#ann friendships mean SO much to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crymeariveronceagain · 2 years

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Ah this is awkward. Um.

You're like, gray aroace right? I'm pretty sure I'm fully aroace (as in has never had a crush sexually or romantically) and idk if I wil at some point but whatever.

Anyway, so like, I was talking w my friend - and like, I have two people I really consider 'friends', who I'd always like... kind of imagined spending my life with ig? Like not romantically, but in a 'you're my best friend and how can I ever stop caring about you' way. And so my friend was talking about how they really want to find love and get married and like...

My other friend also talks about finding a gf and all that and basically the point is they both talk about how they're so scared they'll never find 'love' and 'move on'. And the thing that terrifies me is they're like moving on from when, other than familialy, our platonic relationships were ig most important? Like, they will never value these bonds as much as I do. They'll leave me behind for romantic partners and I'm so scared I'll have to force myself into loving someone that way just so I don't get left behind. It's hard enough with my parents, and I'm so scared of losing them, but I'm going to because I'll never matter as much to them as they do to me.

I think that was the moment it really clicked for me 'I'm different' and I don't know what to do.

Hi darling!!!!

First of all, I don't identify as any manner of ace or aro. They're not comfortable terms to me, and it's taken me a long while to get to a place where I can actually, like. Write that? I used to identify as ace, but I don't anymore. Primarily because it became such a huge anxiety trigger for me. And, honestly, it still kind of is. The entire question of my sexuality makes me feel like throwing up, a little. Not mad about it or anything, and not offended either(you can assume whatever you want about me) but, anyways. I love you <3

So, like. I'd like to start off with saying a couple things.

First and foremost, your perception of friendships is completely normal, actually. So many people today, and I mean this honestly, have a disordered perception of the value of relationships. So often they set friendships on back burner, and instead focus on romantic relationships. And, actually. I'll tell you why.

Friendships are so, so, so valuable.

With any luck, any person can find a lover. In fact, most people without much work can swipe right a few times and get everything they want out of that situation.

But a friendship? A real, whole, true one?

Stars, you're lucky if you get one in your whole life.

There is something beautiful, soul-quenchingly holy and wonderful about true friendships, about kindred spirits. There is something so endlessly pure about loving a person not even for some kind of romantic pursuit, but just for the hell of it. For the hell of loving. For the hell of living. For the hell of understanding, for the hell of breathing, for the hell of sharing. There's something so infinitely beautiful, and there's something scary.

Because true friendship doesn't ask for anything but companionship and patience, for the mutual care of someone. That's all it wants, and that's its end. That's the goal of friendship. Mutual care. Patience. Companionship.

Romance asks for more than that.

But true friendship is one of the most pure loves.

The ancient Greeks called it Philia.

C. S. Lewis said, about it, in his book The Four Loves(100% recommend you read this at some point.) "“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

That's a beautiful, amazing thing right there. It's like philosophy, it's like art. It's brilliant. It's lovely.

Now, all that to say, that if friendship is like art, you are not different or new to value it as you do. It means you have a natural predilection, maybe, to value it as you do, just as some people are naturally disposed to art or philosophy, or even to romance.

On to the specifics about your friends. If your friends don't value you like you value them, they're kind of crappy friends.

Because even a desire for a relationship should not change the love they have for you. Even being in a relationship should not decrease their care for you.

It took me a while to learn this, and in fact it's through the love of my best friend that I have learned this. I had friends, when I was in high school, who abandoned me, repeatedly, for each other. They treated me like I was disposable. Like my existence didn't matter. I'd have died for them. They wouldn't have died for me.

But then, I met the girl I'd call my "bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my innermost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?"(Anne Of Green Gables, by L. M. Montgomery)

She's in a relationship, set to be married, actually, now.

But the thing is, I have never once questioned her love for me. I've never once had to. She's never made me feel like I didn't matter to her. I even brought it up, once. That I would always expect to be second to her husband-to-be, and she said we weren't on the same playing field, so to speak. I don't remember exactly what she said, but it's settled, deeply in my soul. It was something along the lines of, He's my boyfriend, but you're my best friend. It made me cry, nearly.

She's my best friend, and she values me like I value her.

So, I've got to tell you.

If they do not love you like you love them.

They're not the people you want to line your dreams up with.

Believe me. If you believe nothing else I say, believe me on this.

You want people who love you just as fiercely as you love them.

They should value the bond as much as you do. Don't settle for less. Find friends who will fight and die for you. If they won't, you can do better. Find friends who are willing to love you. Find friends who want you in their futures.

Really, dearest, this has very little to do with sexuality.

Ik it sounds dumb, because why wouldn't it?

But this is about friendship. It's about this stupid world we live in refusing to place emphasis on friendship. Stars, compare it to art! How would you feel if people went "Art is kind of stupid, we don't need it to live, so there's very little point to maintaining it or making more or making the stuff that sticks in your ribs and makes breathing hard." Like, that's what society has said about friendship!

It's been so greatly reduced, so greatly destroyed, so corrupted by the media and by hook up culture and by the concept even that friendship doesn't matter unless you're gonna date eventually.

Literally, what the heck is up with that?

It's so stupid and pointless you don't understand.

We live in a world that destroys and degrades friendship on an altar of romance.

My best friend's brother once heard her tell me she loved me and he called us gay. That's how estranged we are from a world that respects friendship. Brothers crack jokes that burn and make you wonder if you're doing something wrong by expressing something so simple as love.

I still tell her I love her. I call her beautiful. Lovely. She does the same for me.

We lift each other up, point each other towards where we want to go.

And there is so much hope for our futures in our lives. I'm going to be in her wedding next summer. I want to meet her husband. I want her to meet my future spouse, whoever they are. I want to meet her kids. I want her to meet mine. I want to go to movies with her. I want to eat dinner in her house. I want to meet up for a glass of wine and sit as grandmothers on the same front porch and talk like there's an endless life before us.

My friend wants the same things.

Look.

Darling, dearest anon.

If your friends want to move on from your friendship, they're not the kind of people you want as friends.

Because you deserve to be valued as you value others.

That's just a fact of human existence.

And if these friends want to move on, to step out into the world and leave you behind, to cast aside your friendship for romance, pretend like that's some sort of mutually exclusive relationship, pretend, for even a moment like love is some sort of finite resource, and that they're willing to cast you off like you don't matter in exchange for it.

Not only are they wrong, it's highkey cruel of them.

If they're thinking the friendship is limited, that it's conditional, that it's doomed, or that it's fading, or whatever kind of hula hoops they're jumping through in their heads, that's what it's going to be, because they're striking a self-fulfilling prophecy.

It has nothing to do with you.

You honestly sound like you're the normal, functioning person here.

They sound like they're the ones who are different.

Sure, a point could be argued, I suppose, that in this culture an emphasis on friendship and a platonic love of others is different.

Sure. You could say that you're different because you want to be loved and valued in return. That you love intensely and deeply.

But stars.

Lovely, most beloved anon.

Find new friends.

Ditch these people. I know it's gonna hurt. Friendship breakups hurt more than heartbreaks(I've experienced both, I can attest to this) but if they're not going to love you as you deserve. You are worthy of so much more than this hovering feeling of impending doom. You're worth more than listening to them talk about the romance they want to leave you behind for. You're worth endlessly more than them underappreciating and undervaluing your friendship.

Just walk away.

It's not worth it to love like that. It's unrequited. It's undervalued.

There's a best friend out there for you, I'm sure of it.

Someone who will value you just as much as you value them.

And maybe it will take a while to find them. Maybe you'll have to go through more friendships that aren't valuable enough to the other party.

Who cares.

True friendship exists. True filial love exists. You can find it.

The world probably feels really small, right now. It is not small.

The world is huge. It is full of people.

And you don't need a lot of people. That's another lie.

All you need is one good friend. All you need is one. And you'll be okay.

I never thought I would make friends who actually loved me. And then, I did.

So if a wreck like me can find legitimate friends who love and value me as much as I love and value them, you'll have no problems, dearest.

There are people out there waiting.

There are friendships in the world that you can make.

These two people are not the only two you get.

I swear it to you.

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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

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pt. i: break a sweat

pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out || pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, dubious safe sex methods, even more dubious interpretations of how the room of requirement works

Summary: sebastian makes the house quidditch team after training all summer. before his first match, you let him talk you into a bet over its outcome that will in all likelihood ruin your friendship. (merlin, you sure hope it does.)

"Speaking of which," you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. "What prize will you not be winning?" Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, "I have something in mind." You force yourself not to get distracted. "Do tell." "If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game," he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

Seeing Sebastian for the first time since the end of your sixth year at Hogwarts is quite the shock.

You knew from his detailed letters that your dearest friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

Sometimes he would even bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch for him to track down, and while he hunted it down, she worked on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her return to Hogwarts in the fall.

He’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head whereas you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but things have clearly changed.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s tan from spending all summer training in the sun, his button-down shirt suddenly looking so crisply white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more.

But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough to brush upwards into a less haphazard style (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’).

It’s as if your boyish Sebastian from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust as you slide into a seat across from him next to Ominis, and based on the look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation about Anne’s return, you tell Sebastian, “You’re looking fit.”

You hope you can casually get it out of the way, and that no one will dwell on it.

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile.

“I mean physically,” you insist, remaining one step ahead of him. “I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

“Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but the Seeker.”

“I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be,” he insists. “I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

“Silly Sebastian,” Violet McDowell calls out from a few seats down, a wicked grin on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a wicked grin, and you think about using your ancient magic to hurl one of the stacked platters of food in front of you at Violet’s head. (Or maybe you should simply toss her out into the courtyard.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward boy with his nose always buried in a book, and now the girls are lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis agrees. “He had a big enough head before he was attractive.”

“I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a little bit of Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “‘Perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in Sebastian’s inflated ego, he takes it in stride and sneakily winks at you from across the table when he catches you silently observing, your gaze firmly settled on the sharp line of his jaw.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red. Even if no one else notices, he certainly does.

—

Two weeks later, you and Anne link arms with Ominis to walk down with him to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin team tryouts.

“Now that I’ve got a brilliant witch on each arm, I suppose I won’t be needing my wand as often to get around,” he teases.

“Please, I know a thing or two about that wand of yours,” Anne replies. “Last year I spent a full month reading books on wandcraft that Sebastian brought me from the library. If I had to guess, I think you can probably ‘see’ more clearly than either of us can. It’s powerful.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ominis demurs. “I’m just naturally perceptive.”

Once you arrive at the pitch, the three of you take seats along the practice bleachers with a few of your housemates, who chat excitedly when the Slytherin hopefuls begin to take the field.

You spot Sebastian quickly, even among nearly two dozen others in green practice uniforms circling for warmups on their brooms. Compared to how big he’d looked at the start of term in just his school robes, he’s huge now – equipped with pads across his shoulders, forearms and shins that accentuate his muscular form.

He’d declined a helmet, of course, because despite his newfound bulk he’s still the same exasperatingly headstrong boy you’ve nurtured a crush on for nearly your entire school career.

“Between us, what do you think his chances are of making the team?” you ask Anne.

“Truthfully?” she smirks. “I think he’ll have his pick of positions, unless Imelda wants to humble him on purpose.”

“Which one would be humbling?” you ask, amused.

“Probably Chaser,” she muses. “He’d be an excellent Chaser, of course, but it’s his least favorite.”

“I’ll bet he becomes a Beater,” Ominis offers. “Without the Dark Arts, I’d like him to have some sort of outlet for his intensity.”

“Fine, then I’ll say… Keeper,” you say, smiling to yourself at your private joke that only Sebastian would appreciate. “Because that way he’ll get to stay in one place the whole game and know that everyone’s eyes are on him.”

—

Shortly after tryouts wrap up, Imelda sequesters herself in the girls’ dorm to put together her official roster and the majority of Slytherin’s upperclassmen start passing around Butterbeers while they settle in to await her decision.

Sebastian is inarguably the center of attention, casually leaning against a table in the corner with Anne at his side. A flock of fifth-year girls crowds around him to listen intently as he talks about the impressive diving save he’d made, capturing the Snitch just feet from the ground.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Ominis groans while the two of you watch from across the room. “There’s barely enough room for his ego in this friendship as it is.”

“Come now, we can keep him in check,” you laugh. “Especially with Anne here.”

“It’s really good to have her back,” Ominis agrees softly, smiling to himself when he hears Anne’s voice through the noise, telling Sebastian’s fan club how he’d attempted a similar save over the summer and ended up crashing into a derelict poacher camp.

Huh.

However, before you can spend too much more time thinking about Ominis and Anne, you hear the noise in the room spike as Imelda saunters down the stairs, a rolled-up piece of parchment in her hand.

“Who’s ready to meet this year’s Slytherin Quidditch team?” she calls out, and the entire room bursts into excited cheers.

She starts to read off from her list, allowing brief pauses for applause after each name. You and Ominis snake through the common room to stand by Sebastian. He seems to be perfectly calm, but by now you can recognize some telltale tension lingering in his jaw.

Anne holds one of his hands to reassure him, swaying a bit nervously herself.

While Imelda works her way down the list, the four of you learn that hasn’t been named Slytherin’s Keeper. He’s not a Beater either, nor is he ultimately a Chaser.

“Lastly, your newest Seeker,” Imelda teases as she reaches the end of the list. “...It’s obviously Sallow!”

Sebastian beams brilliantly while Anne pulls him into a tight hug, and Ominis smiles and murmurs his congratulations to his friend, assuring him he always knew he’d make the team.

There are several other girls quick to offer their congratulations as well, but you wait for the crowd around him to thin out and for Anne to escort Ominis to get more Butterbeers before you sidle up next to Sebastian and nudge your shoulder against his.

“Excellent work, Bash,” you murmur. “You put on quite a show at tryouts.”

“Only because you were watching,” he flirts back, and you roll your eyes fondly.

Since the start of term, he’s been relentless with his play-flirting. You resist it as much as you can, but it always makes your heart race when he calls you “love,” or offers to carry your books for you, or even charms little notes poking fun at your classmates into tiny birds that gracefully land on your desk during classes.

(You don’t have the heart to ask him to knock it off, because even though you know he doesn’t mean it, it still feels nice to be the center of his attention.)

“Then I’ll have to come to see you start in next week’s match,” you offer. “Especially if you only play that well when I’m watching.”

“You can be my good luck charm,” he jokes. “Felix Felicis is prohibited, but you’re not.”

“That was awful,” you laugh, but Sebastian just grins.

“Tell you what,” he says after a moment. “We should make a bet on it.”

“A bet?” you ask. “On what, that you’ll win?”

He shakes his head. “Too easy, we’re playing Ravenclaw, we’ll obviously win. I mean something more challenging.”

“You’re clearly confident,” you tell him. “What are your terms?”

He considers his offer for a moment and then says, “I’ll bet that I can catch the Snitch in under thirty minutes. I’ll even let you be the official timekeeper, since I’ll be a bit preoccupied.”

“Under thirty?” you ask skeptically. “That’s nearly professional, Sebastian. Ominis told me most games last at least an hour.”

“I’ve been practicing all summer,” he insists. “Anne would release a Snitch and I’d even give it a five-minute head start, but I never let one get further away from me than the far side of Marunweem Lake.”

“Careful, Sebastian, you sound quite cocky,” you murmur, and you think you see Sebastian’s gaze dip down to your mouth for a split second.

“I am,” he agrees. “In fact, I’ll even let you pick your prize first, for if you win.”

“Alright,” you laugh. “When I win, I want… for you to write my History of Magic assignments for the next month.

“That’s it?” he scoffs. “You could have anything and you want me to write your essays?”

“I didn’t start studying magic with the rest of you lot, and I don’t know a lot of the foundational things that Binns wants us to reference,” you remind him. “You know your history much better than I do, and I need to bump my ‘Acceptable’ up to ‘Exceeds Expectations’ by the time N.E.W.T.s roll around.”

“Love, I would’ve done them for you anyway,” Sebastian says dismissively, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning at the nickname. “Pick something fun.”

“Fine,” you reply. “I want…”

You consider your options for a moment, trying to think of something that isn’t either obscene or pathetic. Finally, you have an idea.

“There is one thing I’ve been thinking about,” you tell him, a secret smile on your lips.

Sebastian perks up, leaning in closer. “Go on then.”

“I want you to help me set up Anne and Ominis,” you say carefully, watching him for any signs that he’s about to blow up.

He just blinks at you, bewildered. “What.”

“I think they would be a lovely couple,” you croon. “And I know she’s your sister and you’re, y’know...”

“I’m what?” he demands.

“You’re very protective of her,” you say tactfully. “But we’re all adults now, and I think they really understand each other. I want you to help me convince them that they should give it a chance.”

Sebastian is quiet for several long moments.

“Well,” he finally murmurs. “I would prefer it if Anne never dated anyone so I wouldn’t have any more reasons to worry about her, but I suppose if she must, Ominis is a good man.”

You shout excitedly and wrap your arms around his impossibly broad shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He easily allows it, fondly pressing his nose to your hair.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, since you won’t win and I’ll never have to aid you in your scheming,” he murmurs against your temple.

“Speaking of which,” you say, leaning out of the hug just enough to see Sebastian’s face. “What prize will you not be winning?”

Sebastian lets his hands drop down to your hips as he murmurs, “I have something in mind.”

You force yourself not to get distracted. “Do tell.”

“If I win, I’d like to take you to the Room of Requirement after the game,” he says, and the way he grips your sides through your skirt ensures you have no way of misunderstanding what he’s suggesting.

“O-oh?” you ask softly, squirming a little in his grasp. “Just me?”

“Just you,” he confirms.

His eyes are dark, and despite the cacophony of the room around you both, he’s focused solely on you.

“And what would we be doing in the Room of Requirement?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. Instead, he deliberately drags his thumbs across your hips, raking his gaze down your body and back up with a pointed look.

“You mean it?” you ask him quietly. “You aren’t just teasing like earlier?”

“When was I teasing?” Sebastian asks, amused.

“This whole time,” you insist, fidgeting nervously with the laces at the front of his Quidditch shirt. “All the flirting, all this back-and-forth… You’re just winding me up.”

“I’m not,” he says quietly. “I thought about you all summer, love. I missed you like mad, and I sincerely want you.”

Merlin.

Some bold part of you steps a little closer so you can lean in close to his ear and ask, “Are you sure we shouldn’t just go to the Room of Requirement right now?”

You hear Sebastian swallow and exhale sharply.

“N-not now,” he answers. “After the match. I just…”

He doesn’t really have the words to articulate it, but he wants to earn your affection. He has to prove he’s good enough first, that you aren’t making a mistake by letting him finally force your close friendship into something more.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, gently brushing your lips against his cheekbone. “Just don’t get too distracted and fall off your broom, because I actually want you to win.”

“The match or the bet?” he asks in a low voice.

You just take a step back with a teasing grin, and before you disappear into the crowd to find your friends, you murmur, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Sallow.”

—

It’s so many flights of stairs up to the Room of Requirement. You almost feel bad for Sebastian, but not enough to stop relentlessly tugging him up countless flights in the quiet Astronomy Tower.

He must be exhausted already, you assume. While the match itself had only lasted twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds, he spent nearly all of them racing around the pitch alongside Ravenclaw’s Seeker, eyes trained on any flash of light that shimmered like gold.

He’d even taken a Bludger to his right thigh. You’d felt like you were going to be sick just watching it collide with him, but he’d merely dropped a few feet with a wince and sped off again.

Not even a damn Bludger could knock him off his broom.

(As soon as your nausea had dissipated, you’d felt another dizzying wave of sensation take over slightly south of your stomach.)

Just as he’d promised, he quickly caught up with the Snitch near the base of the Hufflepuff student section, landing not-so-neatly in the muddy grass with one arm thrown up in the air. He was evidently clutching the struggling Snitch and beaming so hugely you could see it from your spot in the stands fifty feet in the air.

As soon as Madam Kogawa blew her whistle, the Slytherins had begun to move en masse toward the stairs, preparing to turn their common room into the official site of the year’s first not-so-clandestine party.

You, however, snuck away from the group and lingered outside the team’s changing area. Inside, you could hear raised voices.

“Imelda, you don’t understand,” Sebastian was whining. “I need to go now.”

“There’s a way we do things here, Sallow,” she had argued “I’m the captain, and if I say we’re going to discuss the game before anyone leaves, you stay.”

Sebastian had a few choice words to say to that but ultimately relented, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly while you leaned against one of the canvas walls that lined the interior channels of the pitch. Ultimately, it only took about ten minutes to discuss how everyone could improve – and Imelda’s only suggestion for Sebastian had been to try to find a dryer patch of grass on which to land next time.

Seconds later, he’d burst through the door and started to take off toward the castle.

“Bash!” you called out. “Not so fast.”

When he turned and spotted you, his face lit up.

“You waited for me,” he breathed.

“Of course I did,” you said. “I believe you’ve won a prize, and the nature of it is time-sensitive.”

He looked like an utter rake with that crooked smile on his lips. He was still in his uniform head to toe, his hair even messier than usual thanks to his helmet. He’d even kept his pads on, so when he reached out to take your hand, you felt impossibly small next to him.

“Shall we?” he asks, and then the two of you were off.

By the time you reach the Room and ensure no house elves are present, you’re both out of breath and panting.

“Come here,” you whine, throwing your arms around his shoulders and messily kissing along his jawline.

“W-wait,” he stammers. “Let me get these pads off, and–”

He cuts himself off, making a face.

“I need to clean up,” he tells you, suddenly self-conscious. “I must look like hell.”

“You look obscene,” you reply, dragging your hands down his chest pads. “Which is obviously a compliment.”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to stop you from attempting to undo the laces at the front of his trousers. “Just – just let me clean off first, the prefects’ bathroom isn’t far and I got the password off of Weasley.”

“No, don’t leave,” you whine, and Sebastian is merely a man, he can’t resist the girl he’s been in love with for years when she’s begging him to take his pants off.

“I must smell foul,” he laughs. “You’re – you’re seriously okay with this?”

“Look where we are, Sebastian,” you croon, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. “Just imagine what you need.”

For your part, you imagine a plush armchair where you can wrangle Sebastian into finally taking a seat, and one quickly spins to life just behind him. You take advantage of his distraction to shove him backwards toward it and climb astride lap.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” you tease him, straddling his thighs and dragging your nose along his cheek so he’ll tip his head back for you. “If you require something, the Room provides.”

“I require a bath,” he drawls, cursing quietly when you gently bite just over his pulse point. “Quickly, please, Room.”

Sebastian waits patiently while you eagerly strip him of his pads, but the Room doesn’t change.

“I thought you said you’ve taken baths here,” he points out skeptically. “In a huge basin, like the prefects have.”

“I have,” you insist, frowning. “I don’t know why it’s not…”

Then you trail off, your realization making you go red.

“Go on, love,” Sebastian murmurs, sliding a hand up the back of your thigh to lazily palm at your ass underneath your skirt. “I know that face, you’ve figured it out. What’s the problem?”

“W-well, it’s my Room,” you tell him sheepishly. “So it, um… I suppose it defaults to what I require.”

“And what you require,” Sebastian says slowly, “is for me to not take a bath?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“I… I suppose the Room must have deduced that I – I like you like this,” you whisper, dragging your hands across his rumpled Quidditch shirt. “And I don’t need to wait for you to clean off.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian asks, his eyes now impossibly dark. “You’d let me touch you just like this? I’m a mess, I’m covered in sweat and mud and probably some blood, even.”

“Don’t care,” you breathe, sliding your hands underneath the hem of his shirt. “I want you now, Sebastian, exactly like this.”

He says some absolutely filthy words under his breath, sitting back so he can strip off his filthy uniform shirt. You can’t get your hands on his body fast enough, hurriedly familiarizing yourself with his sculpted core, broad chest, and strong shoulders.

He’s less of a mess underneath where his shirt had lain, but his skin is still warm and damp with sweat from the match. You want to put your mouth all over him, everywhere – and there’s so much of him to explore.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first saw you like this,” you confess to him. “You’ve gotten bigger since last spring, and so handsome… how did you become a man in just one summer?”

“You think I’m the only one who changed this summer?” he asks with a low voice. “Look at you.”

“What about me?” you ask dumbly.

His hands go straight for your chest, roughly tugging open your uniform shirt with no regard for the longevity of its buttons.

“Here,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin brassiere. “I can assure you that I noticed where you’ve grown bigger.”

You gasp softly as he tugs down on the cups of your bra until he can lean in and press his mouth to your skin, sucking on one of your nipples and then the other.

“And here,” he murmurs into your chest, his hands returning to the backs of your thighs and sliding up your ass. “You have all these curves now, love, and they’re driving me mad.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper. “Take off my clothes.”

He helps you wrestle your skirt up over your head and tosses it recklessly as far as he can. When you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, Sebastian wraps one strong arm around your lower back and hooks the other below your hips, easily standing up from the armchair to walk you over to the bed you’d hastily imagined into existence.

Once he has you on your back, he tugs down your last remaining garment and leaves you bare and exposed to him, breathless and flushed all over.

“Your turn,” you remind him, even though part of you wishes he could leave the uniform pants on (despite the impracticality).

Once he manages to peel off the last of his clothes, he settles on his knees between your legs and skims a hand up your body, from the curve of your hip all the way up to your cheek.

“Is this too fast?” he asks you softly. “Did I ask too much?”

Your heart aches. Sebastian always stuns you with his sincerity when you least expect it.

You turn your head to kiss his palm and murmur, “No, love.”

His shoulders drop a little, the last of the tension he’d been carrying all week draining from his body. He wants, he always wants so damn badly and he would never forgive himself if he marred your first time with each other by rushing you.

“Can I touch you?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Please,” you whine, letting your knees fall wide.

(Whether or not the other has ever done this before is still a mystery to you both, and it’s not something you’ll discuss until afterward. But right now, it’s of no importance to you.)

For a while, Sebastian’s hands roam your body without an agenda, acquainting himself with your breasts, your hips, the insides of your thighs. You moan softly when he drags his thumb along your slit, spreading your wetness around until he can easily rub slow circles over your clit.

“How do you feel?” he asks you.

“Good,” you gasp. “So good, Sebastian, like that.”

“Do you want more?” he offers, and you frantically nod, one of your hands fisting the pillow behind your head.

He carefully presses one long finger inside you, glancing between your face and your entrance to make sure you’re comfortable the entire time. One finger quickly becomes two, and when two nearly becomes three, you have to pause and take a breath.

“Enough,” you pant. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure?” he asks you.

You reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, giving him a few slow strokes while he leaks precum onto your hand and groans helplessly.

“I want you,” you insist. “I’ve wanted you.”

“R-right, yeah,” he agrees, trying to clear his head and focus on the task at hand. “Enough.”

He gently nudges your hand away so he can guide himself inside you, one hand wrapped around himself and the other gently pressing on your inner thigh to keep you still for him.

Underneath Sebastian like this, pinned to the mattress by his hips and hands, he completely overtakes your senses. He’s all you can see, all you can touch — you even taste and smell him.

Masculine sweat. Dark brown eyes. Crisp autumn air. The curve of his collarbone where it meets his shoulder. Woodsmoke. A million tiny freckles. Metallic blood from a split lip. Flashes of copper in his messy curls. Singed pine needles.

Sebastian groans low in his throat as he presses in, his hair falling into his eyes before he frantically brushes it away so he can see you take him for the first time.

Once he’s fully seated inside you, he bends down and presses his forehead against yours.

“Tell me,” he begs, his hand curling gently around the back of your neck to hold you close.

“Tell you what?” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every syllable.

“Tell me that it feels like this for you,” he practically breathes into you. “It feels like you’re — you’re everywhere, like you’re all there is.”

“Sebastian,” you whimper, and his hips snap against yours.

“Say it,” he growls. “Please.”

“You’re all there is,” you gasp. “You’re all mine, Bash.”

He makes a sound like you’ve sucker-punched him, messily kissing wherever he can get his mouth on you – your cheek, your jaw, your lips. All the while he’s fucking you open with relentless, eager thrusts.

He’s not going to last long, but you don’t expect him to. You just want him to feel good – the two of you have already wasted enough time not doing this, so why delay satisfaction?

You wrap your legs around his hips to hold him against you, rocking your own hips upward to meet him and coax him closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” he grits out, grinding into you desperately the closer he gets to his climax. “Can I finish inside?”

“N-no,” you whimper. There’s a potion you can drink to make it safe that takes an entire week to brew, and the batch that’s currently bubbling away at your potions station across the Room isn’t quite ready yet.

“Where?” he begs.

“Anywhere else, wherever you want,” you promise him, your mind quickly tossing out mental images of him spilling himself across your breasts, into your mouth, on the curve of your back.

He pulls out of you with a reluctant moan and kneels between your open thighs, wrapping a hand around his cock to finish himself off. You watch his eyes while he takes you in, seemingly torn between meeting your gaze and staring transfixed at your fingers between your thighs as you get closer to finishing yourself.

“Next time, love,” you murmur softly. “The next time you fuck me you can finish in me, I’ll take it all.”

“Promise?” he asks breathlessly, still an incorrigible flirt even when he’s seconds away from his orgasm.

“Promise,” you whine, spreading your legs a little wider when you catch his gaze lingering again.

You’re so close, desperately rolling your hips against your own hand until you tip over the edge, the rush of your release arching your back before you collapse lazily against the bed.

He shuffles forward and groans your name just before he spills, leaving a warm, wet mess all over your stomach and between your hips. You feel properly claimed – especially when he flops down next to you and immediately tugs you against his chest, unbothered by his release smearing between your bodies.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes into your hair. “Merlin, I love you.”

“You love me?” you whisper against his collarbone.

“Enduringly,” he says.

You rest your cheek against his chest and listen to his racing heartbeat for a few moments before you tell him, “I love you too, you know.”

Just then, the Room starts to rumble.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks, urgently peering around for his wand.

He quickly settles and even laughs under his breath when he sees the Room shifting around the two of you to provide a spacious, sunken bathtub in the middle of the room, complete with a luxurious amount of taps that undoubtedly offer an array of bubbles, salts and soaps.

“Oh, now you want to let me clean myself up?” Sebastian drawls. “After you’ve completely worn me out, hmm?”

“It’s more for me,” you giggle. “I can’t possibly sleep like this, but you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

As if Sebastian would ever pass up the chance to feel you up in the water.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #my fic #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #ominis gaunt x anne sallow #(it's subtle but it's there)#unbeta'd we die like men #how do we feel about “bash” as a nickname because it's my favorite 🥹

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 2 months

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When are you guys going to realize that Ed's line in season 1 "I don't have any friends" was just him being a little dramatic and also devastated from the situation in that scene? Even excluding Jack and Izzy from the discussion (if we must), he clearly defines Anne and Mary as his friends!

Does he, though?

The thing is, it comes up twice. It's not just in s1e6 when Ed is so upset (though his meaning is perfectly clear, I don't just think it's him being dramatic - he doesn't think he has anyone he can actually trust with secrets like how he killed his dad). Jack also very explicitly does not consider Ed a friend (he's genuinely shocked and laughs at Ed for calling Stede his friend. "Pirates don't have friends, we're all just in various stages of fucking each other over!"). I don't think this is just a case of Ed being dramatic because it's reinforced for us over and over that piracy is not a culture where you get to have friends.

As for Anne and Mary...yeah, mate, honestly I don't think he'd consider them his friends, either. Don't get me wrong, he likes them! They have a history together and they enjoy each other's company. But it's along the same lines as Calico Jack, still. They are not confidantes for Ed. They are people he has a history with and whose company he enjoys, but their relationship isn't one of friendship - it's emotionally stunted, unavailable, more focused on getting a rise out of Ed than anything else. Like Jack, they have ulterior motives that completely ignore Ed's comfort and wants, instead trying to manipulate him and Stede for their own entertainment. They do not treat each other like friends and I think it's a hell of an assumption to say Ed would define them as his friends.

I don't think there's any reason to take Ed's statement that he doesn't have friends as him just being dramatic, and given that it's reinforced in s2e8, I can't imagine it was meant to be taken that way. Maybe in some other profession, Ed would have considered all the people he worked with his friends, but it's not the case in this one, and that's very much the point.

#ofmd #our flag means death

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1d1195 · 1 year

Text

Zipper

Hi hi, sorry for the short break there. I've been working on this the last three days and it flowed out quite quickly to 9.5K words.

Warnings: Harry doesn't like her (or does he), there's a damsel in distress scene implying SA nothing happens nor described but could be triggering, "enemies" trope, Harry wears a lot of suits and is angry a lot.

Disclaimer: Everything I know about lawyers comes from TV shows.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

So, he pretended he didn’t. “You and Harry are together an awful lot,” his friend Niall said to her with a smirk once. They were in clear earshot of Harry, and nothing made Harry crankier than knowing his friends saw how mean he was toward her. It was the topic of many conversations over video games and while working out at the gym.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

“Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

“He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Harry hated her. She could never figure out why. She and Gemma were on the same soccer team growing up, so she’s known Harry for forever. Because she and Harry were of the same caliber in school (and the same age), they were always in each other’s classes. Always in group projects together.

It made her wildly popular in school to know the one and only Harry Styles so closely—and she did. She knew he wouldn’t drink tea past four in the afternoon. He liked chocolate candy better than fruity candy. Any time he saw a dog while they were on their way to study together, he would dig a bag of little treats out of his backpack to give away. When his left eye got droopy it meant they had to take a break and she would always recommend some hot chocolate or lemonade (depending on the season) at the coffee shop near the town library.

However, their conversations never delved too deeply. She knew his birthday but not his favorite color—she suspected it was blue or maybe orange because most of his pens were blue and his highlighters were almost always orange. Of course, she knew Gemma and Anne, but she didn’t know what their relationship with Harry was like. Because of school, she knew most of his political opinions—and big shocker, they were roughly the same as hers—but she didn’t know his favorite music or if he liked to sleep with a fan on or not. When he was sick, she didn’t know if he liked sleep or soup. If it was his last day on earth, she doesn’t know how he would spend it. They weren’t things that she necessarily needed to know to define their friendship, but somehow, in her eyes, they were.

Other than school mandated projects, she was convinced Harry wouldn’t give her the time of day. “Can we jus’ get this over with?” Was Harry’s mantra around her during their school days.

She wished they could be friends.

She didn’t want to be that girl, but it was impossible not to be. Harry was beautiful and he was nice—just not very nice to her. She didn’t fault him for it, she wasn’t his cup of tea and that was fine. The way other girls sighed and ahh-ed over him made her jealous. She couldn’t do that. Harry was Gemma’s brother and her peer and that was it.

Needless to say, their lives were clearly going to be attached for the rest of their lives. They were like a coat zipper. They met when they were young and as they slid the zipper to the top more pieces of their life meshed. At first it was soccer with Gemma, then it was school in general, projects and friend groups, and now it was university.

Of course, they were going to get degrees in history and law.

Of course, they would have classes together.

Of course, Harry would be at every party she was invited to.

She knocked on the door to the party her friends were invited to, and she waited as the door opened. “God you’re everywhere,” he muttered taking a swig of the drink in his hand. He opened the door wider to allow her and her friends in and walked away without mingling a moment longer. She sighed and stepped through the threshold while her friends filed in behind her.

“You know Harry?” One of her friends gasped.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Grew up together,” she said heading for the kitchen to get a drink. There was a barrage of questioning. The interrogation of how well she knew him, if he was single—he was, as far as she knew—and so on. “He doesn’t like me much,” she shrugged.

“Shut up,” her friend said. “He likes everyone.”

“I’m not sure what to tell you. I’m not everyone.”

They were kind enough to let the conversation drop. But their eyes darted back forth between the two of them whenever they were remotely in the same realm as one another. Harry was never outrightly mean to her. He never made fun of her and never talked ill of her. They talked about school projects and assignments and classes and that was it.

Harry’s friends all really liked her. Of course, they liked her. There wasn’t anything to dislike about her. She was brilliant, incredibly kind, and naturally nurturing. It made Harry nauseous most of the time. He hated she could be so kind all the time—even when he was a dick to her. It made it all the harder for him to not like her.

It was halfway through the semester when her phone vibrated with a message from Harry. She could feel the confusion wrinkling her face as she brought the phone closer to her face as if it was a trick. Harry never texted her. If there was a school project that needed doing, he was highly professional and would only email her. The only reason she had his number was because Gemma gave it to her when her phone was broken, and she was her ride to their soccer tournaments.

Could you read my essay?

Surely this was a trick. She couldn’t help but ask. Really?

Yeah. The response was immediate. Obviously, nothing special. She could practically feel his annoyance through his text bubble.

Sure.

Thanks. Conclusion needs work, I know.

The conclusion may have needed work, but it was a pretty good essay otherwise. A few grammatical errors and a rewording of a paragraph or two and his essay was finished. She didn’t question why Harry asked her. Surely, he had plenty of friends that would be willing to read it over.

His seeking her out was quite the surprise to her, but to Harry it made the most sense. At some point in time, maybe in year ten, he realized that he was probably stuck with her for a good long while. There was no denying she was smart—in fact, Harry thought she was brilliant. Probably smarter than him on any given day. And again, that agonizing kindness made him sick. He knew she would read his essay because she was so nice. If Harry acted the way he did to anyone else but her, they wouldn’t give him the time of day.

But he also didn’t trust anyone else in the world to read his work and know what it needed like she did.

She took all the essay reading to mean it was okay to ask him for school favors as well.

Do you have notes from the history lecture yesterday? I wasn’t feeling well.

I’ll email them to you.

Thank you.

Harry took good notes. She wouldn’t have asked anyone but Harry because she knew they took notes the same way. Of course, they did. If anything, his notes were neater because he typed just as fast as their professor spoke while she preferred to handwrite so she would remember better.

Do you know what our professor meant by this?

She sent him back a picture of her own notes with a marking around the part that Harry was referring to. This was my interpretation, but I emailed him to double check, I’ll let you know what he says.

Thanks.

Harry looked at her notes on his phone again and admired her handwriting. He doesn’t know how she was able to write so much so quickly during their lectures. He saw her shake her hand out every time their professor paused to answer a question or catch a breath. She had pretty handwriting.

The parties they attended together (not on purpose, just by happenstance) were when Harry was at his meanest. He would roll his eyes at her if she was part of a drinking game. Harry’s eyes shot daggers whenever any guy tried speaking with her, always there to remind her of some project they had to do, and he didn’t want to be stuck doing it himself. None of it clicked to her that he was jealous.

Of course, he was. She was the prettiest and nicest girl he knew, and he was mad.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

That stung, made her face warm in embarrassment, but it was partly true. They were practically stuck together. Zipped together by some life force. “Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

She shrugged it off. It would make sense, he talked about her so much. Other than her roommate she probably saw Harry more than her own family. “He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Gem suggested I ask if we could carpool home. Save her a trip.

Yeah, of course.

Thanks.

“Do you like her?” Niall asked Harry. “Like, she’s really nice and pretty. Obviously, she’s very smart so—"

He cleared his throat to hide the gasp that nearly left his lips. “What?” He asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket. They were at the library whispering to each other while studying for finals. He could see her in the back corner, headphones in her ears and answering his message almost as soon as he sent it. He was certain she would ace all her exams, no problem at all.

“Your friend from home,” he tilted his head to the girl in the corner. “Do you like her?” He repeated.

Harry shook his head. “No.”

Niall quirked an eyebrow at him. “S’weird...you’re kind of perfect for each other.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. He wanted no part of it. Sure, she was nice and sweet, and in the right light Harry couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by how pretty she was. But he didn’t want to be with someone he’d known his whole life. He wanted someone he didn’t know—someone that didn’t know his every thought. He wanted to discover a new relationship where he would find someone that didn’t know everything there was to know about him.

Regardless, if he knew all too well that she would be perfect for him.

*A few years later*

“This will be your office,” the sweet secretary informed her. She wasn’t a young secretary, but she wasn’t old either. Somewhere in the middle—she reminded her of her mom and that eased her worry of her new job fresh out of school. “I heard you know your office neighbor here. He gave you a glowing recommendation saying “the bosses would be fools to not hire you” I believe was how he phrased it. They’re all very excited to have you on board.”

She blinked, setting her box down of trinkets she collected ready to have her first big job. A list of clients sat on her desk. She was ready to get started—eager even. Excited and nervous all at once. The box of trinkets would make her office homier and she started setting out the calendar and picture frames as she shook her head at the woman helping her get the lay of the land. “That can’t be right, my professors did my recommendations...I can’t imagine my professors saying that about me,” she chuckled nervously. “I think they liked me and all but—”

“No, no!” She interrupted with a giggle. “Pardon me, one of your references, Harry; Harry Styles,” she smirked.

Blinking in surprise, she felt her lips part in a breathless gasp. She had asked Harry as a parting gift of sorts if he’d be willing to be a reference for her on her job applications. “I don’t think anyone really knows my work ethic the way you do,” she admitted. “I understand if you don’t want to, I’d be willing to be a reference for you as well either—”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No problem. That’s probably a good idea. Thank you.”

“Harry works here?” She asked, completely dumbfounded. She shouldn’t have been. She should have known of all the gin joints. Her heart pounded and the air in the room felt thin. When she had sent her applications and resumes out to every firm in the area, she didn’t dream that she would still be side by side with Harry. There were easily fifty or so firms in the city. There was no way the length of their lives on this zipper extended to work post-graduation.

“I thought that was why you applied here. Harry made it seem like you both—”

“Hi,” speak of the devil. She wanted to know the end of that sentence. The idea that Harry made it seem like anything was between them—friendship, collegiate respect, anything—seemed paradoxical.

But here he was in all his brilliant and handsome glory.

Harry looked effortlessly beautiful and nearly seductive standing in her office doorway. He was wearing a suit, but it looked like it was nearly painted on him—hugging each of his defined arms and seemed to stretch perfectly over his long legs. Throughout their schooling and university, she wondered when he had time to hit the gym because he didn’t go while she walked on the treadmill and read her textbooks—the one time the zipper of life skipped over their meeting. But it was obvious he had found time. Again, she wasn’t immune to his good looks and persona. She had seen him be nice and lovely to everyone he knew time and time again.

Just not her.

His hair was styled just so, and she could practically see the sweet secretary swooning at the sight of him. “Welcome,” he said. He looked like a kid to her. As if his mom told him to say hi and wish her a happy birthday or something even though he didn’t want to. He smiled weakly at her. It felt forced.

“Hi,” she answered, still in shock.

He nodded at her and left without another word. “He’s dreamy,” she said with an all too familiar sigh. “I don’t know how anyone gets any work done around here.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe he works here.”

“I completely assumed he told you about the position...His friend is one of the senior partners,” she shrugged. “Louis?” She said. “I think Louis’ younger sister knows of you both or something.” She tilted her head at the woman. “I know everything,” she shrugged.

“You sure do,” she smirked. “Uh...no, I didn’t know Harry worked here.”

“I think it was Harry’s plan along with Louis or whatever—since they were young. They hang out a lot here.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t mean to say Harry’s the reason you got the job—your qualifications are outstanding and—”

“No, no, you’re fine,” she promised. “I know what you meant.”

Poor Harry.

For the most part though, the two rarely interacted. They would run into each other in the break room or near the copier in the storage room. On one occasion Harry asked her to read over his outline for a case to make sure he hit all the major components of what he needed to do. Every so often Harry would bring her tea and not say anything at all to her. She found it odd and thanked him even though he never spoke to her.

She was oddly comforted by the fact he was just one room over.

There was a gentle knock on her door before it opened. “Some of us are getting Chinese food and I noticed you’ve been holed up all day—are you okay?” Harry appeared speaking the longest sentence that wasn’t about schoolwork or a case in their entire life. And he even asked about her well-being.

She wasn’t okay. She had a headache, something fierce. It started at the bridge of her nose, gripped the back of her eyes, and was reaching for the back of her head. “Yeah,” she murmured not looking up from her papers on her desk. Her voice sounded weak and scratchy. How long had it been since she looked up? Her neck felt cramped as she raised her head slowly to look at Harry. She wished she had a glass of water.

“Kitten...y’don’t look so good,” he said quietly.

“M’okay...M’jus not feeling so well,” she shrugged. “But I have to get this done,” she told him. “I think I skipped lunch,” if she could fathom the idea of using any part of her brain for something other than this case, she would have noted how Harry so sweetly called her kitten.

He sighed, almost annoyed and she briefly wondered what she did wrong now. He disappeared for a moment. Within an instant he came back with water, pills, and a protein bar. “I’ll get some Chinese for you too.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled glancing briefly at how pretty he looked in his suit and how kind it was of him to bring her medicine. “I’ll Venmo—”

“Shh,” he said and turned off the overhead light of her office as he left. Leaving her in darkness except for the desk lamp to her left. “Try a nap on the couch,” he said. “I’ll wake you when the food is here.”

“Kitten,” he said softly. He gently shook her, and she tried to remember if Harry had ever touched her in their entire lives. The smell of greasy, salty food woke her up the rest of the way. Harry seemed to know her Chinese food order. She searched her memories if they ever ordered Chinese together and how he remembered.

“How’d you know what to get?” She asked stupidly. She could blame the headache or the lack of sleep if he said something mean about it.

He didn’t. “Your friends ordered at a party junior year,” he shrugged. “Remembered what you liked.”

“Oh.” He waited until she was upright and eating—staring at her like one of their science experiments from school. “Do you want some—”

“No, just making sure you actually eat.”

She felt her face warm, and she shook her head. “Uh. Thanks, that’s not necessary.”

“Well clearly it is if y’forget t’eat lunch and make yourself sick.” Again, her face heated up, but she said nothing because he was right. “What are you working on, anyway?” He asked. “That you’re skipping lunch and everything.”

“Uh...I just want to make a good impression and make sure I’m doing everything I can.”

“I’ve never known you to not give a hundred and twenty percent, love. If anyone has a question about your qualifications, you can send them to me.”

“How come you get to act like a partner?” She asked. “M’not jealous or anything—I’m just wondering why—”

“Louis always said I was brilliant or whatever,” he said casually with a shrug. He wasn’t bragging. He was just stating a fact. It was true too. Harry was brilliant. “I always told him it was because I worked with you, but he didn’t believe me. So, when he saw m’name as a reference on your application, I told him he would understand it was your brilliance that helped me be so successful and if he didn’t hire you, it would be a terrible mistake in his career because you would go be perfect and wonderful somewhere else. He’s seen your work, trust me, kitten. He knows how hard you’re working and you’re making an unbelievable impression. You don’t need to skip lunch t’prove your worth.”

This by far was the kindest thing Harry ever said of her—maybe anyone had ever said of her. She was speechless. Maybe it was the sleep still on her brain. Or the pain in her head that caused Harry to turn off the lights, so it was dark and quiet in her office. Or maybe it was because Harry finally said something sweet about her. But she finally worked up the courage to ask a question that had bothered her for their entire lives. “How come you don’t like me?” Her voice was so quiet it pained Harry.

He shook his head. “I like you,” he said with an eye roll. She wondered if it was no longer hard for him to lie like that. Countless people must have asked him over the years. Certainly, by now he perfected the tone and emotion needed to get people off the subject.

“Not really,” she said with sigh. When they were younger it definitely upset her more that Harry disliked her so much. When people asked she would feel a sting come behind her eyes because it would have made all the sense in the world for Harry to be her best friend. Now, it was just a matter of fact. NaCl was salt, flowers bloomed in spring, and Harry didn’t like her. “It’s fine...” but her voice cracked just a hair like it used to when she was asked about why Harry didn’t like her at all. “I just...I don’t know. We would have been really good friends if you did...that’s all,” she gave a small shrug eating another bite of her food.

“You want to be friends?” He questioned, surprised. Even though he was a dick to her she wanted to be friends. She seemed to be a glutton for punishment.

“Well,” she cleared her throat pushing her orange chicken through her fried rice as a distraction. “I guess we’re kind of old to be asking that,” she said quietly. “We just spent a lot of time together growing up. I think it would have made sense,” she explained. It felt like she was arguing another case, it was far more awkward though and while she would have liked to win, she didn’t know if it was worth it. “It’s fine...you don’t have to be my friend. Thank you for the food.”

“Kitten, I,” he sighed and ran his hand over his face pinching his lower lip between his fingers. She could tell from the tone in his voice he was exasperated by her. She should have just eaten faster and let him leave without the third degree. “We can be friends.”

She blinked at her food and then turned to look at him. “We can?”

He tilted his head at her and rolled his eyes. “Would it make you happy?” He asked.

She was lucky her brain wasn’t fully functioning due to the lack of food. That was a weird question for him to ask. Harry never once cared if she was happy or not the entire time that she knew him. “Yes.”

“Then we can be friends.”

Despite their newly found friendship, she tried not to overwhelm Harry. They made small talk when they ran into each other at the office. About once a week Harry would text her asking if she would like to carpool to work and she politely declined because again, she didn’t want to bother him.

“Hey, I’m going to meet a client at Starbucks, do you want any coffee when I get—oh,” she said softly. For the entire time she’d known Harry, she had never seen one hair out of place. Not one shirt collar unpressed. A shoelace never untied.

Right now, Harry’s hair was clearly the result of running his hand through it several times over, his eyes rimmed red, and his papers on his desk distributed haphazardly on the floor. “Go away,” he grumbled looking at the ground.

“Harry, are you alright?” She asked quickly closing the door behind her.

“Fine,” he spit. “Just leave.”

“Uh, no,” she swallowed the nervousness down. She thought about how nice he was when she wasn’t feeling well. She wanted to return the favor if she could. Whatever his outburst was about, she wanted to help. “You don’t look okay. What’s wrong? Can I help—”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Harry, seriously.”

“M’mum was in a car accident, Gem called,” he snapped. He had his head hung low as he pressed his hands to the back of his head. “I have a disposition in an hour and Mum’s in surgery. Okay. Are you happy?”

She blinked. No, she wasn’t happy. But she knew why he snapped. That answered her question about what his relationship with his mom was like. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever,” he sniffed.

“Harry...you...you should go to the hospital.”

God she was infuriating; this friendship thing was a stupid idea. She was too nice and sweet. “Did you not—”

“Harry, it’s your mom,” she reminded him. He looked up at her, again the startling contrast of his usual put together self and this...broken man made her weak. She wanted to pluck every piece of pain from his body and put it somewhere that would never find him again.

“I know!” he nearly shouted. “I can’t leave though,” he said softer than his shout. It was agonizing, she knew it was breaking him.

“I can do your disposition Harry. You have to go to the hospital.”

“You don’t know the case.”

“Give me the highlights.”

He looked up finally, right in her eyes and stared at her. “You would really do this?” He asked. She nodded. “What about your client?”

“I’ll reschedule. This is more important.”

“I can’t lose this one.”

“I’ll do my level best,” she promised. “Trust me.” He did. Implicitly. All the school projects, every presentation, any time Harry forgot something he knew she wouldn’t. She was always there to make everything they did better. “Just go and don’t worry about this.”

Harry sucked his lip into his mouth as she put the phone to her ear and quickly told the other end of the line she had to reschedule because of a family emergency—but she left out that it wasn’t her family. They could do dinner this evening if she’d like on short notice or coffee tomorrow. It was done with ease and grace. The client at the other end didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “I don’t think I can do this,” Harry admitted; he wasn’t sure he would tell anyone else that except the girl he had known for his whole life. In Harry’s eyes, no one knew him better—even if she didn’t know it. “This client is very particular, and he’s mean and—”

“I can handle mean,” she said firmly. Harry wasn’t in the headspace to realize she could handle mean because of him. “Harry, you’re going to the hospital. You won’t do a good job if your mind is on your mom and you’re worrying the whole time. Then you’ll be worried you’re ruining the disposition so just let me help.”

He nodded solemnly. She was right, of course. She waited for him to make his decision. His knee bouncing the whole time as she picked the papers off his floor, and she organized them into neat little piles on his desk. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said and pulled her phone from her purse. “Hit me,” she said holding the phone out to him ready to record.

Harry arrived at the hospital. Gemma was in tears but in such shock as she gazed at her arriving brother. “Are you really here?” She asked hugging him tight. He nodded, squeezing her hard.

“How’s Mum?” He asked ignoring her obvious question that he would never willingly leave work—especially if he had an important meeting.

“She’s okay,” she said, eyes red and teary. She nodded firmly. “It was really scary because they wouldn’t say until I got here. Surgery is needed but not life or death,” she explained. “She’ll be ready to see us in a few moments.”

Harry sighed with relief and sat in the waiting room chair. “Christ,” he muttered.

“I thought you had a disposition?” Harry quickly explained the situation and that the sweet girl was taking care of it. “You work with her?” Gemma asked. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re...paired again. It’s just fate, y’know?” She mumbled. “S’nice you have her to look after you. To have someone you know and trust nearby,” she told her younger brother. “I love her,” she said with a shrug. “Even if you don’t.”

Harry ignored her. He was focused on his mom. He was relieved she was okay. But he wanted to see her.

His phone vibrated with a text from her. She promised an update as soon as the disposition was finished.

All done. Went well. I left notes on your desk. Let me know if you need anything. Wish your mom and Gem well. Don’t worry about anything else here.

Thank you, kitten.

“Kitten, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

Harry locked his phone. When they went to the room where his mother lay looking banged up but alive, he nearly cried. “Hi Mum,” he sniffed.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she smirked easily. Nearly unaffected by the wires and tubes. “How’d you get out of work?” Gemma was delighted to tell the tale of the sweet girl. “Oh, I love her,” Anne grinned tiredly. “Why didn’t you ever bring her home, Harry?” She wondered. Harry started to answer but the arrival of a get-well basket on behalf of that sweet girl made its way through the threshold halting all of Harry’s thoughts of an excuse.

Because he really didn’t know why he never brought her home.

At the company party Harry eyed her from across the way. They were definitely friendlier, but Harry was hedging his bets. First and foremost, he was still hesitant to be in love with her. She was perfect and if he thought for two seconds longer, he would realize his stupid idea that he shouldn’t be in love with someone he’s known his whole life wasn’t his issue. Perhaps his issue was that she was perfect, and Harry was not. It seemed cruel for fate to tempt him like that. But maybe there was a reason she was so heavily involved in every aspect of his life.

Harry also wasn’t blind to the implications of dating a coworker.

But most importantly to him, she was so good at everything he couldn’t imagine being a subpar boyfriend when she deserved the very best. Harry didn’t even know how to be a boyfriend. Because of all the schoolwork he focused on he rarely dated anyone longer than a few dates or the occasional hookup.

And he had seen her in action as a girlfriend. Their junior year of university she dated a guy that she obviously adored for nearly a year and a half. She was naturally perfect. Went to every basketball game he was in, brought him soup when he wasn’t feeling well, and looked over his work for him before he turned it in. He was exactly what Harry imagined her boyfriend would be like. Attractive, hardworking, and very sweet to her. They met at the gym while she was studying for her ethics class on the treadmill (he only knew this because he told the story at a party, they both attended and Harry was intently listening).

The only problem Harry had with him—besides the fact he was dating the girl he spent so much time with—was he was not ambitious, and he never planned any of their dates. Harry hated him. She deserved flowers and coffee dates. Ice skating and movies. Once while she was on the phone with her sister when Harry was arriving at one of their study sessions, he knew she wanted a carriage ride around the park at Christmas. It wasn’t hard to figure out, so he was glad when he found out she broke up with him. Even if Harry didn’t like her, he knew she deserved more than that.

“Harry!” It was the client he had to skip out on for his mum the other day. “How’s your mum?” He asked.

“She’s fine, thank you. I’m sorry for the short notice of me not being there,” he said seriously.

“I was mad as hell when she told me you left. I think I screamed at her,” he admitted. Harry didn’t like that at all. The way his blood boiled at the idea of anyone yelling at her made him want to punch his client. Harry never thought himself a violent person, but here he was angry on behalf of a girl he only barely liked. It made him even madder that she didn’t mention anything at all about getting yelled at either. “But she was incredible! You can leave me with her anytime—she was brilliant and poised. I don’t think anyone suspected anything she had to say.”

“Yes, she’s very good,” Harry murmured around a sip of his drink. He was right, too. No one ever suspected the sweet girl to know anything. She was all eyes and beauty. She was softspoken, but her words carried weight. It would be entirely unfair for her to be exceedingly intelligent too. But she was. Harry hated the way people underestimated her, especially when they were paired together. It was like they thought he was only paired with her because she was pretty.

“She’s easy on the eyes too,” he winked at Harry. Harry gripped his drink tighter as he envisioned shattering the glass over top of his head.

“Ha, yeah.”

“Well thank you. I’m glad your mum is okay. I’ll keep you posted about the next meetings,” he said.

Harry nodded. “Have a drink on my tab, please,” he said gratefully.

Harry was suddenly at her side. “You didn’t tell me he yelled at you,” he said interrupting whatever conversation she was in currently.

“Uh, sorry,” she said softly clearing her throat to the gathering that eyed Harry like they’d never seen a man before. It was clear the interruption didn’t bother them solely because Harry was the one interrupting and it gave them an excuse to ogle him up close. She was lucky she spent so much time with him growing up. She could ogle at her own leisure. “Excuse me,” she grabbed Harry by the forearm, and he swore it felt like fire where she touched him. He wracked his brain for a memory if she ever touched him before this moment. “Come again?”

“My client. He told me he yelled at you. You didn’t tell me that.”

“Uh...you were kind of busy Harry. I’m used to getting yelled at, it wasn’t a big deal to—”

“Who yells at you?” He asked quickly. “Why would they yell at you?” Harry felt his blood boiling and he didn’t really know why. He wanted to put her in his office and monitor every interaction she had with anyone else in the world. She should never be yelled at—he would be sure of it going forward.

“Well clients mostly, my sister, you, this woman yelled at me one time at the grocery store—”

“I’ve never yelled at you.”

“Yes, you have,” she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. We work in a business of yelling, Harry.”

He wanted to throw his glass across the room now. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Seriously?” She asked.

“Seriously, what?”

“It’s really okay, Harry. I’ve been yelled at before.”

“But you shouldn’t be,” he was exasperated again. It was a quick switch to get to this breaking point of her complete non-understanding of why he was mad. But she didn’t really know why he was mad, and it was unfair of Harry to be so agitated by her when he didn’t even know why he was mad.

“Harry,” she said gently and put a hand on his forearm and gave him a squeeze. She gazed at him with those beautiful, lovely eyes and Harry could feel himself melting at the sweet expression on her face. “It’s okay,” she promised. He tore his arm from her and stalked off angrily sipping his drink before he did something like tell her she loved him.

So much for friends. She thought to herself.

Harry never really avoided her at firm parties. But he seemed like he was at this one. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and it oddly made her uncomfortable to not knowing where he was. She supposed since she had been with him for nearly 20 years of her life, when he wasn’t around, she knew. It didn’t make the party any less fun nor did it deter her from chatting with potential and current clients.

“Hello there,” a man said while she waited for her drink at the bar. She could tell he had too much to drink. It was another member of their team. Someone she saw on a very rare occasion. His client load was substantial and kept him busy and away from the office most days.

“Hi,” she said politely. He was a tall man. And with the alcohol coursing his bloodstream he knew very little of personal space.

“You’re very pretty,” he slurred. Her face felt hot at his assessment, and she wished she wasn’t by herself.

“Thank you,” she said gently and walked toward a group of the women she was chatting with before she headed to the bar to get another drink.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said following her another step. “You’re very smart.”

“Try to be—I have to get back to my friends,” she said gesturing to the women nearby. He frowned but she could feel his gaze on her back as she hurried back over. Fortunately, he was gone when she glanced back.

At the end of the party, she told her friends she was going to use the restroom before she left and not to worry. She would see them on Monday. What she hadn’t accounted for was the stupid drunk man to be in the darkly lit hallway leading to the bathrooms when she exited. “Hello, again.”

Shit.

“Hi,” she said gently. She sounded a lot braver than she was. There was no one in sight at all.

“I wanted to tell you how pretty you were earlier.”

“You did.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you again.”

“Thank you,” she said and stepped forward to brush past him. He grabbed her arm. She felt her fight or flight kick in and she desperately wanted to fly. “Excuse me, I’m leaving. I’m expected home soon—”

“Can’t you come home with me?” He asked with a sick smirk on his face.

She shook her head. “Let go of me,” she said firmly.

“Come on, I can make it worth your while,” he pulled her arm hard making the space between them almost disappear. She didn’t like how small she felt. She hated that about her job. She was constantly made to feel small because she was a woman. His height didn’t help. Neither did the alcohol.

But right now, it was a hundred times worse, and it made her stomach churn. She wanted to throw up and for a moment she thought maybe that would help her escape. “No thank you,” she said pulling harder on her arm that would surely have a bruise when she looked later.

“Well how about right here?” His smile was evil and vile. She really wanted to throw up now. Why didn’t she just go home with her friends?

With as much force as she could muster, she stomped on his inner foot, and he gasped and released her arm in shock. “Fuck!” He shouted. She hurried down the hall, tears filling her vision but somehow, he was right behind her, grabbing her arm again and pushing her against the wall causing her to yelp. “You’re going to regret that,” he snarled in her ear.

Before she had time to cry or vomit (or both) his presence was gone, and she fell to the floor at the lack of pressure against her body. She scrambled to her feet and turned to see Harry towering over the man he had clearly thrown to the ground. The panic flooding her body subsided immensely. Her heart rate was still elevated on behalf of Harry but seeing him made her feel so much safer.

“She said no,” Harry said with so much anger in his voice she was terrified. He dared one glance back at her to see her back on her feet. His eyes were furious. She had seen him argue in mock trials and even been to some of his real court dates. Harry may have disliked her for a long part of their lives, but she had never seen hatred like this.

She would have hated to be the man on the receiving end of his look. “She’s a taunting little bitch. I’ve heard the way you talk about her,” he snapped at Harry. “Leave us alone.”

“I’ve known her my whole life. She knows I don’t talk about her,” Harry said knowingly. His voice was so deep, and the intensity of his words left her woozy; she couldn’t imagine someone protecting her—least of all Harry. And his words were true of course. As much as he disliked her, no one ever had a bad thing to say about her at the hands of Harry. “I will not be leaving her alone.”

She nearly sighed with relief at his statement. He turned quickly, grabbed her hand, and pushed her in front of him as he guided them out of the hallway and out of the restaurant. There were people milling about, but it was late, and it wasn’t crowded by any means. If Harry wasn’t there, she doesn’t want to think about what would have happened. He ushered them a few paces away from the restaurant up the sidewalk.

“Are you alright?” He asked suddenly, he turned her to face him as they stood under the streetlight outside. She was shaking like she was cold, and Harry wanted to reach out and warm her. The last five minutes were catching up to her violently. “Kitten?” He almost snapped, desperate for some indication that she was okay. “Are you okay?”

She nodded then shook her head. “I-I’m fine,” she said and sniffled wiping her sleeve across her nose. “I just want to go home,” she said with an awkward laugh and then the tears started to blur her vision.

“Kitten, I’m not going to leave you alone until I see you lock your door and you’re home safely. So it’s okay to not be okay, just tell me,” again, he sounded exasperated with her.

“Yeah, no I’m okay...” she whimpered biting her lip trying to erase the thoughts from her head of the last few moments. Harry was there and she was okay. “No...no...” she shook her head as the tears steadily fell. She gasped out a strangled cry and Harry pulled her to him immediately. She was overwhelmed by a lot of things but also that he felt so safe and sturdy as he held her. His arms around her protectively, he cupped his hand on the back of her head and one arm around her waist. The sobs left her freely then.

“S’okay,” he said so gently it hurt more than anything that happened to her. Harry being so nice to her nearly wounded her. The safety of his embrace left her breathless. His thumb rubbing over her hair made her weak. “You’re safe, kitten,” he promised. “I got you.”

Harry held her hand the entire cab ride home. She sniffled and each time she did, Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. The cab stopped outside her apartment building, and she reached for her purse for money. “Stop,” Harry said putting her hand to her side and paying the driver. Harry followed behind her while they made it up the stairs to her second-floor place. Every so often she glanced back to see if Harry was still there. “M’not going anywhere, kitten,” he promised.

She nodded, unlocked her door and pushed inside. “Can I get—”

“Just go sit down, love,” he shook his head at her. “I’ll be right in,” he said making his way for the kitchen. His voice was gentle. Like when she wasn’t feeling well, and he made her nap and eat.

She followed his direction. She felt a little out of place in her own apartment and she twiddled her fingers together as she waited in silence for Harry to come to her living room. He was there shortly, a glass of water for her. She reached out for it, but Harry noticed how her hand was still shaking. “Here,” he said bringing the cup to her lips. He gently cradled the back of her head with his other hand. She felt like a child as Harry helped her drink, but he didn’t pay any mind to the situation at all—he just didn’t want her to spill and make a mess that she would have to worry about right now. “Can I get you anything else?” He wondered. His voice was so deep and gentle in comparison to the hatred he spewed before in every word he spoke.

She shook her head, more tears filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

He shook his head back at her. “Don’t,” he sighed. “I would never let anything happen to you, kitten,” he promised. Her heart fluttered, despite everything. It was by far one of the sweetest things Harry ever said to her. “I’m glad you’re home safe now. I can leave if you want—"

She was quick to protest. Too quick. “No! Please don’t,” the words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. She turned to look at the empty dark apartment as a distraction from her cheeks turning into two red tomatoes. She cleared her throat regaining her composure as she looked back at Harry. She was lucky the tears filled her vision again at the frustration and sadness of her evening overwhelming her again.

“I won’t go until you want me to, kitten,” Harry answered pressing his hand to her face. He brushed his thumb gently over her cheek bone and caught the stray tear that spilled over. His voice was so quiet and soft. It was so different than every interaction he ever had with her.

“Really?” She whispered breathlessly.

“No, baby,” he promised. “I won’t.”

She didn’t think and wrapped herself up in his embrace. It worked so naturally of course. His arms wrapped around her, and he tugged her carefully, so he was snuggled into the corner of her sofa with her cuddled into him. She sighed with relief as tears flowed onto his shirt and coat. She sniveled miserably. “I’ll have to get this dry cleaned for you,” she managed to mumble between her tears.

“Would you please just shut up?” The exasperation was thick in his tone. It kind of made her smile.

“Okay,” she whispered sniveling still.

After a few moments her cries subsided, and Harry let his fingers dance up and down her arm as he held her close to him. He tried not to think about how perfectly she fit in the empty spaces of his body. “Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she said again.

He sighed, a bit irritated that she was thanking him for being a decent human being and protecting her. But he knew she was uncomfortable and upset. “You’re welcome, kitten,” he said softly. “Go to sleep.”

“I can’t do that, Harry. His client base is too substantial.”

“Let him leave with them, then,” Harry snapped. He was pacing Louis’ office. Adamant something be done.

“Harry, stop,” Louis rubbed his hand over his face. “We can get her a restraining order if she wants, and we can put him on a different floor so he never—”

“You need to fire him,” Harry said. “Or she and I will take all our clients and leave instead,” he promised.

He stared at his friend. “Harry.”

“Louis, you fire him, or you’ll have to represent me when I kill him.”

There was a knock outside Louis’ door before the pretty girl entered, making the anger in Harry’s heart dissipate immensely. “Oh, hi Harry,” she murmured and looked at her feet nervously. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Tomlinson?” She asked softly.

Harry gazed at her so adoringly, he couldn’t stop himself. His blood was on fire the moment he saw her struggling. He never thought about murdering someone seriously in his whole life. Yet there he was—ready to kill someone on behalf of the sweet girl. “Call me Louis, love. Please.”

She nodded. “Louis, then. Am...I in trouble?” She asked curiously.

Harry sighed in exasperation and ran his hand over his face in disbelief. She stared at Harry curiously as he made his assessment. “You’re an idiot,” he said to her.

She looked at her feet, feeling her face warm at his insult. “Harold,” Louis snapped. “No love, you’re not in trouble. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh.”

There was a bit of silence. “Well, are you alright?” He repeated. Harry wanted to shake her a bit. She was beyond infuriatingly annoying sometimes.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “Uh...Harry protected me.”

“Yes, he’s decent every once in a while.”

She smirked. “He is.”

“Can I do anything for you to ensure you feel safe while you’re working?”

“Oh, um...no—”

“You can fire him,” Harry repeated.

“Harry, that’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her face feeling flushed.

His right eye twitched and he looked out Louis’ window; stuffed his hands in his pockets as he muttered to himself. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not safe while you’re here,” Louis said knowingly.

Harry wasn’t watching her, but she looked right at him as she answered Louis. “I feel safe,” she said softly.

Louis smirked and shook his head at Harry who still wasn’t paying any attention. Talk about an idiot in this scenario. “I’m very sorry that happened to you. He will be reprimanded beyond belief, you have my word. We’ll be moving his office to a different floor as well,” he promised.

“Louis, you weren’t there,” Harry reminded him. “You didn’t watch her cry while she fell asleep—”

“Harry!” She gasped at the admission and her face felt warm. That was not something she wanted her boss to know. It painted the wrong picture—even if she slept so well in the comfort of Harry’s arms. Louis didn’t pay any attention to their night spent together, though. He was keeping his eyes on Harry.

“I wanted to kill him,” Harry repeated. She gulped at the idea of Harry doing something so violent for her. Something that would get him thrown in jail for a long while.

“I understand that,” Louis said simply. “Love, I’m very sorry,” he returned his attention to the poor girl who looked wildly uncomfortable. “If there is something I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. I know you have Harry in the office next to you, but if he’s not around, I’d be happy to assist you with anything,” he said kindly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” she said courteously.

“Harold,” Louis said narrowing his eyes at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbled and stalked out of the office.

“I’m...sorry about him,” she said nervously.

“Don’t worry love, I’ve known Harry for a long while. He means well. He’s just thick headed sometimes,” he shrugged. “I’m serious though, if you need something or want something, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Shaking her head, she exited his office and headed back to her own. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the breakroom as she passed it and tried to think about the to-do list she had for the day. Mentally, she added a dry-cleaner stop for Harry’s suit she cried all over as well. It wasn’t much, but it was the least she could do as a thank you for all he did. As she paced the last few steps toward her office, she tried to convince herself the last few moments in Louis’ office were real. Harry was angry at Louis (and maybe her, what else was new?) for something beyond his control. She wondered why he was so adamant but found it sweet in Harry’s own way.

She closed her office door behind her and tilted her head at Harry sitting on the couch. As she entered, he stood up and gazed at her without speaking. It looked like he was looking through her. She bit the inside of her lip as she held the coffee with both of her hands to keep her tingling fingers warm at the idea that Harry was waiting for her. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“I’m going to be a shitty boyfriend.”

She blinked in complete confusion. It was by far the last thing she ever expected Harry to say. “I’m sorry?”

“I get all wrapped up in m’own stuff and I forget dates even though they’re in m’calendar and reminders and everything. It’ll infuriate you. I’ll make up for it with grand sweeping gestures that will maybe make it better, but they might just make y’madder that I can’t remember the little things.”

“Harry, what—”

“M’so in love with you and I’ve been ignoring it since we were kids. The six months I worked here without you were the longest months ’ve gone without seeing you and I didn’t even want t’see you, but I don’t want to go that long without seeing you ever again. I barely want t’go an hour without seeing you and even when I do I think about you the whole time,” he started to pace across her office back and forth as if was retracing his steps to remember all the things he was saying. Like they were written on the carpet.

“Can you just—”

“I’ll be better than that tool y’dated in third year,” she wondered where that came from because she didn’t even know he knew she was dating someone. “I’ll give you everything y’want or need whenever you ask. I’ll plan dates, I’ll take y’anywhere you want t’go, I’ll walk on hot coals for you, if you ask. I love you so goddamn much, love. I want to murder someone for you, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash; ’ve never felt this way ‘bout anyone before. You’re infuriatingly sweet and y’never know when t’shut up or what’s good for you. It’s probably going t’get y’killed one day and I don’t know how someone s’sweet could be a corporate lawyer. You’re unbelievably challenging in so many ways and y’always remind me that I don’t know everything even though I think I do. Mum and Gemma want me t’bring you t'Sunday dinners.”

She shook her head trying to process all of this it didn’t help that he was jumping from topic to topic. Harry had given speeches in college before. She listened to many of his own closing arguments and of course read countless persuasive essays. This wasn’t anything like any of that. This was wild and out of sorts. She wondered what was flowing in his head and why it was spewing out like this, why it was happening now. “Harry, what are you—”

“You asked me t’be friends because you thought we’d be good friends since we spent all that time together. Quite frankly you’re m’best friend. Even though I was miserable towards you all the time. I don’t know why I did that t’you and s’jus’ another reason you should tell me t’take a hike. No one knows me as well as you do. Sleeping with you on your couch made m’neck so sore I can’t turn it to the left, but it was the best sleep of m’life and I want t’do it over and over again if I can hold you.”

That made her face flood with heat so quickly she was sure she looked bright red. “Harry, honestly, I’m—”

“I will never hurt you and I will never let anyone hurt you while m’around.” This time she didn’t interrupt him she could feel her face soften at his words and she felt like she was going to cry if he talked any longer. “I don’t think I know anyone half s’beautiful as you, kitten, inside or out,” he said softly. Everything else he said felt like a sprint. A rush of words he had been dying to get out for who knows how long. “Please, be my girlfriend,” he said finally, slowly at last.

They stared at each other silently for several moments.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Thank you.”

2K notes · View notes

eveningepiphany · 1 year

Text

and they were roommates | H.S

summary: when harry and Y/N have gone from longtime best friends to roommates, the lines that have been slowly blurring since their teen years are beginning to disappear altogether.

warnings: smut, oral fem rec, PIV (unprotected), praise kink, kind of a size kink if you squint— and sexual mentions throughout!

my masterlist <3

——————

“Dude, why are you drinking out of my coffee cup again.” You groan, after opening the cupboard to find your favourite cup missing for what had to be the third time this week.

You and Harry have been living together for over half a year now, since he got back from touring with one direction and you started college.

It all happened relatively quickly, Harry wanted a place with someone— so it was never alone over the months he was touring— and you didn’t want to stay on campus with a heap of people you didn’t know.

So here you are, living in your 3 bedroom flat, with your best friend while studying to get the job of your dreams. It sounds ideal doesn’t it, till your flat mate starts stealing everything you own I suppose.

“M’sorry,” he laughs from the couch, not meaning it whatsoever.

“It’s just s’cute— reminds me of you with all the little hearts n’stuff on it.” He glances over his shoulder, a guilty smile on his face as he brings it up to his lips and swallows a mouthful of hot tea.

You grab his cup from the shelf, “We live together, there’s hundreds of things in this house that should remind you of me other than my mug.”

“It’s fine, I’ll use yours instead.” You know his favourite, the one Gemma and Anne got him for his 14th birthday, with their faces plastered all over it.

“Go ahead, doesn’t bother me at all.” He says smugly, stretched out on our couch, clad in grey sweats and a black tshirt.

You make yourself a tea, and plop down next to him— since it’s Sunday, you don’t have anything planned other than going to the campus library to study.

As if he read your mind he asks, “what’re the plans for today, sweet thing.”

Him and his bloody pet names.

He’s been doing it since you were in highschool, and he started calling you ‘baby’ as a joke because you said you thought it was a cheesy nickname, and it’s stuck around even years later. Now he has a full list of nicknames, equally as disgustingly lovey.

Yet, coming from his mouth and in his accent, they somehow evoke a blush on your cheeks everytime.

His girlfriends never liked the nickname thing— even though he toned it down a lot, if not completely. You rarely heard them, except maybe when you were alone, another thing that didn’t often happen when he was with someone.

The amount of girls who absolutely despised your existence back in highschool all because of your friendship with Harry.

Plenty of girls made up the most scandalous rumours possible to try and get Harry to hate you, fortunately it never worked.

In the end it never really mattered, his relationships never really lasted particularly long anyway. A lot of girls just couldn’t handle the fact he was so close with you, and to be honest you did understand.

“Not much sugar, just going to the library later to study.”

“Can I come?”

“Are you suggesting I sneak you into our student only library right now?” You say in mock surprise.

“Absolutely i am, and maybe then we can go out and get a bite to eat.”

“You’re just gonna be sitting there doing nothing for like probably 2 hours?” You shrug, unsure why he’d want to come in the first place.

“That’s s’alright, I would’ve just been doing that ‘round here anyway.”

“Alright, better not get me caught then.” You sigh.

“I’ll wear that really baggy college jumper you have, they’ll never know.” He laughs.

“Just another thing if mine you’re gonna start stealing, hm?”

“Oh, well now you’ve suggest that—“ He chuckles and you dig your elbow into his side.

“Ouch!” He yelps, as if it actually hurt that much, and he quickly reaches over to have some payback.

Knowing he’s probably gonna tickle you, you jump up, “Oh god— not with the tea, not with the tea!”

He smoothly slips the mug out of your grip and places it down on the table.

You panic, knowing how brutal his tickling is.

Your legs only get you so far across the room before he catches up, immediately prodding you in the waist— he knows that has you disarmed in seconds unfortunately.

He tugs you into his chest, fingers skating all over your body causing you to squirm.

You’re half laughing half crying as you fight against him, “oh my god— Harry, please—“

“You know I always give good payback, love.” He laughs as you’re both stumbling around in the lounge room.

You manage to knock him into the couch, practically sitting him down. His lips part and you’re left standing directly between his spread legs.

His brows shot up his face, a few brown curls falling over his eyes.

Of course he looks fucking gorgeous right now.

You find plenty of these little moments, where sometimes it takes more strength then it should to pull yourself away from him. Your head muddled with images— fantasies— of your lips on his.

You allow yourself to indulge just a little, letting your hand sweep the curls that have fallen over his eyes back. Pulling them hard enough to tip his eye line to you.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You say breathless, attempting to sound annoyed but you don’t think it would have scared a fly.

And with that, you move from the space between his legs and head back to your room.

Harry is left sitting there, also short of breath, with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

——————

About 2 hours later, you’re laying down on your bed, book in hand when the door to your room opens.

“Hey Satan.” You say, not looking up from your page.

“Hey Angel.” You can literally hear him smiling.

He walks into your walk-in-closet, and starts to flick through the racks.

“And what exactly are you doing.” Sighing, you put the book down.

He comes out, pulling your grey college hoodie over his head. It hardly looks baggy on him, compared to how it is on you.

“Getting ready t’go.”

“You’re uninvited.” You scoff, sounding deadpan, but he knows you don’t mean it.

“Awh, you mad at me hm?” He comes over, grabbing your hand to pull you up off the bed.

You don’t fight him as he tugs you up, nor do you agree or disagree.

“God you’re a bluff.” He laughs as he picks up your bag with his free hand.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, a smile cracking through.

He doesn’t drop your hand as this time you pull him out of your room to grab your keys.

The college campus is luckily only a 5 minute drive down the road, and it’s not long before you’re both walking in.

You scan your student key card to get into the library, and because it’s Sunday afternoon it’s pretty much dead.

There’s two people sitting over by the windows on their computers and that appears to be it.

Harry follows you down to the back of the library, where your favourite spot is, surrounded with shelves and has warm midday sun streaming through the skylight.

You sink into the leather couch, and start pulling stuff out of your bag.

Harry has ended up flipping through the books nearby, and you really take a moment to look at him in your hoodie.

A feeling swells in your chest, that he really wanted to spend his afternoon with you in a library, and how… cute he looks in your jumper.

You assume this is probably how guys feel when girls are wearing their overly baggy shirt and boxers or something.

But instead you can nearly see the bulge of his bicep outlined through the material.

He walks back over, slipping his phone out from his back pocket before he sitting down next to you.

“Thanks for sneaking me in.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Your welcome.” You chuckle.

You open your laptop, beginning to file through notes, and he’s scrolling on his phone.

It’s a comfortable silence, something you’d never get sick of. Just being with one another.

His had slips over the back of the chair, fingers brushing your shoulder.

Heat zips up your spine for no good reason. You want to die a little, hating how you find yourself getting hot and bothered all because of his touch— and since you’ve moved in together it’s happening all the more often.

Like the times you end up cuddling on the couch, watching romcoms, and his hands would fall on the peak of your hip and the dip of your waist, pulling you into his chest. God his hands. Usually adorned with cold rings, at that time of night they’re bare and warm.

Or when you’ve fallen asleep on said couch with him, and woken up— somehow having slept all night without waking— in a tangle of limbs with him, feeling his morning wood poking into you. Him apologising profusely after waking up, even though it’s not the first time it’s happened.

However this isn’t an entirely new feeling. There were the few times as teenagers when you pushed the limits on your friendship. Usually drunk and sneaking back into one of your houses, and ending up against the wall or in bed, getting so close to kissing it physically made your body ache. Till someone laughed, or he tickled you.

That one time you were sitting on his lap at a party and you felt him harden beneath you, and you played into it a little, innocently wiggling your hips against him. And when he’d looked at you— eyes dark and filled with undeniable desire— you’d coyly asked him what was wrong, like as if you didn’t know exactly what the problem was. “Nothing.” He’d cleared his throat, scooting you down his leg with his hands. “Just uh, have t’go to the bathroom.”

You shake you head, physically— hoping to clear your thoughts— and his eyes snap to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a light frown on his face.

You clear your throat, “just remembered I…”

His thumb is stroking your shoulder, really not helping you collect yourself. You clench your thighs together.

“Have a test tomorrow.” You finished slowly, and his eyes narrow for a second before nodding.

He doesn’t say anything as you aimlessly scroll through notes, pretending to focus when all you can feel is his fingers grazing along your shoulder.

45 minutes.

A fully excruciating 45 minutes you sit there, half attempting to focus on the notes as his fingers trace the length of your shoulder, and even ghost over the junction of your neck and upper back.

“I think I’m done.” You blurt, causing his gaze to snap to you and hand to still.

“Wanna get something to eat then?” He asks, a slight edge to his voice you can’t properly place.

“Maybe if we can just go home? I have a headache to be honest, I kinda just want to eat some ramen and crash on the couch.” You ramble, hoping he’s not annoyed you’re not going out for lunch— when In reality Harry would never care about something like that.

“‘Course beautiful.” He nods, a smirk flashing over his lips.

The drive home is just as painful for you, and you feel like you need to have a cold shower to get out of the headspace you’re in.

Because everything he’s doing is somehow being warped into completely non-platonic thoughts— plain filthy thoughts.

Like how he’s fiddling with his ring right now at the red light, slowly slipping his finger in and out of it.

Oh god.

As you get home, you are almost jumping out of the car.

Distance, you need distance— right now.

You leave your bag in the back, ready just to get inside.

You’re fumbling with your keys at the door, trying to find the house key amongst 20 others, and Harry is right behind you.

He reaches over, plucking up the gold key on the key ring, “this one.” His voice sounds gravely, almost sultry as it enters your ears and into your depraved and clearly aroused mind.

You unlock the door, toeing off your shoes, “You’ve really gotten yourself worked up, hm?”

He asks, and you freeze.

You don’t say a word as you stand just inside the doorway, he’s right behind you but you can’t trust that actually just came out of his mouth.

Because maybe you’re hearing things— maybe really horny people hear thi—

“Don’t think I haven’t seen how hard you’ve been clenching those pretty little thighs.”

“Wh…what?” You stutter out as he moves closer to you.

He’s in your space when you turn around, and your stepping back— only to be met with him stepping forward again.

This happens until your back hits the hallway wall, and his hands bracketing either side of your body.

His hands move to rest on your lower hips, gently enough that if you weren’t comfortable with it, you could slip them straight off.

“I’ve seen you like this before.” He states, eyes dark.

“How you get so zoned out, I’d kill to see what’s going inside that head of yours.”

“Harry…” Your hands are hardly an inch away from his chest, tingling to touch him.

You’re reminded— the second time today— of the time when you were teenagers, up against the wall of his bedroom.

“Fuck.” Harry sighed, breath hot against the side of your neck.

You’d somehow managed to sneak back into his house without waking his family, which is shocking considering the amount of drunken giggling coming from the both of you.

Or the stumbling up the stairs as he playfully swatted your ass behind you.

It was somewhat a wonder of how you ended up against the wall of his bedroom, hands all over eachother.

He was half-hard, you could feel him pressed into your side shamelessly as he ran his palms along your figure.

“Am I getting you all hard?” The alcohol in your system gave you confidence to ask outright with a laugh.

He chuckled back without an ounce worry, “Yea, honestly.”

“Didn’t know I did it for you like that.” You pushed your hands up his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his torso.

“Mm, I betcha don’t.” He licked a stripe up the shell of your ear and you let out a little humorous squeak.

“You’re so sensitive.” He started to tickle you and you squirmed under his grip.

That was the closest to kissing the two of you got that night, and although the tension was palpable, you somehow managed to resist it. Even though you both wanted to so bad it made you ache.

Scooping you up, he plopped you onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs.

He chucked you one of his shirts and sweatpants for you to change into.

Nothing more happened, he got into bed with you after stripping down to his boxers and you rolled into his arms.

“Look cute in my clothes baby, as always.” He kissed your temple.

“Mm, you’re cute, H. Think you’re really sweet.” You slurred with sleep.

“Love when you call me baby.” You confess while you play with his hair.

“D’ya?” He smiled into your neck.

“Yea…”

“See, there you go again— what’s got you all distracted?” His calm question snapped you back to reality.

You slide your fingers down to his waist, still not sure what to say, head spinning at his close proximity.

“Or do I have to work it out for myself?” He slips his hand to your waistband, waiting again for a reply.

An uncalled for whimper slipped from your mouth, louder than you’d like to admit.

“Fuckin hell.” He groans, moving to graze his lips on your cheek, not doing anything without asking.

God they were soft. So fucking soft.

You kissed his cheekbone, and you both gently pecked around eachothers face, all but evading lips.

“Please kiss me, H.” You tugged on his hair.

He wasted no time sliding his lips over yours. The two of you savouring that first real kiss.

You both held it for a few moments, the years of tension melting into it. Too far gone to worry about the repercussions this could possibly have on your friendship.

At this point, you’ve crossed the line between your platonic friendship and not so small romantic feelings so long ago— perhaps without even releasing— that although it’s a new feeling, it almost feels natural.

Years of short pecks, and gentle, mostly chaste kisses— not to say you haven’t made out while blackout drunk i suppose— have made you both eager to experience a kiss like this for the first time.

It quickly went from a feather-soft kiss to one you could only deem hungry and exploratory.

The first real taste of his tongue was hooking, he swiped it along your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth and plucking it towards him.

The pop it made as he released it had you groaning into him.

Your hands— which had long since found their way into his curly hair— were tugging at the roots.

He pulled your legs up around his waist, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

“You’re so hard—“ you moaned out, pushing your hips forward to grind against him.

“God, you feel s’fucking good. Bet you’re so wet right now.”

“Touch me, Harry, please touch me.”

He chuckled into your neck, “I am baby,”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Tell me what y’want.”

“Want you. Anything, anything you’ll give me.”

His mouth is back on yours before you can say more, and he’s carrying you down the hallway into his room.

He carefully sets you down on the edge of his of bed, dropping to his knees between your splayed legs.

“Can we take these off?” He clarifies as he grabs the top of your pants.

“Yes,” you sigh out and he slips them from your legs.

He tosses them aside before coming to solely focus on you.

You’re only in plain black panties, and you open your mouth to apologise for it,

“Sorry, didn’t really think I’d—“

“Don’t you dare apologise. This is bloody…” He leans to press a kiss on the inside of your knee before ghosting his hand over the fabric covering your core.

Moving forward he lays an open-mouthed kiss on top of where your clit is, and you moan out softly.

He could feel how damp the soft cotton of your underwear was beneath his lips, and he looks up to you.

“Can these come off too?” He asks, hooking his fingers around them, eager to get them off.

Another keen yes slips from your mouth, and he tugs them from your hips.

He’s quiet for a moment, as your lower half is laid on display to him. His eyes are flitting over every detail possible, taking in what has to be the only part of you he hasn’t seen in your years of friendship.

“You are phenomenal.” He says, his filthy praise has your head spinning.

“And so wet…” he licks his lips carefully, “all for me?”

You groan again at his words, hardly able to form a coherent sentence to answer such a question.

“Use y’words, darlin’.”

“Yes, Harry— just for you. All this just for you.” You whine, pushing your hips up into nothing, aching for any kind of friction.

He kisses everywhere, just under your belly button, the crease of your inner thigh— everywhere except for where you want him most.

“Harry, don’t tease me, just want your mouth on me.” You say outright, moaning at his finger that’s slipped up to your entrance, gently rubbing the outside of it.

“Want my mouth?” He smirks, his ego taking your begging personally.

He leans forward, jutting his tongue out to where his index finger was just circling. But instead of staying there, he drags it up, bringing your arousal to your clit.

You never imagined the first thing the two of you would do would be this. Him burying his face between your legs, licking into you like he was getting payed.

But fuck was it perfect. It felt like everything was clicking into place.

The way he’s lapping at your clit has you already fluttering around nothing.

“Taste s’fucking good. Like a dream.” He says into you, the vibration of his words causing you to arch into him.

“Thought about you like this so many times.”

Images of him touching himself to the thought of you flash to life in your brain. In his room, on this very bed. His warm hand wrapped around himself, uttering your name quietly with every soft tug he does. You wonder what else he thought about, if he was imagining your lips wrapped around him instead, or maybe being buried within you.

“Me too,” you admit, breathless.

“How good you’d taste— or how tight your little cunt would be around me.”

“Shit, Harry—“ you moan, his lips moving to suck on your clit, and his two fingers slipping into you.

He pulls his face back a fraction to look at the fingers he just pushed into you.

“And I was right. Aleady fuckin’ squeezing around my fingers like it’s too much hm? How’re y’gonna take m’cock?”

His perfect curly hair is being mused by your hands and you’re practically trying to tug his mouth back to your swollen clit.

“I’ll take it, I will.” You promise.

“Mm you will, that’s right. Good girl.” Your belly tightens and you know you’re not going to last long.

Harry knows it too, picking up the pace of his tongue and fingers.

“Keep talking,” you beg, not only enjoying the dirty words coming from his mouth, but the way they vibrate into you.

“Bit busy.” He states— and you can almost feel him smirk before his teeth ever so slightly graze over your pussy.

“Fuck.” Your cry, bucking your hips at the sensation of it.

He takes note, and does it again. Eliciting another just as loud moan from you.

“Harry, please—“ your head is begging to fog, every other thought dissipating, only mantras of his name paired with curse words seem to be left.

“Holy shit, Harry.” Your jaw is slack, legs splayed as wide as they can go.

He moans into as you clench around his fingers, and the words ‘good girl’ are muffled into you again.

“Im gonna come— I’m so close.”

He sucks on you with another moan almost as loud as your own— you can help but love how vocal he is—and it feels like it was vibrating your whole body.

With his fingers curling in you he pulls back just enough to draw in a deep breath, “come on darling, that’s it, come around m’tongue.”

“Wanna feel you clench around my fingers before you take m’cock.”

He flicks his tongue fast along your clit, moving it in sync with his fingers and it all comes crashing down.

Your thighs almost cage his head between your legs, and it proves the deep breath was not just for nothing, because there is no way he could breathe right now.

You’re moaning his name as you finish, grinding your cunt against his movements to ride out your high.

As your breathing begins to level out, he pulls his head away with an inhale, and you look to find his mouth glistening.

“That was so… so good.” You whispered to him, body gone completely deadweight on his mattress.

He’s smiling wide with his swollen pink lips, “took my mouth so well.”

You move to sit up, and it’s a true sight to see him on his knees like that.

You pull him by the back of his neck to your lips. No shame in where his mouth just was.

“Can you taste yourself?” He asks, hands going to cup the junction of your neck and jaw.

You hummed in agreement, and you start pulling at the hem of his shirt.

“Off, please?”

“‘Course.” He pulls it over his head, briefly breaking the kiss.

You stare at his chest, and your eyes dip to the symmetrical ferns that highlight his v-line— drawing special attention to the line of hair that starts under his bellybutton, and disappears into the black boxer briefs he’s wearing.

He’s watching your eyes trail along his body, quietly noting the clear effect it has on you.

You reach out a hand, gently brushing it down his abs. Locking your eyes with his, you gauge his reaction as you slide it further down, resting over the top of the hardness in his jeans.

Goosebumps prickle across his arms, and he looks at you with expression filled with pure lust.

“This ok?” You check.

“Yea…” he seems curious, almost unsure of what you plan on doing— yet that excites him all the more.

You brush along the fabric, and he audibly swallows.

A squeeze and he’s already bucking his hips up into your palm.

“Y/N—“ he moans.

“Look at you, I haven’t even touched your bare cock yet and I’ve gotten you all riled up.” You tease, taking a swing in the dark that he likes it as much as you do.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, “stand up so we can take these off.”

He quickly lifts from his knees, hand going to the button of his jeans and slipping them down his legs.

Clad in only his black boxer briefs, you stroke your hand over the fabric again.

“Please, don’t tease me.” He echos your own words from earlier and you chuckle, hooking your hands into his underwear resting on his hips, and tug them down.

His cock springs towards his stomach, and you still completely.

Whatever post-orgasm confidence you’d gained has dissipated immediately.

You knew he’d be big, having felt him hard against you earlier and on those few other occasions. But seeing it in front of you right now has you lost for words.

“Don’t go all shy on me.” He practically pleads.

“Can’t touch me like that and then…” his sentence trails off unfinished, hand twitching near the base of his length.

You take him into your palm carefully. He’s heavy and warm in it.

He moans at the mere contact, and you start to stroke him, thumb swiping over his tip where precum has long since started to seep out.

He’s literally swaying on his feet, “H, sit down.”

You laugh a little as he sits as close as possible to you, connecting your lips when you start moving your hand again.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He whispers against your mouth.

You are careful not to push him too hard, but enough to really get him going.

“Feels s’good— y’bloody hands, could cum all over them.”

“Wanna fuck you first though, s’tha ok?” He asks, hands coming to rest by your hips.

“Yes,” You whine, “wanna make you come in me.”

“God you’ve got a dirty mouth.“ he starts to get up off the bed,

“You getting a condom?”

“Yea, unless you…” he stares at you a moment, cock twitching at the idea of taking you raw.

“I’m clean. If you’re using—“

“I’m on birth control… and I’m clean— haven’t been with anyone since my last test.” you say.

“You sure?” He asks a final time,

You nod, “I trust you.”

He wastes no time settling back next to you, pulling you into a rough kiss.

He slides you up his lap, taking your top off— which had been on for far too long.

He places a kiss on the top of both your breasts before unclipping your bra.

“Not a single flaw on your fuckin’ body.” He sighs, taking in the sight of your bare chest.

He pulls you forward a little more, so you’re chest to chest as he lines himself up with you.

You feel the hard head of his cock slide through your slit and press just into your entrance.

You’re both already panting and Harry looks at you, saying tenderly, “I’ll be careful.”

He’s somehow so hot and so sweet all at the same time. It’s hardly fair that he can be both.

His hands on your hips are lowering you down slowly, and he’s groaning at the feeling of you stretching to fit him.

It’s a bit of an effort to get to the base of him, but fuck once you do, you feel so full.

“Fuck… don’t— don’t move.” His head is spinning, you’re so tight around him that even the slightest movement could have him cumming into you.

It takes you both a moment to ground yourselves, “Sorry— god you’re just so fucking warm and tight… nearly came just getting in you.”

“Can move now, love.” He says, still sounding a little shaky.

You roll you hips gently, and the pleasure of it is overwhelming.

It kickstarts his movements, because after a few more pushes of your hips, he starts to thrust into you.

You’re already trembling, “Harry—”

“You’re a good girl, Y/N, keeping y’promises. Taking me so well.” His praise has you clenching around him.

It’s clear to him how much dirty talk and praise effects you, so he keeps it up.

“Feel good, hm? Like the feeling of my cock stretching you all out like this.”

“Yes!” You cried out, heart thundering in your chest.

“Lettin’ me fuck me so good…”

“Got such a nice little cunt, I want it all to myself now.”

“Have it, Harry— it’s all yours.”

“Sweetheart, you’re too good too me. Gonna make y’feel s’good.” He reaches his hand down to your clit.

He’s fucking your clit with fast circles that feel heavenly paired with the way he’s pushing his cock into you.

Your bouncing into his thrusts, and a heat blooms rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

“Harry! I’m so close, please.”

He moans, “fuck— your cunts clamped ‘round me so tight. Gonna come.

“Come in me, please.” You whined, the thought almost enough to tip you over the edge.

But what really does is the way he grunts “good girl” into your ear a final time.

You both cry out in sync, and it’s euphoric, pure bliss really.

You’re both breathing hard, still spasming and twitching as you feel the pleasure from your orgasms ease off. He slips gently out of you, and lays you into his chest.

“Thank you.” You whisper, feeling exhausted yet so grateful for him.

“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes are closed and he stokes the small of your back, “Five more minutes, then we’ll go clean up and cook some ramen, hm? How’s that sound.”

You smile tiredly, “Sounds good.”

——————

A/N- this has been sitting in my drafts for ages— I’ve reread it that many times idek if it’s that good but decided to post it anywayyy <3 hope you enjoyed!

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harrystyles smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #best friend harry #best friend!harry #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #harrystyles x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #roommates #one direction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine

2K notes · View notes

awkwardauthorwrites · 1 year

Text

The Devil Doesn't Bargain

Word Count: 4.5k

Themes: angst, very brief mention of abuse? Imelda is a piece of work in this but she means well

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters are 18+ in their 7th year of Hogwarts.

If anyone’s curious this song here is the one I had on repeat while writing this

Y/N twirled the quill she was holding, her work forgotten in front of her as she looked across the library to where Sebastian was sitting a few tables away. He was frowning as he looked between his textbook and the parchment he was scribbling on, deep in thought as he worked on whichever essay they had been assigned. He looked more tired than usual and Y/N couldn’t help but roam her eyes over him carefully, looking out for any other signs that everything was not okay.

Their friendship has never quite been the same after the untimely death of Solomon Sallow in their fifth year. Despite not turning Sebastian in (the easiest decision Y/N had ever made in her life) and his reassurance that he was glad they were friends and that she had come to Hogwarts, he had begun to pull away in the beginning of their sixth year. It started slowly; from passing on visits to Hogsmeade and skipping the odd class because he wasn’t feeling well to barely acknowledging her when he walked by her in corridors, not even a nod in greeting. There was only so much she could do - so much she could take - before Y/N began to retreat as well, opting instead to spend more time with Ominis, Imelda and Poppy.

“Don’t do this.” Imelda kicked Y/N under the table gently and she reluctantly tore her gaze away from Sebastian to send a glare at the raven-haired girl.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N rolled her eyes and flicked through her textbook, skimming the page for the information she needed. If she hadn’t been studiously avoiding the eyes of her friends she would have noticed the look the two girls shared followed by Ominis’ quiet sigh.

“Don’t play stupid, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I see we’re back to the tough love route,” Ominis said, the corners of his mouth twitching up in amusement as his fingers trailed across the braille in his book. “Do you think this discussion will end in throwing objects again? I don’t like my odds of ducking to avoid Y/N’s inkpot.” He turned his head in Poppy’s direction, who laughed quietly even though she was watching Imelda and Y/N nervously.

“I would much rather we didn’t discuss this at all, actually,” Y/N couldn’t help but look over at Sebastian again, if only just to piss Imelda off, but was surprised to see him looking back. She offered him a small smile in greeting, her stomach flipping pleasantly when he smiled back. She quickly turned back to her work, her leg bouncing under the table in elation. Apart from occasionally meeting her eyes as they passed each other in between classes, that was the most interaction she and Sebastian had shared in months.

“I know that look in your eye,” Imelda pointed her quill at Y/N, her eyes narrowing. “Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time you thought he was coming back around?” Y/N stifled an annoyed sigh and bit the inside of her cheek, if only to stop herself from lashing out. She knew Imelda was right, knew she was only being so firm because she cared. “Sebastian Sallow doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.”

“He cares about Anne,” Y/N muttered petulantly. Imelda kicked her ankle again in reprimand and Y/N hissed in pain. “Fuck, stop kicking me!”

“Stop being stupid then!” Imelda leant forward, her voice lowering considerably.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re better than this. He’s ruthless, he’s a liar. He’s abusive.”

“Sebastian would never hurt me.” If looks could kill then Imelda Reyes would be ten feet under. Y/N knew what her friend was saying came from a well-meaning place, but how dare she. How dare she speak about Sebastian that way - speak about her that way. She wasn’t an idiot any more than Sebastian was the devil Imelda made him out to be.

“Again, you mean?” Imelda snapped. Y/N sucked in a sharp breath at her words, at the sudden reminder of the agony the cruciatus curse had caused. Ominis stilled at the witch’s words, his amused expression dropping as he stopped reading his book. Poppy and Imelda shared a look between them. Y/N and Ominis never told them everything that had happened in their fifth year but they had worked out more than enough.

“You don’t know anything.” Y/N leant forward to hiss the words at her friend.

“I know you don’t want to let go.” Imelda crossed her arms and leant back in her chair, a smug expression on her face. “People talk, Y/N. Sallow’s fascination with the dark arts wasn’t exactly a secret, even before you joined the school.”

“That’s enough Imelda.” Ominis turned his head to glare at the girl, his words icy. “I thought you of all people would be above petty gossip.” His hand drifted under the table to gently squeeze Y/N’s knee, reminding her to breathe. “I may not talk to Sebastian anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to sit here and disparage him like this.”

“Oh? Care to tell us exactly why you both stopped talking to him after his uncle died?”

“Imelda…” Poppy had a pained expression on her face as she looked between her friends, before darting her gaze over to Sebastian, who had his head buried in a book. “You’re going too far.”

“Apparently there’s no such thing when Y/N is concerned. She’ll forgive me and come crawling back, just like she does with Sallow.”

“So what if I do?” Y/N snapped, her voice rising. Madam Scribner shushed them sharply and sent them a glare, not that Y/N could find it in herself to care as she leant across the table to growl at Imelda. “Sebastian is one of my best friends, Reyes. Present tense. I don’t care that he’s not spoken to me in months - I will always be there for those who need me. I’ll always be there if he needs me.” Y/N looked over to Sebastian as she took a steadying breath, her eyes meeting his again. He watched her carefully, his head tilted to the side as he recognised the tell-tale signs of her anger. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from him as she spoke softly, justifying it with how far away he was sitting. “You have no idea what happened to us in our fifth year, absolutely none, so don’t pretend just because you listened to some bullshit gossip that you’re omniscient. The shit we went through - what the three of us went through - was something that’s bound us together for life. You don’t experience what we did and have the ability to stop caring for the other person - not that you could ever understand that.”

Something shifted in Sebastian’s gaze as Y/N spoke about him, and a small part of her wondered if he had somehow gained the ability to read lips and knew exactly what she was saying. She swallowed heavily as the air between them changed, her heart thumping nervously in her chest. Words from their fight echoed in her mind, but they were all drowned out by every good action he had ever taken for her, every good thing he had ever said to her. Y/N wasn’t quite sure if she could ever pull away from his hypnotising stare, but it seemed Imelda had made the choice for her as she leaned across the table and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look back at them.

“You can lie to me all you want, but I was there.” Imelda held Y/N’s chin firmly as she spoke, not tight enough to hurt, but enough that she couldn’t pull away. “Every single time you came back to our dorm room crying because he hurt you, I was there. I saw what he put you through and he doesn’t care. He’s not worth it. I won’t pretend to know what happened with the three of you in fifth year but he will never change. He’s only going to hurt you over and over again and you keep letting him. The devil doesn’t settle, Y/L/N.”

Y/N finally smacked Imelda’s hand away and broke free from her grasp, her eyes burning with humiliation and anger. Poppy looked taken aback at how forceful their friend was being, while Ominis gripped the edge of the table in frustration. He couldn’t tell exactly what was happening in front of him, but the tone of voice, followed by the sharp slap of skin, was indication enough. There was a tense silence at the table as Y/N and Imelda glared furiously at each other, neither of them willing to break the silence first. Y/N blinked back the tears of frustration that were welling in her eyes and stood up, muttering to the table that she needed another book for her essay, and ignoring Poppy as she quietly called after her.

She had to pass by Sebastian’s table as she walked away, her shoulders tight with tension as she very obviously avoided his eye so that he couldn’t see her tears. He stretched his arms out casually as she moved past him, his hand brushing hers gently. Y/N didn’t know if it was an accident or not, but she didn’t let it stop her as she made her way towards the shelves she needed and rounded the corner, disappearing from the immediate eyesight of her friends (and yes, as rage inducing as Imelda was, Y/N still considered her one).

Her shoulders slumped once she was hidden from view and Y/N couldn’t help but to gently press her forehead to one of the shelves to calm the mixed emotions that were running wildly through her. She was angry at Imelda, because how dare she speak to her like that - how dare she grab her like that. She was frustrated at herself, because even though Imelda’s approach was far from ideal, she was right. Y/N always got her hopes up whenever Sebastian would flash her a warm smile in passing, and it normally led to her crying or screaming in their dorm within the week because he had gone back to his usual routine of ignoring her. The final feeling (one she didn’t want to linger on for too long) was how her heart was racing wildly as the casual touch of Sebastian’s hand as she passed by him. She didn’t want to admit what the sensation was, not even to herself, and instead tried to convince herself that the fleeting graze of his skin on hers was nothing more than an accident.

“Imelda is sorry.” Poppy said softly, her quiet footsteps stopping a couple of feet away. Y/N let out a humourless laugh and wiped away a tear before she looked over her shoulder at the Hufflepuff.

“You and I both know that’s a lie. Have Ominis and Imelda sent you to corral me back?”

“No. Imelda wanted to march over and drag you back herself but I told her to leave you alone and give you a little space. Ominis agreed with me and said he knows first hand what your anger is like?” Poppy phrased the end like a question, earning a surprised chuckle from Y/N.

“I think I’ve scarred him for life after he took my coffee from me the other morning.”

“Poor choice.” Poppy laughed softly, knowing first-hand how grumpy Y/N could be in the mornings before her caffeine. The pair fell into a comfortable silence as Y/N turned to face the shelves again and pulled a book out to see if it held any information that could help with her work.

“What is it, Poppy?”

“I don’t want to upset you any more.”

“It can’t be any worse than what Imelda said to me,” she reminds her with a sigh. After a few more seconds Poppy still hadn’t responded so Y/N closed the book and turned to face her, holding the tome to her chest as she waited.

“I just…Imelda wasn’t all wrong,” the shorter girl shrugged and offered Y/N a sheepish smile as she looked at her in surprise. “Her delivery could have been a lot better, though.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Y/N muttered.

“Look, you know I’m not the type to lecture and condescend. All I want - all we all want - is what’s best for you. I know you might think Sebastian is it but I don’t think he is.” Poppy lowered her voice considerably and peaked around the corner as she said his name, taking care he wasn’t around to eavesdrop.

“I thought you Hufflepuff’s always saw the best in people.”

“We’re loyal to fault, and my loyalties lie with you, not him. I’ve seen you cry over him too, Y/N. I never told anyone about the fight you two had.” Y/N stilled at her friend’s words, her mind flashing back to the argument that that had happened a few months ago. After weeks of being ignored again Y/N had finally cornered Sebastian in the Undercroft, and much like a powder keg the whole thing blew up with harsh words flying back and forth between the pair. She had finally hit him with her worst fear; that he had only stuck around with her because she was a means to an end to cure Anne. Sebastian had gone silent before nodding, and turned to leave her alone in the room, his parting words of well if that’s what you think of me echoing around her long after he had gone.

“Why?”

“Why didn’t I tell anyone?” Poppy asked. “Or why do I think he isn’t what’s right for you?”

“Both.”

“For one, Imelda would probably hunt him down and actually kill him if I told her.” Poppy tilted her head to the side, a dry smile on her face. “But mostly it was because of you. If you wanted everyone to know they would - you wouldn’t have come banging on the Hufflepuff common room door past curfew asking for me.” Y/N gave her friend a rueful smile and dropped her head back on the shelf behind her to count the ceiling tiles so that she wouldn’t cry again. “As for still being mad at him…what you said was out of line, but he never fought to correct you or prove otherwise and I watched as that killed you. No one cries like that over a friendship. You both said some vile things to each other but he ripped your heart out of your chest and I don’t think I can ever forgive him for that.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“I was in the wrong for saying that to him.” Either of them could have apologised. It didn’t fall to just Sebastian. Y/N had said things to him that were just as nasty - if not worse - during their fight.

“You were,” Poppy agreed, “but that still doesn’t excuse his behaviour. You always make excuses for him. I’m not going to get mad like Imelda did but I will say I’m not surprised.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s obvious you’re in love with him.” Poppy gave her a sad smile and Y/N felt her cheeks burn as she froze, her eyes wide as she looked at her friend apprehensively.

“I never said - ”

“You didn’t have to.” Poppy reached out and squeezed Y/N’s hand gently before turning to walk away again. “I know you might think he’ll change this time, and maybe he will - I really hope he does, to be fully honest with you. But just remember one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The devil doesn’t bargain.”

Poppy walked back to their table, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts once again. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest and a small part of her was grateful that nobody really ventured into that corner of the library as she sank to the floor slowly. She pulled her knees up, resting her forehead against them as she tried to calm her breathing and hold back a fresh wave of tears. They were right - they were always right. Sebastian did this to her constantly; he kept pulling her in only to push her away again. The last time it had happened was around their fight, and she had been a wreck for weeks because of it.

“Y/N.” A pair of feet shuffled to a stop in front of her, and Y/N felt herself go still. She would recognise his voice anywhere. It was ingrained on her very soul. He sighed quietly and she heard the shifting of fabric as she sat down across from her, his legs stretched out in front of him so he could tap her ankle gently with his shoe. “I know you can hear me.”

“What do you want, Sebastian?” she asked, not raising her head to look at him, even though it muffled her voice. If she looked at him all resolve would break and she would either scream at him for leaving her or turn into a blubbering mess and she didn’t particularly care for either of those reactions at that moment.

“Look at me.”

“No.” Sebastian laughed, a genuine laugh which sent shivers down her spine. Y/N slowly lifted her head but still didn’t look at him and instead opted to stare at his polished black shoes.

“You’ve always been so stubborn.”

“I learnt from the best.”

“That Slytherin pride really did hit us both hard,” Sebastian mused. He was quiet for a few moments before he crossed his legs and scooted closer to her so that he was almost sitting on her feet. “Look at me, darling.” Y/N hated the way her body reacted to the term of endearment. She hated that her stomach flipped pleasantly, that her heart started to beat erratically, that she could feel her face burn. She finally looks up at him, meeting his warm brown eyes with a withering glare.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Are we still pretending you don’t secretly like it when I call you darling?”

“I’ll punch you.”

“Probably,” he chuckles quietly and reaches out to brush a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “Who did this?”

“Why do you care?”

“Contrary to what you shouted at me in the Undercroft, I have and always will care about you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“So we circle back to the pitfalls of Slytherin pride?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “You could have just as easily spoken to me first.” Y/N looked away from him, turning her head so that she could see Madam Scribner standing at her desk and watching them both like a hawk. He was right. Hadn’t she just thought and said the same thing when she was speaking to Poppy? “Was it Reyes?”

“Will you curse her if it was?” Y/N couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth and she instantly grimaced. “I didn’t mean - ”

“You did and that’s okay.” Sebastian pulled his hand away with a defeated sigh. “I haven’t touched dark magic since that night in the catacombs. I know some people think otherwise, but they’re wrong.” He catches the confusion on her face as she wonders how he knows that and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re all not nearly as silent as you think you are.”

“You heard everything?”

“Including your speech about how you’ll always be there for me.”

“What about…?” she looks away, stomach churning with nerves as she thought about what Poppy had said to her. ‘It’s obvious you’re still in love with him’.

“Your conversation with Sweeting stays between the two of you. That felt private.”

“And what we were saying at the table wasn’t?”

“Not when you were looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m worth saving.” Y/N felt her heart crack in her chest at the look on his face. She slowly shifted so that she was crossing her legs instead and reached out to brush the back of his hand.

“Everyone is worth saving.” He gives her a sad smile at that, noting that she still won’t quite meet his eye as she chews on her lower lip nervously. They sit in silence for a few moments as Sebastian watches the cogs turn in her head before she lets out a quiet sigh and finally looks at him. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.”

“I’m sorry I treated you so poorly that you even thought about it in the first place.”

“I didn’t mean it. I just…I was angry and hurt and I lashed out and wanted you to feel even a fraction of the pain I was feeling. I know you were never just using me in the hopes of finding a cure for Anne. You didn’t even know about my ability to take pain away until we had been searching for a cure for months.”

“It doesn’t matter if you did mean it - I forgive you,” he murmured, taking her hand in his. He mulls over his next words carefully, a small frown on his face. “I was stupid to push you away. I thought you both would be better off without me - especially you. I led you down a dark path and never stopped to consider the consequences of doing so. I ruined your life.”

“No you didn’t,” Y/N tightened her grip on his hand so that he would meet her eye. “I’m my own person, Sebastian. I chose to follow you down that path. You always asked if I wanted to learn and I said yes. You never forced me into anything. You didn’t ruin my life.”

“What do you think will happen if anyone ever finds out what happened to Solomon?” his voice lowered considerably as he spoke. “You’re not just going to get a slap on the wrist, Y/N.”

“No one will find out, Seb. Even if they do, it was my choice. I was the one who told Ominis we shouldn’t turn you in.”

“You…why?” Sebastian’s voice cracked as he asked the question and Y/N saw tears start to well in his eyes. “Why would you risk everything for me like that?”

“Because I - ” Y/N broke off as she felt her face burn. Now wasn’t the time to accidentally tell him that she loved him. “Because I would do anything for you.”

“You said that in the present tense.”

“I did.”

“Even after all the horrible things I said to you?”

“I wasn’t exactly a saint back, Sebastian.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You do.” Y/N leaned forward and kissed his cheek before she could process the decision. “You deserve everything, Seb. You deserve to be happy.”

“You made me happy - you make me happy. Present tense,” he squeezes her hands gently. “I was an idiot to ever push you away.”

“Well, you won’t hear me disagree with that,” Y/N teased. Sebastian laughed quietly and she felt like a weight she didn’t even notice got lifted from her shoulders. “If you ever do this again…”

“Duly noted, no need to continue with that threat,” he chuckled. Footsteps walked in their direction - too heavy to be Poppy or Imelda and too purposeful to be any other student. The tell tale glow of Ominis’ wand lit up the stacks moment before he rounded the corner and came to a stop a few feet away from the pair.

“Y/N? Are you still here?”

“I am.” Ominis’ wand wavered to the left slightly, a barely perceptible frown on his face as he wondered who else was present, before he exhaled.

“Hello, Sebastian.”

“Ominis.” The pair stared at each other tensely (or at least, Sebastian stared at Ominis, whilst the latter looked slightly to his left) before Ominis turned to Y/N with a resigned expression.

“Shall I tell Imelda you’ve left? I can bring your things to the common room later.”

“She’s never going to believe it.”

“No, she won’t.” Ominis rolled his eyes and leaned against the bookshelf slightly. “She put two and two together the minute Sebastian walked in this direction, but Poppy is keeping her at bay.”

“She is?”

“She told me to tell you if you hurt Y/N again she will set a Hungarian Horntail on you,” Ominis turned back in Sebastian’s direction as he delivered the threat. “I don’t think I need to add what I’ll do if I ever have to listen to her cry again because of you.” Y/N looked away from Sebastian as his head snapped back in her direction, a look of distress on his features at knowing just how much pain he had caused her.

“Understood.” Sebastian stood up and brushed the dust from his trousers before offering Y/N his hand. She hesitated for a few seconds but took it nonetheless and let him pull her to her feet. Sebastian didn’t let go once she was standing and instead he laced their fingers together and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Ominis.”

“Don’t thank me yet. If it wasn’t for Poppy I would jinx you where you stand.”

“Well, thank Sweeting for me then.” There was a small grin on Sebastian’s face as he carefully tugged at Y/N’s hand, silently asking if she would go with him. She nodded before releasing his fingers so that she could pull Ominis into a tight hug. He froze, not expecting the contact, before weaving his wand-free hand around her frame and hugging her back.

“You tell me if he tries anything,” he muttered in her ear.

“Right after I hex him first.”

“That’s my girl.” Ominis released her with a chuckle and Y/N wandered back to Sebastian, who placed a hand on her lower back as he led her out of the library. They walked in silence until they reached the north exit for the castle and Sebastian let out a long breath and turned to look at her.

“I need you to know I’ll never treat you like that again. I can’t even begin to make it all up to you, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my days doing so,” he said. Y/N reached out for his hand and laced their fingers together again as she pulled him towards the gate that would lead them towards the path for Hogsmeade.

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You forgive me for how I spoke to you and what I accused you of,” she came to a stop and turned to look at him.

“Done,” he said quietly, a soft smile on his face. “I forgave you for that a long time ago, Y/L/N.” He brushed some hair behind her ear, his touch lingering on her cheek before he cleared his throat and looked away, his cheeks tinted pink. Y/N felt her stomach flip pleasantly and couldn’t help but smile shyly as they turned back towards the path. Now wasn’t the time to consider her feelings for him, or to tease him for his blush. But one day the bridges between them would be mended completely, and so she stored the information away for then.

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hogwartslegacypics · 8 months

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HL2 Discussion Post

Figured it would be fun to make a little post about the sequel and say what I’m looking forward to/hope to see from it, and everyone else can reblog or comment with what they hope to see!

DIRECT SEQUEL!! This is the most important one to me. I want to continue with the same storyline and the same characters.

ROMANCE! I feel like they will implement this just because of how much everyone has been asking for it. Not even just romance, it would be cool to have friendship meters as well so we can see if someone is just an acquaintance all the way to a close friend.

DECISIONS THAT MATTER! I know we technically can make decisions in this game, but they don’t change anything except a few lines of dialogue. I want actual impact. I want our decisions to change what can happen, or change our friendship/relationship with the characters.

MORE CLASSES! I honestly wouldn’t mind if they had us repeat activities in classes for the same class (like if we got another potions class and again had to go through the same motions to brew a potion), because realistically speaking we would be going to the same class multiple times and doing basically the same things.

DEMENTORS! I’d love to learn the patronus charm and be able to use it on them. Maybe it could be like a POA situation where a prisoner escaped and dementors are around the grounds? I know there’s a shit ton of patronuses and it’s a lot of work to animate them, so I wouldn’t even be upset if there were only like 10 to pick from.

QUIDDITCH! This may not end up being a thing because of the other Quidditch game coming out, but I still hope it is. Even if we ourselves can’t play it, it would still be a cool little immersive activity to sit on the stands and be able to watch a Quidditch game play out. Also beater!Sebastian

DIAGON ALLEY! Going back as sixth years, we need to get our supplies so it’s a perfect way include it in the game! Imagine going with Seb, Ominis, Poppy, and Natty in the beginning of the game! Walking around and getting our supplies just like we did in the Hogsmeade quest.

CHRISTMAS AND/OR HALLOWEEN EVENTS! Imagine if we could actually celebrate those holidays in the game! Exchanging gifts with our friends (going to Hogsmeade to shop for them, and maybe we have a choice of like 10ish items and we have to pick one for each friend we think they’d like best, and they have a different reaction programmed for each gift we can give them, and it could impact how much the friendship/relationship meter goes up), and they give us a gift based on our play style or level of closeness to them?

PETS!! We know pets were supposed to be in this game so I feel like they might make the cut the second time around. Just imagine having your own cat or owl! So cute!

COMPANIONS! And I mean without needing a mod to make it happen!

RESOLUTION FOR THE SEBASTIAN STORYLINE! Ok so I feel like this one is a given assuming it’ll be a direct sequel but I still wanted to mention it. I hope we can cure Anne somehow, whether it be actually us doing it or finding something with Sebastian. Also see how Sebastian is dealing with the murder, and coping without Anne, and hopefully seeing them get along again. Anne coming back to Hogwarts too if she’s cured!

LET US SIT AND SLEEP! Especially in the Great Hall! Doesn’t need to be a frequent thing, but maybe like once a season we have a little scene with our MC sitting in there having dinner with friends in their house? NPCs need to sleep at night too!

NO MORE MERLIN TRIALS!! I never wanna do a Merlin Trial ever again. I hate the process of having to do a bunch of repetitive, tedious tasks just to unlock stuff.

MORE LOCATIONS! I don’t mean the Highlands, I mean London, the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley, etc. Would be cool to get to visit each of these locations at least once.

HOUSE POINTS! Give us a house points system where we can have points given or taken away from us! I guess this could kind of double as a morality system too?

#hogwarts legacy #cant think of any more rn but i’m sure there’s more

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blue--ingenue · 10 months

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"Evasive Maneuvers" - Part 3

Read the next part

Summary: You've been in love with Sebastian since the moment you knocked him on his arse on your first day. Entering your sixth year, you finally begin working up the courage to confess your feelings when he suddenly becomes the best Beater Hogwarts has seen in decades - and subsequently becomes the school's most eligible bachelor.

Author's Notes: i'm having so much fun writing soft sweet Sebastian :) which means the next part is, of course, the sweet Garreth- jealous Sebastian chapter. thank you so much for reading, and for your sweet comments! each one is like a little treat i throw to my adhd brain to get it to write more

P.S. - let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist <3

In the days following quidditch tryouts Sebastian’s presence became increasingly sporadic. He had always excelled in academics, and now that Anne was back by his side for their final two years of school he felt that he truly had the time to absorb everything their professors had to offer. Every minute not spent at quidditch was consumed by a steadily-growing list of assignments. Well, almost every minute. Despite his packed schedule he always found a way to spend time with you. Whether it was a rushed breakfast before his first lecture or a stroll among the stacks at the library, you never went more than a few hours without his presence.

You were just buttering a vanilla scone and chatting with Natty when you heard the familiar cadence of his footfalls. Your cheeks reddened immediately and whatever you two had been chatting about flew in one ear and out the other. Natty noticed your change in posture, took one glance at Sebastian’s approaching form, and gave you a conspiratorial wink before getting up to leave. You shot her a grateful smile as she gathered her books in her arms and took off. She knew you’d fill her in on all the details later.

“Good morning, Natty,” Sebastian greeted as they passed each other. She glanced between the two of you before replying, “Indeed it is.” Sebastian plopped onto the bench next to you and you turned to face him, scone laying forgotten on your plate. His hair was damp, as though he’d just showered, and you pushed away the thoughts that spread a certain warmth through your chest and up to your cheeks. His brown eyes glittered as morning sun streamed through the stained glass windows and highlighted flecks of gold. You smiled as you looked him up and down before once again picking up your abandoned breakfast.

“What?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. You allowed your affection to slip into your smile as you tilted your head. “Nothing, it’s just good to see you,” you replied easily. Sebastian’s popularity had skyrocketed since joining the quidditch team. You were happy for him, to be sure, but the gaggle of girls that sat through his practices and trailed after him in the halls ignited a jealousy in you that you had never felt before. All this culminated in you upping your flirting with Sebastian. He responded in kind, and your back-and-forth banter pulled on your heartstrings with an unbearable ferocity. He had been play-flirting with you since the day you met, but you hadn’t the courage to reciprocate until after he’d taken the fall for you in the Restricted Section. While you meant every word, it was clear that flirting for him was as natural as breathing. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing his friendship if you decided to tell him the truth. At least for now you could almost pretend that he meant every flirtatious wink, grin, and suggestive whisper he shot your way.

Sebastian hummed in a tone that indicated he knew she was holding something back, but he didn’t press on. “You see me every day,” he commented as he ladled porridge into a bowl. He dumped a generous helping of sugar into the mix before spooning some into his mouth. A fleck of porridge stuck on the corner of his mouth and you laughed. You leaned close to him and adopted the most demure voice you could muster. You traced a finger from his cheek to the offending bit of breakfast and swiped it off with the tip of your finger.

“I do,” you whispered. “And each time is just as delightful as the last,” you retreated back to your spot, but not before licking the porridge from your index finger with a deft swipe of your tongue. You held his gaze for a second more before bursting into a fit of giggles. A few moments later you glanced back at him, expecting a mirror image of your own amusement, but Sebastian wasn’t laughing. In fact, he seemed petrified. If it weren’t for the scarlet flush in his cheeks, you’d have suspected someone had hexed him when you weren’t looking.

“Seb?” you asked, now genuinely concerned. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Instinctively you placed the back of your hand upon his forehead before placing your palm against his cheek.

“You’re burning up! Did you wear that extra scarf I told you to wear to practice last night? Have you caught a cold?” you fretted. He swallowed and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, coloring his soft lips a plush red. You couldn’t stop your gaze from drifting down to his lips. Involuntarily, you shuddered. Mortified, you were about to jerk your hand away when he caught you by the wrist. His grip was firm, yet gentle and you suddenly realized how close the two of you had drifted.

“Yes, I- I’m quite…” he was hoarse, voice trailing off as his eyes darkened. You were bewildered. You couldn’t have moved even if you had wanted to. As though someone had snapped their fingers and pulled him from a trance, he seemed to remember himself. He dropped your hand and your heart stuttered at the sudden loss of contact. He straightened his back and cleared his throat. Whatever mood had possessed him was gone in an instant. “I have something for you,” he declared.

You plastered on a fake smile and scooted back, keeping a healthy distance between the both of you. “Oh?” He reached into his robes and pulled out a familiar blue and brown box. Despite the fading ache in your heart, you grinned. You accepted it gratefully and tore into the packaging, catching the chocolate frog before it could make good on its jump.

“When did you have time to stop by Honeydukes? I thought practice ended just before curfew last night,” you questioned before taking a bite and sighing contentedly. Sebastian watched you with a fond smile.

“I flew by Hogsmeade after Imelda dismissed us. I’ve gotten a lot better at sneaking past the prefects in Central Hall since our little escapade in fifth year,” he grinned. You picked up the card tucked into the bottom of the box. A miniature captain of the Pride of Portree stood proudly, her arms crossed and broom propped up next to her. You held out the card for him to inspect.

“I reckon I’ll be seeing your pretty face on one of these in a few seasons,” you teased. Sebastian preened, puffing out his chest and running a hand through his curls. “You think I’m pretty?” he grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“Pretty insufferable,” you responded. This banter was much easier. No room for misinterpretation or wishful thinking. He perked up, hand flying to his other pocket.

“I almost forgot! I got you something else, too,” he exclaimed. A few moments later his fist curled around something you couldn’t quite make out. His earlier blush had returned with a vengeance and he seemed almost…sheepish? He coughed nervously. “Close your eyes,” he murmured. You obliged. Your heart was thumping like a runaway rabbit. So loud was the heartbeat in your ears that you almost believed the boy next to you could hear it. He gently unfurled your right hand and dropped something light and metallic into it. “Alright, you can look,” he said.

You opened your eyes and looked at the small gift. It was a necklace. A delicate silver chain slipped between your fingers and shone in the sunlight. In your palm, secured to the chain, was a crystal. It was rough-cut and encased in elegantly looping silver. You could have sworn it was changing colors with every turn of your palm. You squinted, inspecting the pendant closely. The swirls reminded you of something. “It almost looks like - ”

“Your ancient magic,” he finished. With deft fingers he stood, took the necklace from your open palm, and secured it behind your neck. “Well, the symbol, anyway,” he said quietly. He was rubbing the back of his neck and hadn’t yet met your eyes. You didn’t realize you’d been grinning until your cheeks started to ache.

“I bought it from a traveling merchant as I was leaving Honeydukes,” he explained. You gazed down fondly at the little crystal as he began rambling. “It’s a ‘mood necklace.’ Not like one of those muggle trinkets, mind you. This one actually changes colors to match your mood.”

He noticed you still hadn’t said anything and went on, “Not that there’s anything wrong with muggles! I know you came from a muggle orphanage before coming here. If you don’t like it, I could always return it. Or, er, I’m not sure the merchant will still be there, but-”

“Sebastian!” you cut him off with a laugh. “I love it,” you assured him. He grinned, his relief palpable as his shoulders visibly released the tension he’d been holding.

“I mean, I knew you would,” he said, chin tilted up with a confidence that was so typically Sebastian. You turned the crystal, trying to catch the moment it flickered from color to color.

“What moods do each of the shades correspond to?” you wondered aloud. His gaze flickered away from yours as he replied, “I’ve no idea. The merchant gave me a bit of parchment that explained each of the colors, but I must have lost it on the flight back.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Either way, thank you. Sebastian. It’s truly beautiful.”

“Yes,” he breathed. Your gaze flickered to his, and for a moment, a fleeting second that felt like forever, his eyes weren’t on the pendant, but on your face. You cleared your throat.

“We should head to Potions,” you said, trying to bury the wanting and wishing feeling you had become all too acquainted with over the past few years. Sebastian nodded, his gaze unreadable, and gathered both of your books before leading the way to your first class.

Taglist: @snickette, @findingtruenorth23, @plooloo, @paganicher, @smilesworldsposts, @snoozebun

#sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #angst #pining #idiots in love #mutual pining #fluff

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hollowwrites · 9 months

Text

Did you just come from the Undercroft?!

Ominis x MC

Summary - Rewrite of The Undercroft confrontation

I have been putting this off because I like soft Ominis and this is mean Ominis. You can tell based on the fact the majority of this is filler.

Warnings - None just a rewrite, feel free to change Evelyn to MC or Y/N

Word Count - 1342

It was almost like Anne was back.

Almost

Sebastian and Evelyn had become quite close after they broke into the Restricted Section. A fact that, initially, Ominis had detested. But had grown to accept.

They had they’re own interests and they’re own adventures.

And Ominis would hear about them all when they got back. Much to his disdain.

More often than not, he found himself angry at Sebastian for being reckless and foolhardy, and concerned for Evelyns’ naivety and politeness.

If he had to hear about some villager who needed some spiders taken care of one more time…he was going to lose it.

Sometimes, he’d feel the pang of jealousy on his tongue when they would laugh at some inside joke or recall something they had seen together.

But he found that he and Evelyn had a different friendship.

She floated around him after classes asking questions about this world and, most of the time, about him.

Her compassion was unlike anyone he’d ever met. If he hadn’t bore witness to her snark and attitude himself, he would have sworn she should have been a Hufflepuff.

A kindly Badger in a Snake skin waistcoat.

So he’d started to care for her. Much like how he cared for Anne.

Well, not exactly.

Anne never really felt like his friend. Sebastian and Anne were the complete opposite of himself and his siblings and it just drew more attention to the widening rift of his family. Usually, he felt a deep sadness whenever they interacted. It wasn’t her fault, and he loved Anne, but there was always that lingering want for something he could never have.

A family.

Evelyn, as it turns out, was alone. Just like him.

She made him feel not quite as lonely.

He quickly became able to pinpoint her in a crowd, an ability he only really had for Sebastian and a couple more of the Slytherin lot. Her signature Rose scent could be picked up as soon as she entered a room. It varied day to day but it was always rose. Heady and musky or light and floral.

She was always a Rose.

It’s as though they gravitated towards one another to be snarky and snippy about other people’s perfect lives, whilst theirs remained flawed.

On more than one occasion, they were partnered in potions and they giggled and gently mocked Garreth for his ‘middle child’ shenanigans. Their elbows knocked against each other whilst stirring the various concoctions and she even clutched his arm in wonder as Garreth selflessly demonstrated why you don’t add Unicorn Hair to Focus Potions.

They also buddied up in Defence Against the Dark Arts after she noticed standing too close to Sebastian was a one way ticket to getting picked on to showcase spells. They chatted to one another during class sometimes leading to being scolded by Professor Hecat.

“Mr Gaunt, Miss Hollow. perhaps you can explain to the class what is more important than the differing features between a Grindelow and a Mermaid.” She said harshly, causing the whole class to turn to them.

“Apologies Professor Hecat. Evelyn here was simply explaining to me the differing features. Due to my ability to not see them” Ominis lied. They had been talking about how Duncan Hobhouse had asked her to acquire a Tentacula Leaf.

“You have never needed assistance before, Mr Gaunt” Hecat snapped back just as quickly

“No one ever offered before” he retorted and resumed their conversation with no further interruptions.

So he’d decided he was going to show her the Undercroft. It was somewhere special to him and she was becoming…someone special. The day he’d decided to show her had been an awful day. The weather was atrocious, the humidity in the halls sending Ominis into sensory overload. He had back to back Potions into Herbology, his least favourite lessons. And to top it all off, Sebastian would not stop talking about the Gaunts. Their secrets, their heirlooms, their magical artefacts.

It had worn him down to his last nerve and he was looking forward to showing her his hideaway and spending some time with her, alone.

When he rounded the corner in the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower he heard the telltale clockwork mechanics of the Undercroft door opening and shoes walking across tile. They stopped suddenly.

“Hello Sebastian”

And then the subtle smell of blooming roses fell upon him, Engulfing him in a warm blanket of betrayal.

She gasped so quietly even he wasn’t sure he heard it. She hadn’t exhaled since.

“Wait…I can hear you” Ominis was confused and angry and…hurt

“Oh Hello Ominis.” Her voice was still a lullaby to his ears but it had a shaky quality to it. Like she was nervous or scared “I was just heading to-“

“Evelyn? Did you just come from the Undercroft? How did you get in there?” He could feel his face betray his true feelings, a frown forming and his voice turning sharp.

“I-“ she started before realising she couldn’t lie to him “Actually Sebastian brought me there but…” she added quickly “he made it perfectly clear to keep quiet abo-“

“That…rat” for lack of a better term, Ominis saw red. His fingernails dug into the skin of his palm. “You breathe a word about his place to anyone and not even your precious Professor Fig will be able to help you. My father is friends with the headmaster and I’m not afraid to exploit that connection if I need to”

He couldn’t fathom why he said that. Even as the words fell from him he knew they weren’t true. She knew they weren’t true. They’d spoke about how estranged his family had become. She knew it was a lie and yet her breath still caught as he said it.

“Trust me, Ominis I won’t say a word”

“Why should I trust you? You’re Sebastian’s friend not mine” he spat

“You’re my friend” she said meekly and reached out to him. The tiny tug of his robes set him off once again.

“Don’t…touch me!” And he snatched his arm away

“Omin-“

“Sebastian is going to get an earful about this” he strode past her, his shoulder knocking forcefully against hers. He felt bad immediately. The one thing he took from his family was their pride. And it was that same pride that stopped him from turning and apologising. As he tapped onto the various clock faces of The Undercroft, he heard her sharp intake of breath and a shaky exhale of a sob. The soft tap of her heels against the stone fell further and further from earshot as she ran away.

“SEBASTIAN!” Ominis shouted the moment he stepped foot into the cavernous room. His voice carried around every nook and cranny.

“Oh…” Sebastian replied, not even bothering to cover up his deceit. She had left not one minute ago, he definitely knew she’d left here.

“How dare you? You had no right!” He poked his long boney finger into Sebastian chest. He knew where he was, the sound of his flinching and sighing pinpointed him exactly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“ Sebastian started almost immediately being cut off

“What? That I’d find out”

“No-“

“Or did you just perhaps not think at all”

“I didn’t think you’d mind. You two get on really well.”

“Not anymore. You made sure of that.” He thought back to the sound of Evelyn crying and felt another wave of guilt.

“What did you do?” Sebastian rolled his eyes “It wasn’t her fault, she-“

“No! It’s all your fault. It’s all ruined” Ominis threw his arms up in defeat.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. This place isn’t ruined because she knows about it. She’s a good person, she won’t say anything”

“No you’ve ruined my whole day. I was going to show her this place. It was going to be me who brought her. It should have been me”

“Why does it matter if it’s me or you?”

“It matters, Sebastian”

“You really like her don’t you?”

“Shut up”

Masterlist

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starfirexuchiha · 1 year

Text

Unused Akechi Thieves Den conversations

There are some unused Thieves Den conversations that Akechi had with the other PTs, so I wanted to show them here. This is a long post btw.

Zorro - Yusuke & Akechi convo

Yusuke: ......

Akechi: You're looking at that Persona rather intently. Is he that intriguing?

Yusuke: Absolutely. It is an unparalleled luxury to lay sight on the physical manifestation of another's self-image. Not just any artist can claim to have borne witness to the likes of Personas, or Mementos. It would be foolish not to use this opportunity to incorporate these concepts into an art piece.

Akechi: I... see. Well, you have fun with that.

Yusuke: Ah, before you go. Would you be so kind as to show me your own Persona? I'd love to use him as a model for one of my sketches.

Akechi: ...I'm going to have to decline.

-----------

Goro doesn’t want to model for Yusuke lol

Robin Hood - Ann & Akechi convo

Ann: Seeing this reminds me of the days you still acted like a prince. Things have gotten pretty dark since then...

Akechi: Complain all you like, but this is who I am. I'm not going to change back.

Ann: I'm not complaining. It's better to know you're being honest and not hiding anything from us.

Akechi: Honest, huh.

-----------

I like how Ann is accepting of Goro’s true self.

Robin Hood - Sumire & Akechi convo

Sumire: This Persona is yours, Akechi-senpai? I'm surprised. It's very, um... noble.

Akechi: Ah, that's right. I suppose you've never seen this one.

Sumire: Never! Do you fight with it the same way? You know, "Muahahahaaa! You're all gonna die! Sayonara, suckers!"

Akechi: Heh. Are you mocking me?

-----------

Sumire’s friendship with Goro is so adorable!

Robin Hood - Ryuji, Ann & Akechi convo

Ryuji: It ain't fair that he gets to have two Personas. Aren't you kinda jealous?

Ann: Sometimes. Is it something you can train yourself to do?

Akechi: Personas are part of your personality, correct? Why don't you try acting like someone you're not?

Ryuji: Dammit, Akechi!

Akechi: Down, boy. Learn to take a jo—

Ryuji: You're a frickin' genius! Let's do it!

Ann: Good idea! I wonder what I should act like...

Akechi: Hah. And here I thought I'd seen the limits of your idiocy.

-----------

Goro was like “Why don’t you try being a wildcard?”. It ain’t that easy though lol

Morgana Car - Akechi, Ryuji & Yusuke convo

Akechi: This car was a lot more comfortable than I expected. I can't say I mind it.

Ryuji: Dude, have you forgotten how bumpy that shit was in Mementos? I thought my ass was gonna split in half.

Yusuke: Agreed on the bumpiness. It was rather effective at abating my hunger, though.

Akechi: I don't usually ride in cars with such weak suspension. It was a new experience for me.

Ryuji: THAT'S what you call it!?

-----------

You learn something new everyday.

Kamoshida Statue - Sae & Akechi convo

Sae: Honestly, when I heard there was a teacher like this at Makoto's school, my blood ran cold.

Akechi: If it was that much of a concern, why didn't you bring it up with the faculty?

Sae: It's not that simple.

Akechi: You should be more upfront about your feelings. Then again, I suppose you are who you are.

-----------

Did Kamoshida had some way of making the students’ parents/guardians not complain about him? Is that why Mishima was like “the parents know but don’t care”?

Kaneshiro (Ruler Form) - Makoto, Ryuji & Akechi convo

Makoto: Say, Kaneshiro mentioned that there was someone using other people's Palaces to do whatever they pleased...

Akechi: Yeah. I suppose that was me. I'm surprised a petty criminal like him had caught wind of me, though.

Ryuji: But Shido's the one who was takin' advantage, yeah? I thought you were just followin' orders.

Akechi: Hm... It's not quite that simple.

-----------

What do you mean by that Goro? Do you have more freedom when you’re in palaces or something because the conspiracy is not aware of what goes on in there?

Shido (Ruler Form) - Akechi & Sae convo

Akechi: I never thought the scheme would end with Shido. I always assumed some other monster would take up his mantle.

Sae: Even so, I'd already decided that I wouldn't give up on exposing the guilty parties. ...I want to keep my faith in justice.

Akechi: Oh? Something so cliché coming from you is rather surprising, Sae-san. I suspect the Phantom Thieves have rubbed off on you quite a bit.

Sae: That's a possibility. Maybe you could do with some change yourself? Like, drop the "cool customer" act and just live in the moment?

Akechi: Hah! Surely you jest. I'll pass.

-----------

Oh Goro is putting up his Detective Prince act on this one.

Interrogation Room - Akechi & Morgana convo

Akechi: How nostalgic... It makes me sick to remember that day. I can't believe I was so thoroughly tricked.

Morgana: It was quite a gamble on our end. But ultimately, our justice saw the light.

Akechi: Justice, huh... Sure, let's leave it at that.

-----------

Sounds like Goro doesn’t believe Morgana there.

Penguin Sniper - Ryuji & Akechi convo

Ryuji: Pool's pretty fun once ya get used to it. Aight Akechi, let's go a round! It's time for the Ultra Mega Poolin' Schoolin'!

Akechi: Ignoring that ludicrous title... Do you honestly wish to play against me?

Ryuji: I'm a man of my word! I know I got no chance when it comes to brainy stuff, but this? I can take ya. Or what, are you chicken?

Akechi: Heh, of course not. Sure, I'll play a round. And I won't be holding back.

-----------

I think Goro is gonna use his right hand, but Ryuji you should still prepare yourself. 👀

Loki - Yusuke & Makoto convo

(Akechi is not in this unused convo but the convo is about him)

Yusuke: To think we would fight side-by-side with Akechi once more... His personality seems to have shifted, though. It's a far cry from the Detective Prince we once knew.

Makoto: That is true... But somehow, I think it made him easier to talk to. He's honest with us, at least. I don't worry about him hiding things anymore.

Yusuke: Yes... His murderous screeching may be unsettling, but I've come to realize that is simply a part of who he is. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to paint a portrait of him, knowing this...

Makoto: If you do, I'd love to see it. ...I'd like to hear what he thinks of it, too.

-----------

Murderous screeching LOL! Again Yusuke, Goro will not model for you 😆

-----------

and that’s all of the unused Goro convos in the Thieves Den.

#unused content #goro akechi #persona 5 royal #p5 royal #thieves den #yusuke kitawaga #ann takamaki #ryuji sakamoto #makoto niijima #sae niijima #morgana #zorro #robin hood #loki #suguru kamoshida #junya kaneshiro #masayoshi shido

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subastian-swallows · 10 months

Text

Angsty Thoughts

I'm curious...

This is probably a "me" thing lmao, but what if:

Sebastian simply needed a replacement for Anne.

We hear a lot about her being an ingrained part of the trio and obviously when she got sick, it most likely felt like a part of both Ominis and Sebastian was now missing.

I have this really upsetting headcanon, that Sebastian mistakes his "feelings" for you, simply for the benefit of having someone, both capable of helping him find a cure, as well as, have the ability to potentially do it.

I love/hate the idea, that Sebastian is so focused on finding a cure for Anne, that he doesn't really care for friendships or relationships for that matter. With Ominis, it's ingrained, he's practically a brother and so it's natural. But even this is tested when Sebastian still chooses dark magic.

Truthfully, if Anne was to get better, would he need you?

Obviously, friendship wise and romance wise, sure...if that's what he wanted or came to find in the end. But what if he never saw you like that and just saw a talented wizard/witch to gain a better chance at helping Anne. (Ouch - I know)

I think it would be really fun to delve deep into the mindset of a true chaotic evil Sebastian, who, for the love of sister, just destroyed everyone else in his path.

As you can tell, angsty vibes have taken me into the dark side and I just find Sebastian being a little mean brat, such a fun concept to play with.

I also find it really heartbreaking and lowkey interesting to think about, the possibility that Anne blames you for letting Sebastian go down a dark path and if, let's say she gets better, would she turn him against you?

He just got his sister back, he wouldn't need you....right?

ANYWAY LMAO, this is just my angst thoughts coming out as I write fluff... (Clearly just love headcanoning too much, instead of actually writing. RIP)

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fic #anne sallow #sallow twins

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gregre369 · 3 months

Text

Shout by Tears for Fears would definitely be Steve’s F it all song after the first two go around a with the upside down and his break up with Nancy.

Like omg hear me out. He’s out by skull rock/lovers lake/the quarry, you choose. Anne he’s either blaring it from his car or from his Walkman just mad at everything. Screaming at the top of his lungs about his absentee parents, about Nancy and all her bullshit, and the upside down. He’s got his nail bat with him and he’s just swinging it at a tree or the ground. Not paying attention to his surroundings(he knows that not ok, but sue him he’s due for a break down).

Now it could end like this with just Steve getting a much needed moment of reprieve.

But as a Steddie shipper I do love me some Eddie “the banished” coming across Steve “the hair” having a meltdown and feeling some type of way about it. And offering him friendship the next day at school.

And Steve obviously really would like some new friends that don’t pressure him to be who his father wants or pressure him to be a goodie two shoes.

Eddie offers him the ability to be an absolute mean girl with a heart of gold who starts hosting hellfire games. But also critiques what everyone is wearing. And Steve starts to allow himself to still wear those wonderfully fitted blue jeans but with more punk style tops. Or at least not polos (at least not all the time).

Obviously when they’re hanging out one day the kids or just Dustin show up and Eddie immediately bonds with them.

Or maybe the kids come over unannounced during a hellfire meeting and are so angry(jealous) that Steve is playing D&D with someone not them(Dustin). And all of hellfire just keeps them.

So now all of the kids and Steve have a hellfire support group.

#steve harringon #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie fanfic #punk steve harrington #I love me some punk Steve #1984 #tears for fears #shout #king steve #the freak #eddie the freak munson #eddie the banished #steve the hair harrington #steve the babysitter #hellfire club #hellfire support group

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shadowtriovibes · 8 months

Text

break a sweat: chapter one

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Chapter Rating: PG [Fic Rating: E]

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Regardless, I’ll be ready for tryouts come September. You’ll come to watch, won’t you? – Bash

AO3 permalink: break a sweat

July 11, 1892

…

By the way, you’ll never believe it – Ominis wrote to let me know that Black visited the Manor last week to have dinner with his parents (and his foul excuse for a brother). Apparently he let slip that he’ll be reinstating Quidditch this year, which means I’ll finally have a chance to play on a proper team.

Anne’s been helping me practice all summer. I think she mostly enjoys getting to spend some time outside in the sun – or as much as Solomon will allow. (Merlin knows he’s thrilled to have me out of the house most days.)

Regardless, I’ll be ready for tryouts come September. You’ll come to watch, won’t you?

– Bash

—

September 1, 1892

The start of your seventh year at Hogwarts arrives much more suddenly than the year before.

After your fifth year ended, you’d never felt quite so alone in the world. Professor Fig was gone, the Keepers had become conspicuously quiet and to top it off you had no idea where you were supposed to stay during the summer with Hogwarts shuttered until the start of term.

Mercifully, Sirona had kindly come to your rescue and helped arrange for you to stay with Mrs. Sprottle in Upper Hogsmeade – just as she’d done years earlier.

“Don’t fret,” she reassured you as you’d cried into your Butterbeer shortly after completing your O.W.L.s. “Dorothy is quite used to taking in the occasional wayward witch. She’ll put you right to work, mind you, but she’s a good mother hen.”

Sure enough, by the time your sixth year started, you felt more grounded and genuinely competent as a witch than you’d ever felt, despite the occasional flicker of ancient magic crackling from your fingertips as you’d harvested bottles of horklump juice.

Your sixth year was like nothing you could have anticipated. Your schoolwork was impossibly harder, but your friendships became irrevocably deeper.

Best of all, Anne had returned.

After what Sebastian had nearly done – the flicker of pure, unadulterated rage that had passed over his face as he’d raised his wand at Solomon – he’d had to find his way back to himself. Visiting a mind healer had helped, as had the fact that Anne had seemed to stabilize with Rookwood dead.

Her curse wasn’t gone per se, but to Sebastian’s delight, she seemed much more like herself again.

Slowly she readjusted to life at Hogwarts, taking plenty of time for rest with the support of the school’s endlessly kind professors. Now no longer left alone with his grief and anger, Sebastian seemed to flourish as well.

He became your friend that year, truly. The boy you met in your fifth year sought to unravel you, and perhaps to even use you. But this Sebastian? He merely wants to know you.

Having such brilliant friends meant that your sixth year passed much more quickly, as did the summer you’d just spent apprenticing for Timothy Teasdale and his semi-experimental medical plants. You’d even spent the morning of the first of September tending to the last batch of shrivelfigs before Timothy himself had shooed you away from the greenhouses.

“You’d better get a move on, friend,” he’d said with a laugh. “It’s your last first day! Ought to head up to the castle before the boats full of kiddies arrive.”

While most of your classmates were disembarking the Hogwarts Express, you’d joined the handful of locals walking the path up to the school, chatting happily about how you’d spent your summers.

You’d hoped to run into Sebastian along the way, but knowing he’d likely be assisting Anne with a form of travel more than the Floo network, you resign yourself to seeing him instead at dinner.

Of course, when you do see Sebastian for the first time later that evening, you receive quite the shock.

The boy you knew was gone, and in his place was a man that bore his smile, and his freckles, and his eyes. (Merlin, those eyes…)

You’re a bit disappointed in yourself for even being surprised at the state of him. After all, you knew from his detailed letters that your dear friend had spent the better part of his summer break training for Quidditch tryouts in the fall, frequently flying down to the Poidsear Coast to log hours and hours at their pitch.

He’d told you all about how he would bring Anne along with him when she was feeling well enough to ride on the back of his broom. He’d convince her to release a secondhand Snitch that Albie had sold him to track down, and while he’d hunted it down, she worked diligently on the assignments your professors had set to help her prepare for her final – and most challenging – year at school.

Just last week he’d even written to tell you that he’d never felt more confident on a broom, and that if he only got to have one last season on your house team before leaving school, he was determined to make the absolute most of it.

You knew all of this, and yet when you first see him in the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, you nearly swoon like a Muggle schoolgirl at the sight of him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s grown taller. Even seated next to Anne at the Slytherin table, you can see his entire head above the gaggle of third-years seated across the table while you can barely make out the top of his sister’s. Sebastian had never seemed that much bigger than his twin before, but evidently things had changed in the past few months.

Then, you notice that his complexion has changed as well. He’s become deeply tan from spending all summer training in the sun, and the collar of his button-down uniform shirt suddenly looks so brightly white against his sun-kissed face.

His freckles, too – there are so many more. But that could also just be because there’s simply more Sebastian now. His shoulders are broader, his chest wider, and even his hair has grown long enough for him to brush upwards into a less haphazard style that he’d previously worn (though certainly not as severe as Ominis’ quiff).

It’s bittersweet, really… It feels as if the boyish Sebastian you’d cherished from the previous school year had quite suddenly become a grown man in just three short months, and yet you can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

As it turns out, you aren’t the only one who notices.

“Merlin’s beard,” Adelaide Oakes whispers beside you, reaching for the sleeve of your robe. “Is that Sebastian Sallow?”

Now living with her uncle Rowland south of Keenbridge, Adelaide had occasionally joined you for a drink at the Three Broomsticks during summer. You’re hardly surprised that she’d be the first to notice a fit seventh-year when one crosses your path, but the fact that she’s been nursing a crush on Sebastian since her fourth year quickly sets you on edge.

“Oh, he’s gotten so handsome,” she sighs. “Should I go say hello, d’you think?”

“N-not now,” you stammer. “Black’s going to give his remarks soon, you ought to have a seat.”

Adelaide pouts dramatically as you nudge her toward the Hufflepuff table. You, on the other hand, anxiously smooth out the front of your skirt and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear before joining your fellow Slytherins.

Sebastian, already engaged in conversation with one of the sixth-year boys you vaguely recognize, nods politely at you as you slide into a seat next to Ominis.

It takes you a few minutes to adjust. You’re flushed, distracted, and quiet – and based on the wary look on Anne’s face, she at least knows what’s got you so flustered.

During a lull in conversation, you manage to catch Sebastian’s eye and tell him, “You’re looking fit.”

(Perhaps naively, you hope you can simply get your simpering babble out of the way and that no one will dwell on it.)

“Am I?” he asks with an easy smile. “I suppose I have done a better job with my hair this time, d’you reckon?”

“I mean physically,” you insist, chuckling a bit nervously. “You’ve put on so much muscle that I nearly mistook you for one of the Beaters for the Magpies.”

Beside you, Ominis snorts skeptically. You knock your ankle against his, hard.

“Funny, but Sebastian could never be a Beater,” Anne calmly interjects. “He’s too much of a show-off to be anything but a Seeker.”

Sebastian grins as if there’s no point in denying it, but he nevertheless insists, “I’ll be whatever the team needs me to be. I practiced for all four positions this summer, so wherever they want to slot me in is fine.”

Further down the table, Violet McDowell perks up, peering over her shoulder with a smirk.

“Silly Sebastian,” she calls out, leaning provocatively across the table. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are many more positions than just those four?”

Your entire end of the table bursts into laughter while Sebastian simply flashes a charming smile. For a moment you strongly consider using your ancient magic to hurl one of the tureens of mashed potatoes in front of you at Violet’s head.

“Perhaps I could show you sometime,” she nearly purrs, and Sebastian blushes.

(Maybe you could simply toss her out into the courtyard, you think.)

“Is this how it’s going to be this year?” Anne sighs. “When I left, Sebastian was just an awkward, specky boy who liked to hang out in the library at all hours, and now all the girls are practically lusting after him.”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Ominis murmurs. “His head was big enough before he became attractive.”

“Well, I think it’s excellent,” Sebastian laughs. “It’s about time everyone realized that I’m the perfect man, and all it took was a bit of extra Quidditch practice and one last growth spurt.”

“‘All it took,’ bloody hell,” Anne mumbles at the same time Ominis exclaims, “Did he just say ‘the perfect man?!’”

While both his sister and best friend take turns putting dents in his inflated ego, Sebastian happily takes it in stride. In fact, when he finally catches you not-so-subtly staring at the sharp line of his jaw, he sneaks a wink at you from across the table.

Sebastian makes a mental note of the fact that you immediately go red.

After dinner, Sebastian offers Anne his arm as the four of you make your way back to the Slytherin common room. To his chagrin, Anne seems all too happy to take Ominis’ arm instead, leaving Sebastian to walk alongside you as you climb down toward the dungeons.

“Bit annoying, that,” he grumbles as you walk. “I’ve only been looking after her all summer, haven’t I? But no, she wants to walk with Ominis.”

You laugh kindly as you loop your own arm through Sebastian’s.

“You’ve been breathing down Anne’s neck all summer, I’m sure,” you tease him. “If I were her, I’d be thrilled to have a bit of personal space.”

“Is that right?” he asks teasingly. “Perhaps I should let you walk yourself back to the dormitories, then, if I’m such a nuisance.”

You tighten your grip on Sebastian’s arm and he simply smirks at you.

“So, Quidditch,” you murmur as you attempt to change the subject. “You’ll be trying out for Seeker, then?”

“As I said, I’d happily play any position, but… being Seeker would be grand,” he says hopefully. “Imelda’s holding tryouts next weekend – she’ll be the captain, I expect.”

He pauses for a beat before asking, “Will you come watch the tryouts? Anne’s planning to go, and Ominis as well.”

“Of course, Bash,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Sebastian smiles softly to himself. “I forgot that you used to call me that.”

After a particularly heated round of Cross Wands during which Sebastian had destroyed a suit of armor with a crate he’d inadvertently sent flying into the air, you’d angrily told him that “Bash” would be a better nickname for him than “Seb” given his apparent talent for wanton destruction. Rather than being insulted, Sebastian had loved the idea, but you were the only one who’d stuck to the nickname for more than a day or two.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’d forgotten as well, but it just sort of… slipped out.”

“Don’t apologize,” he tells you. “I rather like it.”

“Alright, then,” you reply, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning like mad.

Ominis and Sebastian bid you and Anne goodnight at the bottom of the steps up to your dormitory. Anne claims the bed next to yours joins you at the foot of your bed once you change into your pajamas.

“You know, Sebastian asked after you quite a lot this summer,” she tells you conspiratorially once your other roommates have drawn the curtains around their beds closed for the night.

“Oh?” you whisper. “I – I wrote him letters.”

“I know,” she says smugly. “He always snuck off to read them after the owl post arrived, and then he’d smile like a fool the rest of the afternoon.”

You fidget with the edge of your bedsheet and avoid her gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”

“No particular reason,” she says innocently. “Just thought you ought to know.”

With that she returns to her bed, leaving you to lie awake staring at the ceiling, pouring over the contents of every letter you’d sent Sebastian that summer until you finally drift off to sleep.

That night you dream of weatherworn Snitches fluttering in circles over your head, green and silver sports robes stretched taut across broad shoulders, and charting constellations made of countless small freckles.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x you #quidditch!seb #quidditch fic #my fic #break a sweat

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infernumequinomin · 6 days

Text

Thinking about how when the Bad Kids asked Buddy where his friends were at the beginning of the Last Stand, he seemed confused and clarified "oh you mean my adventuring party?" And talked about Kipperlily like she was a person he'd barely gotten to know in the somewhere around 6 months they've been teamed up this year. He didn't think of them as his friends.

This just got me thinking about the shrimp party and how Buddy wasn't hanging out with Ivy and Oisin at it. He was on his own. They all went, but they didn't go together. Mary Ann didn't go at all, presumably, if Ruben went, there's a good chance that he was also in disguise. Kipperlily maybe went but wasn't there with them either. She was Busy.

I wonder if any of them think of each other as friends anymore. I wonder how irrecovably broken their friendships are at this point that they're just together to pass, and Buddy being a transfer student, just slotted in fine not knowing anyone to pass along with them. I wonder how many times they have considered if they even needed a cleric at all to begin with, anymore. He can't replace her. He doesn't even care if they're friends. They didn't need a cleric all summer, so why do they have to have one now? Better off without the dead weight. How much do we bet that Buddy, as a transfer, wasn't even officially in their party yet, and so if he died, well, no big loss?

He didn't even think they were his friends. When they asked about his friends, and he was confused, who did he think about? It sure as hell wasn't Kipperlily.

#fhjy #buddy dawn #the rat grinders

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fookinavocadosman · 1 year

Text

Let’s Hurt Tonight {HS}

It’s Harry’s birthday and Y/N has something special planned for him but will he ever find it out?

warnings: a bit fluffy but pure angst at the end

note: this is what harry’s wearing later in the chapter

word count: 3.1k

“Harry stop!” I yell through my laughs as he presses kisses and raspberries to my stomach, trying to push him away.

“Okay okay.” he stops his attack, laying his cheek on my stomach, his eyes connecting with mine as a soft smile lines his face. “I love your laugh so much,” he says to me and I feel my cheeks heating up as I cover my face with my hands.

“Stop it,” I mumble, letting a smile grace my face. We sit in silence just observing each other. Harry and I started dating a little over a year ago but we’ve known each other for years.

Let's say we're the poster children for the cliche of childhood best friends that have feelings for each other but are too scared to admit it to either one. Harry’s alarm blares bringing us out of the moment and he lets out a groan moving his face completely into my stomach.

“I don't want to go.” his voice muffled, sending vibrations up my body. I reach down and scratch at his head playing with his hair.

“I know,” I whisper back to him. He sits up turning off his alarm and turns his head to look at me. His hair is messy and his skin is glowing from the sunlight.

“I'll see you later, my love. I love you,” he whispers, leaning in and giving me a soft kiss. Kissing Harry feels amazing. Every time we kiss my body tingles with electricity and a smile never fails to break out on my face. It sounds dramatic, like something straight from a romance book or movie, but it’s true.

Harry gets ready and leaves me alone in my bed after leaving a quick kiss on my forehead. After getting acclimated without Harry I grab my phone texting Anne and Gemma to make sure everything is set for tonight.

Harry's birthday is today and I've been planning a party for him. It's hard trying to surprise him and plan things that will knock him off his feet because with just a press of a button he could have everything he ever wanted.

Perks of dating a world-famous musician I guess.

We're back in our hometown for his birthday so I've been planning with Anne and Gemma to surprise him with our friends from school and some of his more famous friends. I spend the rest of the day in bed and once I finally start feeling productive I get his present for tonight ready, it’s not big or flashy but it has meaning.

It’s a pale blue box, with one of my favorite quotes from our favorite movie to watch together. In delicate cursive, it reads, “It was no ordinary friendship. We were inseparable, constantly being separated. I’ve realized that no matter where you are or who you’re with, I will always truly, completely love you.”

When Love Rosie came out I sent it to Harry and told him he had to watch it and every time we would see each other that was the movie we watched. Maybe we loved it because it represented us but no matter the reason, it’s a huge part of our relationship. Inside it has some memorable items from our years as friends and even the start of our relationship as well as a photo album of photos of us throughout the years, family photos, selfies, candids, and even some photos of us from award shows made the cut.

I smile as I put it back under the bed and I begin to get ready for our “date”. I told Harry that I planned a special date for his birthday and we’d be going to his favorite restaurant but I needed to run over to his mum's to pick something up for after our date tonight.

As I'm doing my makeup Harry comes home knocking lightly on the bedroom door as he opens it. I turn my head over my shoulder to look at him and he sends me a smile coming up to me.

“You look, beautiful baby,” he whispers, placing a kiss on my lips. I mumble a thank you against his lips, he places his hands on my shoulders pulling away and pushing his cheek against mine. We look at each other through the mirror for a moment and he turns his head placing a kiss on my cheek before pulling away from me.

“What time is the reservation? I’m going to go take a shower,” he asks me as he gets undressed.

“8:00 but we got to stop at your mum's first so I can get something for later.” I remind him and he nods his head heading into the bathroom. I finish getting ready and text Anne asking if everything is coming out okay and she tells me to stop worrying and that she has it under control.

Harry comes out a few minutes later dressed in an opened button-down shirt that has flowers and squares on it with a white bandanna around his neck and his signature black skinny jeans. He runs his hand through his hair as he walks up to me, placing his hand on my waist and spinning me around slowly.

“You look amazing love,” he says, keeping his eyes glued onto my outfit. It's a simple black dress that hugs my body perfectly paired with red heels.

“Thanks, H, you don’t look too bad yourself.” I compliment him and a smirk begins to cross his face. He pulls me closer to him so our chests touch his hand pressing on the small of my back as mine falls onto his waist.

“What if we had my birthday dinner later this week? I don't think I want to leave,” he asks, leaning into me and I shake my head, putting my hand on his chest, and pushing him back.

“No way it was a bitch to get these reservations, later, promise,” I tell him and he groans, pulling away from me.

“Fine, let’s head out mums is about 20 minutes from here and another 20 to the restaurant,” he says and I nod, grabbing my purse and phone texting Anne that we are leaving. When we arrive Harry pulls into the driveway turning off the car.

“Come in, I'm sure your mum wants to talk for a second while I get what I need,” I tell him and he nods, opening his door. We walk to the door, his arm slung around my waist and I open the door pushing him in front of me.

“Surprise!” yelled everyone and Harry stands shocked looking between everyone and then back at me.

“You didn’t.” he smiles, turning to face me.

“I did.” I smile back at him and he lets out a breath pulling me into a hug.

“Thank you so much.” he squeezes me tight and I mumble anything for you into his shoulder. The party starts and Harry goes around greeting his friends as I deal with making drinks and catching up with other people.

A while passes and I haven’t seen Harry in a bit so I wander from the kitchen to the living room. I stop by the doorway when I hear my name, seeing Harry on the couch with a beer in his hand as he talks with some guys we went to school with as well as his band members. I lean away from the doorway so I'm out of sight.

“I still can’t believe you’re with y/n! Just imagine if that bet never took place we wouldn’t be here right now.” I recognize the voice as Michaels and I hear Harry chuckle in response.

“Yeah you’re right, I never would’ve thought I’d be here now.”

“What bet are you talking about?” Louis speaks up and I lean closer to listen. My heart beats faster as the silence is prolonged.

“At the beginning of year 9, I made a bet with Styles that he wouldn’t be able to get with the “weird girl” in our year by the end of GCSEs, and all of a sudden by the end of December they were best friends. You technically still lost though cause you never hooked up with her by the end of GCSE’s.” Michael explains and I feel my heart drop.

I back away from the doorway as my hand is placed on my mouth to cover the sharp breaths trying to escape me. I slowly place my drink on the table in the hallway as Gemma comes up to me, startled by the way I'm acting. I shake my head, heading towards the stairs going into the bathroom, and locking myself in there. I try to hold the tears back but a couple slip out as I begin to rethink everything.

I was just a bet?

I was so confused when Harry came up to me that first day and sat with me and we ate and talked and as the days passed I felt a connection with him.

Was any of it real?

A knock at the door breaks me out of my thoughts and I hear Harry asking if I'm alright. I sniffled a bit, wiping my eyes and face clean of the tears and I put on a smile opening the door.

“Yeah I'm fine, just felt a bit ill for a second but I'm okay now.” I smile at him and he looks me up and down trying to read me. I keep my fake smile plastered on my face and he finally nods leaning in to kiss my cheek. I push in front of him and his lips skim my cheek making an excuse that I have to go back down to the party and help Anne with something. I make my way to the kitchen. With each step, I feel my heart crumble a bit more.

“Hey Anne, can I ask you a question?” I lean against the counter close to her and she turns to face me, her contagious smile beaming.

“Of course my love, anything at all!”

“What are you supposed to do when you find out someone close to you has been lying about something for a long time?” she stops cutting the food she was preparing, places the knife down, and turns to me.

“You found out didn’t you love?” she asks me and the last bit of my heart that was standing crumbles.

“You knew?” my voice cracks as my eyes well up with tears.

“I did sweetie. He was talking to one of his friends about it around the beginning of it and I gave him a lecture and told him to tell you immediately but he refused to say anything because he didn’t want to risk losing you. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way sweetheart.” Anne explains and I drop my head letting my tears fall.

“Oh come here love.” she pulls me into her chest and I let the sobs rip out of my chest.

“Why?” I ask. I know she doesn’t have an answer and she just holds me closer.

“What’s going on?” I hear Harry and soon feel his arms on my shoulders and I immediately tense.

“She's not feeling well at all honey, I think you should take her back home.” Anne saves me from talking and I hear him mutter an okay telling his mum to tell everyone we're sorry for leaving early as he pulls me out of her grip heading for the door. He gets me in the car and I keep sobbing as he tries to comfort me but it’s not comforting me.

It's hurting me.

He eventually gets me back into our room and I just sit on the bed as he kneels in front of me rubbing my knees as he tries to get me to talk.

“Baby you have to tell me what’s hurting or what’s wrong so I can help you.” He continues to try and help and I shake my head.

“You lied to me.” I make out in between sobs and I feel his hands tense on my thighs. “You lied to me about everything.” I lift my head from my lap making eye contact with him and he shakes his head.

“No baby I didn’t lie to you my love.” he tries to defend himself and I remove his hands from me as I stand up from the bed.

“Stop lying to me!” I scream pointing at him as I walk away from him leaving just the bed between us.

“What have I been lying to you about? Please tell me!” he raises his voice and I throw my hand up pointing between us.

“Everything! The reason why you even became friends with me! It wasn’t because you thought I was interesting or “cool” it was because of a fucking bet!” I tell him and his face drops.

“How do you know about that?” he asks me and I let out a bitter laugh.

“I went to go find you and heard you talking to Michael and when I went upstairs I assume Gemma sent you because she passed by me as I was holding back fucking tears and after I found your mum she just confirmed everything that was said and that’s when you walked in.” I ramble, the tears starting to dry, my sadness slowly being replaced by anger.

“You have to know as soon as we started becoming better friends I called off the bet! Michael didn’t accept it but it wasn’t a bet to me anymore I promise!” Harry runs his hand through his hair, tears starting to well up in his eyes and I lose it.

“No! You don’t get to fucking cry Harry!” “You have been with me countless times when guys were only with me to fucking use me! You were there picking up the pieces and you never once fucking thought to come clean with me! Our entire friendship was built on the fucking fact that you were just making your way up the ladder to sleep with me!” I scream at him as I take a deep breath.

“Sure I would’ve been fucking mad at you in the beginning but maybe I would’ve gotten over it real quick right now I don’t think I can because all I can think about is if any of this is real!”

“It is real! I promise y/n! I will call Michael right now and have him tell you exactly what I told him when I called it off, everything has been real I swear!” he continues to try to explain but I let out a sad chuckle shaking my head.

“Your promises don’t mean anything because I don’t trust you, Harry,” I whisper his eyes connect to mine and his tears begin to fall.

“Please y/n how can I make it up to you? I will do anything to fix this. Please.” he begs me and I shrug my shoulders.

“I don’t know if you can fix this, Harry.” I whisper and he begins to walk towards me but I hold my hand up stopping him. “I’m going to go change just please leave me alone,'' I tell him and he nods his head.

I walk into the bathroom after grabbing a pair of pajamas and let the tears fall freely as I wipe away the ruined makeup and think back to all the memories in the front of my head. When I walk out he’s still in his clothes sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. I clear my throat and his head shoots towards me as he stands up.

“Your birthday present is under the bed. I'm going to the guest room. Happy birthday Harry.” I send him a small smile, grabbing my phone and leaving the room as he stands still watching me walk out the door. I lay in the guest bedroom letting myself cry until I couldn’t anymore.

As my eyes closed and the sun rose, the light from the sun shone through the cracks, but not the cracks of the window, the cracks in the darkness of my heart.

The cracks he made.

the

Harry’s POV:

I stand frozen as she walks out of our room. My heart seizes with every step she takes farther from me. It was never meant to go this far. It was a stupid fucking bet that meant absolutely nothing to me once we became friends. I drop down onto my knees lifting the duvet, seeing a pale blue box tucked carefully under the bed.

I pull it towards me sitting back on my knees as I admire her handwriting on the box. “It was no ordinary friendship. We were inseparable, constantly being separated. I’ve realized that no matter where you are or who you’re with, I will always truly, completely love you.”

My heart drops more as I open the box and look through all the mementos and photos of us throughout the years. I’ve royally fucked up big time. That night I slept on the floor of our bedroom, feeling the guilt of my actions coursing through my body.

I spent all day trying to figure out if there was anything I could do to fix the wounds I'd made but nothing seemed to work. There's a light knock on the bedroom door and when I look up I see y/n walking through.

“We need to talk,” she says, shutting the door behind her. Her cheeks are puffy, her eyes are red and swollen, and she’s been tearing herself apart. It hurts even worse knowing I'm the reason for her pain.

“I don't know what I want anymore Harry. I need space and time to think things through.” She speaks up, ripping off the bandaid of where our relationship stands. My heart crumbles just a little more but I nod my head because this is her decision and I'm not going to fight her.

“I’m going to go stay at my mum’s for a little bit, once I get through all these fucking thoughts in my head and can tell you what I want I’ll come back, but right now, I can’t be here, I can’t be with you.” her voice wobbles and my throat tightens as tears well in my eyes.

I nod my head once again, unable to form words. She packs her bags and by nightfall, she is ready to leave. I follow her downstairs and once she makes it to the front door I stand frozen at the bottom of the staircase.

“y/n.” I speak up and she looks up at me, her grip tightening on her suitcase.

“Please take your time. Don’t worry about me, make the decision for yourself. I will support whatever you decide.” I tell her and she nods her head giving me one last look before she walks out of the door.

And just like that the moon split in half and the stars crumbled, falling like fireworks into the sea, I watched my world fall apart the day my love left me.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles and y/n #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #prince hair harry

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