to watch Midsommar (in three days, they’d sifted through six different movies -- two movies a night and each one managed to horrify Y/N more than the last). He begins to press himself from the bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark around them, making out slivers of shadows, “I’ll go check --”

“No! Are you crazy?” He hears her bed frameshift with her as she moves, “That’s just asking for a maniac to come for us. Plus I keep hearing noises and I can’t tell if it’s like...like little raccoon feet or a one-armed hook man.”

“Alright, then go back to bed.” Harry begins to lower back down to the mattress but a sharp whine leaves her throat, “It’s dark when you close your eyes.” It’s silent for a moment, but then Harry feels a bead of guilt dribble through his body. He sighs, reaching up and wiping his hand down his face, “What do you want to do, yeah? If you don’t want me to go out there. Do you want to stay up?”

She’s quiet, Harry is straying further and further from the state he would’ve been in to fall right back into his dreams but he tries to wipe away the irritation the best he could. What he reminds himself is that four days prior, Y/N had trekked out in the forest toward a lake despite her unremitting distaste for the woods in the dark and slapped Jack clean across the face because he was being rude to him. And he was going to ignore her? Fall asleep while she’s frightened? Harry could be a prick, but he wasn’t the bleeding antichrist.

“I...um, well, I don’t want us to stay up, no, we’ll be so cranky tomorrow,” she shuffles in the sheets, “I dunno’, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed, I’ll be okay.”

Harry isn’t sure what to do but in his half-awake state, the next few words that leave his mouth seem like just the temporary fix necessary for them to get the last few hours of sleep that they can, “Do you want me to read you a story or summat?”

She giggles quietly, “No, it’s okay, really, go back to sleep, okay?”

What Harry could have said was I can’t now, knowing that you’re awake and scared, but instead he utters a simple, “No.” He sits back up, patting blindly for his phone in his sheets, slipping his fingers around it, and tapping it awake. His screen blinds him with its brightness, so he lowers it before finding the flashlight. It lights up the floor at his feet and subsequently at its edges, he can make out Y/N’s shadowy figure. She’s sat up, curled in her blanket, wrapped around her head, and giving her a pseudo-nun appearance. She waves at him lamely and he struggles not to roll his eyes, “Maniac be damned, I’m gonna go out there and look for the breaker. Maybe the arseholes broke their vow of integrity.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Jack or one of the others came around and switched the breaker off, just to be inconvenient for the morning. They’d left them alone for four days sure, but Harry figures that it’s not so much four days of silent reflection and questioning why they feel the need to be such pricks to him, and more so four days for their anger to fester and brew. If not for the fact that Y/N slapped him then made him find laundry detergent and commanded the others to go get his clothes, then for the way she acted like nothing had happened the day prior. Jack’s cheek was still a stingy, red splotch, Oliver and Brandon were straight-faced looking irritated, and Y/N -- well, Y/N had never been more content with her day. She was having a blast with her kids playing bean bag toss, they did their little dance when one of them got it in the hole of the board, and when they were all getting drinks, Y/N offered to grab Harry his. He watched as she went to the cooler around the same time Jack did, they both reached for the last Dr. Pepper, and Y/N plucked it up and handed it to him before grabbing both her, Harry, and Mitch’s lemonades.

He thinks it’s the sincerity that she holds, that would aggravate him had he been in their shoes. Y/N was completely unbothered by the night prior and Harry could tell, just like when he doesn’t reciprocate their maleficent tendencies towards them -- it was digging under their skin.

(She makes Harry laugh when she comes back with their lemonades, handing him one and uttering, “I let the prick have the last Dr. Pepper, and I’m regretting it.”)

And while he’s hoping that they haven’t turned their target to her out of spite, he wouldn’t change what had happened for the world. It had made the two of them that much closer, and in the following day’s Harry had poked and prodded Y/N’s brain a bit more. Especially after what he’d seen on her page, he was intrigued by her. Intrigued by how she saw life, why she came at things the way she did, what built her up to be the person that she was in these very moments that he’s speaking to her. Harry hasn’t asked her about her old college roommate and he doesn’t plan on it either -- he doesn’t feel like he could, or he should.

Harry has lost people before and he thinks the worst thing someone could do was to bring it up unprompted. He knows that it’s probably always on her mind but even then, maybe it isn’t at the forefront of it. Maybe she’s just trying to have a good few weeks, separate herself from the real world for a while, and he would be cruel to dig up something that she may not be ready to just up and chat about. No matter how curious he is about the whole situation, and no matter how much he wonders if she treats him the way she does because of what happened. If the topic was brought up by her he would openly and freely discuss it as long as she was comfortable, but he wouldn’t give her the third degree.

So he minds his business and focuses on trying to get to know her better instead.

He can’t say that it doesn’t change how he treats her a bit though. Harry is much. . .gentler, than he had been. He tries to be less critical of her unwavering optimism and seeks to understand where it was coming from instead. If he’s in the right mood he’ll attempt to match it, which makes for a good day with their groups, who he finds -- despite the small age gap -- have begun to kindle very close friendships. Mrs. Graham had even commented on it one of the days after they had a riveting game of balloon tennis.

“You two make a good team -- putting all these other counselors to shame. And to think you were pouty about having to share a cabin.”

It was true, they did make a good team. Harry thinks that them sparking a friendship had made the whole experience much more enjoyable for everyone involved.

All of this together gives insight into why Harry is willing to stuff on his shoes at 3 AM and go out in the dark, muggy night to check and potentially fix a breaker. And no matter the number of times he assures her she does not have to come out there with him, she keeps hold of her ‘no man left behind’ mentality, pulls on a pair of flip flops, and pads out after him.

Had they been in any other cabin, finding the breaker would have been much easier. They’re typically on the backside in the upper right corner, surrounded by a little cage with a lock similar to that of an animal crate. The struggle with their cabin was that the backside was basically in the woods, so he had to dodge low hanging branches and tangles of ivy to get even remotely near it. He hands Y/N his phone and she shines the light over the metal box, her hand steady despite how she looks back and forth and all around them like she’s making sure there are no red eyes glowing at them. The world around them is silent apart from the chirp and groan of insects, the scutter of an animal somewhere in the far distance makes Y/N huff a weary sigh but otherwise, nothing comes out to attack them. Harry restarts the breaker, they go back inside, and the lamp on its dimmest setting is switched on how they had fallen asleep with it.

They both breath out in relief, Y/N dives back into her bed and Harry flops down atop of his covers, giving himself a second to feel the cool air from the conditioner fan over him.

“Theoretically,” Y/N begins as Harry lets his eyes fall shut, “If there were some creature in the forest --”

“There’s no creature in the forest.”

“I know, but theoretically --” She continues again, but Harry is quick to cut her off once more.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he tells her, “Go to sleep.”

Once more, Y/N falls silent, but a quiet, “Thank you,” was the only thing to leave her mouth.

. . .

A summer thunderstorm wasn’t abnormal during camp, which is why the recreation center and the art building are beneficial. It keeps everyone preoccupied and entertained with well-insulated walls to mute whatever carnage is taking place outside, which makes for less frightened children and an easier time for everyone involved. Harry liked being active and running around with his campers, sure, but he also really enjoyed a nice, calm, relaxing day trying his hand at DIY projects and abstract paintings. Plus it gave him the chance to wear the camp hoodie that he had spent a pretty penny purchasing, which was made of the softest fabric he’s ever felt and was far more comfortable than the t-shirts that they normally wear.

Y/N had also bought the hoodie, Harry saw as she stepped out in it after her shower this morning, and she seemed to be drowning in it but in the best way. The fabric pools off of her, but she looks cozy, and well-rested despite them waking in the middle of the night. He thinks she looks pretty cute, but he kept the thought to himself and instead asked her if she wanted his extra granola bar for breakfast.

They alternate throughout the day, between the rec center and art building, and on the schedule, it appears that most the day he would be with Y/N’s group (which he prefers) and a few times he’s even with Mitch as well, which is nice. Mitch doesn’t grow to like many people, but he liked Y/N well enough -- he thought she was oddly entertaining (or so he’s told, Harry) and good for a chat. The only times he and Y/N were not with each other were when the activities were age-specific, but even then, it wasn’t like anyone was in a different room. They were all just at different stations within a big room in the art building and the recreation center was more or less free for all.

Harry wondered when he started basing whether or not a day was going to be good by whether or not he and Y/N were able to be around each other, but he decided not to think about it too much. Lately, he’d been a little more on edge with whether they were together, simply because of Jack and the others. He didn’t want them fucking with her, and even though she’d proven that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he still worried, especially knowing he would be the cause of it.

Y/N doesn’t seem the least bit distressed about it, or as far as she was letting on -- she’d not expressed any thoughts or concerns that they would be spiteful towards her. Hell, the only thing she had told him the night after was that she hoped she didn’t make things worse for him. For him. Why was she so willing to defend him? What did she get out of being so kind?

“I especially like how multidimensional it is — purple and pink stars? Beautiful, I love those two colors together,” she places her hand on Oliver’s head, and it’s then that Harry notices he’s holding something, “Harry, Oliver here wanted you to see the flower he drew because I told him how much you like lilies.” As bashful as he always is, he holds out the paper toward Harry. It was cute — a singular, yellow lily and he could tell that Y/N helped him draw it, but the paint and crayon marks all over the page suggested she left the color duties up to him.

“Oh my goodness,” Harry gasps, looking at the painting, flipping it to Oliver and pointing at it, “You did this?” Oliver nodded excitedly, “It’s gorgeous.”

“I think our groups are the best artists,” Y/N motions to her table, only a meter away from them all working diligently on their projects, “Charlotte is over there doing an artistic interpretation of the both of us, we are not allowed to see it until she’s finished. Mikey is doing his own rendition of Disney world, I see Maisey is creating a beautiful tree -- Noah is that a cowboy you’re drawing?”

Noah barely looks up from his paper, very carefully dragging the tip of the marker in a circle, “Yes.”

“And Noah is drawing a cowboy! Modern-day Van Gogh’s, all of them.” Harry smiles as Y/N drags a stool up beside him, positioning it in a way so that she could watch both her kids and speak with him, “I heard they’re having one of them party things tonight, I didn’t know if you wanted to go or not.”

“Hm, I dunno,” his brows knit together as he lightly scratches a mosquito bite on the inside of his forearm, “Do you feel comfortable with going after what happened last time?”

She suckles her bottom lip into her mouth, gnawing on it as she nods her head, “Mhm,” she looks around them for a second, making sure that none of the kids are paying attention to them before she lowers her voice, “Mitch said that you used to go to all of them last year, and would like -- have a good time. I hope that I’m not ruining that for you.”

“How would you be ruining it for me?” It’s true, Harry hasn’t gone to any of the parties that they’ve been doing since the very first one he’d escorted Y/N away from. Not for any other reason apart from he was just spending time and hanging out with Y/N, or he’d be too knackered to even think about leaving the nice, cool setting of their cabin to be in the muggy heat with drunk college students. He had much more fun not attending, and other nights Mitch would come around and chill with them too. . .he had all he needed then. Didn’t need the booze for a good time.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t know if you weren’t going ‘cos of what happened the first time and you felt like you couldn’t leave me out or. . or something like that.”

Harry shook his head, “No,” he answers, “We can go tonight if you would like, but it’s unnecessary for me. I’m good either way.”

Although Y/N appears unconvinced, they have little time to go further into the topic because Charlotte is running up to them, a big grin on her face, “I finished!”

“Well give it here,” Harry holds out his hand, waving her over, “Let’s see it.”

On the paper are stick figure versions of he and Y/N, with big grins and 12 other little stick figures surrounding them. Above Harry’s stick figure, there’s a pink arrow and a very five-year-old esque writing of HUSBAD (Harry presumes it’s supposed to be husband), and above Y/N’s in the same fashion, she’s written WYFE. It’s then Harry realizes that Y/N’s figure has a veil on and Harry’s has a bowtie, “This is for you twos wedding! So thens when they take pictures you can has this one.” Charlotte chirps brightly and Y/N and Harry both cast each other a disbelieving glance.

“Whoaaaaa,” Y/N is the first to break their silence, a smile pulling at her lips, “This is really good Charlotte! I didn’t know Harry and I were getting married, though.”

Charlotte nods quickly, still grinning at them, her bottom canine missing as she gleams, “Me n’ Mikey thinks you should!”

Y/N turns toward him, nodding toward Charlotte, “Well, the god’s have spoken. Where’s my ring?”

Harry coughs on a laugh as he hands the paper back to Charlotte, “This is really good, Bug. Why don’t you and Oliver go help Josie finish her coloring pages, hm?”

The both of them head the short way back to their table, hiking up on the small stools and Harry makes sure they’re all settled before he turned back to face Y/N, who was biting down on a grin, “Don’t start --” he began but she’s already started, shaking her head.

“Listen, it’s okay to be in love with me, but you should really try to tone it down. . .the kids are starting to notice.”

Harry scoffs before he proceeds to tease her,, “How d’ya know they aren’t basing it off your actions, huh? Giving me love eyes every couple minutes like nobody would see.”

Y/N mocks offense to his words and he tries to keep up the facade, but his sheer delight for getting in a teasing match with her overcomes him and he can’t help his smile. Harry loved teasing people -- loved making them flustered or reducing them to a bashful mess by his words alone. Y/N, however, was much less into flustered gazes and sheepish tendencies, and more so ready and willing to give him it right back. He’d met his match -- if he teases her she’s teasing right back (if she hadn’t started it in the first place), and both of them found mutual pleasure in it.

“You can’t use my love eyes against me, I can’t help but give them to everyone I’ve ever met” she tells him, feigning sincerity before an additional anecdote, “You know my college roomie always told me they’d get me in trouble one day, and she had never been more right, ‘cos they did once at a party. She wouldn’t shut up about it weeks after it’d happened.”

Harry feels his body tense just a bit at the mention of her, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s surprised how she so casually brought her up, “Yeah? What’s the story?”

“The little ears around us suggest that I tell that story later,” she checks her watch, before looking back up at him, “Oi, we’ve got five minutes until we’re in the rec center. You get to pick what we all do since I picked the last rotation.”

. . .

This time when they’re on their way to the party, Harry lets Y/N walk in front of him as he directs where she was to go. Opposed to when they had first made this journey together, Harry feels far more protective of her than he originally had. Plus, he’d seen how clumsy she could be and after the earlier storm, the softened dirt and broken off tree branches from the billows of wind made for a much harder terrain to navigate, so he felt more comfortable being able to reach out to catch her if need be.

Harry was wary of going to the party tonight but Y/N had been borderline insistent that they attend, “Mitch says he misses you at these things and Niall told me he could only stand Shaun theorizing about the universe and us not being the only life form so many times before he snaps. I say we’re needed.” Harry never minded free drinks, and a potential fuck at the end of the night, so he wasn’t all too worried that he would be having a good time. He just hoped that the others would allow Y/N to have a good time. And he knows he’s being paranoid, because they hadn’t necessarily targeted her for anything prior to or after the lake incident, but he still worries. . .he can’t help but worry.

But he wouldn’t hover. Once they got to the clearing, he helped Y/N get her drink and she sought off after Niall while Harry went over to Mitch, the two of them promising to meet up again in a little bit. He didn’t hover, but he did watch semi-closely, eyeballing Jack and the others, making sure they were staying away from her. Apart from a few less than friendly looks thrown in his direction though, they seemed to be keeping to themselves which Harry was ultimately very thankful for.

The night goes by as these nights usually do -- he and Mitch drank, had a laugh, gabbed about music for a while, some of the drama going on around the camp (Y/N had an ear for gossip and eyes that could make anyone tell her anything, so Harry’s had a door to all the melodramatic events happening throughout the counsellors). It was a bit weird when Stacey -- one of the counsellors he’d only ever briefly spoken to -- had come up to them, and a little weirder when she borderline propositioned him for something more than a chat in the woods, but Harry politely declined. Told her that he was pretty exhausted after a long day and was probably just going to have a few more beers and retreat back to his cabin.

He passes it off as a fluke. . .maybe he’d been making eyes at her and hadn’t realized it. But then Mia makes her way toward him and Mitch, and this time Harry’s brows furrow when she starts chatting him up. This one he entertains for a little while before eventually ebbs away from the conversation, because he and Mia had a fling once, but Jack convinced her and the free world that he was a prick, so she called it off. He didn’t necessarily understand why she would want to start that up again, or what “little birdie” put a bug in her ear that he still thought about her (as she said one did).

It was after Cara had finally left after coming around to chat with him, that Mitch began to chuckle lowly at his side, shaking his head slowly, “Jesus Christ,” he tilts the nozzle of his beer against his mouth, and when he pulls it away, his lips are shiny from the liquid, “She really is working hard.”

“Huh?” Harry feels desperate for an explanation as to why three times he felt as if he were being propositioned for a romp in the woods when he was not actively pursuing one. He had a feeling that it was the others trying to get him alone so they could enact some sort of piss poor attempt at fucking with him without Y/N spotting and tearing them a new one over it, “Are you in on something that I’m not, ‘cos m’feeling pretty fucking lost here, man.”

Mitch nods his head, and Harry follows his gaze to Y/N, who is speaking with her brows dipped inward to Cara, “A few days ago she’d been asking me and Niall what you were like last year, and we told her just the same, jus’ a lot more ‘fornication’ is how Niall put it,” he smirks softly with a shake of his head, “And she seemed all concerned, asking us if we thought she was holdin’ you back or something. Personally, I told her if you wanted to sleep with someone you would have whether she were around or not but she didn’t seem very convinced.” A snort leaves him as he motions towards her again, still as amused by her ideas as he had been when she’d first explained them, “Guess she’s trying to set you up.”

“Oh fuck me,” he exhales so forcefully, it whips the delicate plumes of smoke from Mitch’s cigarette into a misshapen huff. Why was she so concerned with it? Harry hadn’t once expressed any avidity in needing to spend time with someone in that manner -- he could go without sex for three weeks. . .did she not think he could? Was he exuding nymphomaniac tendencies? He surely hadn’t thought he was -- a few quick handies in his nightly showers typically tide him over just nicely for a bit of a dry spell. And what was her business that he hadn’t slept with anyone since they’ve gotten here? Why was she speaking about him with the others what she could as easily ask him? What she had as easily spoken with him about, albeit leaving out a pretty large portion of it.

For the first time since they had begun getting along, Harry was irritated with her. He’d never been one to brood, however. He liked things to be up front and honest as soon as possible if the situation allowed for it, to stop his mind from taking an idea and running away with it. He held little interest in playing mind games with people.

Which is why he hands Mitch the rest of his drink, fixes his heavy cardigan around his shoulder, and sets off in her direction. He dodges many bodies, avoids an empty cup on the ground beside what he could only presume to be a sticky puddle of liquor, and narrowly makes it past a playful fight between Oliver and Brandon who were wrestling one another. Y/N doesn’t realize that he’s making his way to her until he’s just a meter or so away, when Niall catches a glimpse of him and attempts to be inconspicuous in the way he pinches her side. She gasps from the way his nails had accidentally bit into her skin, flinching from the pain before her gaze had settled on him, “Harry!” She cheered but his face doesn’t soften as it usually does when they see one another, which alerts her to his disapproving gaze, “Oh, what’s wrong?”

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” He inquires, motioning out past the trees. Enough trust had been built into the foundation of their friendship for her to not question him. Instead, she passes her drink off to Niall and follows Harry into the woods -- he wouldn’t go so far that they wouldn’t be able to see one another from beneath the curtain of leaves shielding away the moon, but just far enough that nobody would be eavesdropping. In any other situation he might wait to bring this up until they’ve made it back to the cabin, but Y/N’s intentions had been clear that the person he was taking home tonight wasn't supposed to be her.

She pauses with him at a particularly thick tree trunk, and places the arch of her foot against one of the jagged roots that carved its way through the earth, “Is everything okay?” She balances herself with a hand against the bark, wincing when it jabs into her skin, “I was keeping an eye on Jack n’ them I thought so they wouldn’t try messing with you, but did they say something?”

That does melt him some, Harry was strong enough to admit that. Just as he had been concerned with her wellbeing, she was just as much concerned for him, and he appreciated that. And while it does threaten to soften him down to his core, he still had questions that needed answers, and he wouldn’t let up until she responded to them.

“Why are you sending girls over to me?”

Her brows raise, but less in shock of learning the information, and more so with wonder how he’d found out she was the one sending them their way. The surprise dissolves into embarrassment quickly, her shoulders slump and she casts her gaze deeper into the forest, “Dammit,” she doesn’t hide her disappointment from being caught, or even feign confusion to try and pass the blame off coincidence that every girl who had come up to him had subsequently talked to her prior, “I was hoping you would be less observant.”

“Y/N.” He says her name sternly, and her shoulders drop dramatically further as she steps down from the tree root.

“Listen, in my defense I just felt awful!” She admits, waving her hand toward the party, “Jack had tried telling me a few times about how you just fuck people and leave them, blah, blah, blah, right? And I wasn’t paying any attention to him, but it made me curious to what you were like last year, so I asked Mitch and Niall. You came to these things all the time and you had fun -- then I come ‘round, ruin the first one, and you’ve been hanging out with me since. I just. . . I wanted you to be able to have fun and not feel like you have to worry about me, y’know?”

A ‘v’ sits between Harry’s brows, “What is it your business what I’m doing, hm?” He fixes his cardigan from where it slumps off his shoulder once more, “If I wanted to sleep with someone then I would. Do you think I can’t set something up myself?”

“No, of course not, I just thought --”

“You didn’t think,” he cuts her off, and Y/N’s arms curl over herself instinctively when a cold brush of air rolls past them, “You should have just came to speak with me about it, I could have told you that I didn’t need anything like that, and that would have been that. Don’t go behind my back trying to orchestrate things for me, okay?”

He wanted to say it -- he needed to say it, because Harry wasn’t some sex driven lecher that everyone at this camp tried to make him out as. He thought Y/N had known that too, but he guesses he was wrong.

But he wasn’t expecting her to look so fucking defeated by it. A guilt weighs on his being when she nods, tipping her head down, “Okay, yes, I won’t anymore. I’m sorry,” her fingers dig into her bicep, as she breathes out, a shiver rattles through her that she tries to be inconspicuous about it, “I wasn’t thinking -- I wasn’t thinking how it would look.”

Harry sighs, peeling his cardigan off of his arms, revealing his bare arms to the chill but he ignores it in favor of holding it out to her, “Put this on,” he wiggles it some, “I know you’re cold.” She takes it from him carefully, looking up, brows raised slightly as if to ask if he’s sure, “Go ahead.”

“I really am sorry,” she tells him, pulling the patchwork cardigan over her arms, it hangs off of her, and Harry swallowed thickly. She’s. . .cute -- Harry had always been able to admit that. Her face is sweet, her eyes exudes nothing but understanding, kindness, and such a soft glow that Harry couldn’t quite explain. He finds that those eyes give him great comfort and warmth, because now when they’re tinged with the contrition she feels and Harry feels cold.

“I know,” he murmurs, he holds out his hand for her, and very carefully Y/N slides her hand into his own, “Do you want to go get pudding?”

A small smile pulls at her mouth.

“Yes please.”

. . .

Niall lets them use the key after a few dozen promises to be careful with it. They trek the familiar way, mindless chatter fills the air around them until they get to the cafeteria and their voices quiet in case the security guard is looping around. Y/N reveals her hand from the shield of his cardigan sleeve, Harry watches as the fabric pools around her arm, toward her elbow, and produces the key (that Niall only trusted her with). They creeped into the kitchen, pulled open the large refrigerator door, and the pudding sat in rows on the bottom shelf.

They both choose vanilla this time, having tired themselves out on chocolate, and they sit at the spot they had last time, across from one another. He can tell, despite his peace offering, that Y/N still feels upset about what had happened earlier and it sullies his mood. She’s still chatting but not with as much heart as she typically has, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He just wanted her to giggle as she teases him again, without feeling like she’s tip toeing on eggshells around him.

“Hey,” Harry starts, dragging her attention towards him where it had previously been scooping the sides of her pudding container, “Would you stop being so. . .tense? Is this about earlier?”

Y/N clears her throat, opening her mouth and furrowing her brows like she was about to deny it, but she relents, shoulders dropping, “A little. I still feel bad about everything,” she shakes her head, dragging the edge of the spoon around the plastic, “About everything, not just that you aren’t able to sleep with someone. I came in late, ruined you having your own cabin, woke you up with my alarm, made you get out of bed ‘cos I’m afraid of the dark and -- I just feel like this massive burden. I feel like this massive burden on everyone.”

Harry is alarmed by this sudden confession, but his body ultimately rejects the notion that she could ever be a bother, “How are you a burden to anyone?” He inquires, shaking his head, “You’re such a ball of light that just swarms through rooms. The thought of you being a burden is akin to the thought of Satan being a saint. . .it doesn’t sound right.” Harry sets his pudding down, though he keeps his hands fixed around the cup and the spoon, “Don’t know what gave you that idea, but the last thing you are is a burden. Who gave you the impression that you were?”

She wipes tiredly at her eyes, “Nobody in particular, it's just,” she shakes her head, “Even now, I wanted to make your night good, and then I fucked it, and now you’re here with me instead of having fun at the party. I just feel silly.”

“Don’t.” Harry tells her simply, “I like to spend time with you, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

The tension in her shoulder releases, “Thank you for this, I’m sorry m’just saying the same thing again and again. Back at home it feels like everyone is just. . .so hyper aware of me -- they’re always being so careful, or overly concerned and I always wonder if it feels like a heavy weight on their shoulders, like I’m forcing a piggyback ride.” She shrugs her own, reaching for the second pudding cup, “It’s just shit, so I overthink everything all the time to try not to be a burden, but I keep making it worse. Or at least that’s how it feels.”

Harry tilts his head to the side some. He’s not usually someone who pries and probes people for information, but he’s never been more curious about Y/N than in this moment. When he thinks of Y/N at home, he thinks of sunshine pooling in the hallways through casement windows, her spinning around the kitchen in a dainty floral dress that billows around her as she stirs homemade jam. Harry imagines her amongst woodland creatures who coax her to the forest with songs, escorting her there as she gambols freely.

He could not imagine her going home and feeling like a burden. Hell, he would have thought that she considered everyone else a burden -- that maybe it was draining to be the absolute light of everyone’s life. Yet here she stood, seeming worn, and broken.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is everyone hyper aware of you at home? You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable.” He says it delicately -- he means it. . .if she didn’t want to share this with him, then he wouldn’t force her, but he wants to open up the possibility. He wants her to know that he’s an open ear if she so chose to utilize him.

“Um,” her gaze does shift downward -- she suddenly appears so small, “Are you sure?”

Harry nods.

“I just -- it's not that I don’t like bringing it up, I just don’t want you to treat me any differently than you would knowing it, yeah? I think that’s what I hate the most.” She notes, “So do you promise that you won’t -- you won’t start tiptoeing around me?”

“You’ve got my word.” Harry vows, but he has a feeling he knows what she is to say.

The sleeve of his cardigan covers her hand as she brushes the hair from her face, “In freshman year of UNI, my roommate was Mrs. Graham’s daughter, Penelope.” She straightens out in her seat, “We didn’t like each other much at first but we had grown very close -- um, once she threw away my fruit snacks and so I dunked her toothbrush in the toilet, but I felt guilty and went out to buy her a new toothbrush,” a laugh leaves her at the memory, as she rolls her eyes at herself, “That was what we had going for a while, but a late night heart to heart kind of made us closer. She told me things that. . .she’d been through a lot that nobody should have to go through, you know? She was bullied a lot growing up—in high school it was bad, people used to always gang up on her over stupid shit.” Harry hums, encouraging her to continue, and she stirs the pudding around mindlessly, “And we were just close after that. We had a flat together sophomore year and most of junior year, she’s my best friend,” she swallows thickly, “I didn’t realize how sad she was. . .I didn’t realize what she was still holding onto, and she -- we went home for Christmas break, and she never came back.”

Harry feels his stomach sour as her eyes bead with unshed tears, “Oh, Y/N,”

“It’s alright. I’m okay, I’m fine as I can be -- I’ve -- I’m mourning and I miss her, but I’m trying to be strong. Most days I am, but everyone at home just expects me to be this fragile thing, y’know? The days I’m happy, and chatty, they think I’m faking it. And some days I do, yeah, but. . .it’s just disheartening when everyone pretends to know what’s going on in my head.” She plants the pudding directly in the center, leaving it there and retreating her hands to her lap, “Mrs. Graham told me she felt the same. That’s why I came in last minute -- I’ve got all my volunteer hours settled and everything but she said it might be nice to get away.” A slow, easy sigh leaves her lips as she blinks the tears away, not one drop trickled down her cheek, “It is nice, but I still worry that I’m a strain on people around me, even if not for the reason I am at home. And I’m sorry to like, info dump all this on you,” she laughs a little in spite of herself, “You can’t ask me things, unless you want an hour long explanation.”

Harry reaches out his hand for her, for the second time that night, and once again she slowly slips their fingers together, “Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it must have been hard,” he squeezes her hand, “But I understand you a bit more now. I’ll keep my promise, I won’t treat you any differently, but before that --” she blinks at him, waiting, “I think you might just be one of the kindest, strongest, most caring people that I have ever meant. I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or add stress onto my life, so you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to try with me. We can just exist together, yeah? We’ll exist without burdens and without worry.”

The look in her eyes, was one that Harry had never seen before. One that makes him melt in her touch.

“I would like that.”

. . .

“I can’t swim.”

Harry was crouched down to Maisey’s height, fixing purple mermaid floaties around her arms. The day was not unusually muggy, but there was an additional itch to jump belly first into the cool watered lake. He had woken with a revitalized need to pry a star from the morning sky as it shifted from an inky purple to an early, dusky morning blue -- and give it to Y/N. He had decided after their conversation last night -- after they’d gone to bed and Y/N fell asleep cuddled in his cardigan -- he had an overwhelming, and an all encompassing want to hold her.

Which made it hard to part ways this morning, but he managed. And maybe he played out an image in his head where he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before they went to wake their respective cabins, or maybe he didn’t (but if he did that’s his own problem). He is quick to convince himself it was because she’d shared a piece of herself with him that he doesn’t think she lets many people see, and Harry always develops a bit of a platonic crush on his friends at some point or another. He questioned whether or not he was in love with Mitch for a solid four days once. . .sometimes he just let his heart get carried away.

He had been enmeshed in these thoughts as he got his campers ready for their time in the lake. At first glance, a ton of children in the lake seemed like a horrible, and faulty idea, but they took precautions so that everyone was safe. Every child wore floaties and/or life jackets no matter how proficient their swimming abilities. There was netting about ten meters out so that the children and counsellors couldn’t float out toward the middle, and they worked it so that only three children could be in per counsellor at a time, so that they could keep an eye on everyone. Harry wasn’t so nervous because he was a strong swimmer, and his kids were a little older, but he could tell Y/N had been a little jittery about it. It’s why Harry told her that while she was out in the lake with her little ones to let him know, he would come out with her to bring her some additional comfort that even the floaties could not provide.

Harry had been pretty sure all of his kids were excited to go to the lake and he was grateful for that, until he looked up to see the nervous, large blue eyes of Jackson, downcast after he had spoken the words. The unprompted admittance confused him as he turned to face him, “That’s okay, buddy, we’ve got floaties for that.”

Jackson did not seem convinced, shaking his head fiercely, “No, I -- I can’t swim.”

“J.J. is afraid of the water,” Noah exposes the truth just as easy as he takes a sip from his juice box, equipped with his own blue arm floaties, “He didn’t want to say though ‘cos --”

“Noah!” Jackson cuts him off, betrayal laced within his features.

“--’cos he didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but he almost drowned when he was little.”

Jackson looked as if he could cry, and Harry shook his head quickly, “Hey, hey, hey, c’mere buddy,” he motions him over, and he comes easily, stepping before Harry who had not bothered to leave his already crouched position, “Explain to me what’s going on, yeah?”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, a frown prevalent on his mouth, even as he speaks, “When I was little little, my big brother pushed me into the pool and I went under the water and my mom had to come in and get me because I can’t swim good.”

Harry pulls his lips back, reaching out to squeeze Jackson’s shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that buddy. I won’t force you to get in the water if you don’t want to, but I do want to tell you that if you feel more comfortable, we could try a life jacket instead of the floaties? It’ll keep you more buoyant -- more bouncy in the water.”

“Aren’t those for little kids?” Jackson inquires, brows pinched, but Harry shakes his head and points toward Y/N, never more glad in that moment that she had the age group she did, along with her views on not making them do, wear, or say anything that she wouldn’t herself. She’s got the life jacket swung around her arm as she clips Oliver into his own.

“Y/N’s going to wear one too, and she’s not a little kid. I’ll wear one as well if you’d like.” He promised him. Albeit looking reserved, Jackson nods softly with his hands in little fists, worrying his lip between his teeth. The poor thing, Harry thinks -- he used to be afraid of water too. Nobody wants to conquer that fear suddenly, let alone with a group of people that may or may not poke fun because they’re kids and kids are jerks sometimes.

Harry finds him a life jacket -- a cute one with a shark on it, that he helps him clip on, and fits it to his body with the straps. Next, he needed to find one for himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure where they kept the counsellor life jackets, so he called for Y/N where she’d been a few meters away and she popped her head up from where she was like a meerkat. Her eyes softened when she realized who had called her, and a gentle smile pulled at her mouth, “Hey hubby,” she greets him, much to the delight of Charlotte, who claps giddily, “What d’ya need?”

“A life jacket, please. Where’d you get yours?” Harry tries to be decent -- tries desperately to keep his eyes to himself, but he finds that this is surprisingly difficult when Y/N is in her swimsuit. It wasn’t obscene in any sense of the word -- in the pamphlet they get when they sign up, it is very clear that speedos and bikinis were not appropriate, and therefore not allowed. If a child couldn’t wear it, then you shouldn’t bring it -- was the apothegm that they chose to live by in reference to dress code.

This, however, doesn’t mean that Y/N’s swimsuit didn’t suit her well. It was fitted in a way that wasn’t too tight, yet wasn’t too loose -- like it might have just been made with her in mind. A simple one piece of nylon and lycra colored a powder blue, that barely showed off that much more of what she wears to bed, and yet his mind still flutters elsewhere. To unwise places, that he drags himself from before clearing his throat and forcing himself to look around the lake so it appeared his eyes were just scanning everything.

“You’re in luck,” Y/N jogged the short way from where they stood, back to where her kids were all gathered, playing happily in the sand. Beneath what Harry had assumed was just a cluster of towels, another life jacket was hidden beneath the fabric. She hands it toward him with a triumphant grin, “This was the last one. I grabbed it for you in case you just wanted to float rather than keep your legs kicking -- you had a big lunch, didn’t want you to get a cramp.”

Harry hates how his heart balloons in his chest. There was no reason to be a melt because she had thought of him -- that she had him in mind, so she snatched the last life jacket, and hid it beneath towels so nobody else could have it. No reason to feel all mushy from the way that she unfolds it for him, a silent prompt that she’s going to help him pull it on. And there was certainly, absolutely no good reason for how stupidly affectionate he feels when she strokes her finger along the heart tattoo on his forearm mindlessly, before murmuring, “You make me wanna get covered in them. Maybe I’ll just go and get all of yours.” She looks down at the ground, “Maybe not the toe, my feet are ticklish -- think I would kick the artist.”

He recruits Y/N for the process of easing Jackson into the water -- Noah and Elinor are floating and bobbing about happily at their sides, while Charlotte and Mikey playfully kick and float close to their older counterparts (if not practically on top of them). There was a chill bite to the water when they had first stepped in, but as they walked out further and sunk a bit deeper, the cold eases up. The cool air soothes them from the sharp bite of the scorching sun, Jackson holds his hand so tightly Harry thinks his fingers may go numb, and he figures Y/N is feeling the same way, if her soft, “Loosen your grip up a bit, Sweetheart, you’re gonna take off my hand.”

Eventually, Jackson relaxes. He finally understands that the life jacket will keep him afloat and holding onto Y/N and Harry wasn’t a necessity. Once the idea of this settles in his brain, he is more willing to let go and enjoy himself. It feels wonderful to see that he’s having fun, and even better when he sees the smile on Y/N’s face from this small victory. Last year, he hadn’t felt this parental over the children last summer, but something had changed. . .something that made him feel like he was a bit of a parent.

It has to be Y/N. There was something about her that just oozes mother figure for these kids, even if she wasn’t intending to do so. She kissed the bandages over their wounds to take away the hurt, she praised the ground they walked on, picked them up if they asked, danced with them, encouraged them, treated every single child as if they were her own. Harry believes she’ll be a beautiful mother one day, if that’s what she’d like, and whoever the father or mother was she had chosen to spend her life with, they were unbelievably lucky. He just hoped they would understand that.

Y/N floats into his line of sight, “Are you okay? Ellie said you look like Maisey’s aunt again, whatever that means.”

Harry snorts, before nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit tired.”

An understanding gleam overtakes her, “Y’know, I did think you seemed a bit snoozy,” she reaches out for him, squeezing his shoulder softly, “D’ya want to have a sneaky nap? I could watch the kids.”

“But I like having you both,” Jackson whined, shaking his head quickly, finding their hands once more, reassuring that his grip was tight as ever, “Please stay.”

“Yeah,” Noah splashes over to them, sliding his arms around Harry’s neck, wetting his hair with the water clinging to his life jacket, “You two are fun together! We always have so much fun -- Brittany said her counsellor always yells at them when they ask her to play with them.”

Elinor was quick to add, “And Ro’s counsellor falls asleep during art days! He doesn’t even help them stay in the lines, and they’re little like Oli, and Charlotte.”

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in the prettiest little pout -- Harry finds himself wanting to pluck it with the pad of his thumb, “That’s silly, isn’t it? I have so much fun with you guys, I couldn’t imagine not playing. Right Harry?”

Nodding his assent, he reaches up, settling his hands around Noah’s arms and bring him along with him as he kicks them closer to Y/N and the other three, “It is silly. Some people just aren’t as fun as Y/N and I, Bug, it’s proven fact. They did the scientific method and everything.”

Oliver gleefully pushes himself up on Y/N’s shoulders, flopping back into the water and bobbing, “I love yous!” He chirped brightly, “Yous guys are my favorites! I love yous.”

The sight is adorable, especially as Y/N wriggles around and holds her arms out so they could hug, which Oliver happily accepts, “I love yous too, button.”

They have fun -- for hours, as they switch out which kids are in the water, spend time on the beach with all of them, making sandcastles, burying one another, chatting and playing. It was very freeing; Harry could easily tell that he and the others were having far more fun than any of the other groups were -- Mitch and Niall had gravitated their groups closer to them when Y/N and the kids began to pour sand over the top of him. Even Cassidy came around with her kids after they had heard them all giggling and laughing and wanted to know what was going on. Harry was having fun, and maybe he was just mushy, but he credited it to the joy Y/N was exuding. It was hard not to be in a good mood when he was around her.

By the time the sun sat a little lower in the sky, casting the shadows of trees over the sand and cooling them to the point of chilling. The kids washed their feet and hands beneath the rush of water from a yard hydrant, wrapped up in towels, and headed toward the dining hall for their dinner. There was a taco bar today, and Harry found that Y/N and he had a mutual love of tacos as a whole. She showed him how she adds feta crumbles, even let him have a bite of hers to see if he would like it so he could decide whether or not to put it on his own (it was delicious, she was right).

Once dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted. They all gathered around the campfire, one of the counsellors strummed a song on his guitar, they all had s'mores and then they dispersed. Not even the rush of sugar from the chocolate and marshmallow gave any of the children an umph in their step; they were all so sluggish and slow, dragging their feet through the dirt on their way to their cabins. Harry’s group barely kept their eyes open as they stalked to the showers, washing off the lake water and sand that had been clinging to their bodies. After they brushed their teeth, they all but face planted in their beds and snores soon filled the quiet air of the cabin. They only made him realize how exhausted he was from the day spent baking in the sun, floating and kicking in the water.

He trudges back to his cabin, where he finds Y/N had already showered off. She was face down in her pillow, her back slowly rising and falling with each gentle breath she took. She hadn’t covered in her blankets -- no, instead she used his cardigan as a makeshift cover over her body, and Harry thinks it might just be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The patchwork swallows a good portion of her body, the sleeve flopped limply by her head. . .he could imagine her crawling into bed. Could imagine her putting her knee up first, dragging the cardigan that had been lying limply over the post with her and just letting it drape over her body. She probably wasn’t thinking she would fall asleep. . .probably thought she would just lay there for a minute before gathering the strength to get beneath her covers.

It’s adorable -- Harry hates how adorable he finds it, actually. If he could crawl in beside her he would, but instead he ambles to the bathroom, starts up the shower, and climbs in.

The water his hot -- boiling drops pelt his skin, washing away the grime and sweat that felt as if it’d been caked onto his skin. It felt good; to cleanse and scrub himself free of the lake, massage shampoo into his scalp, soften his curls with the conditioner, and just allow himself to revel in the feeling. Showers feel wonderful - a renewal that he deemed necessary by the end of the day. And when he gets the temperature just right, it soothes the aches and soreness in his bones, turning his muscles to softened jello. By the time he slipped out of the shower, he was practically boneless and thought he’d be lucky if he made it to his bed before dropping to the floor and falling asleep.

He expects Y/N to still be asleep when he leaves the bathroom, but he’s surprised to find her sat up in her bed, his cardigan pooled around her body and a deep frown on her face.

“Oh!” He’s started some -- he really thought she was out for the night, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“It’s morning?” Her face further turns to that of distress and Harry bites down hard on a chuckle.

“No,” he responds, “It’s not morning. Only about 10PM, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest still.” She looks around groggily, rubbing at her cheek with one hand while she fisted his cardigan in the other, pulling it closer around her body, “Why don’t you get beneath the covers, Babe?” He asks her, and she’s quiet for a little while. The only inkling Harry receives that she even heard him was how she tries to shuffle and wriggle the covers down with her still stretched out on the bed, stuffing her legs into the blankets first, then sliding the rest of the way smoothly. All the while she clings to the cardigan, holding it tightly, resting her cheek on it. Harry doesn’t know if Y/N’s just far more affectionate than he had even thought prior, or if she was just half awake and doing things she wouldn’t do if she was fully conscious. Vaguely does he remember her saying something about typically cuddling with a teddy at night -- how she stuffs her face against it because it always smells like her fabric softener.

He wonders if that’s why she snuggles with it -- he wonders if she likes the smell of him, so she buries her nose in the fabric and breathes it in as she rests.

Harry hates this. He hates how inconceivably soft he’s been feeling, but he can’t help it. Y/N had found him worthy enough to poke inside her brain -- she opened up to him in a way she expressed she’d not been opening up to many people about. It made him feel closer to her.

But he told her he wouldn’t treat her any differently after finding out. And if he suddenly started expressing more affection, he fears she would think he was only doing it because of what she told him. He just wants to be. . .he just wants to be gentle with her. Doesn’t want her to ever think that she’s a burden to him, because the anecdote had made him question and second guess how he’d been treating her their entire time here. Of course, he was never intentionally cruel, but some of the situations he thinks about the two of them in, and how he responded, makes him cringe.

He switches off the overhead light, her dimmed bedside lamp and muscle memory guide him to his bed. Harry climbs in, shivers as he adjusts to the warmth beneath his covers, and breathes a soft sigh of relief to have finished with the day.

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice startles his eyes open, which he’d not been aware he’d closed.

“Hm?” He hums -- he had thought she’d fallen back asleep already.

“You’re okay?”

A soft smile plays at his mouth -- she asks him every night before bed, he’s noticed.

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

She nods, “You did really good today,” her voice is muffled from her cheek mushed against his cardigan, “The kids had a lot of fun, they were telling me. I had a lot of fun too.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he reaches to thumb the hairs of his eyebrow down, “And thank you. You always do really well with the kids.”

She’s quiet for a minute, and once more, Harry thinks she must have fallen asleep, but the shift of the mattress tells him she’s changing position and Harry notices once more that his eyes have closed, “I’m glad you’re my roomie.”

Harry utters the words, that two weeks ago he thinks he would have spit at.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re my roomie too.”

. . .

Harry was drunk.

Typically, he didn’t allow himself to get very drunk at these little parties. He trusted the others so little, he had no doubt in his mind that any moment he was slightly impaired in some way they would take it upon themselves to prey on his weakness. This means he only ever gets mildly tipsy -- drinks enough to feel good but caps himself when he thinks he might start stumbling.

But he just didn’t cap himself today. Not for any reason in particular -- their day hadn’t been difficult. They helped their kids through a mildly strenuous obstacle course throughout the morning, cooled down with them drinking juice boxes and eating popsicles and by 2PM they were inside doing little DIY projects. Harry burned his finger with some hot glue, but otherwise it was a pretty easy smooth kind of day that they didn’t get often. He and Y/N hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, which he wouldn’t admit loudly was a disappointment, but he and his kids had all agreed that they missed her.

(And when they had seen her and her group walking into the art room, the lot of them had erupted in cheers, Noah, Eli, Maisey being the loudest of them.)

They had a pasta dinner that was surprisingly filling, they told “spooky” campfire stories and ate s’mores, he got his kids ready for bed and he went off to the cabin. He and Y/N were going to one of the parties tonight, not because they had such spectacular luck with a good time before, but because they were coming up on some of their last nights here at camp. It was a bittersweet feeling -- Harry remembered being more than ready to flee last year, counting down each day, each hour dragging on longer than the last. This time, it felt like it was coming too quick. He would miss the kids, he would miss the busy days some. . .and sure, he was happy to go home and take a shower that stays hot longer than five minutes and rest on his soft, cozy bed, but he would miss not having Y/N right across from him.

That was what he was having the most trouble coming to terms with, he thinks. The idea of them not having to spend every moment of every day with one another after doing it for three weeks almost sounds wrong. It's the same feeling he gets when he knew he and Mitch wouldn’t have such easy access to one another once they went back home. Being at this camp sort of felt like being stuck in a time loop where the outside world doesn’t exist, so it’s very easy to forget that they all have lives outside of here. They all go to class, go to work, go home, study, eat and sleep.

He and Y/N live relatively close to one another -- only about a ten minute drive up the street with only one turn and it's into her apartment building -- but he wonders if they’ll utilize it. He wonders if their friendship is tied to this camp and if that’s where it will remain, or if she even wants to be friendly with him after. Harry hadn’t considered that maybe she was only putting up with him because they had to live together and she didn’t want it to be miserable. Had he questioned if he was even enjoyable to be around? How does he ask her that without sounding entirely too desperate or needy?

So partially, he drinks to ease some of the worry in his mind. Harry doesn’t think he would “break down” or something like it if they weren’t able to continue being friends -- like a forgotten summer love that he might think about throughout the fall, and message her to see how she was doing -- but he certainly wouldn’t be delighted if that’s how it ended up. Harry thinks there’s so much more to Y/N that he would like to see, and know, and hear. Three weeks isn’t enough time, Harry decided, but in the same breath he wondered if she had thought it was more than enough.

Harry knows she cares for him, at least a little bit. He knows that he cares for her and her wellbeing; he was fond of her. From what he knew of who she was fundamentally, down to her core, Harry knew she was selfless and kind -- it was hard to find people like that, who were that, without it being cakey or clouded by something else. She was transparent in who she was and her feelings regarding most things, and Harry valued her honesty.

And she was just so damn fun. Every moment with her he spent, the air filled with laughter; she brought a slice of sun in her pocket wherever she went and Harry was consistently being warmed beneath it.

The fact of the matter is, Harry doesn’t know how he could meet someone like Y/N, and get used to the idea of her not being in his life after three weeks. If he could refuse it he would, but what was he going to do? Kidnap her and take her home with him?

He’s sat on the tree root, opposed to standing beside it like he usually is, with his back pressed against the bark of the tree and he ignores the jagged, uneven trunk against his skin. Mitch was beside him, leaning lower than he was with his jacket bundled up and stuffed behind his head, his legs kicked out as far as they would go and because of this, his foot rested against Niall’s lap. Niall was pleasantly gone himself, a bit louder than normal but also zoning out every so often.

He was a good guy, Niall -- he had good opinions, and he chatted him and Mitch up about guitars often (he was typically the camp’s go to for an acoustic guy if they ever wanted campfire songs). Harry thinks they could probably be really good friends, if not for the fact that Niall was so barefaced in his crush on Y/N.

It was obvious, Harry thought. He’d thought it was obvious from the first moment he spent a prolonged period of time with both he and Y/N -- his cheeks got rosy when she touched him, he stuttered over his gratitude if she complimented him, and if she went out of her way to do something (like when she’d stuffed her hand into a thorn-bush for his guitar pick that had flung from his fingers, and subsequently got all scratched up), he would look at her how someone might stargaze.

Harry doesn’t know why he doesn’t just ask her out, if he likes her so much. It almost irritates him how skittish Niall seems to get at the prospect of it; to run away from those warm, nice feelings that she provides is silly. It reminds him entirely too much of himself and he loathes it.

Tonight had been no different, only Y/N was dancing back and forth between them and a few other counsellors (Harry only recognized one of them , who was called Rosie and had been in his first year maths). Harry watched her most of the night, in the least obnoxious and creepy way he could, just because. . .well, she was nice to look at. He liked how her body animated as she spoke, or how she nodded her head as someone was speaking to her -- it was an encouraging nod, and her eyes locked onto theirs like they might be telling her where the fountain of youth might be located, or the secrets to the universe.

She was cozy today -- it was cooler out than most of the nights that they had experienced, with a chill breeze that had even stirred goosebumps on Harry’s arms (and he was all but swaddled in his hoodie). Y/N had a light fitted sweater that she sometimes slept in -- not heavy enough to shield her from the icy terrain that winter would provide, but enough to fight past the harsh summer night breeze that threatened to help a storm roll in within the next few hours. Loosely, he let the images of her cuddled close to him invade his brain. What it might feel like, how the knit would brush against his skin, if she would hide her face in his neck or spider around him as the big spoon and burrow against his hair. Y/N struck him as someone who liked to do more of the cuddling than being cuddled herself.

He would miss her when they had to leave. Harry worried who would just exist with her, like they had been doing. He worried about her going back to a place where she felt like a burden -- he would be around, wouldn’t he? If she allowed him to, he could be there for her, but he doesn’t want to seem pushy. By all definitions, they had really just met -- Harry had known Y/N for approximately 17 days, but it felt like so much longer. He wonders if he had known her in a past life, or if it was the fact that they spent almost every day all day with one another for at least 15 of those 17 day -- he finally understands how everyone in the Love Island villa always goes on about how a day in the outside world feels like a week where they are.

It’s not like he’s professing his love to her, for fuck sake. He just likes her -- whether it be platonic or not, Harry thinks Y/N is just delightful.

“Your little girlfriend’s not with you?”

Harry had forgotten how Jack’s voice sounded how grating nails against iron pipes might make someone feel, mostly because they hadn’t spoken in quite a while. After Y/N had slapped him, he had kept to himself, resorting more to disgruntled glares and probably pissy comments he was murmuring to his mates about him. If someone asked Harry, he would say that him and his friends were afraid of Y/N -- she posed a good threat to them. Sure, they hadn’t understood the extent of her words that night (like how and why she knew Miss. Graham), but they were enough to rattle them. No matter being in university, or within the range of 20-23 years old, nobody wanted to be scolded by a woman in her 40s, nor did they want to be kicked out of a camp counsellor position, or to have their volunteer hours revoked.

So they had left him alone, which Harry thinks may have been such a strain for them he would be surprised if they hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Even if they wanted to, he was always with Y/N -- they never really had the chance, and if they did, they didn’t really take it.

Which is why he is both surprised and incredibly annoyed with Jack’s sudden appearance.

“Piss off.” Harry responds, nursing his beer bottle closer to him.

“You’re always so ill-tempered,” Jack leans up against the tree, “Just wanted to have a chat. Like why Cassidy suddenly wants to break things off after chatting with you and Y/N. Got any ideas?”

Harry’s brows dipped in confusion, “What? What are you on about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know,” Jack rolls his eyes, “Cassidy and I are doing just fucking fine for six months, but we come here, she starts chatting with you and now all the sudden she’s ready to break up. What the fuck did you say, hm?” He nudged Harry’s side with his foot, “Fucking Y/N wasn’t enough, you had to fuck Cassidy too?” He kicked him this time, harder than before.

Harry, who did not take too kindly to being kicked, rolled his eyes and pushed himself to a stand, “Dunno why you’re so fucking insecure that you think me being around has anything to do with Cassidy finally seeing what a prick you are, but this needs to stop,” he handed his bottle to Mitch who took it wordlessly, “I’m not fucking Cassidy, I’ve never fucked Cassidy, so if you could just grow the fuck up and recognize that maybe she broke up with you, because you’re awful to be around, that would be great.”

Jack, which Harry had expected, took more of a physical approach, giving a shove to Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s back slams against the tree behind him, “Fuck you,” he spit, “You all holier than thou ‘cos you’re dipping your dick in Miss. Rainbow Bright? What do you know about me, hm? You’re just a dumb fuck who has to be here because you’re a no good druggy fuck with anger issues. How does it feel knowing you’ll amount to nothing after UNI?”

There isn’t a lot that could get under Harry’s skin. A lot of people could say a lot of shit that he brushes off and lets go, but there are two things that he really just can’t. One of them is when people try to speak poorly of his mum, and the other, was when someone pretends to know his situation when they don’t have a fucking clue. Who was this trust fund bastard to tell him he was a druggy fuck? That he would amount to nothing after UNI? Harry worked two jobs to set himself through school and keep himself fed, with a roof over his head, just so that he could live the life he wanted to after university.

Maybe it was silly to punch him, but it felt good to. Harry reared back his fist and it collided with his jaw, making Jack stumble backward, his hand flying to his face, “You fucking --” he swung in return, only he catches Harry’s shoulder because Harry moved out of the way in anticipation. Niall narrowly dodged being caught in the crossfire as he rolled out of the way.

The fight didn’t get too far, however, because when Jack was gearing up to swing again, Y/N appeared and easily wormed her way in between them, “Are you serious right now?” Her brows were furrowed -- she looked legitimately pissed off, and, well. . .it made Harry take a step back at least, “Thought we had a chat about this, hm? You were going to leave him the fuck alone -- no, look at me, not him,” she grabbed at his collar, giving a sharp tug when his angry gaze had flittered back toward Harry, “I’m not an angry person, Jack, I don’t like being mean, or cruel like you seem to be so fond of, but I can and will be if I need to and I promise you that. Don’t you ever speak to someone like that again, yeah? What you were saying was just awful.” She lets go of his collar, taking a step back and sighing in a sharp huff, “I can’t speak for Cassidy, but if I had to guess she probably cut things off because you’re a jealous bastard who questions every interaction with another person and try this alpha male persona to scare other people away. It must be exhausting.”

Jack shook his head, “We were fine --”

“You thought you were fine. Things aren’t always what they look like, alright? The sooner you understand that, the easier your life will be.” She nods toward the center of the clearing they were in, “Go get some ice from the cooler, and go the hell back to your cabin. You’re not a fun drunk.”

Albeit reluctantly, Jack follows her orders and slinks his way to the cooler. The others around them had grown quiet as they had watched the confrontation unfold, but they soon all lost interest once they realized nothing more would happen. Y/N turned to face Harry, the anger on her face immediately dissolving, as she shakes her head, “What a dick. I’m so sorry he spoke to you like that,” she takes ahold of his wrist, the hand that he had punched Jack with, running her thumbs over his reddened knuckles, “I told him -- after the lake, I told him that he needed to leave you alone or I’d do something about it. Dunno what I was gonna do, but I was going to do something -- I will --”

“Hey, hey,” he cuts her off, “It’s okay -- it’s okay, come on, let’s. . .let’s go to the cabin, yeah? Should we go back to the cabin?”

Y/N looks at him like he was batty, “No shit we’re going back to the cabin! I’ve got to give you like a full medical look over. He slammed you into the tree, and honestly, you bruise like a peach.”

They make the trek back to the cabin, relatively quiet, Harry still attempting to process what had happened and what Y/N had said. Had she really spoken to Jack after the fact and threatened him if he messed with Harry again? The softest, probably sweetest person he knows, had taken Jack off to the side and told him if he didn’t leave Harry alone she was going to do something about it. Not only that, she grabbed him by his collar and told him off in front of everyone. It made his heart race, the thought of it, and his cock twitches in his pants at the moment on repeat in his mind.

Once they get back to the cabin, Y/N has him take his hoodie off with her in the bathroom so she could visualize his back and shoulder. Jack may be short-tempered and smaller than Harry, but his punches still packed a great deal, so a nice, reddening bruise was forming quickly around his shoulder. On his back there were scrapes from the tree bark, Y/N tells him, and a ton of little bruises that had begun to form as well. She makes him stay still as she retrieves the first aid kit from their medicine cabinet.

“Y/N,” he started, and she hummed to encourage him to continue, “When did you speak with Jack privately?”

She clears her throat, plopping the first aid kit down on the sink counter and unclipping it open, “The morning after the lake,” she answers without hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to like, fight your battles or anything, but I needed him to know I wasn’t bluffing when I told them I would rat them out, and worse if the situation allowed it. I hate bullies,” she pulls out a small tube of bacitracin, tutting her tongue as she squeezes it out on the tip of her finger, “And I hate how they treat you. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t at all,” Harry remarks softly, jolting when her fingers very carefully graze over one of the tender areas on his back, “Thank you, actually, for sticking up for me again.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I think I’m pretty scrappy when I need to be,” she giggles to herself, “Like, if need be, I would take on the Queen for you. Might be an uneven match though, she’s pushing 100.”

Harry spins around to face her though, “Y/N, I mean it,” he tells her seriously, their gazes locking, “Thank you for everything. For dealing with my attitude, for sticking up for me, for helping with the kids, for making this experience bearable, for being such a positive light,” he sighs, “You’re amazing, you deserve amazing things.”

Y/N looks taken by his words -- he wonders if she’s as lost in his eyes as he is in hers. Her mouth falls open gently, like she may be searching for what to say back to him but can’t come up with anything. He worries that he’d said too much -- that he freaked her out or something. He wasn’t trying to, he was just so grateful for her, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to express it.

He is about to apologize for being too forward, when Y/N pushes the short distance and connects their lips together.

Harry’s confused for a moment as his brain registers what’s happening, but when he feels that she might pull away, his body finally seems to wake up. His hands find her face, cradling her jaw in his hands as he reaffirms the kiss and lets the butterflies in his body take over in hoards. He’d given thought to kissing Y/N, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen. Not only that, he’d never thought it would feel this nice. She tastes like the pineapple wine coolers she’d been sipping on that night, her lips still a bit sticky from the residue of the alcohol on her soft lips.

She’s gentle in how she kisses, like Harry would have guessed -- careful too, and cautious with how her lips parted from him only to fix back together. A pool of heat had formed in Harry’s lower belly and rose to his chest, stirring his heart in flutters when her tongue slid into his mouth and met her own. Harry hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to kiss her until their tongues are sliding against one another, and his hands are slipping down from her jaw, caressing the delicate skin of her throat, skating down her chest to her hips. He squeezes her sides and pulls her closer to him, feeling the knit of her top rub against his bare torso. It was as soft as he’d imagined it’d be.

Had she been wanting to kiss him for as long as he wanted to kiss her? Normally, Harry could tell how badly someone wanted to kiss him by the act alone, but with Y/N he was so caught up he couldn’t focus. She was calm and soft, but the longer they kissed, the more ardent she became. It was the tiny moan that had left from her mouth into his own, that made him lightheaded. He had to pull away to breathe but his forehead pressed against hers as he breathed in, “Harry?” Her voice is low, she says his name like a secret, “Was that okay?”

His response is to press their lips back together, but this time only for a moment, before he withdraws. Harry loops his fingers around her wrist and brings her with him back into the main room, flopping onto her bed since it was the closest and urging her to climb into his lap. She straddles him, and just as soon as she’s within reach, he slides his fingers at the nape of her neck and pulls her back to his mouth.

It was good -- it felt so fucking good, Harry couldn’t begin to describe it. He held her close, and tried as he might to stave off his cock from ruining the moment, the longer they kissed the harder he got. How she was positioned at first made it so she couldn’t really feel him, but when she tried to get closer to him, she scooted her hips forward and rubbed up right against him. A gasp leaves her as she parts from him, looking down, having lifted her hips, “I’m sorry,” she apologizes and Harry gives a startled laugh.

“I’ve got a stiffy, and you’re apologizing?” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got a pretty girl in my lap kissing me, s’kind of hard not to get hard. We can stop if you want.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she answers with no delay nor doubt, as she lowers back down, resting her front on his prick and with this she gives an experimental roll of her hips. Harry hisses in a breath as she does it again, her own little moan slipping from her mouth. She was only in a thin little pair of shorts, and Harry had chosen sweatpants for the night, so there was little fabric truly separating them. Harry was thankful for it as she continued to roll her hips against him, sponging kisses from his mouth, down his jawline, to the curve of his throat. She fixed her lips there, lulling her tongue over the skin before she started suckling at him and Harry’s hands danced along her back, stroking up and down it, feeling her, holding her closer. Each roll of her hips made him harder, and he was desperate to know if she was wet. If he pushed his fingers into her shorts, would they come back slick from her arousal? Would she watch him as he slid them into his mouth to taste her? Would she let him split her thighs and lick straight from the source.

His mind was overcome with filth, smutty images entangle once innocent thoughts as she brought the blood to the surface of his skin. When one of his hands left where it had latched onto her hip and slowly maneuvered around to her front, she paused, but left her face dipped in his throat, “Are you wet for me?” He asks her quietly and she nods through a little shiver, “Yeah? Bet you soaked through your little panties,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers past the elastic bands of her shorts and underwear, but left his fingers just past them, “Answer me.”

“Yes,” her voice trembles, she swallows thickly and the muscles in her abdomen contract beneath his fingers.

Harry hums low, slipping his fingers down further and he dips between her slick folds, “Oh, Sweetheart,” he presses a chaste kiss to the side of her head, “Is this your first time getting wet for me?” She shakes her head, “Hm, really? So you’re like this often? Do you take care of it?”

“I -- yeah,” she stutters over a moan as the pads of his fingers roll over her swollen clit slowly, feeling it flick beneath them, “At night, sometimes I will in the shower if I can’t. . .if I can’t wait anymore.”

He feigns a gasp, “Oh my goodness,” he speeds up the slow lull of his fingers, “Your showers are always so fast, doll, you’re really that quick to cum?”

Harry may not be able to see her face, but he can hear the pout clear in her voice, “It usually isn’t that fast! Just with you, it is -- when I think of you, it’s always quick.”

He thought it would be impossible for his cock to be harder than it already was, but her words make pre-cum bubble at the tip, and when he dips his fingers back into her slick little hole, he gets even harder. Gliding his fingers from her panties, he draws them up to his mouth and presses them past his lips as he’d wanted to. Y/N has withdrawn from his throat, watching him do it with glassy eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders, digging her fingers into grape sized dents at the muscle. Her mouth falls open as he sucks her juices away, his eyes fluttering and a groan torn from his throat.

“Get on the bed,” he instructed and Y/N followed without question, crawling from his lap and lying her head on her pillow as Harry stood, and repositioned himself. He takes a hold of shorts and drags them down her legs, wriggling them off her ankle and tossing them elsewhere. His lips finds her ankle first, before he’s peppering and sponging kisses down her leg, the parts that he had tended to throw over his shoulder. When he gets to her thighs, he makes the kisses slower, softer -- he suckles and nips at the supple skin until he’s right before her center, only to switch to her other thigh and push kisses up and down the length of it.

Y/N’s whole body trembles with each shaky breath she gives. She’d spoken no words until he was positioned right in front of her core, looping his fingers in the waistband of the little cotton pair she had on, pulling them up toward her hips so the fabric stretched out over her. He could see her pussy beneath it, made out the outline of her swollen lips and engorged clit -- it made his mouth water.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” she tells him, and his gaze is pulled back up to her -- she looks apprehensive.

“What?”

She shrugs, “I know some guys don’t really like to so --”

“Do you want me to eat your pussy?” Harry asks her bluntly, and he revels in the way her eyes widen, and how bashful her face turns as she looks away, “It’s a yes or no question, honey, if you don’t want me to, I can come back up and kiss you while I make you feel good with my fingers. If you do want me to, I’m g’na pull those panties to the side and make you cum on my tongue -- either I’m good with.”

“I -- yes,” she answers, her voice meek, “Yes I want you to.”

Harry smiles softly, “Poor thing, How many stupid boys were refusing to eat this sweet little peach?” He runs his thumb up and down her slit, visualizing where the wet spot had grown and soaked her panties so that the fabric thinned. Leaning in, he nosed at her clit and she inhales, “God, I’m so excited — you’re okay with this? You’re okay with me eating this little pussy out? Need you to let me know because once I start sweet girl, I’ll be in heaven.”

“Yes, please, please lick me.”

“So polite,” he suckles a kiss at the very innermost part of her thigh, before licking one, long stripe up her center through the fabric. She moans, pushing her hips down toward his mouth as he drags his tongue over it again, and again, and again. He soaks it with his spit, teasing her — he wanted to pull her panties to the side and suckle and slurp between her lips until she came — but he wants her to beg for him. Wants to hear that she wants him just as much as he wants her.

He smiles against her as he hears her getting impatient, little huffs between each moan. She whines, her hips bucking up against his tongue — he looks up to her, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly. The fingers of one hand are dug into the sheets beside her, while the others rest between her teeth. Her brows were tilted, lips pouted, whimpers come more frequently the longer he suckles and laps on the fabric, drenching it.

“Harry,” she finally works out, shivering when he pauses just over her clit and flickers his tongue over the top of it, “Oh, please just -- please.”

“Hm?” He hums against her, jolts, inhaling sharply, “What is it, baby? You’ve got to use your words.”

“Please stop teasing me,” she tells him, “Please take them off.”

And Harry may love to tease, but he wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t a bloody monster, was he? So he slides his index and middle finger in between the fabric and her core and tugs them over to the side -- he didn’t want to waste any time wiggling them down her legs. No, instead he dips his tongue in between her lips and slides it flat and straight up to her swollen clit. The groan that leaves her is sinful -- it makes his cock twitch in his pants, his heart slamming against his sternum as he suckles and her fingers find his curls. She digs her fingers within the strands, rocking her hips up to meet his mouth, and for a moment, Harry just leaves his tongue out and flat for her to grind against. Harry thinks, if he could spend the day just strapped to Y/N’s bed, willing, ready, and waiting for her to come use his mouth how she pleased -- he would be inconceivable happy.

Eventually he wiggles his face back into her, sliding his tongue back and forth before he latches his lips back around her silky folds. The swollen little button crying desperately for his attention was where he spent most of his time, lapping, or lulling his tongue in circles around it. She keens, her heel digs into the mattress and begins to slide down but Harry grabs a hold of her thighs and pushes both of them up, so her knees are to her chest. The new position makes her cry out his name raggedly, and Harry was teeming with carnal desire, and so horny he thinks he would barely have to hump against the mattress to cum.

“I’m close,” she warns him, mewling, “I’m g’na cum, I’m -- oh, please don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Harry doesn’t think he’d stop if he was paid to do it. He doubles his efforts, sucking harder, sliding down to tongue at her hole while his fingers wrapped around and spun little circles into her clit. His other hand he reaches up with and slides his thumb into her mouth and she accepts it graciously, as it muted her moans that grew louder and louder the closer she got.

When she cums, it’s beautiful -- Harry wishes he would be able to see it on repeat, how her back arched upward and her hips bucked loosely as she pulsated around his tongue. Her mouth hangs open around his thumb, her eyes squeezed shut, the fingers in his hair tighten and her other hand wraps around his wrists and holds him tightly. The initial lurch of it subsides and she melts into the mattress, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving beneath her sweater.

After he thoroughly cleans her (until she’s twitching and jumping away from his tongue), he crawls up her body, pushing her sweater up over her breasts, “Can I fuck you, Darling?” He asks her, a small smile on his mouth when she leans her chest closer to him so he can reach behind her and unclip her bra. Tugging the cups away, he grabs them carefully, thumbing over her nipple, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, don’t feel bad about it, just let me know.”

“I want you to,” she rushes to tell him, nodding, “Do you have a condom?”

He dips his head against her chest, breathing out a sigh, “Fuck me,” he utters, shaking his head, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

He usually does -- Harry always keeps a few on him, but he remembers very vividly he and Y/N had blown his last one up just a few nights prior and drawn a face on it. For a moment he feels hopeless, a sad pit forming in his stomach because the thought of fucking Y/N sounded like paradise and he only brought one bloody condom that he wasted.

“It’s okay, we’ll do it next time then,” she tells him, and Harry feels a joyful spike in his overall demeanor. Next time -- she wanted there to be a next time? And if she wanted there to be a next time, then they would have to see each other after the camp. . .they would spend time together, Harry could learn what she was like in her normal day to day. He was eager and delighted, and not even just at the prospect of pushing into her (which he was also pretty damn excited for), “I mean, if you wanted to do this again, then, yeah -- right? We’ll hang out after camp is through?”

A smile threatens to split his cheeks, “Of course we will,” he tells her, nosing at her jawline, “And not just ‘cos you promised to let me fuck you. I was hoping we would see each other still but was worried that you might be sick of me.”

Her brows pinch, “Sick of you? Dummy, I thought you would be sick of me!” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the both of them, “We’re so stupid, we ought’a communicate better.” Y/N presses at his abdomen, “C’mon then, I’ll spin around and you can fuck between my thighs. I did it once with a boy -- I just shaved in the shower last night too so it should be soft.”

Y/N flips over, scooting her bum in the air for him as she cuddles a pillow to her face, her ankles locked in place and her thighs squeezed together. Harry wiggles out of his pants and boxers before he lets a glob of spit fall onto his stiff cock that had soundly slapped up against his stomach, slicking it up nice and wet so the glide between her thighs wouldn’t be too dry. One hand he lays palm flat to her bum, stroking the skin there with his thumb while the other hand navigates his prick, tipping it down and fitting it between her warm, soft thighs.

It felt good; Harry groans wantonly as he pulls out and sinks back in, watching himself disappear between them. She wiggles her bum at him and Harry playfully swats it, chuckling when she squeals and giggles, “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos before bending over, stretching himself over her so his chest was pressed to her back as he started steadily fucking in between her thighs. One hand he uses to cup her breast and tweak at her nipple while the other he slides down to her pussy, finding her swollen little button and rubbing it.

Harry’s skin prickles as she moans, her legs falling open just slightly but he tuts his tongue, “Keep them nice and tight for me, baby,” he murmurs, and she nods, tightening the channel for him once more. He won’t last long, he knows it -- he can feel that pool of heat crackling in his lower belly. His blood buzzes in his ears as he fucks his hips forward, their skin slapping together sound in their little cabin. Her breasts bounce with each thrust he gives, she’s beginning to cum again from the ministration of his fingers, and Harry’s nearing the end of his rope.

“You feel so fucking good,” he’s just a breath away from her ear, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

He nibbles at the shell of her ear and lets his eyes flutter closed, his senses on overload. All he can hear, and taste, and smell, and feel is her. Dizzy and overwhelmed, Harry feels as if he may burst at the seams.

“Cum,” she murmurs, “Please, I want you to feel good -- I want you to cum.”

That’s all it takes -- the little push of her words has his hips stuttering as he cums, spurting long stripes between her thighs, some catching her skin, some landing on her sheets below them. His world fizzles out, static splinters through his body as warmth rushes through his veins, and his toes curl hard enough to lock up. As he comes back to, he giggles, the last of his orgasm drooling from the tip as he pushes a kiss to the back of Y/N’s head, “Stay still, lemme go get us a rag.”

His legs feel like jelly when he stands, fleeing arse naked to the bathroom and returning moments later with warm, wet rags. He cleans her first, careful in how he works her underwear down her legs before he pats gently around her thighs and at her center. She’s sensitive, so a few times she twitches and flinches from him but eventually relaxes as she holds tightly to the pillow. He wipes himself off a bit haphazardly, more concerned with getting Y/N somewhere to lie down as he gently tugs on her arms, “C’mere, poor thing, I came all over your bed.”

“Yeah, you jerk,” she says puckishly, letting him guide her over to his bed, climbing in and immediately snuggling beneath his covers. Harry is not too far behind her, and at first she snuggles up close to him, she hisses and squeals before trying to shuffle away, “Why are your feet like ice?” She asks him, her words accusing, like he’d come in the bed with intent to freeze her.

Harry shrugs, “I dunno’ I usually wear socks to bed to keep them warm.”

“Socks? To sleep?” She slowly wiggles her way closer to him, despite the words that follow, “I don’t think we can share a bed, you’re batty.”

“Guess you’ll have to go sleep on the jizzy bed then.”

Y/N laughs, and Harry feels it vibrate through his body as he holds her close to his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They’re quiet for a moment, as they both settle, taking deep, slow breaths, allowing themselves to slip towards sleep.

Before Harry could get there, Y/N murmured his name.

“Thanks for being my camp ‘husbad’.”

Harry smiled to himself, and held her a little closer before he teased her.

“You can say thank you next time with an 18 carat diamond.”

#WRITING #WOOOOOOOOOOO #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #YAHTZEE :D #IT WAS FUN TO WRITE #IM GONNA DO A SMALL PART 3 TO TIE THINGS UP IN A LITTLE BOW #HAPPY READING #harry smut

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livi-4799 · 2 years

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Reminder (Wall Drawing Inspired Scene)

(This is a snippet of what I want to do for a fanfiction for ADOW. The scene is based off the infamous wall drawing scene in Book 3. NOTE: Olive and Nickolas are original characters) *The work is a combination of elements of season 3 of the show and book 3*

**Spoilers for the final season and book of ADOW**

Jack

Pencil lead glided across the paper, lines fill the empty space in the middle and fingerprints, the result of staining from smudging the lead were imprinted on the corners. An almond shaped eye staring to the right was almost close to completion with the outline of the second waiting. A rough outline of a face needed lines of where the jaw was going to be, but I needed to figure out the nose shape first before that happened. The drawing was of another face today, I don’t know whose. But a clear image in my head was telling me it was going to be a man. How old was still foggy, the face was there but I can’t make out what are their features, not yet.

I wasn’t in that much of a rush or mood to be that invested about the distortion of the features, this was something to do now, to distract. I reached for the sharpener near my feet on the window seat and sharpened the pencil. Lead smeared more on my fingers, leaving charcoal to stain. The lunch with Father Hubbard had ended early, one of his newest members was having difficulty adjusting. From what I was told by Leonard, he’s only been with Hubbard for a few months. A wrong move had created an unnecessary line that cuts through the half-completed left eye.

“Shit.” I sighed. I reached for the eraser that sat next to the spare pencils and removed the mistake. Brushing off the rubber bits, I quickly fixed the eye before going back to the bridge of the nose, flicking the tip of the lead up from the faint circle where the nose’s tip would be.

I looked up and towards the opened door of my room, where a framed photo of Sept-Tours sat on the wall, I listened closely for anything, no heartbeats but the faint one of my own was audible in the whole house, the vampire hearing did pick up the free-way traffic, but none of the cars used by Dad and Mum, Sarah or Olive’s. Usually the door would be shut but there was no need for it to be, no one was home. The twins were with Marthe and Sarah today at the park, Dad was at the Oxford lab with Miriam and Chris working on more DNA samples, Creature and Human for the paper Mum wants to release, and speaking of Mum, she’s at Oxford university teaching a class till six. Olive was the only one home today with nothing planned, no classes, no work, a day off. But when I arrived home, she wasn’t here. A text message at 1:15 today answered the question of where she was: out. A friend of hers at the university organised a last-minute day out and she’ll be home around 2 or 3ish. About 45 minutes later my phone buzzed from Olive, she had sent a photo of her and her friends at some restaurant outside. So, the house was empty, except for me.

Two eyes completed, now for the nose. Narrow? Wide? The tip of the lead touched the paper and, nothing. Familiarity paused any progress for me to make. I think I know who this face is? But who? Whose face was I drawing? The answer never came as I was interrupted. The phone ringing broke the silence. My phone buzzed on the wooden table across from me where the spare sheets of paper sat and other utensils. I placed the book and pencil down on the window seat and got up to get the phone. I turn the screen around to see who was calling. It’s Olive.

I clicked answer and put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hi!” Olive’s cheery voice rang through. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. Lost my phone in my bag.”

“That’s fine.” I heard cars in the background and the sound of her car’s engine. “Are you driving?”

“Yeah. And before you jump and say I shouldn’t be driving and calling, my Bluetooth is on, the phone is connected to the car speakers. Hey, listen, I’m on my way to you, where do you want to meet?”

I sat back down on the window seat, feet planted next to the open sketchbook. “Don’t worry about it. I’m home.”

I heard the turn signal, “You back at your parents already? I thought your lunch with Father Hubbard was going to be till 3.” The sound clicks off.

“Cut short.” I told her, “Father H had to help a new member of his flock. He wouldn’t tell me what it’s about. Nothing serious for me to worry about.”

“I hope it’s not Nickolas.” I heard the worry in her voice. The two of them were like siblings, he had her back all these years and she had his for the 5 years they had run. He was her friend and brother. Losing him would do God knows what, possibly worse than what happened when she lost her friend Leah.

I shook my head. “Highly unlikely.” I assured her, “Leonard told me he’s been adjusting well.”

I hear her sigh, “Thank God. I’m relieved. We haven’t spoken in a bit, and I was meaning to call him, Leonard or Father Hubbard to ask how have things been. Anyway, how long have you been back?”

“I’ve been home for a couple of hours.” I told her, sitting up straighter. “And you know it’s your home too. Dad and Mum explained to you this multiple times.” After we had watched her father’s message to Dad and Olive, Mum and Dad decided, with the help of the twins’ begging for her to become their big sister, that Olive would be accepted into the scion, and that the room she’s staying in, next door to mine, is now hers and she can do whatever she wants to it. But no matter what was said, it still hasn’t brought any ease for her. She still believes that one day she will lose that, her bags still packed with her belongings hidden in the wardrobe in case she would be asked to leave, or she would have to run. I won’t allow that to happen, no matter what.

“I’m still not used to calling it home.” She tells me, “And I’m not a de Clairmont, or Bishop-Clairmont.”

“And neither am I, technically. My last name is Blackfriars, Marcus’ is Whitmore and Fernando’s is Gonclaves. Regardless of the last name you have, you’re part of the scion now, and part of this family. Everyone is happy you’re with us: the twins love you like a big sister, Mum and Dad love you, Phoebe and Marcus too and I love you. I love you a lot, since the day we meet I always had and I know you don’t believe anyone else with you staying here permanently and being part of the scion but believe me when I tell you that I will do anything to make sure you have a place here, that you have somewhere to call home. You are home. You’re with me.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone, the only sounds audible were the cars and hers. Worry spread through my body. “Olive? You there?”

“Yeah. I am.” Her voice was shaky. “Thank you. I—I love you too. I’ll be home in 10 minutes.”

“Alright. And when you do, we’ll need to unpack your things. I think you can use that wardrobe properly now. Even if we do one bag today, it’s a good place to start. Baby steps.”

“Baby steps.” She repeats, I heard the turn signal again. “Alright, I better end the call and let you get back to your drawing of the man.”

I laughed, my head leaning back against the wall. “How could you possibly know I’m doing that?”

It was her turn to laugh, I loved that sound. “And reveal my secrets? That will ruin the fun.”

I shook my head and sighed, “You and your Bright-Born gifts are something.”

“You love them. I’ll see you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.” I put the phone down next to me and picked up the book and pencil and went back to the drawing.

Five minutes later, after adding some shadow to the face and finishing the lips and nose the face was almost completed. A bald man staring to his right, a few lines added age to the face, based on where the wrinkles were, he looked—A face appeared in my head.

My hand stopped moving, the pencil frozen when my mind clicked on who this face was. Something twitched in my head and flashes of the man, the real one appeared. His dark blue eyes, his greying eyebrows, stubble on his face where a beard would be. The pencil slid from my hand and landed somewhere on the floor. My quickened heartbeat became a distant sound to the new noise that surrounded me: screams of all my victims. The white of the page had expanded as far as I could see, taking over my room before fading into a dull black colour. The smell of stale blood and dust replaced the smell of paper and drawing pencils.

His voice echoed in my head. “C’mon Jack.”

I heard my own. “I don’t want to do it.”

I blinked and I was back with Benjamin, the newest victim knelt in front of us. The man, the victim’s face I was drawing not moments ago, stared back at me with wide eyes, terrified of what was to come. Tears clouded his eyes. His mouth was gagged with a white cloth so he wouldn’t scream, Benjamin would want me to take it off him not soon enough so he could scream. It made things more fun in his eyes.

Benjamin stood next to me, I didn’t need to look to know he was smirking. “C’mon Jack. You don’t want to disappoint him now, do you?”

I took a step back. “This is wrong. It’s all wrong. He’s scared.”

The man nodded in agreement, thinking it would help him in any way.

Benjamin leaned in closer to whisper in my ear, “You need to show me. Show me what you can do for Matthew, that you are of his blood. One of his.”

Anger caused the blood rage to surface as I faced him, “I am Matthew’s son! And this doesn’t prove it!”

Benjamin had my hair gripped tight in his fist, “Prove it!” He screamed, voice echoing in my head and memories. His eyes were violent. “Prove it to me that you’re worthy of his respect!”

He threw me back and walked over to untie the man and ungag him, “Prove to me that you are Matthew’s.”

“No! I won’t do it! Please!” I begged.

The man crawled over to me and gripped the legs of my pants, “Please let me live! I beg of you! I—I won’t say a thing. I—I promise!” He was crying.

Benjamin scoffed before I could do anything. “I knew it. This is why Matthew left you, why he hates you, is ashamed of who you are. You’re not his son, you’re pathetic, weak. You haven’t got the spirit.”

A snarl echoed in the room and fear whitened the man’s face as he scrambled to get away. He ran past and tried to get out, but the door was locked. Benjamin made sure of it. Rage burned through.

The man banged on the door, “Help! Som—” In a blur everything shifted, the man screamed echoed the room along with the sounds of snarling and gulping. Blood filled the air with its scent. Something warm went down my throat. Suddenly the screaming stopped and a heavy weight was in my hands. Benjamin’s laugh ran through, snapping me back to reality. My face was in the man’s neck, mouth full of blood. The blood rage was replaced instantly with guilt. I pulled away when I realised what I did. The man collapsed like a sack, his body limp on the ground.

I scrambled over to him and placed a hand over his heart, it was weak but still beating. Without hesitation I bit into my wrist hard to draw blood and pressed it to his mouth. He coughed up blood, it bursts from his lips and dribbled down. “Drink it!” I screamed at him, my tears fogging his face. “Drink the blood!”

He never opened his mouth, the light in his eyes died. His chest stopped rising and his head limped to the side, facing the wall. I heard the man’s heart beat for the last time, the blood didn’t work. I was too late. Blood coated my skin red, a mixture of his and my own, burning hot and sticky. It coated my hands. My vampire heart thudded in my ears. What have I done?!

I heard Benjamin’s footprints stop behind me then he pats my shoulder twice, “Well done, boy. You will make Matthew proud to call you his son.”

I didn’t look up to see his face or to watch him leave, I heard him sing as he left me alone with the body. “All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t put poor Jack back together again.”

A female voice called out through the tears, “Jack?!”

Olive

The house was too quiet when opening the front door, one arm carrying four bags. The keys rattling in the door’s lock as I pulled it out. I shut the door with a small kick, it accidentally slammed harder than what I intended. “Hey, I’m back.” I shouted, Jack didn’t respond.

I placed the bags down on the dining table, “Jack?” I called out, nothing.

I was about to say something again when a smell hits me, the air in the house no longer smelt like the English pear and Freesia candle I used this morning, instead, a bitter acrid smell filled the space. My nose scrunched at the smell. Something wasn’t right, my stomach flips. I took a hesitant step forward, the smell was much stronger towards the stairs. “Jack? What—”

A screeching sound cuts through and I groaned as pain crippled me to my knees, my eyes scrunched shut, my hands were pressed hard to my temples to help the pain, the sound was the only thing I could hear for the moment before a flood of emotions rush through me, someone else’s. Pain, agony, a whole lot of guilt, faint anger, sadness. Flashes of images invade my mind. A dark room. A balding man gagged and bound on his knees. Blood. So much blood. Blood stained hands. A little boy in poor clothes. A cunning smile. Dark eyes. The miniatures of Diana and Matthew from 1590. A car in the dark night. A swirl of whispers, screeching, screaming become a giant sound, my eyes snapped open and I felt power surge through my veins, pooling in my blood and my mind, the noise grew distant for another to echo: Jack’s panicked thoughts.

Jack’s thoughts echoed in my head. “No! I won’t do it! Please!”

My shoes squeaked along the floorboards as I ran, my phone fell out of my pocket and smashed on the floorboards, but I didn’t care, my shoes thudded up the stairs. I almost tripped on the final step, my shoe catching the corner. I grabbed the wall before I could fall, my arm scrapping the wall, I ignored the pain vibrating and ran down the hall where Jack and my rooms were.

“Jack?!” I called out again, he didn’t respond. The door to his room was wide open and I skid to a stop at the sight.

Papers scattered the floor in white and grey, the pencils, a mixture of stubs and long laid atop of some drawings of faces, places, Jack’s latest sketchbook laid facing down, the spine pointing to the ceiling. The table where his supplies normally sat was overturned, the legs facing the window. The smell was much stronger in here, I could taste it on my tongue, and it caused my skin to crawl. Sourness coated my taste and I swallowed. I took a step into the room. The white walls were covered in drawings, murals of deep grey covered every inch as far as I could see. Some of the work overlapped the other, I made out a few detailed landscapes like London, Poland, animals and plants but the main thing was faces, some were human, men and women of a mixture of older and younger generations but they all shared the same thing: they were all showing fear, agony. They were showing pain, the other faces, they were creatures. He had managed to capture the intensity of a vampire’s stare. I spotted Baldwin’s face in one corner, staring intensely at me, the man’s face depicting annoyance and anger about something. I saw Diana and Matthew on the same wall, their face’s emitting shock, Diana’s had joy mixed in with her gaze whereas Matthew’s was anger; this must’ve been when Jack and they reunited. On the other wall I spotted another face, whose I didn’t know, it was male. He appeared to be younger than Matthew in appearance, maybe late 20s, maybe early to mid-30s with a beard. His dark hair was styled like a 90s boyband member.

I spotted Jack on the furthest wall, the same wall where that man’s face sat standing atop of a make shift scaffold. Next to him on a scaffold of its own, was a box of pencils. One hand was braced against the wall while the other sketched his newest work, a man’s face scrunched in agony. The skin of his hand told me it was pasty white, I spotted a few veins protruding from the ghastly skin. The tips of his fingers were stained charcoal. He shuddered then picks up a new pencil to work with, the stub of the previous one clattered to the floor and rolls away in a mocked attempt to escape.

Jack’s mind and his own voice repeated one line over and over, “All the King’s horses and all the King’s men couldn’t put Jack back together again.” He shuddered again then repeated the words again. Tears flooded my eyes. Was this his blood rage surfacing? Or was it something else?

I took a step and froze at the crunching sound under my shoe. I froze as the sound made its presence known loudly. My teeth clenched hard as I cursed at the sound. I looked down and saw that I stepped on a pencil. A low growl made my skin go cold and I looked to see that Jack had stopped drawing. His body froze, the pencil stopped its latest work and he turns his head to look at me. Tear streaks ran down his face from his eyes, the inky black colour caused my blood to go ice cold. My heart thudded, hard. I could feel the beating in my throat and my ears. His teeth were clenched into a snarl.

I could feel his emotions a thousand times more: guilt, regret, pain.

"Jack?”

#jack blackfriars #adow #a discovery of witches #Toby Regbo #matthew goode #Matthew de clairmont #diana bishop #teresa palmer #adows3 #fanfiction #vampire #witch

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fandomscombine · 4 years

Text

Baseless Jealousy

Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous!Fred Weasley

WC:2307

BG: Fred and y/n’s relationship is currently 3 years long strong. After a summer apart, it seems to be a 3rd party had become closer to y/n. Is it something that Fred has to worry about or is it just baseless jealousy?

a/n: The pairing the won for this fic is Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous! Fred Weasley, Thanks so much for voting!

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

You and Fred started dating 3 years ago. Fred would like to believe that the relationship is strong, other people believes it so too. However ever since the start of 5th year, something started to get on his nerves, or should he say someone.

See, Fred had noticed you getting closer to his Quidditch captain, Oliver wood. He didn’t want to blame it on the summer you two spent apart but he could quite help himself. You had spent the entire apart, no letters whatsoever. At first, he tried to be understanding, it was after all a summer you and your family spent in Italy while attending your aunt’s wedding, you had told him that this was the first time in 8 years that the whole side of your mother’s family was present as they were all scattered into various parts of the world. He understood the importance of family so he had let it slide that you and he hadn’t communicated in the past 2 months- besides, it must be really exhausting to overwork the owls to post cross country.

Which was why he was so excited to finally see you in person at Platform 9 ¾ on the first of September, to his dismay, you had arrived with Oliver Wood. Back then he had pushed his jealousy aside and concluded as a coincidence that you had turned up together at the barrier. You and Oliver are just friends, he told himself, and that was completely fine.

Fred had sneaked a hug behind you and whispered into your ear. ‘Had a great summer?’

You had jumped at the touch but once you realised who is was from you relaxed. ‘Ohh Freddie!’ You turned and hit his chest. ‘Don’t scare me like that!’ Earning a laugh from him. ‘I did, I had such great times catching up with my cousins! You wouldn’t believe how much trouble we almost got into. But of course.’ Your fingers played with the back of his head. ‘I missed having my love around.’

‘Hey love I’m off to Quidditch practice now.’ Fred informed, kissing your cheek. ‘Will you be there?’ Ever since you and Fred got together 3 years ago, you would go cheer him on during Quidditch practices whenever you can.

This year however, more are at stake.

During the semi-finals, Quidditch matches are dotted with professional quidditch team mangers in hopes to scout for potential recruits to join their team upon graduation.

It is rumoured that the manager for Puddlemere United would be attending the next match, Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor. Puddlemere United being Oliver’s favourite and dream team, he had been pushing the team with more frequent trainings then ever, hoping to perform the best game they would ever play, to further increase his chances to chosen to be part of the team.

You looked up from the letter you were writing. ‘Yep, just gotta make a quick stop to the owlery. I’ll soon you soon okay?’

Arriving at the owlery, a large parcel instantly caught your eye. ‘Oh mum..’ Examining for any potential damage, which thankfully weren’t any.

The barn owl nearest it hooted. ‘Alright! Alright! I was looking if there were damages.’ The owl flapped its wings in annoyance. ‘Here,’ offering your owl some treats. ‘You’ll need to store up some energy on the way back.’ Another hoot sounded, this time from a grey owl, that you recognised belonged too your mother. ‘There’s some for you too.’ After the 2 owls finished their food, you attached your letter your owl’s leg. ‘This is for mother, a thank you note on behalf of Ollie. I’ll write another when we see his reaction to this-I can’t wait.’ You bid the 2 birds goodbye, watching until they disappear unto the horizon.

Now you turn to face your major problem. You had thought that your mother would have had it placed in a box, rather what you got was a large parcel that is clearly wrapped with parchment, with no subtlety in hiding what it truly is.

You had finally manged to sneak the parcel into the Gryffindor boys’ locker room, though it had taken a lot more effort than you thought.

You were just leaving when you had bumped into someone.

‘oopf! Sorr-‘

‘y/n love! What are you doing here?’ Fred wondered, looking over your shoulder, trying to figure out what you were up to. ‘You missed the whole practice.’

‘ohh it’s nothing really----Ayyeee! Not so fast!’ You grabbed Harry’s shoulder, preventing him in enter any further. In all honestly, you hadn’t hidden Oliver’s surprise well, there aren’t a lot of hiding places in the changing room. Determined to not ruin the surprise, you need, you must get Oliver to see it first. ‘Had any of you seen Oli-‘

Right then you heard his unmistakably Scottish accent. ‘I’m just saying George, with this new and improve game plan, we are for sure going win the House Cup!’

‘Oliver!’ You shouted, pushing your boyfriend and Harry aside to reach him. ‘Come quick, I’ve got something to show you!’ With all your strength you hauled him to move faster.

‘What is it now y/n? Can’t you see I’m……..’ Oliver had come to a stop. Based on his sudden lack of complaining, you knew he spotted it.

‘It’s a gift from mum and dad. We thought it would future help your chances to be in the professional league.’ You noted. ‘I wasn’t sure which one of these was your locker, so I decided to just hide it behind the benches.’

Oliver hurriedly torn away the wrappings. ‘Oh my…. y/n! A FIREBOLT!’ He turned towards his teammates with eyes watery. ‘A FIREBOLT, A 1993 EBONY WOOD WITH BIRCH TWIGS FIREBOLT!’ He declared with glee.

Too caught up in your cousin’s precious reaction to your gift, you however had failed to noticed Fred displeasure.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick. So much for a girlfriend.’ He grumbled to George. ‘Excuse me.’ Shoving his broom to Harry, Fred walked out of the locker room.

The next thing you knew, you were spinning through the air. Oliver had lifted you in celebration, ‘Thank you y/n thank you so much!’ He mumbled into your hair. ‘Pass on my gratitude to Aunty and Uncle.’

‘Wait? Did you just say Aunty and Uncle?’ voiced a very confused Harry.

‘Yea.’ Confirmed Oliver. ‘Y/n is my cousin.’

George’s bafflement turned into a startle. ‘You’re joking right?’

‘No, why would be joking George?’ You frowned. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘Nope’ He replied, popping the “p”. ‘Now it clears everything up. Freddie is going to be--.’

‘Speaking of, where is Freddie?’ You scanned around, wondering where he might have gone to. Which was when you spotted Harry holding up not one but two brooms. ‘Harry…’

‘y/n listen…..Freddie is uhh ’ George was trying to come up how to break it to you gently.

When Harry blurted out. ‘He left.’

‘He whot?’ demanded Oliver.

‘He left, said something about being sick of his girlfriend.’ Commented Harry frankly. ‘owhh!’

Even though it would have been too late to stop Harry from spitting out more wrongfully worded sentences- the damaged has been done- It still made George happy to put some sense into him. Praying that a smack on the head would have made Harry shut up, George took control of the situation, hoping it could still salvage the weakening remain of his twin’s and y/n relationship.

‘Listen y/n. Regarding my idiot brother, you got to know that he, like everyone else in the room, had thought that you and Oliver were flirting with each other.’

‘eww!’ You couldn’t control your reflex.

‘yeah, his emotions got to the best of him when he witnessed everything that got down here and stormed out because of jealousy.’

‘Oh gosh.’ You head towards the door, you could see a red figure walking towards the castle, kicking at fallen leaves every now and then. ‘I’ve got to get to him.’

You felt someone grab your arm ‘No let me handle this y/n.’ voiced Oliver. ‘I’m part of this… complication after all, besides I bet Fred’s fuming right now and as your older cousin, I am willing to take the heat and make him see reason until he has finally calmed down to talk to you with a clear head.’ He explained reassuringly.

‘But---

‘No buts.’ Oliver kissed your forehead. ‘Stay here and send for him back so all this misunderstanding could be sorted out. Now…’ he addressed Harry to get his new firebolt. ‘I’ve got a relationship to fix.’ Oliver hopped on the broom and sped away.

‘Fred! Fred!’ Screamed Oliver.

Fred choose to ignore him, picking up his pace.

Leaving Oliver with no choice but to cut him off.

‘WEASLEY!’ Oliver jumped off his broom.

‘Get Out of My Way Wood!’ Fred raised his hand to shove the other boy away but met with resistance. ‘I SAID GET OUT!’ Fred tried to free his fist from Oliver’s grasp, but the older boy was much stronger.

‘Not until you calm down and listen to what I have to say.’

‘Fine.’ Oliver let go of him, he raised his arms high in surrender. ‘y/n sent you, didn’t she?’

‘No. I came here on my own will. I told her to stay behind to protect her.’ Oliver confessed.

‘To protect her?’ scoffed Fred. ‘From what? From me?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

‘Oh of course, it’s HER who needs protecting and not me. Not me, after I see you both shamelessly act so close to one another, closer, might I tell you then her own boyfriend! If was as if I wasn’t there’

‘Fred,’

Fred brushed his hand away, ignoring Oliver’s interruption. ‘When did you two get so close anyway? You know at first, I tried to pass it off as friendship but as time when on, I could help but think-‘

‘Y/N IS MY COUSIN!’ blurted Oliver, unable to hear another person thinking that they were other than family. ‘THERE’S NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN US!’

‘what?’

‘Apparently for some reason most of you lot don’t know. George and Harry were just as surprised too. But yes, y/n is my cousin, on my father’s side. My father and her mother are brothers and sisters. I thought with all these years we’ve known each other that you’d know we’re related. Guess I was wrong.’

‘I….I didn’t know.. I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted but we both know there is someone more deserving of hearing that apology.’ Oliver nodded towards the locker room. ‘She’s there waiting.’

‘Thank you, Oliver.’ He held out his hand. ‘Friends?’

‘Friends’ Oliver shook his hand, the stared straight into his eyes. ‘BUT…’

‘but?’

‘But if you hurt her again Weasley, you have me to answer for, that is of course after she’s done her share.’ Without another word, Oliver flew off, testing out his new gift.

Fred ran full speed ahead, praying that he didn’t completely ruin a wondering 3-year relationship with the girl of his dreams. Before entering the room, he conjured up a bouquet of your favourite flowers, hoping that could help out his image.

Testing the waters, he called. ‘y/n? are you in here love?’

‘In here’ you sighed. He hated hearing you so sad. He hated it more that it was him causing you to feel that way.

Cautiously he made his way to you with arms outstretched. You accepted the flowers, to that he let himself relax a bit, bringing them up to you nose, you noted. ‘They smell nice, thank you.’

Fred was grateful that you hadn’t scolded him off on his baseless jealousy, still he knew he had to apologize and win his girl back. Kneeling in front where you sat, Fred took your hands and poured out his heart.

‘Y/n, I am sorry. I made a huge mistake, I… I got jealous of how you had gotten close to Oliver this year.’ He confessed.’ Ever since the start of this year, I thought that Oliver was stealing you away from me. I thought that perhaps you two had something going on behind my back.’

Chuckling to himself he continued. ‘I didn’t even realise that you were cousins until he told me just now. I feel so stupid. 3 years together, 5 years of knowing you. It was so obvious.’ Fred closed his eyes.

‘Still, with my worries, I should have asked, asked what you and Oliver were.’ He stressed. ‘I should have come and talked to you, to sort this out like what a, healthy, trusting and understanding relationship would. But instead I keep all my doubts and insecurities brew, I went deep into my own conclusions that were without evidence, I let my jealousy get the best of me.’

Fred brought your knuckles to his lips. ‘y/n love, I’m sorry. I love you and if you want a space, I understand. But there is no a day in this world where I would not rather be back in your loving arms. I hope that you could forgive me.’

‘Freddie, I forgive you.’ You cup his tear stained cheek. ‘It was just a stupid misunderstanding.’

Gesturing for him to sit beside you ‘I thought it was common knowledge that Oliver and I are cousins. Apparently not. Yes, we weren’t that close before.’ You admitted. ‘But we really did get to know each other in the summer. 5 weeks either being sounded by adult relatives or small children, we hung out often, being the only 2 cousins similar in age.’

You return back into a more serious tone. ‘Of course, I did wish you had voiced it out, we could have avoided this conflict altogether. So, promise me this. Whatever problems may arise, before we delved into our own assumptions, we would always talk it out. Alright?’

‘I promise.’

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

Tagging also all those who voted for the~Oliver Wood Cousin!Reader x Jealous!Fred Weasley~ Thank you! @jenniweaslee @ najiler @ im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @ gweaslvy and the lovely anons!

#fred weasley x reader #oliver wood x reader #fred weasley imagine #oliver wood imagine #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #oliver wood imagines #fandomscombine writes

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About vi

You and Colson grapple with being “just friends.”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1871

| i | ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

Hi friend

You were in the studio working on editing one of your songs when you got the text. You hated it, but you smiled automatically when his name popped onto your screen.

Hi friend

The past few days had been weird, but necessary. Colson ended up staying at Pete’s apartment the next night too, so you had plenty of time to figure out how “friends” worked. Unsurprisingly, you hated it. But it was the only way to keep Colson close to you, so you’d take it.

I’m bored

I thought you were friend?

Haha

But seriously you should entertain me

As friends

I’m in the studio rn

U can take a break

What would we do if I took a break?

You tried really hard not to flirt, but it came so naturally. But maybe if you convinced yourselves that you were just friends, it would happen. Because that’s how things work.

Lunch?

I’m hungry

I thought you were bored?

That joke is lame

Will u pls go out to lunch with me

As friends

Hmmmmm

I suppose I could think about it

You sighed, saving the audio project and shutting the computer down. You hadn’t eaten all day and spending time with Colson wasn’t the worst way to spend your lunch break.

Y/N I will find you and drag you out of that studio

You don’t even know where I am

Where do you wanna go?

I could find out…

Whatever u want

Mediterranean? There’s a cute place right by me I’ve been wanting to check out.

You sent him the address, asking him to meet you in 10 minutes.

It’s a date

Wait

Not a date

Like I’ll see you then

You laughed as the texts came through your phone, shaking your head. You headed out of the building, walking towards the small restaurant. You weren’t exactly dressed in “lunch clothes,” because you had expected to stay in the studio all day, but you would survive.

You got in line at the blue painted restaurant, thankful that it wasn’t too long. You waited a few minutes before a familiar voice spoke from your side. “Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing all by herself?”

You smiled, turning to Colson. “Waiting for her friend to show up.”

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his face. “I hope your friend is as hot as you are.” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “not even close.”

Luckily Colson understood you were joking and he laughed with you. “How have you been?” He asked, “did they catch the guy breaking into apartments?”

“I’ve been good, working.” You nodded, “yeah, they caught him. He broke into this police officer’s place while he was home.”

Colson huffed in amusement, “talk about bad luck.”

“Right? I mean, I’m glad they caught him but, I mean, what are the odds?” You moved forward in the line, reaching the hostess stand.

“Two please.” Colson asked, flashing the girl a smile. You bit your tongue to hide the scowl that almost instinctively came to your face.

The hostess was young and no doubt attractive. She batted her eyelashes towards the tall man, not even acknowledging you. “What’s the name?”

You furrowed your eyebrows as Colson answered, wondering why she would need his name if she was taking you to the table. “And what’s the number?” She asked sweetly. If you were drinking water you would have spit it out.

Colson blushed slightly as you stood in shock. “Um-I’m.” He looked at you as if to say “I’m here with someone” but then he must’ve realized that he wasn’t technically on a date. “You’re lovely, but I’m not interested.” He muttered out, an awkward look on his face.

You were trying your hardest not to look pissed off, because if you looked pissed off then the lie you and Colson have been telling each other about being just friends would be exposed.

The girl looked you over, eyes raking up and down you with a disgusted look on her face. You felt very self-conscious suddenly, your head turning towards the floor in embarrassment. Colson noticed and cleared his throat, “our table?”

The girl didn’t speak a word as she grabbed two menus and led you to the table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.” She spit out, anger on her face. Your heart was beating very fast, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Colson eyed you from across the table as you played with the hair tie on your wrist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You spoke too fast to convince him, your quiet demeanor also giving you away.

He sighed, his foot kicking yours lightly and pulling your focus up to him. “Okay, you just seem a little uncomfortable.”

You huffed, “yeah, well, having girls look at me like I’m the scum of the earth does that to a person.”

He frowned, “You know she has, like, nothing on you, right?”

A small blush found your cheeks, and you looked down at your hands again. “You can’t say stuff like that.” You muttered.

“What? Friends say that stuff to each other! I’m trying to make you feel better.” His smile told you he knew what he had done, but he didn’t care.

You sighed, “yeah but you can’t say that to me.”

Colson gaped dramatically, “why not?”

“Because it’s different coming from you.” You laughed. “Why didn’t you give her your number?” You asked, curious for his answer.

He shrugged, “wasn’t interested. Guess I have high expectations.”

You rolled your eyes, “it’s not because I’m here, right?”

Colson let out a sigh, “N-“

He started to speak but was interrupted by the waiter at your table, “Welcome to Shuka, my name is Oliver, I’ll be your server today. Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

“I’ll get a water, please.” You said, smiling at the man. Colson raised an eyebrow at you. “I have to go back to work after this.”

He chuckled, scanning the menu, “can I get a Nitro?” Oliver nodded, sending you both smiles before heading back to the kitchen.

You sent Colson a look, expecting him to continue your previous conversation. Instead, he continued to read through the menu. “Do you know what you want? I’m thinking about the Shak-Shakshu-.” He tried to pronounce the name of the dish but was failing.

You giggled, finding the dish on the menu, “Shakshuka.” You told him, “and I haven’t even looked.” You scanned through the menu in your hands, reading the names of the various dishes. Colson took to studying you, a small smile on his face.

“It’s not because you’re here. It’s because I’m genuinely not interested in anyone else.” He said out of the blue. Confusion flashed across your face before you understood what he was referring to. You took in a breath, trying to figure out how to respond. “I know I shouldn’t tell you that, but I just think you needed to know.”

You smiled to yourself, “I don’t mind, I just- it makes it harder to convince myself this isn’t a date.”

Colson nodded, “this is not a date. We are just two friends having a friendly lunch. As friends.” He was trying to convince himself too.

“Right. Friendly friends. Two people who are just friends.” You said, exaggerating the word “friends”. Awkwardness hung in the air for a few moments before you both started laughing.

You fell into the familiar pattern of conversation that seemed to come naturally to you both. When your meals arrived, you were both very excited. “Can I try some of yours?” You asked, sending him the most convincing puppy dog eyes you could muster. He chuckled, placing some of the poached egg onto his fork and moving it towards you. You rolled your eyes at the cliché but smiled anyways, letting him feed you. Your eyes widened in shock “that’s so good!”

He nodded, swallowing his food. “My turn.” He said, reaching over and plucking up a falafel from your plate with his fork. Once he finished eating he smiled at you, “you have excellent taste. You’re picking the restaurants every time now.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on your face. “So we’re going to have more of these friend lunches?” You asked.

“Duh. We’re friends. This is what friends do.”

You giggled, “I don’t hear about you and Pete going out for lunch together.”

The man chuckled, eyes closing for a moment. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll take Pete to lunch one of these days.” That made you giggle even harder, shaking your head.

Neither of you finished your meals, packing them into to-go boxes to eat later. When Oliver brought the check over, you were very flustered. Colson automatically reached to pay but you grabbed his wrist, “we’re on separate checks.” You told the server. Oliver nodded, moving to fix it until Colson spoke up.

“I got it, it’s not a problem.” You sent him a look. “I asked you to lunch, I pay.”

“Friends let their friends pay for themselves.” You muttered, moving your hand from his wrist.

He rolled his eyes, “you can pay next time.” Smiling smugly, he handed his credit card to Oliver, who was very confused. “Relax. I’m just being nice.”

You sighed, pouting slightly. “It’s already hard enough and then you make it worse by flirting and paying and- ugh.” You cut yourself off, frustrated.

Colson clenched his jaw, letting out a hard breath through his nose. “I know, I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly easy for me either.” You nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed at your small outburst. “We can do this.” He said, confidently. If only you could feel as confident as he sounded.

Once Oliver came back with the card and receipts, you both left the restaurant. You hadn’t noticed the cameras as you walked down the street with Colson, the conversation returning to light banter and jokes, but they noticed you.

Colson walked you all the way back to the studio you were working at, insisting on going with you all the way inside. “I just wanna see where you work.” He claimed, but you insisted it was just like every other studio.

You got into the elevator to ride up to the fourth floor, where your space was. Colson stepped in with you, a smile on his face. You sighed, pressing the button and waiting for the elevator to close.

“Hey Y/N?” He spoke as the doors began to shut. You looked up to him, eyebrow raised in question. The doors closed and instead of responding, Colson leaned down, pressing his lips to yours.

You kissed him back, hands cupping his face. You heard the elevator beep as you passed the second floor, and then the third floor. He pulled away, smile on his face.

You took in a deep breath, “I thought you…”

“Fuck it.” He muttered, standing up straight. You smiled, biting your lip. “But we’re not hiding this from Pete. We’re just… testing the waters.”

You hummed in agreement as the elevator doors opened, stepping into the hallway and leading him to your studio.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker x reader #colson imagine

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seijorhi · 4 years

Text

Meet the Parents

Not including the original anon (who was asking about Ushijima & Tendou) no less than four of you asked for a meet the parents scenario for each of the soulmate AU’s so...

TW implied dub/non-con

(Atsumu & Osamu’s will be posted tomorrow whoops 👉👈)

Outrunning Fate - Ushijima & Tendou

It begins with a phone call. Ushijima’s in your kitchen, fixing up the leftovers from the night before and Tendou has you trapped on the couch, long, gangly arms wrapped tight around your waist as he presses sloppy, open mouth kisses to your neck. He doesn’t stop when the phone rings - though you don’t miss the way his eyes narrow or the huff of disapproval that escapes him. He doesn’t like it when your attention wanders.

“Oh, hi dad.” You try to shove Tendou off of you without much success, glaring at him when he laughs and presses closer. “Um, now’s not a good time, can I call you back later?”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Ushijima broaches the subject the next day. “We should meet your parents.”

You almost choke on your own spit.

“Why?”

It’s Tendou who answers, his grin just a little too wide. “We gotta meet the in-laws at some point!”

A shiver ripples down your spine at the suggestion. They absolutely do not.

“Um, we’re actually not all that close.” A lie. “There’s not really much point. They live a few hours away.” Twenty minutes, actually. “And besides, t-they don’t approve of me having...” you trail off, glancing pointedly at the twins marks on your skin.

Olive eyes bore into yours for a long, tense moment before they soften just a fraction, and he shrugs. “Okay.”

He tilts your face up into a kiss, and you allow yourself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief.

You don’t want them anywhere near your family, especially not when you’re planning to run.

But it’s hard. Your parents are already worried about you pulling away. You haven’t told them about an of this, you don’t want them involved, but they’re nothing if not persistent. So you promise that you’ll come visit - carefully choosing a day that you know both Tendou and Ushijima will be busy. Skipping a few classes is the least of your troubles.

You should have learned by now that nothing is that easy where your soulmates are concerned.

“Babe?”

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for them both to leave when Tendou emerges from the bathroom - your bathroom - shirt unbuttoned, holding out two ties in his hands.

“Which one do you think’ll go better with my suit - the blue or the red one? I wanna make a good first impression with your dad.”

And just like that, your hopes of being able to sneak away comes crumbling down around you.

There’s no use fighting it, not now.

It’s Ushijima who notices that your hands are shaking as he helps you out of the car he’s parked out front of your parents’ house. He pauses, eyebrows knitting together, his broad thumb brushing against the back of your hand in slow, reassuring strokes. “Tendou will behave, there is no need to worry.”

There’s a subtle quirking of his lips, and you think he might be trying to make a joke, but you can’t focus on that when you feel like you’re going to be sick. The man in question appears at your other side, hooking an arm around your shoulder and dragging you in for a kiss.

“Best behaviour, pinky promise!” he winks, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the ride over musing about fucking you in you childhood bedroom.

You would honestly rather shove a needles into your eyes than go though with this, but the front door of your old house is already opening, your mother rushing down the driveway. What else can you do but smile and play along as she throws her arms around you in a tight hug?

They are merciless in front of your parents, or at least Tendou is. From introducing himself to your mother as one of your ‘soon to be husbands’ to whispering all of his perverted little fantasies into your ear whenever their backs are turned. You physically have to clamp down on his wrist when he tries to slide his hand up your skirt while you sit down at the table for lunch. Even then, it takes a low growl from your other soulmate before he truly relents.

And while your parents gush over Ushijima (a professional volleyball player!) he holds your hand in his, squeezing just a little too tight whenever your smile slips. Neither of them have mentioned the fact that you’d lied to them, and judging from the slow burning heat in Ushijima’s eyes when he glances your way, you can only assume that that punishment is still to come.

You hate having them there. It’s your home, something good and wholesome and safe that their very presence corrupts. You hate listening to your mother coo over how good the three of you look together, the respectful nod your father gives when the conversation inevitably shifts to sports. You hate listening to them tell the story of how you met, warping it to make it sound cute - consensual - but the nail in the coffin is your parents chuckling when Ushijima brings up how stubborn you were initially.

You quickly excuse yourself to the bathroom, muffling your sobs in one of the big fluffy towels.

You hate them, you think as you stare into the mirror, wiping the silvery tear tracks from your face, trying to erase all signs of your impromptu breakdown.

You hate them for making you play along, but you can’t hide in the bathroom forever.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother murmurs, cupping your face in her hands as she catches you on your way out. You must be a better actor than you thought, because of instead of the panicked frown you expect as she studies your face, she just smiles warmly at you. “I’m so happy for you. All that worrying, trying to squash it all down and pretend that they didn’t exist... and you finally found them. Honey, you’ve done well for yourself. I can see how much they adore you!”

She glances over to your soulmates chatting with your father, and you follow her gaze, heart sinking. “Yeah,” you manage to reply, offering her a weak smile in return.

If only she knew.

Like Nobody Else - Oikawa & Iwaizumi

What was the point in setting boundaries you knew would be broken?

After staying behind to watch them practice that first day, you swore that you wouldn’t go back. It didn’t matter that the volleyball club all knew, it didn’t matter that that meant that soon enough the whole school would know - you wouldn’t go back there with them. They could drag you off to go sit with them and their friends at lunch times, ambush you on your way to classes, but you wouldn’t let them fuck you in the locker rooms before hand, and you weren’t going to sit in those stands and pretend that you cared while they ran through endless training drills.

Yet when you shouldered your bag after the final bell the very next day, you only manage to make it a few steps down the hallway before strong hands are yanking it away from you.

“Wrong way, cutie,” Oikawa beams innocently, while Iwaizumi merely lifts a brow when you open your mouth to object. He’s holding your bag, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he won’t give it back until you agree to follow them.

“Oh my god, he’s carrying her bag for her, they’re literally so sweet!” you hear one girl gush to her friend as the three of you breeze past, and Oikawa reaches across to intertwine his larger hand with yours.

“Aren’t we just?” he asks you with a charming grin.

Iwaizumi scoffs, “You’re not carrying jack shit, asshole.”

“Rude, Iwa!”

You don’t say a word. What’s the point?

It doesn’t come as a surprise when they make you stay back with them, long after the rest of the team has gone left. They’re not as rough this time, but your legs still feel like jelly by the time they’re both finished with you. Oikawa still wipes away your tears while Iwa helps you to your feet, pressing a gentle kiss against the crown of your head that makes everything worse.

They walk you home, both taking turns to kiss you goodbye on your doorstep, and you can only thank your lucky stars that your parents are both out so you don’t have to try and explain.

It becomes a routine during the week - on the days that they train you stay back with them and they dutifully escort you home, and on Monday’s when they don’t have practice, you’re either dragged with Oikawa to Lil tykes or forced to join Iwaizumi with whatever he planned on doing. Usually studying, though sometimes he’ll drag Makki and Mattsun (and on occasion, Mad Dog) out to train with him regardless.

Your weeks belong to them, you’ve resigned yourself to that - but your weekends are yours.

Or so you’d let yourself believe.

You ignore the text messages that flood your phone one Saturday morning, only for a persistent knocking at your front door to shatter the calm of your weekend only a few hours later. Your better instincts would tell you to ignore it, because you know (or have a good enough idea at least) exactly who’s behind it, but the fear that trickles down your spine urges you forward anyway. They tell you they love you, but you know better than to believe that that means they won’t ever hurt you - that they haven’t already hurt you.

“Hey, cutie. Mind if we come in?”

You don’t know why Oikawa bothers asking, because you barely have time to open your mouth to answer before he’s ducking under your outstretched arm and waltzing inside, Iwaizumi right on his heels.

“You weren’t answering your phone, so we figured we’d come and check up on our pretty girl, right Iwa? We were worried.”

The latter grunts in acknowledgement, studying at you with narrowed eyes - an expression that makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

“O-oh, my um, my parents aren’t home...”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and your heart skips a beat as your soulmates share a look, the grin on Oikawa’s face widening. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, we promise.”

But somehow ending up squished between them on the couch in your living room, watching some movie you’re barely paying attention to wasn’t quite what you expected. Sure, Oikawa’s mouthing greedily at your neck, and you haven’t missed the way Iwa’s hand has been slowly creeping up your shirt for the past ten minutes, but considering what you know they’re capable of - you’ll take it.

Yet you can’t force yourself to relax, not with the heat of their bodies pressed so close. You shift in your seat, your hand accidentally grazing against something hard and as you freeze in panic, Iwa stiffens, his breath catching with an audible hiss.

But it’s Oikawa, eyes hooded and wanting, who tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, “Baaaaby-”

You don’t get to hear the rest of that sentence, because at that moment your front door swings open once more, only this time it’s your parents.

There’s a quiet ‘fuck’ growled in your ear as the three of you scramble to right yourselves, your heart beating a mile a minute, feeling very much like a kid caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Never mind that you didn’t want this - never asked for it.

It’s your mother, mid-way through a conversation with your dad, who steps into the living room first, stilling at the sight that awaits her. Your eyes are wide, hands are clenched into fists in your lap as she stares at you for a painfully long moment, “Sweetheart,” she begins slowly, her voice sounding a little strained, “why are there two strange boys in the house?”

And for one single, shining second, you wonder whether it would be worth the trouble you’d land yourself in if you told her that they’d come over with the intention of hooking up with you - it wasn’t exactly a lie. Oh, your parents would be fuming, but at least you’d be safe in the knowledge that they’d never, ever let either of your soulmates anywhere near the house again. Maybe they might even insist on you changing schools altogether! But before you can actually entertain the thought, Iwa’s reaching across to subtly grab your hand, squeezing it tightly with a warning look. Don’t you dare.

Oikawa, as always, chooses that moment to step in and take control. “Ah, please forgive the rude intrusion, Mrs L/N. I’m Oikawa Tooru, and this is Iwaizumi Hajime, I’m assuming your lovely daughter has mentioned us?”

If you weren’t distinctly aware you’d pay dearly for it later, you might have snorted at that. Your mother frowns, folding her arms across her chest and quirking an eyebrow, but it’s your father, glaring outright at the two interlopers, who replies. “She has not.”

A shiver ripples down your spine at the chilling look Oikawa shoots you out of the corner of his eye. “Huh, I guess our little cutie’s still a bit shy. Well, never mind that. We’re her soulmates, and...”

It doesn’t even matter what the rest of his sentence is. Your parents hear the words ‘soulmates’, look at the two handsome, charming young men either side of you and all but melt. Suddenly it’s warm smiles and welcoming hugs. Your parents are delighted, and all it’s all too easy for both Iwa and Oikawa to slip into the roles they’re expected to play.

They spend almost an hour chatting with the two, and it hurts more than you care to admit when you look up into your mother’s beaming face and she gives you a wink. This is all she’s ever wanted for you - two handsome, strong boys to take care of her little girl. You can’t break her heart with the truth, you can only sit there quietly as they gush over you, pretend that it doesn’t make your skin crawl when Oikawa looks at you with those soft, adoring eyes and tells your dad that from the moment you spoke to him, they both knew they loved you.

‘Why won’t you two just leave me the hell alone?!’

Eventually your parents leave the three of you alone, letting you go back to your movie, and only then can you let that facade slip.

“Well that went better than expected,” Iwaizumi states, dragging you back down to settle on the couch with him, Oikawa plopping down on your other side and pulling you close.

He hums in agreement, a glint of something mischievous dancing in his eyes as he traces a single finger up your side. “Of course it went well. What’s not to love?”

#BD drabbles #hoo boy these turned out longer than expected #yandere haikyuu #tw non con #tw dub con #it's all implied though nothing terribly spicy #i spent so long on these i hope y'all actually enjoy them

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squiddybeifong · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for the batsiblings reaction to Damian pacing so much he wore a hole in the floor? Doesn't have to be a fics, maybe headcanons?

Sorry for the rather long wait. Kinda wanted to make this a fic

Here's the floor pacing fic

On Ao3 here

Alfred hadn’t outwardly reacted to Damian’s obvious lie as to why he had paced the floorboards uneven, but the butler absolutely took action for amending the tripping hazard in the boy’s room. With the floor repairman on the line and a measuring tape in hand nothing was amiss, of course.

Dick had already kept him up-to-date with the gossip about the two Titan birds, so Alfred hadn’t been surprised whatsoever. His position in the family meant that he’d watched the awkward budding romances of most everyone who’d called the Manor home. Damian being frustrated at his feelings for a teammate was nothing compared to a (very grown) Bruce being moody after Selina rebuffed his kiss while ‘on the clock’ or Dick’s increasingly creative attempts at sneaking around with Kori before the ‘no dating metahumans or aliens’ rule had been lifted. Honestly, watching the pun-laden flirting that Steph ladled out to both Tim and Cass on a near daily basis was more awkward than his youngest ward taking his repressed emotions out on the floors.

Unfortunately for Damian, the butler arranged for the floor repairman to show up during the day. Most notably, the repairman arrived at exactly the specified 1:35 p.m., not wanting to be late when called upon to fix anything belonging to Bruce Wayne.

Why Robin had believed that (like everyone else in Gotham) this worker would be fashionably late, he didn’t know. What Damian did know was that he hadn’t heard Grayson open the door. Nor had he heard his brother head up with Alfred and the repairman into his room. And he especially didn’t hear as Alfred slyly mentioned that he believed Dick’s gossip was coming to a head, if the worn path in the floor meant anything.

No, Damian heard none of it. Not when he was busy brushing BatCow and making sure that every square inch of the barn was properly ventilated so she couldn’t possibly overheat in the approaching summer weather. So when the youngest Bat stalked into the Manor, he’d been all but ambushed.

It didn’t take a detective to realize why he’d been pacing so much. Even without Alfred’s confirmation, it was unlike Damian to avoid going back to the Titans early if he could help it. Batman hadn’t looked up when Robin had elected to stay another week when they were in the BatCave, but his siblings sure had. And while Bruce didn’t outwardly ponder about how intense things had to be for Damian to go out of his way to avoid a certain someone, this new information had Dick positively enchanted at the prospect of his baby brother being in love.

“I’m not in love with Raven,” Damian hissed out.

Jason snickered as he reclined in his seat, his face full of mirth at the flustered crack in Damian’s voice. Cass was sitting upside down with her legs resting on the couch’s back, her smile wide as she took in her youngest brother’s irritated, embarrassed body language (nevermind the barest hint of an actual blush on his face when vehemently denying any feelings he had towards his fellow Titan).

Babs’ smile was wide and cheerful as she pointed out, “Who said anything about Raven?” Duke perked up from his spot next to Cass, immediately adding on, “Yeah, Dami. We thought you were just falling for her?”

Steph snorted, “Falling over those footprints in the floor, more like it.”

Tim laughed behind his gulp of his coffee, sleepily (and loudly) drawling out to the blonde, “A Robin and his Raven. Guess you can say they’re a real pair of lovebirds, huh?”

Damian glared at them all, fighting the urge to pinch between his eyes. Why were all the Bats at the Manor? Shouldn’t they be on patrol instead of bothering him?

Jason clicked his tongue and rested his arms on the table. He met Dick’s gaze, saw the way his older brother’s eyes brightened up with mischief and scratched at the streak of white in his hair. Deciding that messing with Damian was by far the most fun he’d have in the Manor that morning, Jason asked, “So, Lil’ D… What’re you gonna get your girlfriend? Can’t come back empty handed.”

“She’s not my--”

Babs interrupted him, nudging Tim with her elbow, “Do not tell me he wasn’t planning on getting her anything.”

Steph lazily rested on the chair’s edge. The blonde leaned over to rest against Jason’s shoulder, her fist pressed to her face. She gnawed on the inside of her cheek; it wasn’t likely she’d be much use for knowing how Raven would want to be wooed. She had heard of her but she had yet to actually meet Damian’s mystery crush, after all. She let out a hum, “What does Raven like? It’s gotta be something personal!”

Damian clicked his tongue as his siblings were suddenly oh so chatty at Spoiler’s suggestion, their unwanted ideas filling the room.

“What if he paints her something?”

“Doesn’t she like old books? Maybe one of those first editions that Alfred was thinking about donating last year?”

“Wait a sec-- Dick, isn’t she goth? B did get that set of obsidian jewelry at the last gala.”

“Hell, if we’re going that route I’m sure Selina has some nice rings somewhere--”

“Maybe something that isn’t stolen, Tim.”

“Just be honest with her.”

The room went quiet at Cass’ simple instruction. Still in her Orphan suit from her early morning patrols and reclining in her inverted spot on the couch, the brunette somehow kept a serious face as she stared at Damian upside down.

Seeing that no one was going to add-on to her suggestion, Cass blew some of her bangs out of her face and shrugged, “You like her for a reason.”

Brown eyes slyly glanced around the room, gratefully falling on Babs as she piped up, “Cass is right. I really don’t think Damian of all people would fall for someone who’s all about dating mind-games.”

Ignoring Damian’s exasperated lie of “I haven’t fallen for her!” in the background, Steph slumped down on the couch next to Duke. Her face was contemplative, “Then maybe we should invite her here?”

Dick let out an excited laugh the same time Tim clapped his hands and grinned at their resident computer whiz, “Babs could absolutely get her up to speed on patrolling Gotham for a bit, right?”

The redhead looked excited at the idea. Pushing her glasses further up her nose before they fell, Babs teasingly asked, “What is it about Gotham and bird-based superheroes?”

Duke shrugged, a hand cradling his chin in thought. “Not sure, but Dami obviously won’t confess if we’re not around to kick him into doing it.”

Jason clicked his tongue at the possibility of the youngest Bat listening to them and raised a brow Dick’s way, “Any chance at all that she’ll make the first move?”

Irritated at the topic, Damian turned on his heel and retreated to the kitchen. Ignoring the chorus of “C’mon, Dami” behind him (and planning on fighting Todd later for the childish boos that the antihero was aiming at his back), Robin set about grabbing some snacks for his pets when he heard two sets of footsteps approach.

He bit back a groan as Dick practically skipped into the room, Cass on his heels. “What now?”

Nightwing let out a laugh at his brother’s sneer, “You do know that we’re only trying to help, right?” He took a few pears from the fridge and handed them to Damian, knowing that they were BatCow’s favorite. Hearing as Cass opened the cabinet doors to find where the rawhide bones and cat treats were stored, Dick pressed on, “I know she already knows me but it might be easier introducing everyone as a segue into talking to her about other things…”

Cass let out a quiet snort at his suggestion. She shook her head and offered a better idea, “Alfred first.”

Dick tilted his head, nodding in agreement a moment later. He ignored the violent way Damian was cutting up the pears and said, “That’ll probably be for the best. Living with the Titans is one thing; we gotta ease her into our particular brand of madness.”

Tossing aside the stems and peeled off stickers, Damian sulked, “None of this is necessary.”

Cass hid her smile with her hand. Dick hummed out, “You don’t want your girlfriend to meet your family?”

“She won’t be my--” Damian couldn’t say the potential title just yet. He clicked his tongue, “Just because you all think I have feelings for her doesn’t mean she’ll reciprocate.”

The older two visibly paused at his words.

Her head tilting in concern, brown eyes studied Robin for a moment. Damian glared at Cass but she ignored him. Dick leaned against the wall, the worried furrow in his brow betraying his nonchalant stance. He spoke out the obvious, “Do you really think she’s not interested?”

“She thinks I’ve been avoiding her--”

Cass shrugged, “You have.”

Damian continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “--so I doubt any feelings she may have towards me are positive right now.”

Dick let out a hum, “You didn’t answer the question.”

Ophan’s suit somehow didn’t shine in the kitchen’s fluorescent light as she crossed her arms, “Yes or no?”

Damian bit the inside of his cheek. It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment as he thought over all the moments he and Raven had shared, the comfortable quiet pauses between crimefighting, training, and avoiding their teammates’ noise. She never seemed to dislike his company, but she was stoic enough that he could never tell if her heart leaped into her throat whenever she noticed that they were alone.

He suppressed a jump as Cass entered his personal space.

Olive eyes were reluctant as she poked his cheek. “You’re not stupid,” She figured it was progress when he didn’t try to swat her hand away, but she couldn’t keep the beam off her face at the boy’s blush. A hint of smugness crept into her voice, “So she is?”

“I don’t know.”

Cass looked to the Manor’s main entrance, knowing that in half a week’s time the entire structure would be full of lights, flowers and who knew what else B’s planners would bring. A spring gala with flowers and enough hidden corners for a pair to get lost in the crowd.

In other terms: the perfect setting for a first date.

She met Dick’s gaze and grinned at the knowing look on his face. His hair nearly fell out of its bun as he let out a whoop, wrapping an arm around Damian. Thoughts of finding Raven a gala-ready dress (and maybe a matching suit) in mind, Dick couldn’t keep the excitement out of his movements.

Ignoring the aggravated yet cautiously hopeful way Damian shrugged off his brother’s arm, Cass clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Only one way to find out.”

#damirae #damian wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #my writing #asked and answered #mistkissedmoon #g o d it's been a While hasn't it? but I really hope u like it!!!#but yeah. batfam is gonna batfam if dami's got a crush. a whole lotta teasing at his expense *but* they are gonna try to help #but its bc they loooooooooooove him. he's the baby bat ofc they gotta get cheesy with it #I was thinking of headcanons but this gives me an excuse to write a first date/gala shenanigans so #I figured why not? I've been slacking in producing ridiculous damirae fluff

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

seven for jontim? <3

jontim + things you said while we were driving

The tension in the car on the way to Great Yarmouth is so thick Jon could cut it with a knife. He’s not really sure how he ended up carpooling with Tim—something about old habits and the Archers and ‘time to think’ that has Basira and Daisy sharing a car—but they’re an hour in and Jon can count the number of words Tim’s said to him on one hand.

Jon wants to break the silence. He doesn’t know if they’ll get another chance to talk, if he’ll get another chance to say everything he wants to say. To apologize, to try to make amends, to tell Tim that he still—

Jon sucks in a breath and looks out the window, at the sprawling countryside as it whisks by. Once upon a time, his hand would be clasped with Tim’s on the center console and Tim would be telling him some elaborate story about his latest camping trip or the case he’d been working on that had taken a dramatic turn or the latest office gossip and his own rather strong opinions about it. That’s one of the things he’d liked about Tim—the fact that Tim could talk, and Jon could listen, and when Jon got excited about something and interrupted Tim’s story, Tim would take it in stride and listen with a smile.

God, it had been so easy, and now it’s not, and that more than anything makes Jon ache like his heart has been torn free from his rib cage.

Jon doesn’t realize he’s been tapping his fingers in a nervous rhythm on the center console until Tim lets out a labored sigh and breaks the silence as gracelessly as a bullet through a glass house. “Just say it.”

It’s too loud after so long with only the noise of the road and the low murmur of the radio, and Jon startles, his hand retreating back to his lap reflexively. “What?”

Tim’s eyes remain on the road, but Jon can see the tension in him, in the way his hands grip the wheel firmly and his mouth flattens into a thin line. “Just say whatever it is you need to say. Might as well. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Jon winces slightly at the flatness in Tim’s voice, at the way he sounds just- just indifferent. It cuts worse than any anger or frustration. At least those meant that Tim was still feeling something toward him, no matter how negative. Now, Tim just sounds tired. Resigned.

“I was…” Jon swallows and looks down at his hands so he doesn’t have to see Tim’s face. “I was thinking about the time we went to the coast together, to follow up on that case about the mermaid.”

Tim makes a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so humorless. “Yeah, I remember,” he says, and maybe Jon’s imagining the hint of wistfulness in his voice, looking for something that isn’t there. “Turned out to be nonsense, but it…”

Tim’s hands tighten on the wheel for a moment before going slack, his face twisting into something pained. “It was nice,” he says, so quietly Jon almost doesn’t catch it. “You, er. You had a lot to say about harbor seals.”

Jon flushes and rubs one thumb over the other—a nervous tic of his, one that leads to dry and cracked skin if he isn’t careful. “Yes, well. Growing up by the sea tends to foster an interest in marine wildlife. And, er. Well. Nobody else ever seemed interested, in- in the topic.” A pause. Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth and says, “I miss our conversations.”

“Jon,” Tim says. It’s a warning and a plea and a refusal all wrapped into a single word. And Jon should just leave it at that—let them pass the rest of the time in silence, like they’ve been doing for months.

Instead, he says, “I’m sorry, Tim. For- for everything.”

“Please, just- not now,” Tim says, his voice growing sharp around the edges even as the core retains that same weariness Jon’s grown accustomed to.

He hates it. He hates that Tim doesn’t tell jokes anymore, that Tim doesn’t smile wide and easy and greet Jon with a ghosting hand across Jon’s upper back, that Tim’s shoulders sag ever so slightly as he walks like he’s bearing the weight of the world. He hates that it’s his fault.

“Then when?” Jon says, that same sharpness bleeding into the words against his will. “After this is all over? We might not—”

We might not make it out alive, his mind supplies. But the words stick in his throat. Instead, he says, “Just. You don’t have to say anything, just- just listen. I- I don’t expect forgiveness.” Jon pauses, then says, softer, “It’s not my right to ask for it.”

Tim’s quiet for a long moment. The radio is playing something upbeat, a pop song that Jon’s never heard but that sounds exactly like the rest of the music the station has been supplying. Jon wants to turn it off; it grates on his nerves, makes every second feel like an eternity.

He doesn’t. Somehow, he thinks silence—true silence—might be worse.

“Okay,” Tim says finally, his eyes still fixed on the road. “Just- just please don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“Right,” Jon says. His fingers go to the hem of his shirt, fiddling with the fabric. There’s a loose thread there, and without thinking, he pulls it. It spirals out, making a neat line in the fabric where the weave falls out of line that Jon won’t be able to smooth out again.

He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He can’t mend what’s broken, can’t unpull the thread that’s tugged them out of sync. In less than a day, they’ll be in the museum, and Jon’s skin will be crawling with the memory of ropes tight around his wrists and plastic fingers coated with lotion touching him over and over and over, and they’ll be executing a plan that Jon can’t shake the feeling will go horribly, terribly wrong. They have so little time. Never enough time.

So, Jon says instead, “I remember when we first met. I- I don’t know if you do, it- it was very brief, and you seemed quite occupied with whatever case you were researching, but I- I remember. You were, uh. You were wearing that olive green shirt you like, the- the one with the buttons that look like flowers. You were distraught when you ripped the sleeve on that barbed wire fence when we, uh, broke into the—”

Jon cuts off with a small laugh. “I suppose our research tactics were quite unorthodox. And more than a little illegal at times. But when I got excited about a case and decided to pursue it in a more, er, thorough capacity, you were always there. I- I don’t think I ever told you, but that was the first time I realized how much I’d grown to like you. You, lamenting about how you’d had that shirt for years, so- so dramatic about the whole situation. And I spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time finding another one just like it, an even more embarrassing amount of time figuring out how to give it to you without coming across as- as weird or what have you. But you just smiled and took it, and- and maybe it’s silly, but I think that’s when I…”

Jon doesn’t say when I started to fall in love with you. But from the pinched look on Tim’s face, he knows he doesn’t have to.

It’s like Jon’s there again, the weight of Tim’s smile making his pulse flutter hummingbird-fast in his throat, his voice slipping into the stutter he tried so hard to hide at work so that he came across as professional. He practically thrust the shirt into Tim’s hands, his cheeks burning as he did so. And Tim’s thank you, so genuine and surprised and happy, had dragged a smile of Jon’s own to his face.

Tim had liked making Jon flustered—had made it a game, figuring out what he could say to make Jon smile or laugh or flush so deeply it was visible against his skin. Jon didn’t understand why some of the things he said made Tim smile in return or press a quick kiss to Jon’s lips or give Jon a soft I love you that still made Jon’s pulse quicken no matter how many times Tim said it. But it didn’t matter, because Tim understood him.

Jon misses Tim so much he can hardly breathe, even after everything. His words come out slightly choked when he says, “I remember when you would bring me lunches because you knew I would forget to eat sometimes if I got caught up in my work. And- and when you went to that shop that had a cat and you sent me- Christ, so many pictures, it- it was really quite excessive.” Quieter, Jon says, “And when you brought me to that park with the lights, and- and you told me that you loved me.”

“Jon,” Tim says. It comes out tense, like somebody who’s trying very hard to keep their emotions in check.

“I know,” Jon says, pulling and pulling at the thread on his shirt until the fabric is bunched up completely and utterly ruined. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry. “I… I know.”

Tim’s quiet for another long moment. Then, he exhales heavily, like he’d been holding his breath, and moves one hand from the wheel to the center console, palm up.

Tim’s hand is warm in his. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes trained on the road, even as his fingers twine with Jon’s in a practiced motion that’s still as easy as breathing.

Jon spends the rest of the car ride memorizing the feel of Tim’s hand in his, the shape of his fingers and the soft skin of his palm, and tries very hard not to think about the way it feels like a goodbye.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #jontim #jonathan sims #tim stoker #my fic #my writing #1.7k words isn't exactly a ficlet but I had a lot of emotions about s3 jontim i suppose #oops! all angst #voiceless-terror

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keyheartsia-dorm · 3 years

Text

The Dorm Leaders with a S/O who Burned themselves making Microwave Food

(This is definitely not something that just happened to me like 10 minutes ago but you should definitely like and subscribe and don’t forget to hit the Bell icon Cause seriously some parts of my hand Hurt like a B...Not that I burned myself or anything)

Riddle Rosehearts

• So Your feeling a Gosh dang HUNGER

• You’re too hungry to wait For Trey to bake anything So

• So Kennel Corn it is!

• In your HUNGER daze you threw the popcorn in carelessly and forget to Press the Popcorn Button and just pressed the 4 Button instead of the 3 Button like you meant to even though 3 PROBABLY would’ve Ruined Your Popcorn anyway

• You text Riddle to see if he’d wanna Share some Popcorn He said he would bring some Tarts he had just put in the oven So you waited...Thinking about Food...not noticing the disaster you were Setting into place

• Anyway you Open the Microwave Full of Hope like a Doe being born on a beautiful spring day then as soon as the black Popcorn started shooting out of your Microwave in Ramshackle you then had the same disappointment as a spring Doe who was just forced to watch Fox and the Hound Like Holy Heck that Movie gives me the Hecko Deppreso

• One Burning Kernel Hit your Cheek Just as you Wince Riddle Comes into your Kitchen With Wide eyes

• He Drags you out Picnic Basket with Tarts in Hand and Takes you to the Nurse’s Office and Asks for...whatever Burned people Need As He Patches you up you 2 Share a ~Moment~

“Riddle Honestly it’s not THAT big of a deal” You Chuckle Anxiously “Don’t be Ridiculous Y/N!” he keeps Patching you up “It Must Seriously Hurt..” He looks a little Sad and while looking sadly into your eyes he kisses your cheek where the Burn was you wince as He Quickly Spits an Apology you Chuckle “You can Kiss it better if you want~” he Looks away bright Red as you 2 Sit in the Nurse’s Office Sharing Tarts

Leona King Scholar

• “I can’t Hecking Cook!!!” you found yourself Exclaiming in the Savannaclaw Kitchen Ruffling your hair

• You see Poor F-Ing Ruggie Needs a Break that’s not a secret to anyone (# Please Stop Hyena Abuse # Please Edit A Garfield Comic Where Leona is Garfield and Ruggie is John) so you said you’d make Leona his Lunch

• why the Heck you said you’d do this you Adorable stupid Hecking Idiot you but hey you did dumb dumb

• So here you are looking in the Freezer and BINGO Big ole Meat Chunk!

• So you being A fanfic protagonist Put a giant mystery meat chunk in the microwave pressed some Buttons and said..”Eh Good enough” Guess your sex god heart throb Boyfriend Is rubbing off on you ok I see how it is Y/N OK I SEE HOW IT IS

• Anyway besides my needless aggression with my words You started to look for some utensils you found A Bento Box and a Spoon thank goodness but you figured you might Need some mittens Lunch was soon and The meat was long done but no mittens

• You take it out..and HOLY MOTHER GOD WHY DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA YOUR PALMS MIGHT AS WELL BE ON FIRE

• Leona Nonchalantly Enters The scene cause Ruggie Told him you’d be making his Lunch and Lunch started like 15 Minutes ago

• He looks at the Scene before him and sighs and takes your hands like the sex god heartthrob he is and looks at your red palms almost Deadpanning

Your face a light red “Yeah...I know I massively Screwed up with your Lunch But I really wanted t-“ “I know And I appreciate it even though you are a massive screw up..But you keep trying I appreciate that about you” He starts to lick your Palms and your face Erupts into a Blush “What the Heck!?!” he looks up at you “It’s to cool your hands down but you ARE gonna go get me Food from the vending machine afterwards”

Azul Ashengrotto

• you slam your Hands Dramaticly on your Kitchen Table “I CANNOT ACCEPT ANYMORE FREEBIES FROM THE MONSTRO LOUNGE” You were sure Azul Would start making you pay if not Azul Jade for sure

• So time to start making Food for yourself!! You Quickly Head to a Convience store where a Certain Chaotic Neutral Eel Notices you Buying like 10 Frozen...PIECES OF FOOD

• You Dump like all off them on your Counter and Choose to make some Weird fish

• You Slap that Sorry Sucker in the Microwave and like the other Sorry Suckers in this Scenario you will Burn yourself and beautiful Bishounen Shenanigans will ensue but we’re not there yet

• You literally just bought a piece of not even normal looking fish Of course it didn’t come with a Time Recommendation So you while staring at it for like 10 minutes (Letting it thaw quite a bit but you didn’t notice) You threw it in for 7 And figured “eh 7’s a lucky number this’ll work” Didn’t you read Leona’s Scenario? What happened when THEY said Eh

• You Dumby You Dating a Merman Boughta Eat a fish Dumbo what do you have? Ears?

• Anyway Floyd and And Azul are Chatting well it’s more like Floyd is talking At Azul while he does paper work Yeah I totally Saw them Buying a bunch a Random Frozen Weird Massively Weird Right? Anyway So Apparently They Let you Mix ALL THE slushie is Flavors”

• Azul hearing this After finishing up some more Paperwork Decides to go Visit You and to his Shock he finds you Trying to hold a Basically at this point Charcoal Fish and when you drop It on your leg Leaving a SEXY weird fish shaped burn he’s Immediately on that

He puts a Hand to his Temple and sighs For a Moment before sweeping you off your feet before you could say a word..the you did say a word a few in fact “I’m Sorry Azul I know you can’t give me freebies forever but I’m a terrible cook” He Kisses your forehead and gives you a reassuring look “You’re my Beloved you can rely on me as much as you want I’ll get you some bandages when we’re back at the monstro lounge and Jade will make you something not made of Charcoal” and you bet he carried you all the way

Kalim Al Asim

• you both wanted to cook Something for Jamil...Okay this’ll go south fast.

• the road to Heck Is often Paved with Good intentions

• You Were tasked with picking out food and Kalim for Kitchen Prep

• Anyway Let’s get this poor Wreck Jamil’s gonna have to fix over with

• “I Picked out some Tofu! Smart people like tofu right?

• Kalim Tossed that And all sortsa Stuff Into the Microwave and Waved off all your concerns figuring it’ll be fine! come on Y/N you coward Your a fanfic Protag you don’t have to think Silly goose no thoughts head empty

• like 15 minutes later you 2 Hear Smoke while trying to make Pulpless Handsqueezed Orange Juice cause HECK PULP

• He Opened The Microwave and the only thing that Looked even Remotely salvageable was the tofu and because you 2 are the cutest most head empty Couple Apparently you didn’t Put a plate underneath so you braving all the danger reached into the Microwave...

“Ouch!” You teared up a little And were about to Put your finger in your mouth as you do Before Kalim put your finger in his Mouth You looked at him shell shocked after a couple seconds he started pressing light kisses on them “I’m so sorry! I should’ve thought this through more! I’ll nurse you back to health!” And For the rest of the day he essentially treated you like you were crippled he carried you he fed you everything don’t worry you slipped away for a little to clean up the mess in the kitchen before Jamil got back Kalim Babysitting is always an Experience to be Had for sure

Vil Schoenheit

• “Vil! I wanna Eat Carbs Heck you!!”

• if that’s not how Every story I do With Vil Starts I’ll be Gosh Danged

• “FINE EAT YOUR MAC AND CHEESE YOU’LL RUE THE DAY-“

• anyway after you stopped listening to him you looked him DEAD in the eyes and Shoved that frozen Mac and Cheese in the Microwave and slammed...Some Numbers In wow what a power move

• He Gasped and Power walked away

• You Laughing Manically Triumphantly

• But after awhile you felt kinda bad and decided to make some Carb free food for Vil as an Apology for Deliberatly and spitefully trying to make him Mad

• But that was the final nail in your microwaved coffin When you took out your Luckily not entirely burned Mac and Cheesies it was real hot like

• You were trying To get it to a plate Quickly And Spilled some on your Wrist Luckily Your Sexy mean Boyfriend was Here To save the day and wow he’s holding something”

“Sweet Potato?” He peeked through the Door and saw you Holding your Wrists in Pain he immediately walked in And Held them tenderly “I’m Sorry Sweet Potato things got heated I did get you a..Low Carb Meal at Olive Garden I Hope this Makes things up to you I know I can’t Control your life it’s just kinda my nature” You Smiled at him through the pain “It’s Fine Vil I got WAY too Mad I’m sorry I made you a salad” you both Enjoyed your food him feeding you yours then later he put some lotion on your Wrists

YES ITS BEST BOY-

Idia Shroud

• Omg it’s the best boy 🥺

• I mean I am not Partial to any character Do not worry I do not want to be in a Poly relationship with both Malleus and Idia

• So you wanted To Hang Out with your Boyfriend today he said sure but that he would be Busy doing raids with his Online friends you agreed and even said you’d bring snacks which you did

• Including Instant Ramen! My-I mean YOUR favorite

• you decided to show how reliable in the Kitchen you are to your boyfriend by making such a Delicacy for him while he doesn’t have the time to himself at the moment

• This is will work out Well

• You decide to do it in your kitchen and bring to him

• this will work out well

• You..ACTUALLY MAKE IT PERFECTLY

• You also Make it mostly towards his room before divine intervention Intervines and says That’s not the point of this fanfic idiot

• It probably mostly worked out for you cause you have the best taste tho so-

• Ortho Hears a Mighty Loud Catwerwhail (here’s hoping I spelled that right) and Comes to check whose outside the door

• “Big Sister/Brother?” He Quickly Runs some Water on your Shoulder and Bandages you Up And Leads you in Idia’s Room With the snacks in tow meanwhile he’s wondering if your Ok or not

“Idia Senpai!” You Sit next to him And he notices your Bandages “What Happened?” You look away a little Blushing a bit “I Spilled hot Instant Ramen on my shoulder Ortho parched me up though but! I brought the rest of the snacks though sor-“ Before you can apologize he Puts his Jacket on your shoulders “No I’m sorry for not noticing I would’ve...Tried to help” His sad expression turns into one of his Competitve smirks “I’ll Finish this Raid Boss so Quicker then you even Burned Yourself!” And He did cause he’s the best Gamer boy then you played Monoply With Him and Ortho cause he’s the best boy you have the best taste RAMEN TASTES SO GOOD-

Malleus Draconia

• My Second Love I mean nothing Let’s finish this I’ve been here since like 4 it’s 7 rn

• You invited Malleus to dinner And you wanted a Good Blanced Dinner!

• Chicken From Panda Express

• McDonald’s Chocolate Milk

• Some Patties from Burger King

• Oh Yeah Veggies!

• Wait! Everything’s Closed now!!! Y/N I KEPT TELLING YOU TO STOP BEING DUM-

• Oh you have some frozen Vegetables? Okay Touché

• You Toss them in the Microwave for 6 Minutes and get ready

• You dress as Nicely as Possible in 10 Minutes cause you plan Things Horribly apparently...not that I relete having been here for like at least 2 hours

• He’s Here~ him being Also the best boy is already setting the table with Magic cause he’s just nice like that and even Enchanted the food to be set on the table and the milk in the Glasses

• But you INSISTED to present The Vegetables

• “Child of Man I really don’t min-“ “No! I got this really!!”

• Let’s see how well that turned out for you

You got the Vegetables Outta the Microwave in such a Haste you didn’t even notice how hot it was and dumped it on the plate it wasn’t horribly burnt but was Horribly Hot Malleus was Amazed though “So Man’s Growing Vegetables in Bags now?..” he Reached to touch but you smacked his hand away so fast your hand touched the food and burned you “Ouch! I’m sorry Mal But it’s really hot” He immediately Understood and Summoned some Magical Water as he do and your burn was gone “I love you Child of man even though us Fae Can’t burn you tried to shield me anyway my sweet gentle Child of man”...Did you know that I ain’t know that?

I have a Masterlist it has all my X reader fics And my Oc Stuff I will be Adding this in like a day or 2 probably now if you’ll excuse me I never Wanna Look at another word again except also I’m literally probably gonna go read fanfic

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland dorm #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst dorm leaders #dorm leaders x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland dorm leaders

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