#she deserves the entire universe and then some

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

⋆*·ﾟIf only for a little while... misa x putellas!reader

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all you want is for the time to stop and for you to stay and spend this slow morning in the bubble you created with the woman next to you. but fear fills you when you realise what that means.

or; part of the as the flowers bloom, my heart does too universe (can be read as standalone). requested.

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A soft breeze from the window you'd opened the night before made the curtains dance. The summers in Barcelona could be relentless, and since you'd been sharing the bed with someone this night, that added body heat had made your bed a whirlpool of lava. White noise of the city waking up and starting their commute to work filled your ears. You stretched your limbs and crooned, not having had such a nice sleep in quite some time. The sun was directly casted on your bedroom window, the curtains only slightly keeping its rays at bay as the rest casted on the vase with flowers from your unknown admirer on your windowsill. You looked to your side, where Misa rested, deeply nestled into the covers, hand tightly curling them against her chest. Misa had the most relaxed look on her face. She was still far gone, hopefully having as good a sleep as you'd just woken up from.

Your eyes raked over her sleeping form, watched how she puffed out quiet breaths, how she looked as peaceful as she made you feel whenever she so much as looked at you. You turned on your side, to face her better, leg popping out under the duvet, away from the heat, as you rested your forehead against hers. You closed your eyes again, hoping that sleep would take you once more, wanting nothing more but to fall asleep next to her again. You were already addicted to how it felt.

It wasn't enough. You wanted her arms around you, her comforting touch, her soft eyes telling you that you were her entire world, that you could take the leap and she'd catch you, her voice lulling you to sleep with her promises and confirmations. But Misa deserved the rest after the hectic month she'd had. So you stayed put, careful not to wake her, patiently waiting for sleep to take you or for her to wake up. You deemed it pathetic how much you could miss her when she was literally right here, next to you, or when she wasn't even yours to miss to begin with. She was puffing out air from her nose onto your cheek, a tangible reminder that she was alive and well and not going anywhere.

A group of children laughed below your window, no doubt on their way to school. Next you heard two cars honk at each other, and one of the neighbours on your block threw their door shut with a loud bang. Still, it seemed that none of the outside noises could wake Misa from her deep slumber. The realisation made the corners of your lip turn upwards into a sleepy smile. You looked at the woman, so blissfully unaware of time passing around her. You wondered if she knew you'd stopped the time for her as well.

You shimmied down, dipping the bed and rustling the covers as you tried to find a more comfortable position, realising you'd be here for a while if Misa was so far away. You dared to nuzzle into her warm chest, cocooning yourself underneath her arm as the linen covers got pulled up to your knees. You knew she was a deep sleeper if she hadn’t woken you up by tugging back the covers you’d stolen during the night, so you dared to pull her against you. You covered her sleeping form, further tucking her in.

With the constant rising and falling of her chest against your cheek and your body dipping away into the mattress, you swore you were on cloud nine. This. This was what you'd dreamed of as the hopeless romantic you thought you would be when you would find your one epic love. This feeling was what you had waited to feel during the three relationships you'd had in your life, your first one finding you at age eighteen.

She had been kind. Pretty. Very caring, too. She was similar to you, and perhaps that was why you liked her. You'd lost your virginity to the girl, and even to this day, it wasn't something you felt uncomfortable about when being reminded of it. She'd been a good person. You had been in love, or so you thought, when you'd heard one of your friends talk about her boyfriend, realising you never quite felt your love for her that deep. There was sexual attraction and you cared for her, sure, but if she was the one, surely you would feel a little more euphoric whenever she looked your way, right? It didn't bring out the hopeless romantic in you, but perhaps you just didn't have that side to you after all, you'd thought. She was good to you and you had the most of fun with her, always giggling whenever you were with her. But there was always something missing. The fireworks had quickly dwindled after that realisation and you had both agreed that a friendship was more in order. But you had lost contact when she had changed her major and switched colleges, your only point of contact now from likes on each other's Instagram posts. Still, you were thankful that your first relationship hadn't ended in a screaming match. At least that was something.

Then at twenty-two, there'd been your second love. A thirty year old woman, something that definitely had taken away some of Alexia's life the moment you told her, because someone older than her wasn't meant to date her youngest sister. She was easygoing. Very considerate and caring, almost like an older sister would be. She'd guided you through the insecurities and worries you had as a young adult and her maturity had grounded you and pulled you to her like an anchor. But she always wanted you to talk and open up, saying that communicating was healthy, not realising that you weren't one to easily share what was on your mind. So she pushed and pulled the thoughts out of you before you were ready and didn't give you the time to give your heart some seconds to feel before you could properly express yourself. You hated how she could dominate you that way, how she enjoyed being the older one, knowing she used her age as a reason to have the last word. As soon as you had unsurely voiced your interest in her after she had guilted you into admitting them, saying that surely you would feel something for her after all your talking, she'd staked her claim. But your heart wasn't in it anymore with the way things had gone, and you hated yourself for knowing you'd let yourself get talked into things. And so you distanced yourself, pulled back, slowly but surely. Not picking up calls and rescheduling meet ups. You hated yourself for it, but knew that she would not take it lightly if you would just tell her you weren't interested in her anymore. She'd probably want to talk about it again, thoroughly, and that was something you wanted even less. She'd stressed countless times before that she felt time was running out for her, that she wanted her happy-ever-after, her white-picket-fence kind of life with a few pets and a baby. You didn't know why in the world she'd let herself fall for you, at twenty-two, when she wanted all those things she also knew you couldn't give her yet. So what did you really have to offer her? She had never faulted you for your age, not when it wasn't to her advantage anyway, but you felt the imbalance nonetheless. She wanted things, preferably within the next year or two, while you were far from ready to settle down like that. She had a steady job, an income, her own home and a car. She had her shit together, while you didn't even know what you would be doing tomorrow. That stark contrast scared you off. You weren't on the same page of life, and you knew that. You knew she knew too, even if she refused to acknowledge it. After she realised you were pulling away, she'd blamed you for only using her for her wisdom and guidance, for not letting her stick around to see you blossom into the woman you were becoming, for taking up her time for nothing when she could've been with the guy that had pursued her and she'd denied for you. She was right. You could see how it looked from her perspective, but at least you were free again. Besides, apparently your relationship hadn't been too serious to her anyway, seeing as she ended up with the same guy a week later. It didn't even hurt you when you saw the pregnancy post two months later when you looked her up again.

Then came a time of enjoying your last few months of university, something that once again took away some of Alexia's lifespan. You'd let go entirely, having been scared off by the prospect of adult life from the relationship you had just escaped from. Soon you would have to work for the rest of your life, be responsible, stick to social norms, find yourself a partner to settle down with until your last breath. The lack of freedom that seemed to come with scared the living shit out of you. So, you went out whenever you could. Kissed whoever took your breath away. You needed to know what was out there, what you could get, what you liked and disliked, before you could let yourself decide what you wanted for the rest of your life so that you would not use up precious time and energy from someone again. You tried to keep this from your family as best as you could, knowing they would worry or disapprove. Especially Alexia, who'd never had these kind of young-adult worries. She had her football, her one big love, something to focus on. What happened along the way, she would figure out if it came to it. She'd always been level-headed. That had never been you. You envied her for her tranquility, resilience and perseverance. But you knew you would never be like her, so you had given up trying.

It was through that exploring that you found her. And oh, how you wished you could rewind time and stop you from all the horrible decisions that followed. But that was life, wasn't it? Teaching you its lessons in the harshest ways.

You'd fallen, hard, and it made bile form in your throat even now, years later. She was everything you'd ever dreamed of. Attentive, controlling, loyal and ever-present if you needed her, possessive, kind, only when things went her way, always giving you things and taking care of you, to persuade you to stay, doing everything for you, to make sure you were dependent on her, and spending all her time with you, so that you would not be with your friends and family. She looked like a doting and generous girlfriend, who was clearly head over heels for you. Which she really was, in her own fucked up way. She had you fooled. Hell, she even had your family fooled, and that was serious. But how would they know you weren't happy when you barely saw them? When they thought that was the case because you were so in love that you had only eyes for your girlfriend and not because she'd guilted you into not leaving her alone?

Time passed and while that honeymoon-phase was still there, things slowly turned normal. The more comfortable you got around her, the more you thought she'd love and respect everything about you. That wasn't the case. She didn't like the normalcy of you going out with your friends or sisters, supporting Alexia whenever you could, visiting your mum or uncle. She didn't like that you seemed to take everything for granted now, as she'd said. Her words had surprised you at first. You thought she wouldn't mind you having a life beside her because you would come home to her, talk to her while giggling about the adventures you'd gotten up to, cook dinner for her, wind down and spend the night loving her. You thought she wouldn't need the constant reminder that you loved her, because you were there, you were hers. But she grew hostile after not seeing your commitment the way she wanted. She'd guilt you into things, brought up all the things she'd done for you and made you realise that yes, she had done more for you than you for her, if you looked at it in the transactional way. She soon crossed all your boundaries with her words and persistence, and it had tired you out mentally. You loved her, but not this side to her. She had been so good to you, and she still had her good days. You’d even convinced yourself you could fix her, heal your relationship to go back to how it was, that maybe you had been a little inattentive to her, after all. It had been your first genuinely long relationship, maybe you were just clueless and she was right for telling you what she needed. Because communication was key, right? And you knew it hadn't been your strongest skill in your last relationship either. But then she'd say those things again, filling you with the insecurity that it was your fault. She'd made it sound like you would never find anyone willing to put up with you. That you didn't have it in you to truly love, but that she would love you anyway. You didn't want to listen to her, but when someone keeps making you feel like shit, you eventually convince yourself you start to smell like it. You didn't want to be around her anymore. You didn't want to make love to someone who had made you cry mere minutes before, and she'd let you feel how she felt about being denied like that.

The last straw had been when she'd claimed you on the one day that was reserved for you and your family. You'd cried big silent tears all the way to your date, clutching the bracelet with dolphin and daisy charms your father had given you years ago. The bracelet she still had, by the way, but you wouldn't dare tell your sisters that, wanting them to live their life outside of prison walls. She'd made you feel guilty that those tears were even falling after she reminded you that she was doing this because of that day, telling you how ungrateful you were of her gesture to be there for you during dark times. She'd faulted you for not letting her in again, something that had quickly become one of your biggest insecurities. It was when your phone had lit up with your sister's name, probably worrying what was taking you so long, that you absolutely broke. You'd secretly accepted the call, knowing she would hate it if you would let your sisters invade the time she wanted with you. Alexia had grown incredibly worried by the sobs and mumbles she couldn't make anything of, her body growing rigid with anger when she heard her. Or her words, more like. Words directed towards you, words that broke you to your very core, words that you were crying your young heart out about, words that had made Alexia tear up herself in anger, sorrow and guilt. You, her little sister, the person she was supposed to protect from all the bad things in the world, especially after your father hadn't been there anymore. She'd hated herself for not realising she'd let you live with the devil all this time.

"Hey, sssh,"

You felt the warm pad of a thumb brush against your cheek. Your watery eyes looked up at Misa's warm ones, squinting into the light, but willing herself to open them further because of her worry for you. You realised you were clutching her shirt and that it had woken her up.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," You reared back and sat up against the headboard, quickly wiping your tears away. Ignoring Misa's worried eyes, you glanced at the chipped doorpost of your bedroom, remembering the story behind it. The story that had occurred on the same day where your daydream had just ended. Alexia's eyes would still flit to it each time she would walk into your room, that same guilt eating her up all over again.

"Y/N-" Misa was awake within the flick of a finger, sitting herself up and leaning forward to hold you. Then she halted. She knew the relationship you'd had with your ex, had seen you flinch the first time she'd wanted to hug you when she'd seen you cry on that curb. But that was then, weeks ago. Now, well, she was in your bed now... so she closed the gap, sensing you trusted her enough to do so.

Her cheek immediately rested against your messy hair when you buried yourself into her safe embrace. You should've felt better, but you felt fear eat you up. It terrified you to no end that you were starting to like someone so hard and so fast again, that you were letting her in faster than you'd ever had someone. This wasn't your usual... letting someone sleep in your bed and actually sleeping in it. And only sleeping in it. Together. In each other's arms. Waking up together, even. No kisses and no shy touches. Just... together. But Misa was different, you'd felt that from the start, so you knew you needed a different approach altogether. You needed to change something. Heck, you needed to change too and not let yourself be driven by fear and insecurity originating from obstacles of the past. Still, you knew a lot more needed to be done before that dark cloud looming above you would blow over.

Her arm pulled you closer, squeezed you against her, her warm lips grazing kisses against your hair. Whatever it was that had turned you so miserable, she hated how she had woken up after the damage had been done. That she hadn't been able to distract the thoughts from developing the second she'd see them appear in your eyes. She'd caught you turning quiet on numerous occasions now, usually whenever she was getting a step closer to getting to know you, a step closer to you letting her in. You had opened up to her about your situation, as you'd called it, as soon as you'd realised were things might be going, not wanting to disappoint Misa out of nowhere should you get the need to run. She didn't know everything about you yet, but she did know that whatever you thought was wrong with you, had been put in your head by someone else. It worried her, how she saw you downward spiral whenever you let your heart lead. And she knew this might be too good to be true, to have you in her arms right now and to think that she could have you in them forever. Which was why she cherished it even more. You were hurting, had scars on your heart. She couldn't blame you for distrusting love after never having truly experienced the good kind of love, the kind she could show you. But she would forever blame herself if she didn't wait for you to be ready to let her.

Admittedly, you were already comforted by the subtle scent of her perfume that had stuck to the shirt you'd given her to wear. You'd gotten it a few years ago while accepting a big burger challenge on a dare with your childhood best friend in some questionable joint downtown. Obviously, you'd failed, but they'd given you the shirt anyway after you'd gotten sick in their bathroom. You used to do stupid things like that, but you had been young, fuelled by heartbreak, the need to live with no regrets and by the stupidity of your other half, Abril, who had been one of the best additions to your life ever since kindergarten. You took in a sharp breath, realising that this moment, this entire thing you had going on, could very well be added to the that list of stupid things. You'd promised yourself never to lead someone on again, to not take their time only to pull away eventually. Still, this was Misa. She wasn't just some college fling or pretty face in a club you wanted to kiss.

You felt your heartbeat pick up when she let out a content sigh. This was Misa, you told yourself again, who was giving you all these feelings you had never felt in any of your past relationships. And to top it all off, she was making you feel like this and you weren't even together. Perhaps you needed to stop it before you would truly be deeply in love only for something to make the tables turn and have you want to undo this mistake as well. But Misa could never be a mistake in your eyes. You were. You'd known that from the countless of times you'd been told those three words. But your last ex didn't have to say that you were when you'd come to that conclusion all by yourself after realising what that gnawing worrying feeling in the pit of your stomach was. Love wasn't meant for you, or rather, you weren't deserving of it. Where you were a mistake, Misa was so so so right. She deserved better than the train wreck you were.

"You've got me." She mumbled against your head, sensing you weren't ready to tell her the reason behind your tears, and she was okay with that. It was a boundary you'd set and she respected. You would tell her if you wanted, and if you didn't, she'd find other ways to make you smile again, "I'm here, I've got you."

You sighed against her. Of course she wouldn't pry, wouldn't push you to communicate when you needed to come to terms with your feelings first. And of course, she would be here in your bed just to be with you, without expecting anything else from you or trying to pry your shirt off you with innocent arguments and pleas.

You let yourself go, willed your fears away and let your heart roar. Maybe you could be selfish and think you deserved her love, even if it was only for a little while.

She pulled you to lie back down, gently placing the linen covers over your body, making sure you were comfortable. Her hands rested above your waist over the sheets, her drowsy eyes making your stomach flutter with the utter delicacy of how she looked at you. She didn't say a word, not knowing if you even wanted her to continue to comfort you or if you wanted to forget about it as quickly as you could. So, you grabbed her hand, your thumb grazing over the valleys and hills of her knuckles before you placed a kiss on them.

"I slept really nice."

Misa smiled, adorably, as she finally seemed to properly wake up.

"Me too," She cleared her throat, growing uneasy by the flutters of her stomach as you kept looking up at her through your eyelashes. She'd never come across a woman who was as gorgeous on the outside as she was on the inside, but the proof that they really existed was resting in her arms. It hurt her that much more how you couldn't see how special you really were. How one of a kind you, Y/N Putellas, were.

"Thank you. For letting me stay."

You hid the yawn that crept up behind the covers, "I think that by now, I have more to thank you for." You quipped, that iresistible teasing glint to your eyes reappearing. She loved how you could entice her so quickly, know just how to look at her or what to say to tease her, then pull back just as quickly as if it was only normal to you. She'd been surprised by it at first, having only known your sister who was generally speaking usually more awkward than suave. Still, you were also related to Alba, so that probably explained it.

"Not really," Misa replied and lovingly tapped your nose, watching you scrunch it, "That was just me being a decent human being."

She watched as your grin disappeared, being reminded by the lack of such decency around you that had made you so foreign to being treated right.

A dog barked, people chatted, a tram whizzed by through the street. These sounds had been here ever since you had rented it when you landed your first job after uni. They had accompanied many a lonely night, been background noise to your crying and had lulled you to a slumber after an argument had left you panicking. You were so thankful that your friends had kept the place sacred by visiting almost every day, the memories with them outshining those bad ones. Knowing them, they'd done so with clear intention. It was exactly why you loved them with your entire being.

You swallowed, voice wobbling, "I should keep you around then."

You meant it, you did, you just couldn't help but see the irony in going against the fear that had just yelled at you from inside the moment the words had left your mouth. You were sure the angel on your shoulder was currently sticking her tongue out at the sulking devil on the other side.

Misa saw the conflict, "Well, I'm here if you want me around."

Her promise, one without any buts or ifs, without needing anything in return, made you let go again. At least, for now. At least for a little while.

"I want you to stay today."

She brushed your tousled bed hair out of your face, the simple gesture visibly making you calm down. She wanted to cling to you and never let go, but knew she had to stick to the promise she'd made herself— to let you set the pace.

"Then I will."

She reciprocated the adorable grin that made your face turn into one of pure childlike glee.

"Yeah?" It was pathetic, but you needed her to say it again, to hear her promise and to have it hit you in the heart. Perhaps if it heard Misa's promises often, it would thaw and finally let you love her.

"I promise."

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songs:

something better - sofia camara

heart of gold - griff

you're here that's the thing - beabadoobee

ceilings - lizzy mcalpine

#aaaand after this they got the flu (for those of you who follow the smau lol) #misa rodriguez x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics

[vettelsvee]

SO... YOU'RE LEAVING? | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | history series masterlist | season 1

history series season 2: part 1 | part 2.1 | part 2.2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

summary: diana is about to finish her third year of university, which means that she has to say goodbye to seb for now... especially after she realizes that yes, she might be in love with red bull's golden boy

word count: 4319

warnings: not actually! first seb and di "date", and last chapter with them just being the happy friends they seemed to be. pay attention to future chapters' trigger warnings because there will be many of them that might be hard to read for some of you

taglist: [@theseerbetweenus @annewithaneofthegreengable @vincentvanshoe @formulaonebuff @roisinivy] if you wanna be tagged in each part just tell me in the comments <3

a/n: the best is about to come omg. i'm so happy and so scared at the same time because the next two chapters are gonna be THE ONES (everything is going to hell)

feedback, as well as reblogs and comments, are truly appreciated!

2009

Spanish Grand Prix Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya, Spain

May 9th Saturday

It was Friday, the day of free practice sessions, and the circuit in Montmeló was bustling with activity.

Diana was in one of the quieter corners of the paddock, near a catering area. The table in front of her was cluttered with textbooks, notes and an open laptop displaying several documents, all filled with complex formulas that would be completely indecipherable to anyone without at least some knowledge of Mechanical Engineering even for the blonde-haired girl, who was already halfway through her university studies and, unfortunately, becoming increasingly demotivated.

Amidst the mix of noises from fans, journalists and engines, Wagner was engrossed in trying to review all the content she had learned since March. She was tackling problems that seemed to make no sense while taking small sips of her iced coffee, lovingly prepared by the girl who was serving her. Valentina, she thought her name tag said.

The morning progressed, so did her study session. The girl hadn't noticed, but when she did, it was already two-thirty in the afternoon. The pain in her head was so intense that she just wanted to stop and take a well-deserved break. Her ambition, however, made her want to keep her head down and push through to ensure that the results were better than they already were.

Sebastian, after finishing the first free practice session, wasted no time in rushing out as soon as he stepped out of his vehicle. Still in his racing suit and his helmet resting under his arm, the German headed out for a walk, hoping to grab something to eat that didn't involve vegetables without his trainer, Edward, catching him red-handed.

He just wanted to clear his head before the second practice session, but his mind played against him again as he spotted a familiar figure.

The Red Bull Racing intern was sitting at a slightly secluded table. Her blonde hair, slightly tousled, fell over her shoulders, while her gaze was absorbed by the screen of a laptop, although occasionally she would glance down at some papers in front of her, covering the entire surface.

Sebastian knew Diana had been studying hard for weeks, but things seemed to have gotten worse. They had spent a lot of time together for Sebastian to know perfectly well that Diana Wagner was the epitome of academic excellence and perfection. She studied on every flight and free hour she had, regardless of where she was, who she was with, and what noise surrounded her. Every time she had a gap, she used it to get ahead with her studies or any work assigned to her due to her "job" situation.

The boy was afraid to approach the girl because he didn't want to bother her, but much to his regret, he decided to do so when he heard, from just a couple of meters behind her, her murmurs of frustration and, surely, overwhelm. After a brief greeting that startled her, making her even jump slightly in her seat, her eyes met the pilot's:

"Seb! Hey, I didn't expect to see you here."

The girl greeted him with a smile, setting her pen aside and closing her electronic device. Her eyes filled with excitement upon seeing Sebastian, who had caught her off guard: she didn't expect to see him there, especially with the second practice of the day scheduled to start in less than an hour.

"I'm doing some exercises to review all the content for the exam I have on Monday," the Austrian explained, pointing to the pile of notes on the table. "I'm a little nervous, and I'm studying everything in Catalan, so sorry if I say a word you don't understand..."

"It's tough being multilingual, isn't it?" Vettel said ironically, trying to change the subject to help the young woman forget about her studies. "You know German, English, Spanish, and, from what I can see, Catalan," he enumerated with his fingers. "Any more languages?"

"No," she quickly replied, "but I'd like to learn to speak a language you don't know so I can say things to you without you knowing what I'm saying."

After saying that, Diana quickly got up from her seat to approach her friend, taking him by the arm and kissing him on the cheek. Although it was somewhat contradictory on Sebastian's part, who hadn't been completely honest with the twenty-something, they had gotten used to this type of greeting. Sometimes desperation gnawed at him because their lips ended up so close to each other that, let's not deny it, he had been about to try to kiss her on more than one occasion.

"I don't know Spanish," the boy complained. "The only things I know are gracias, lo siento, and no."

"Perfect, although no is an universal word," Diana responded in perfect Spanish. "Anything else?"

"Te quiero," he told her with horrible pronunciation. "Is that right?"

Diana laughed, completely ignoring him as her cheeks turned a much too bright red, which, out of nowhere, had begun to embarrass her a lot. Sebastian simply lowered his gaze and regretted the last thing he had said.

He had to stop being an idiot not for Hanna or for Di, but for himself.

"I'm sure you'll do great on the exam," he resumed the previous conversation, more nervous than he had expected. "You work hard day in and day out. In fact, sometimes, more than Rocky, I hear you reciting things that make no sense."

The blonde nodded. However, a feeling of doubt and, at the same time, guilt, invaded her.

"I hope so," she replied sincerely. "The first year of university was really tough for me. I had trouble with some subjects," she confessed, "and I even had to retake exams because I failed more than I would have liked."

"And now look where you are. You don't have to worry so much about this, Di," the boy replied. "You're intelligent, and you're capable of this and much more. Trust me: everything is going to be better than you think."

Despite his reassuring words, the blonde noticed that the lack of confidence persisted in the eyes of the girl in front of him.

"When do you have exams?" the boy wanted to know. "Are you going to continue with us, or...?"

"No, not for now… I mean, not for the moment," Diana clarified before Seb could finish speaking. "I'll stay here, in Barcelona," she said with determination, although deep down, it made her sad. "I start on Monday, and with that and the final project submissions for the end of the semester, Helmut suggested that I should stay home and focus on my studies."

Sebastian nodded, understanding what the girl meant. He was relieved that she was staying in the city where she grew up but, at the same time, he was a little disheartened because he didn't know exactly how long he would see her.

Diana Wagner had become a fundamental part of his life, and although he knew they would talk every day as they had been doing since the beginning of that season, it wouldn't be the same as being able to spend physical time with her.

Although maybe it would help him to set aside his obsession and start focusing a little more on his girlfriend, whom he seemed to have neglected in his mind and feelings.

"Di, seriously, you shouldn't worry so much," the blonde insisted again with a smile. "I've been seeing you study more and more, especially in recent weeks."

"That's what I told you before, Seb. I don't want to fail again. I can't disappoint my father..."

Sebastian could hear how his friend's voice trembled after mentioning the man who gave her life. He didn't know if it was exhaustion, overwhelm, or how undervalued she felt in those moments: Vettel had no doubt that Diana was on the verge of a mental breakdown and needed to get out of the loop of physics, mathematics, and engineering as soon as possible.

He hated that Diana was so insecure. If only she knew her worth...

"We all have tough times, Di, but that doesn't define who we are, what we're capable of, and certainly not our worth as a person," he tried to clarify, putting his hands on her shoulders as he looked her in the eyes.

The blonde smiled gratefully at him, although she still carried that persistent concern on her shoulders. Studying was the only thing she had had under control in her life, but her desire to give up was growing stronger when she had to face an increase in the difficulty of the material and the multiple rejections she received for being a woman trying to live a "man's life."

"Why don't you leave this for a while, and we go for lunch?" Seb suddenly suggested.

Diana glanced at the makeshift library that had been created on the metal table, not entirely sure of what she should do.

"I'm not sure if it's the best idea, Seb. I have so much to study and review..."

Sebastian, however, wasn't going to take no for an answer: carefully, he began to tidy up the chaos the girl had created, trying to organize the neatly numbered notes and the books, as if they were treasures.

"Your studies can wait a bit," he muttered as he dismantled all the mess. "A meal with me, before Free Practice 2, can't."

"Okay, Seb. You win again."

The driver smiled triumphantly and immediately tried to pack Diana's belongings as best as he could into his backpack. Then, he extended his hand to her, which she gladly took, and they headed towards one of the nearby restaurants.

In the end, lack of time consumed them, so they ended up sharing a salad in the Red Bull hospitality area. Although it was filled with a positive and welcoming atmosphere, the somewhat curious looks focused on them bothered them, especially Sebastian, who knew they were already speculating in their heads about whether he had ended his relationship with his girlfriend.

Couldn't a boy and a girl just be friends?

"I've been watching Formula 1 since I can remember. My favorite has always been, and will be, Michael. I hope he returns someday."

The blonde took a sip of her water bottle and smiled nostalgically. To her surprise, she ended up telling the German more than she had intended, and she had given a much longer account than she had time for about her parents, her sister, and the majority of her family members who, luckily, no longer seemed to be.

"My mother died when I was 14," Wagner recounted carefully as she remembered the image of her deceased mother. "It was a very difficult time for our family, so my father suddenly decided that moving to Spain was the best thing to start over and distance ourselves from the pain."

Sebastian didn't know what to say. He had a lump in his throat, and all he wanted to do was run away from there.

"I'm sorry, Di."

"No, don't be," she replied kindly, swallowing back the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. "It was a complicated time, and my relationship with my father changed a lot after that. We had a hard time moving forward," she continued, "but I'm almost ready to leave home."

Immediately, Diana regretted what she had said, even though that was all she wanted. She couldn't think that way, especially when her father was in a rather delicate state of health, and her sister was just a teenager who still had a lot to learn.

The conversation continued, and Sebastian tried to avoid those delicate topics for the girl. Quickly, he asked Di about her likes: he found out that she was a big fan of Spider-Man and of comics and superhero movies in general. She loved food, although most of the times she had to control herself because, otherwise, her weight would skyrocket at lightning speed. He also told her a little about his family and how the adoption of Lara went, whose biological parents gave her up for adoption because they were just teenagers who had made the mistake of conceiving her.

They didn't have time for much more because Britta, twenty minutes later, appeared, demanding Seb's presence in the garage at the request of Rocky and Christian. Diana ended up staying there, finishing what was left of her plate, and she bid the boy farewell cheerfully, wishing him luck.

An hour later, Diana, who was with some mechanics discussing some improvements to the car of the number 5 driver, saw Vettel appear, a little tired, immediately heading towards his engineer while wiping the sweat from his forehead. She decided to approach him as soon as he finished talking to the Frenchman; his fatigue seemed to still be present, and from what she could see, he had already drunk almost three small bottles of water and a bit of isotonic drink.

"I think I'm going to go home now," she began to say, knowing that the young man wouldn't mind in the slightest. "I need to rest for tomorrow, and you should be doing the same."

She knew that if she told him that as soon as she opened the door of her house, she was going to go to her bedroom to continue studying, he wouldn't leave her alone. A little white lie didn't hurt anyone.

After all, everyone lied, right?

Sebastian looked at her, slightly frowning. He could boast of knowing their facial expressions and reactions quite well, and he knew perfectly well that what she was saying might not be as true as she made herself believe.

"Di... I know you're worried about university, but you also need to relax and rest. We could go for a walk, if you want."

"I don't want Rocky or Britta to get mad at you for seeing you leave when you should be focusing on tomorrow's qualifying," the blonde stated. "We have to be responsible, but..."

"But what, Diana?"

Little by little, the German approached Wagner, who began to tense up for no reason. She knew that Seb was right: her obsession with studying had been increasing lately, and maybe she needed a little break.

"Don't worry about them, Di," Vettel continued, gently caressing the girl's shoulder. "I'll take care of them later. Now it's our turn to relax a bit and forget about everything. We deserve it."

The afternoon passed peacefully but, to the surprise of both young people, much faster than they thought. They enjoyed the warm sound of the Catalan capital and its overwhelming atmosphere. Although Diana was uneasy during the first few hours and felt guilty for enjoying herself and not studying, she gradually let herself be carried away by the German, realizing that she needed to disconnect from everything, even beyond her studies, more than she initially thought.

They started by strolling through some of the city's most renowned streets, not forgetting to take a look at the Sagrada Familia and stopping to enjoy the ice creams from one of the girl's favorite places, which the driver insisted on paying for. While they enjoyed the refreshing taste of mint and the sweetness of chocolate, they headed, at Diana's request, to a quiet park she used to go to when she needed to leave her house. Sitting on a bench, they continued the conversation they had started at noon, discovering more about each other if that was possible.

Well, except that Sebastian had been dating a girl named Hanna Prater for about three years.

By the time they realized the night was starting to get late, it was already nine o'clock. When Diana saw the hands of her watch pointing to that hour, she started to feel uneasy because she knew her sister would be home alone. She didn't want the day to end, let alone say goodbye to Sebastian, but the responsibility of acting like a mother to the youngest in the family called her.

"Seb, I think I should go back home," the young woman interrupted the moment when Vettel approached to read the menu of a restaurant even though it was written in Spanish.

The boy lifted his gaze from the sign and fixed it on the blonde, who looked somewhat uneasy.

"Don't worry, I'll accompany you," Vettel saw Diana was about to speak to refuse again, so he anticipated her, "and before you say anything, yes, I'm going to take you even if you tell me not to because my hotel is not very far away," he lied as best as he could.

Diana tried to object, still insisting that Sebastian needed to rest for the qualifying race the next day, but it was all in vain because the German was too stubborn, causing the Austrian to eventually accept.

After parking the car in a parking lot near the building where the blonde lived, Sebastian asked the girl, in a friendly tone, if he could come up to her house. Saying that he was curious to meet her family was a bit rushed, but he really wanted to know more, as much as he could, about her.

Obviously, Diana didn't refuse.

When they entered the building, they took the stairs to the second floor and, as soon as the university student opened the door, the lively sounds of Mario Kart coming from the living room started to be heard. They entered the room and saw Amelie, Diana's younger sister, immersed in a race, with Yoshi in the lead, and she kept moving the controller with enthusiasm. When she glanced at Sebastian, she immediately stopped the game, surprising her sister.

"Wow, hi, you're Sebastian!"

The mentioned nodded and greeted her back, letting the teenager continue playing the video game. With curiosity, he turned to Diana and blurted out, suddenly, where their father was.

"He's at the hospital... working," the blonde assured, trying to hide the truth as calmly as she could.

"What are you saying, sister? But if dad is..."

"He's working at the hospital, Ame! Don’t you remember?"

After the shout of reply from the older of the sisters, a kind of tension in the living room began to be palpable. Shaking her head, and trying to control her breathing while counting backward from ten, Wagner left the living room and headed to the kitchen, leaving her sister immersed in a game with the driver.

As she began to prepare dinner, and as angry as she was with her sister at that moment for almost jeopardizing her position as an intern.

Sebastian was so focused on the game that he didn't realize that the vibrations of his phone were becoming more and more frequent until a loud ringtone started to sound. He took his phone out of his pocket and, seeing who was calling, he sighed; as much as he was having a good time in the company of the Wagner sisters, he forced the girl to stop the game so he could answer it.

"Yes, Rocky?"

The driver replied a bit more gruffly than usual, but he couldn't help it: he was havinga great time in the company of the Wagner sisters for someone to ruin his party. He could see how, at the same time he headed to the hallway to speak more privately, Diana appeared at the kitchen door, with one eyebrow raised, and her hands and face covered in flour, just like the apron she was wearing.

"I need you to come back to the hotel immediately. We need to go over the strategies for the qualifying, but I didn't want to bother you because I knew you needed this day to relax."

The boy put on a rather unfriendly face when he heard his engineer speaking in plural, but he knew he was right. After exchanging a few meaningless sentences, especially about how he had spent his afternoon, he hung up and returned to the living room, where the little redhead was looking at him with quite intimidating eyes.

"What's wrong, Sebastian?" Amelie's curiosity was impossible to control.

"I have to go back to my hotel to talk to my engineer," he smiled, crouching down to be at the girl's height, sitting on the couch. "I promise that as soon as I can, I'll come back and we'll play all the games you want. And, if you want," he added, "we can convince Di to join us."

She nodded with an understanding smile despite her disappointment.

"I like that you call my sister Di," she revealed, leaving Vettel completely stunned. "I wish everyone had the affection for her that you have."

“Why do you say that?” Now, Sebastian was overtaken by curiosity.

"Because I've read with dad some really mean things people say on the internet about her."

Sebastian was intrigued by Amelie's words, and he wanted to know more about it, but he knew it wasn't the right time to delve into the subject; he would investigate it on his own. He said goodbye to the girl with a smile and headed to the kitchen, where Diana was still immersed in the preparation of a dinner that, more than that, seemed like a banquet.

"Di, I have to go. Rocky called me saying that if I'm not there in an hour, he's going to break the brakes of the car so I crash tomorrow," he joked in bad taste, causing the girl to scream at him.

"Don't say that, idiot!" she hit him on the arm forcefully. Immediately, she worried if his words were true. "Did he really say that?"

The German couldn't help but laugh. He loved Diana's innocence, and he would never stop loving her no matter what happened between them.

"Shall we meet tomorrow then so you can guide me when I realize the brakes aren't working properly?" he continued in an ironic tone to try to make the girl laugh.

"Of course, Mr. Vettel."

Diana accompanied Sebastian to the door with a kind of mixed feelings that she couldn't explain. Surprisingly, the driver felt the same. Neither of them wanted to be apart from the other, but neither was brave enough to say it, let alone show it.

When they reached the door, she instinctively opened her arms to give the boy a hug, who was leaning against the door frame.

"Thank you for making me feel better today, Seb," a shy smile appeared on her lips. "It's been a wonderful day, and I'll definitely start reading the Spider-Man comics you bought me totoday. Really, there was no need for you to buy them!"

Sebastian reciprocated the hug whispering in her ear "You're welcome, Gwen Stacy." After they separated, Diana made a gesture as if she was about to say something else. Sebastian just leaned forward, seeking the lips of the girl who had him so confused. She didn't know what to do, so she closed her eyes as calmly as she could in anticipation, so that just before their lips met, the German abruptly withdrew, regretting what he had just been about to do.

Confusion and rejection began to show on Diana, who felt pretty bad about herself at that moment.

"Seb..."

The girl's voice trembled like it had never done before. Sebastian took a step back, stumbling as he tried not to fall down the stairs; his gaze was fixed on the ground, trying to find the right words to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Di," he tried to express himself as best as he could. "It was a mistake… I shouldn't have done it..."

Diana, even though she knew it didn't make sense, felt hurt and, above all, vulnerable. She just swallowed and nodded, downplaying it even though she wished things were different.

"It's okay, Sebastian," she murmured bittersweetly. "There's nothing to worry about. After all, we all make mistakes."

Sebastian, without responding to that, turned around and quickly left the apartment, leaving Diana completely alone at the door, trying to fight back the tears that were already coming, and a feeling of rejection that she had never felt before.

She just wanted the ground to swallow her up at that moment; the slightly open door of the apartment across the hall, which allowed her neighbor to clearly want to know more about the scene she had just witnessed, seemed to say otherwise.

"Well, my dear! Who is that handsome boy I saw leaving your house and who has left you like this?" 

The woman, about forty years old, had stopped hiding behind her door and had decided to come out just to point and laugh quietly at the sight that, surely, Diana had.

"It's none of your business, Chari," the Austrian snapped rather sharply. 

"My dear, I'm sorry if I bothered you..." she pretended to be surprised, "I just wanted..."

"No, that's enough. Stop being so annoying!" the girl interrupted, already tired of the woman.

After saying that, Diana entered her house and slammed the door aggressively. She hated Chari, her demanding studies, that her father was getting closer to death, and above all, that her head was lost in thoughts that made no sense.

Lost in her thoughts, the dyed blonde didn't realize that Amelie was looking at her with curiosity, a little surprised by the bipolar behavior that her older sister seemed to be having that day.

"What's wrong, Diana?"

The innocent look of the youngest, combined with her curiosity, broke the silence that had settled in the house. The eldest, still lost in her thoughts, completely confused about what she was feeling, tried to bring to light, as best as she could, the words she had been holding back for too long and that she was eager to share with someone:

"I think I like him, Ame. I think I like Sebastian Vettel."

#f1 #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel fic #sebastian vettel x fem oc #sebastian vettel x oc #fluff #sebastian vettel fluff #history #diana vettel #emma stone #sebastian vettel imagine

[the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis]

oops omg in my delirious ranting i forgot to ask you the question i originally meant to send lmao

would love to get your thoughts on Nesta & Cassian's relationship! your thoughts on its dynamics, its current state, its future, etc! any parallels you've found, or anything you find between them that makes you think it doesn't work - anything! i find the dynamic fascinating but i wish there was more than just "haha they drive each other CRAZy they MUST be mates!"

(i haven't read the 5th book but i'm ok if there are spoilers)

okay, if by 5th book you mean A Court of Silver Flames: apologies, i Have To talk about it, because it is the source of most of my Cassian/Nesta thoughts, so there will be spoilers. if you're talking about a different book and not counting the Christmas Special Novella TM as book 4...there's a 5th book??

also, as always, i have written entirely too much. thank you for enabling me on my red-string conspiracy rants.

let's see...this is really interesting, because conceptually i also see so many FASCINATING elements to Nesta and Cassian's relationship, especially thematically and in terms of the ways they mirror each other.

but then reading it within the context of the books themselves just makes it so. incredibly. frustrating.

first of all, what you said about "haha they drive each other CRAZY" is so real--i feel like it was an enemies to lovers story that devolved to centering around very shallow banter and hatefucking that is then still supposed to be seen as something super profound and lifelong for the two of them?

plus the way "mate bonds" are executed within the ACOTAR series frustrates me to no end...plus there's so much misogyny and white feminism and heteronormativity and poor depictions of mental health and abuse baked into the series under this progressive veneer that it for some reason gets...plus getting into the realm of wild speculation, i feel like a) sarah j maas legitimately dislikes Nesta and thinks she deserves the in-universe hate and b) sarah j maas is an only child.

so when i try to analyze Nesta and Cassian's relationship, it's just so difficult for me to separate it from all the rest of that. especially having read A Court of Silver Flames. a book that somehow filled me with more rage than breaking dawn? i did not think that was possible

another note: all of my quotes below are just cited to chapters, because i have an...um...let's call it the Kiera-Knightley-in-the-ocean-in-a-liking-girls-awakening-outfit copy of the ACOTAR series and i'm pretty sure the pages don't line up super well.

anyway, let's dig more into the good/compelling:

1. nesta is very squarely in My Type of female characters, and it's clearly cassian's type too.

aloof and mean and full of cold rage, wearing femininity like armor, with a spine of steel and a too-sharp tongue and undying loyalty to a very very select few soft characters...i LOVE LOVE LOVE that character premise, every goddamn time. and i love that cassian (in theory. according to what he says. not necessarily what he does.) sees that and loves it and doesn't want her to change. that fire is the reason he loves her, and was even when she was human! he's perfectly willing to dash himself up against it, because he sees a reflection of himself there! like:

"'You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don’t want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.' 'But I still don’t know how to fix myself.' 'There’s nothing broken to be fixed...'" -ACOSF, Chp. 50

!!!!

(now, do cassian's actions actually line up with that? mmm, debatable, but i think that's definitely more authorial blind spots than intent, and i like the theory!)

2. i am not immune to the:

"His voice was rough as he said, 'Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house—your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.' I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch." -ACOMAF, Chp. 57

3. i go absolutely feral every time i think too hard about the thematic lines you can draw between nesta and cassian.

nesta, who has made herself cold and untouchable and absolutely unwilling to yield to anyone, clinging to the symbols of status and perfect upper-class femininity because those were the only weapon she was taught how to wield...and cassian, who is all fire and fury and raw passion, seeing himself as the blade that bathes himself in blood at rhys' command without being able to understand why and just trusting that rhys knows best, defining himself constantly as a base-born bastard who is only good at the fight...it's SO FASCINATING.

they have parallel experiences that in practice were entirely different because of the social circumstances in which they were born!

(also the way both of their mothers and their deaths play into it???? nesta was shaped by her mother's presence and cassian by his mother's absence???? both of them see their mother's death as a defining moment, except nesta responds with retreating further into that cool passive cruelty and cassian massacres an entire village...HELLO????)

4. you know what? shout-out to nesta weaponizing cassian's care for and promise to her to save his life...

and ONLY his life, when he would've willingly and gladly died with his legion!!! and then feeling guilty about it after the fact! (maybe even guiltier than he does!) that's SUCH a fascinating thing to have between two characters.

how do you go forward loving someone when you feel unspeakably guilty about what you did in the name of that love? you saved their life because you love them! you hate yourself for saving their life! you still love them!

okay, that's my quota for complimenting the acotar series this decade:

1. all of the things that i talked about above are. um. not central parts of the entire 700+ page book that is allegedly cassian and nesta's grand love story?

like--don't get me wrong, they're there. i'm not pulling those elements out of nowhere. but the central focus of that book seems to be...i honestly don't even know. it's like, part nesta's "recovery" (i will not rant here about that), larger part Nesta's Inspiring Fitness Journey TM, part The Thinnest Villain Plotline Of All Time (guys that mortal queen was NEVER going to be able to get into the prison that rhys has to give you permission to get into. she would've just fucking died. it would've been fine. also the mortal queens' motivations are just so shallow and incoherent to me), for some reason part Feyre's Pregnancy Journey TM, and large, large part...

nesta and cassian bantering in increasingly bland ways and having tragically the closest sjm gets to kink because they're being a little bit mean and commanding with each other, but nowhere near enough to actually be interesting to me? and obviously i don't have anything against smut in the fairy smut series, but i feel like it takes up way more of this book than actual interesting relationship beats between nesta and cassian, and it's really frustrating!

like here, have a screenshot from my notes app from my first reading of this book, which i feel like summarizes a lot of my feelings related to that and in general about the "romance" she builds for them:

also why does she write about toes so much when she's writing erotic scenes it's not even like a character-specific thing it's in all the books i noticed it and now i can't stop seeing it, any time a female character is horny her toes curl it's such a stupid specific phrase

2. i cannot separate the romance between nesta and cassian from my deep, profound hatred of the premise of ACOSF, the way it depicts recovery and mental illness, and nesta's lack of agency throughout it.

(i will rant about this now! oops.)

first, i am at my funniest and wisest in the notes app:

but seriously! cassian is just so horribly, consistently cruel to nesta throughout this book, specifically around her grief, her physical condition, and her mental health issues, especially around eating.

"His hazel eyes guttered. 'Not eating won’t bring your father back.' 'That has nothing to do with this,' she hissed. 'Nothing.' He braced his forearms on the table. 'We’re going to cut the bullshit. You think I haven’t gone through what you’re dealing with?'" -ACOSF, Chp. 5

"Cassian asked, 'What stair did you make it to?' 'One hundred eleven.' Nesta didn’t rise. 'Pathetic.'" -ACOSF, Chp. 8

"'I knew you didn’t have much muscle,' Cassian observed as Nesta lay belly-down on the ground, having collapsed onto her front after trying to hold a full-body plank, 'but this is absolutely pathetic.'" -ACOSF, Chp. 16

and Nesta clearly internalizes all of this, because these phrases recur in her narration over and over and over.

"She was pathetic for being so weak. Pathetic for now being unable to walk so much as a step without grimacing" -Chp. 13

“'They are when you’re as out of shape as I am.' A pathetic weakling" -Chp. 15

"She punched that thought out of herself, too. That pathetic, selfish thought. Just as all of her was pathetic, and selfish, and hateful." -Chp. 40

(i did leave out the "everyone hates you" conversation, because to be fair to Cassian, that's a moment where he's overwhelmed, and he does later apologize and walk it back and that's a genuine moment of growth for the two of them--which imo is just proof that he could be doing better in all these other situations!)

even the scenes where nesta and cassian are on the mountain, allegedly nesta's turning point, just make me so incredibly sad and frustrated on her behalf.

(even leaving aside the question of whether nesta was right to tell feyre about the pregnancy killing her, or how much it matters that she did it out of anger, or even if everyone is right to be mad at nesta which obviously im on nesta's side because FEYRE DESERVED TO KNOW LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DUDE WHO CARES IF SHE ONLY DID IT 'TO HURT FEYRE' FEYRE ISN'T MAD! HAVE YOU NEVER HAD A SIBLING???? SAYING THINGS TO HURT BECAUSE YOU LOVE THEM IS LITERALLY 99% OF IT!!!! AND ALSO CASSIAN AND LITERALLY EVERY OTHER CHARACTER IN THIS BOOK GET TO SAY HORRIBLE THINGS TO NESTA OUT OF ANGER, RHYSAND LITERALLY THREATENS TO KILL HER FOR TELLING HER SISTER THE TRUTH ABOUT HER OWN PREGNANCY? i hate these quotes.)

(all quotes here come from chapters 47-50, the mountain sequence.)

cassian is saying things "quietly--coldly" with "nothing kind in his face", "nothing warm in it. No challenge or light. Just solid, stonecold warrior", an "icy, amused gleam in Cassian’s eye" as he makes her carry a way-too-heavy pack...and just silence! he doesn't speak to her at all! and she sits there and thinks she deserves it! ("Let him drive her into the ground, let him make her walk and act the servant. It wouldn’t fix anything. Wouldn’t fix her."; "She deserved to be turned into bloody mist by Rhysand. Wished Cassian had not come to save her.")

meanwhile in cassian's head, he's sitting there shocked that she's suicidal, ("Cassian knew that Nesta often hated herself. But he’d never known she hated herself enough to want to … not exist anymore." BOY YOU'RE DUMB AS SHIT), hoping for her to be healed...and still making the explicit choice not to comfort her! ("Instinct bellowed at him to wrap himself around her, to comfort and soothe, but another voice, an ancient and wise voice, whispered to keep going. One more mountain, that voice said. Just one more mountain.")

it just like...makes me so goddamn miserable, and i feel like it undercuts everything in their relationship.

nesta collapses because she wasn't drinking water and cassian rushes over and gives her water and carries her to safety?

cool, the reason she wasn't drinking water in the first place is because he TOLD her no breaks and because, again, she thinks she deserves to be destroyed over the thing he's told her he's angry about! (also he yells at her, of course.)

cassian, over the course of this book, helps guide nesta toward healing and coming into her full power and ability as a warrior, who can then empower other women to do the same?

sure, but he does it by bullying her, assuming he knows best when he has no idea what she's actually going through and won't bother to ask, and being cruel and absent allegedly because she needs to "save herself."

and, of course, all of this is in the circumstances rhys and feyre have created where the only alternative nesta has to being locked in a house with cassian and going along with whatever he asks of her is literal fucking exile with the possibility of death. ("So, yes: Nesta might technically be able to return to the human lands, but she would find no companionship there, no warm welcome or town that would accept her. Wherever she was able to find a place to live, she would be essentially housebound, confined to the grounds of her home for fear of human prejudices." -Chp. 2)

and look. there are a lot of caveats that can be made, (and have been by the acotar fandom), and some that i can even sort of get behind.

the one i find most compelling: nesta is definitely shutting cassian out, hard, and intentionally doing it in ways that she knows will hurt him so that her self-isolation will be most effective. she isn't really in a place, especially at the start of the book, where she wants to get better, and she is willing to be mean in the process of accomplishing that. and i do see the appeal of cassian being willing to be "mean" back! that said...i don't know, the tone of it still doesn't personally land super well with me.

and yes, it is 100% more interesting and better fiction when characters in a book respond imperfectly to mental health issues. not every character should talk like a therapist, or like they've been to therapy! it's more fun when cassian is messy and responds imperfectly and gets mad! he's entitled to feel whatever frustrations he does!

but sarah j maas so obviously doesn't think that's what's going on here. what cassian does "works," in the fiction. in the story, he turns nesta's life around, to the point where she starts helping other people, and in the triumphant climactic fight of the entire novel exclaims "because my mate taught me well!" as she wins. nesta thinks that he's good and perfect and she doesn't deserve him for...the entire story. she bows to amren and begs forgiveness, when amren is the first person to tell her that she's literally "a pathetic waste of life." like, i think we're supposed to believe that nesta is pathetic and has to choose to be "better" and that's just...your mileage may vary, but i personally hate it.

to address some other semi-common talking points that frustrate me even more...

yes, mental illness does not excuse someone's behavior and you still need to be held accountable, even if your actions come from a place of hurt and mental illness! but...this isn't holding nesta accountable. even leaving aside the question of accountable for what, there is a difference between holding someone accountable and just being cruel, and i can't help but put this firmly in the second category. calling someone "pathetic" doesn't actually help them improve their treatment of others in any way. also, it's not like nesta isn't aware and critical of her impact on other people (arguably too critical, but again, i'm a bit of a nesta defender by way of hating Rhysand with my whole heart), she is in fact deeply aware and unable to change alone because it comes from a place of trauma! (and being surrounded by a bunch of controlling ultra-powerful centuries-old also traumatized politicians who fucking suck.)

and yes, mental health care is not always nice and flowery. sometimes there's nothing you can do, because ultimately people do have to save themselves! sometimes you do have to let someone break down before they will accept help! sometimes, speaking as someone who has been extremely mentally ill for a very long time, you need someone who's going to say "that's pretty fucked up, dude," or that it's a little ridiculous to be scared of how permanent tattoos are when you have the number of self-harm scars that you do, or even jokes about you being terrible and unforgivable when you apologize for something like asking to hang out or interrupting over the phone by accident! but those a) require a degree of trust, consent, existing relationship, and shared experience and b) are not what cassian is doing. tonally, contextually, it is obviously different.

also, you know what? the acotar series sells itself hugely on being a YA series--sort of; the marketing has definitely shifted now, like, I've seen ACOSF in adult sections, but when the first three came out, it was definitely YA-marketed, that's how i found it, and there are a lot of teenagers reading it still--anyway--a YA series that deals seriously with mental health issues, recovery, and abuse.

and if it wants to sell itself on that, it should do better.

i first read this series when i was 15. and i completely missed all of the ways that rhys is manipulative and controlling! i took the author at her word that he was a feminist, and feyre had choice and agency!

ACOSF didn't exist yet, but i really truly am afraid of how 15-year-old me, who was struggling with an eating disorder (among other things), would have internalized parts of this book.

so yeah, in summary: i can't in good conscience enjoy nesta and cassian's relationship when so much of it is these moments of cassian reinforcing nesta's self-hatred, and being just outright cruel to her in her weakest moments, and the narrative justifying it.

(also sorry, one more thing: the way that this makes nesta's physical "training," and getting physically in shape, into a solution for her eating disorder? there are many ex-ballerinas, myself included, who'd like a word about that. physical fitness and over-exercise is actually also a huge piece of disordered eating! okay, sorry, i'm actually done now.)

3. yeesh, that was heavy. let's do something more fun:

listen. first of all. nesta is bi as hell and SO INTO GWYN. LOOK AT THIS.

"Nesta looked at her from under lowered brows again. 'Get out of my sight.' Gwyn grinned, a broad, bright thing that showed most of her teeth and made her eyes sparkle in a way Nesta knew her own never had. 'Oh, you’re good.' Gwyn turned back to the stacks. 'Really good.' She vanished into the gloom. … Quiet settled around her, as if Gwyn had been a summer storm that blew in and evaporated within a moment." -Chp. 9

"Nesta allowed herself to listen--to savor the pure, sweet voice that rose and fell with sinuous ease. Gwyn's hair seemed to glow brighter with her song, skin radiating a beckoning light. Drawing any listener in." -Chp. 13

"The only bit of color and sound came from Gwyn." -Chp. 13

"Nesta closed her eyes, leaning into the music, shutting out one sense in order to luxuriate in the sound of her friend. Something beckoned in Gwyn’s song, in a way the others’ hadn’t. Like Gwyn was calling only to her, her voice full of sunshine and joy and unshakable determination. Nesta had never heard a voice like Gwyn’s..." -Chp. 52

"Gwyn bared her teeth. 'I refuse to leave you here.' ...Nesta said to Gwyn, “It is the only way.” Gwyn screamed, 'IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!' And then she was sobbing. 'I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.' 'You need to go,' Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. 'Now.' 'No,' Gwyn wept. 'No, I won’t. I’ll face it with you.' Something deep in Nesta’s chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure. She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. 'I’ll face it with you,' Gwyn whispered, over and over again. 'Promise me we’ll face it together.' Nesta couldn’t stop her tears then. The chill wind froze them on her cheeks. 'I promise,' she breathed, stroking Gwyn’s matted hair. 'I promise.'" -Chp. 69

NESTA YOU HAVE TO AT LEAST CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY--

and then, @r-biter put me onto the "Cassian is a trans woman" headcanon and i have never looked back. it's mostly from the Mor situation and the "lesbian dating a trans woman before either of them have realized" dynamic, which is just so incredibly fun to me (because i lived it? perhaps). but there's also a good amount of...where does that deep, personal rage about girls not being able to train come from? what could lie underneath seeing your body as only a blade, honing it as a weapon and nothing else, excruciating command and control of it, and still seeing yourself as too rough and too much and a brute to be controlled?

can't i just have cool badass butch as hell six-foot-whatever-absurd-number trans women in fiction?

so yes, my ideal view of the future of nesta and cassian's relationship is that they break up, nesta dates some women, cassian does some introspection and comes out as a woman, and maybe the two of them end up back together, but maybe they don't and they have incredibly funny divorced-friends energy for the rest of time.

4. cassian...loves rhys more than nesta? and i feel like that's a significant problem for their relationship?

this is a far more watsonian analysis than anything else on this list, but i still feel like it's worth saying, because i have. SO MANY thoughts about the "Inner Circle" dynamic, and the character conflicts, and frankly abuse, that happens within the balance of the IC being set up as "family" but also being huge political movers with a very strict hierarchy and Rhysand having ultimate power and say...

which in the case of nesta and cassian, shows up in a lot of ways. sending Nesta to the House of Wind is Rhysand's idea and Cassian is willing to go along with it and take the heat; in the argument they have where he tells her everyone hates her, it's because she calls Rhysand an asshole; Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta when she tells Feyre about her pregnancy and all Cassian can do is get Nesta away, and he sympathizes with Rhys' feelings and reasons for doing it, as well as agreeing with him that Feyre shouldn't have been told; Cassian does vote to tell Nesta that she has Made extra-magical swords in opposition to Rhysand, but he also fully wants Rhys to become High King of Prythian and thinks Nesta's swords should be used toward that purpose, without giving any thought to what Nesta wants in the situation...

it's just honestly hard for me to see a relationship thriving in that situation, where ultimately Cassian will (it seems) always bow to Rhys' authority, and Rhys legitimately fucking hates Nesta. even with their "reconciliation" during the birth scene, i'm...i don't know. skeptical. what happens the next time there's a disagreement? (that High King plotline isn't going anywhere, unfortunately.)

and, to step out of in-universe dynamics for a moment, and into some personal speculation about the Doylist view of these things...i do think a lot of it is because Maas genuinely thinks Nesta was in the wrong, and people were right to resent her before she "redeemed" herself by her big sacrifice for Feyre? which is also deeply frustrating to me and affects my read of the Cassian/Nesta dynamic a lot.

just from events in the book--Nesta bowing to Amren and begging forgiveness; Nesta feeling guilt and shame about interacting with Mor and saying she understands why she is angry with her (when the thing Mor says about Nesta deserving to be in the Hewn City is like. SO fucked...in general, the comparison that is for some reason constantly running between Mor as like, a "good" survivor and Nesta as a bad one...i could write so much analysis about that alone); Nesta sacrificing her power for Feyre and Rhys then hugging her--it's clear that Maas to some extent views this as a redemption journey for Nesta and not just a healing one...

and I'm not convinced that was necessary?

like, a lot of people's problems seem to be her letting Feyre go into the woods, which is like...okay, yes, Feyre was fourteen, but Nesta was seventeen? she was also a child in this situation? and it sucks that she didn't step up, and she was definitely extremely petty in the first book...but so was Elain? and Elain is like, instantly forgiven for it? but Nesta is held to a higher standard? (the "nesta has the soul of an illyrian so i expect better from her" is so??? demeaning to both elain and nesta???) even when Feyre says she understands and forgives her?

ALSO, you know who ACTUALLY had an obligation to protect Feyre and failed? THEIR FUCKING DAD, WHO EVERYONE IS NOW DEIFYING AND JUDGING NESTA FOR NOT VISITING HIS GRAVE, LIKE--

and then there's...Nesta is cruel. she shuts people out. but i don't know, it feels deeply hypocritical to resent her for that when the centuries-old immortals she's surrounded by are regularly eviscerating people and making backhanded deals with each other's abusers (the way Rhys treats Mor is just like. SO wild) and lying to each other for no reason...and it's just the most insane double standard that we're expected to see them as perfect and nesta as irredeemable for being mean.

(a semi-related side note: i have to point out that the solstice book is so fucking funny because feyre's sitting there worrying about nesta drinking too much and every other page in that book is her and her friends drinking themselves to sleep. like, i get it, but also. girl.)

anyways, that was a lot of words about nesta's overarching treatment by the narrative, but to bring it back to her relationship with cassian specifically: i feel like she's never going to be justified out-of-universe, or liked in-universe, unless she just starts going along with what rhys and feyre want her to be and do, and that really sucks as a basis for her relationship with Cassian. and i don't think this is happening in canon as an exploration of the ways being royalty and political leadership and pressure like that fractures relationships, i think we're very very obviously supposed to love rhysand and see his inner circle as an idealized friendship group for feyre...which sucks for nesta!!!

also cassian azriel and rhys all just need to have a threesome at least once i think i think it would solve a lot of their problems like what do you MEAN you multiple times fucked girls in the same room as each other at the same time while you were growing up

5. gender roles speedrun roundup:

i often feel like reading the acotar series leaves me with a spectrum of reactions from "are straight people okay" to "yikes, gender roles," (there are no good options on this spectrum), which just makes me roll my eyes so hard at so many interactions between nesta and cassian.

i could write a lot here, or i could just toss you this quote:

"The first time she’d seen Cassian, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She felt like she’d spent her life surrounded by boys, and then a man—a male, she supposed—had suddenly appeared. Everything about him had radiated that confident, arrogant masculinity. It had been heady and overwhelming, and all she’d wanted, all she’d wanted for so many months, was to touch him, smell him, taste him. Get close to that strength and throw everything she was against it because she knew he’d never break, never falter, never balk." -Chp. 10

like. what. is. what. do straight people really--

also i CANNOT take the use of male and female seriously there HAS to have been a better way to do that i just

to be more serious, there's also something really uncomfortable to me about nesta's view of cassian as the ideal of masculinity, and a fundamentally deeply good person (in opposition to her)...whereas we see so clearly from cassian's pov that he's just so deeply embedded in and surrounded by violence?

(i am never not thinking about the entire village that he slaughtered, and how he doesn't regret it, it took him ten years to "face" it but he doesn't regret it! apologies, i'm about to out myself as fundamentally A Star Wars Guy TM, but like...when anakin skywalker slaughters the entire village of people who murdered and assaulted his mother, it is--at least in theory, god those movies are bad--a very clear step into the dark side and the path that leads to him becoming the ultimate evil fascist imperial figurehead. whereas for cassian it's righteous and a step to him becoming "strong enough" to handle nesta!)

they are both a hopefully-unintentional weird racist exoticization of "tribal people" who mistreat women and get murdered for it written by white people though. god everything about the illyrians makes me feel so weird

the masculinity = violence thing is definitely not limited to cassian, (it's arguably worse with High Lord "get her out of here before i kill her for revealing that i was lying to my wife about her imminent death" Rhysand), so it's clearly an authorial thing seeping in, but it still makes me itch to dig my messy little fingers in and deconstruct it, you know?

so!

i'm sure i could write more, but this is already obscenely long--thank you for enabling me to write all of this! i hope it gave you a decent sense of my thought process...and i would love to hear any and all of your thoughts, i am as always so glad to be your friend in conspiracy-board-string meta and everything else.

#thank you so much for the ask! #acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #NESTA DESERVED BETTER FTW #also. is anyone surprised that this is the stance i took #because i'm sure not

[fruutes]

guys I'll be honest this was just an excuse to intensely stare at her for 4 consecutive hours. Savored every second of it yes.

BOnus more human looking version just because I Can

Ok bye now guys I have to go back to my full time job of being feral about her and violently killing anyone who lays a finger on her <3

#my art #RRRAAAAAHHGHGSHSGH #god I would kill die slaughter murder anything for her #she deserves the entire universe and then some #give her everything good the world has to offer NOWW #she's so cute I'm gonna go insane #and SO so hot #literally unfortunately crying sobbing shakimg #first in my heart <3 #bg3 #bg3 karlach #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #karlach #bg3 fanart

[sonknuxadow]

generally one of the things that worries me about the next sonic movie is the fact that theyre going from adapting games that arent super plot heavy and doing their own thing with it to adapting one of the games that Does have a lot of story content and is one of the most iconic and widely loved stories in the franchise and the introduction of a character with a lot of well known lore. how are they gonna handle adapting that story while also taking into account the differences in how the world works and the human characters and any other changes they wanna make when theres not as much room for that sort of thing without making major changes and contradictions to the story this is based on. i mean im not expecting the movie to be exactly like the game and i dont think i really want it to be but still

#for example amys introduction. in the games she was already an established character before sa2 #and was already friends with sonic tails and knuckles . so she can just show up without needing an explanation for why shes there #but in the movies she hasnt been introduced yet. and the movies also take place on earth in a universe where mobians are aliens. #so theyd have to come up with some sort of backstory for why shes there. #would they include her and not give her as much screentime as she deserves so theres not too muhc going on #or would they just cut her entirely and give her important moments to other characters #idk !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hamartia-grander]

Going back into my cave after this but Wyllstarion x The Princess Diaries au. Wyll as Mia, Astarion as Nicholas, Tav as Andrew. You understand.

#wyllstarion #My sister made me watch this with her on her bday and I could only think “omg like wyllstarion” the entire time #Wyll having to find himself a spouse in order to rule bc of some dumb old baldur's gate tradition #His father had to marry his mother to rule but she died in childbirth and his father ruled the rest of the time alone #Wyll was cast out for the same reasons as in Bg3 but instead of him returning to save his father his father realises his mistakes first #Cause Wyll deserves it #Lady Tav is the most eligible royal for Wyll to wed because she's the duchess of Waterdeep or something #And they were friends #But Wyll loves Astarion #Obviously I'm spinning this like within the Bg3 universe not a modern au or anything so some things are different #Holy shit what if ulder ravengard had a boyfriend a man he was in love with but couldn't ever be with. For fun. Like queen clarisse #Idk who it would be but wouldn't that be funny #WAIT what if instead of a dumb baldur's gate tradition demanding that Wyll marries it's actually because #His pact with Mizora requires that he have a “level headed” spouse to “protect him from the devil's influence” #Guys I'm a genius #And no one wants Astarion to be Wyll's lover bc Astarion is a vampire spawn and they especially don't trust him #Astarion romances Wyll on the order of Cazador bc Cazador wants control of baldur's gate & astarion is the perfect candidate to seduce Wyll #But then Astarion falls in love with Wyll #I just want a scene with Lady Tav and Wyll discussing their marriage after Wyll is caught with Astarion #Where Tav tells Wyll he'll make an amazing king and she's a lady who never backs out of her word #They're friends so they're both understanding that love between them isn't happening #When Wyll returns the ring during the ceremony Tav is like oh thank fuck because Karlach is looking real gorgeous tonight #Etc etc #Bg3 #Wyll Ravengard #astarion ancunin #Bloodpact #I fucking love that ship name BTW it's genius

[yuoic]

.

#I can't believe im about to say this #but i think we do deserve the piece of shit university we have #there's this WhatsApp group (almost) the whole generation is in #and someone asked when are we back to school (school is over next week) #(for all 0 of you who knew and cared at some point #i did manage to get a clean semester #didn't fail a single subject and i barely believe it) #those who didn't pass all subjects are taking extra tests these days #the last being next Wednesday #Anyway #this living organism asked when are going back to school - he asked the entire generation at 00:20 in the morning #he could have fucking googled #i went to google and typed [our uni's name 2023 calendar] and sent the search link #every important day and vacation period of our uni is the first google search result #so he (or she?) takes a few minutes then comes back to the chat and says *so on the 23rd of January??* #IT SAYS RIGHT THERE YOU FUCK #IT SAYS RIGHT FUCKING THERE #then a second brainlet comed in and replies *yeah* #and brainlet 1 says *ok thank you* #i scheduled an appointment with our coordinator to present her with some cool projects to help students not to fail subjects #(study clubs and learning tools based on thousands of practice hours and such) #but i think i... might have made a mistake #i think we just don't deserve to be saved at all #i think our piece of shit institution is kind of right with such a merciless evaluation system #they'd be responsible for putting people like us in charge of important jobs out there #and i wish this was the only incident of the sort to scream such a horrifying reality to my face #but no #personal

[unproduciblesmackdown]

third times the charm re: distilling a [winston billions autistic character] jumping off point re: like, applications of individual responsibility Bootstraps Narrative attitude just in general when it comes to some people being Made more vulnerable than others, and the way that these differences are Deserved, the solution to someone suffering for it is for them to personally choose to better themself to thusly earn more, and for, conveniently, Punishment to be a neutral conduit of moral improvement, should you be so deserving as to accept it

if someone interprets an autistic person as offputting & reacts to this with disdain b/c of an imagined correlating Undeserving Interiority within that person, that’s objective & correct, & however they punish that person is as well. autistic people should have to Do The Work of making up for their previous failure to simply Learn how to act correctly, since allistic people definitely underwent ABA & now think of themselves as choosing to act that way rather than just Naturally Being Normal (wherein also any conscious effort is just ascribed to further personal positive qualities of theirs, the Kindness / Generosity / Thoughtfulness etc etc in striking up small talk or whatever, while ascribing thoughtlessness / disrespect to nd behavior), and in the meantime a) the best an autistic person can hope for, if, like a properly humble poor person, they deserve the pity, is that equivalent of a windfall of the charity some better off individual can Choose to afford them, e.g. like if an autistic employee happens to have some manager or someone who can & does look out for them / tries to insulate them from nonsense....and at the heart of the matter, the double empathy problem Is deserved, the solution to an autistic person being disliked is either that they shouldn’t be here at all, or that if they can endure existing somewhere that’s actually beyond what they can manage to Earn, they deserve the punishment of being nobly treated “the same,” i.e., oh if Anyone was acting like this i’d be an asshole to them, which is why people don’t even need to Know someone’s autistic to react to the reality of their being autistic, the person in question doesn’t even need to know it about themself....and ultimately it’s worse to Not try to yourself punish, or allow the punishment of, this weirdo grating cringe loser, b/c only the cleansing nature of that punishment will let them personally improve & start acting better & Deserving better, otherwise you’re just enabling them to keep being annoying at other people & those other ppl’s annoyance is Also blood on your hands (then it’s time to turn around & let people even Higher Up on the social hierarchy do whatever they want / bend over backwards to interpret & explain & justify everything they do in the most positive lights & blame other people for being hurt by them) 

and like, the handy flexibility re: what’s Deserved when, say, how other characters look at a character like ben kim. he’s Too Nice, and that can mean that he deserves better, or it can mean that that’s a bleeding heart doormat loser trait that deserves the disdainful punishment it might get. and even if you Do think he deserves better? the reason he isn’t Already getting that better treatment must be due to personal failure anyways: he Is being too much of a loser &/or how he’ll only get better if he Steps Up & Acts more like a winner, for god’s sake, do the elevator dance stuff, that’s not only reasonable but obvious, cmon. tuk’s weird Confidence Training masterclass where it’s like, softhearted ben will be like “sorry :/ nothing anyone can do though” but tuk can’t go “hey, can you not be an asshole to me” and expect to get anywhere if he’s still being his too uncertain self, it’s on Him to start acting out the extrinsic behaviors of a winner and Then other people will totally start respecting him, is how this works lol....that it’s cringe for winston to Say he’s good at what he does & is valuable, b/c umm if you were Really valuable then the Natural recognition of that & corresponding positive treatment would Of Course have already manifested, and since it hasn’t, he isn’t Really deserving, and since he’s claiming to be deserving, that’s also proof he’s out of line being aggressive & arrogant like that. that it’s Also like, cringe & even crass of him to mention like, yeah i’m hoping to get paid here lol, again you’ll Of Course be paid as much as you want if you Deserve it, but if you deserve it you’ll actually mostly talk about being here and wanting to Win at it for cooler reasons, b/c ppl who are winning / more powerful than you in Whatever realm have those benefits that have just spontaneously & naturally been afforded to them b/c they deserve them more On Merit, and meritous people Are better than those beneath them and thus Will seem epic. and in the same way that ben kim seeming Too Nice can be handily interpreted as a “positive” (without truly challenging any negative assessment) or a negative, it’s like, oh winston’s Also undeserving b/c of the fact his outfit was uniquely significantly cheaper on the burn rate rundown, it’s actually Cooler to have your undershirt cost a thousand bucks, it’s costlier b/c it’s better, you buy the better clothes b/c you Deservingly have the money and thus also have the Deserving tastes to want the pricier shit. yet it’s like, cue a post of yore mentioning like analysis of agatha christie’s writing where like, oh the nouveau riche’s personal fashion & decor choices are always a bit too indulgent & overdone, vs. the refined elegant restraint of those with True Class(tm), when really any trend where Not going as ham with adornment/decoration was “better” / a signifier of properly noble Old Money was a reaction to flashier stylings Becoming more common / attainable for the less established rich / Less rich, period....the way that an identity that is defined by / requires Othering people will always have to react Against what everyone else is doing so long as that association is relevant in the cultural consciousness. ugh women do that, so it’d be too Effeminate of men, so men shouldn’t Want to do it anyways b/c they’re too inherently epic in the ways that make them better than women already, & if they Do, it’s some artificial corruption....anyways, it’s that if someone Undeserving were to indulge in pricey shit, that’d be a veneer to compensate for the insecurity of how they don’t Truly Deserve fancy shit (which wouldn’t look like deliberate flashiness anyways, of course. simply The Taste) but if they were to rather be sticking to too pedestrian / inexpensive shit, that’s Also about the insecurity of how they don’t Truly Deserve fancy shit / indication that they lack the Taste to even Know how to want better, and the best they could do is an identifiably lesser mere Imitation of what better ppl choose for themselves

meanwhile shoutout to how, of course, if winston is being treated badly on an individual interpersonal basis, that’s exactly in line with All Of This lol. he deserves it, if he deserves better He has to make the change, and in the meantime since that Bootstraps Narrative is justification for things being the way they already are, conveniently anyone else can keep getting whatever they get out of another person being so diminished as to not Deserve to be regarded as & treated as a person in the way that they do....autistic employees “making up for” their being autistic by working harder, Anyone working harder (ben kim) b/c surely that’s the only way to get a raise or promoted or not fired & if you don’t jump into the ring of like compensation negotiation & win (ben kim) then you don’t deserve the raise, conveniently....you Do have to walk away & Prove that you can do better, taylor Should Have Had To Do All This actually, even though probably mafee wouldn’t Really argue that directly, wild how whatever you say that’s a Negative about winston / sabotages any effort of his must, flexibly, be true & fine....if we thought Some People didn’t inherently deserve the increased vulnerability to harm in various manifestations, then that’d have enough reverberations that wouldn’t be contained to “maybe stop being like this to your coworker,” and in the meantime we can all just Tell that winston sucks & thus he brings it upon himself & the Rewards that people get for what they’re actually bringing upon him >>>> winston having a more tolerable time, not to mention that actually it’ll Help him in the end if, to make the punishment stop, he finally decides to deserve Better by improving himself, bootstraps time, [become nondisabled] style

oh and addendum too about like [any begrudging acknowledgment that winston perhaps Does have value tied to an especial individual talent] wherein it can be like ugh This asshole got in on a Technicality, he can crank out this coding or whatever but that’s Mechanical rather than something any of us need to attribute to an Inherently Deserving Human Interiority and like be impressed with or admire or respect or some shit like that, he’s basically cheated to get be here & so long as he isn’t forced out we can at least Use him. feel free though to be a complete asshole to him for real

#another blogger moment of just saying some shit. probably other specific examples i meant to bring up but didn't #i mean it's the Entire intrinsic / extrinsic thing lmao. operating under a premise that there Is an objective hierarchy of Intrinsic Worth #(or characters are; mostly; but if it wasn't a common irl assumption / ideology too then idk uh [encompassing gesture]) #and wherein it's like. questions of ''do you actually think Anyone would deserve [xyz] treatment even if they supposedly were thee worst'' #and ''do you think [xyz] should be done to people b/c the Suffering therein is supposedly good for them actually'' #like regardless of anything winston does (which like...is mostly withering & coding in the corner...what) it's like #if it's so intolerable then fire him? is it actually chill for rian's dynamic w/him to be somewhere around [his bully] or [abusive friend] #like At All much less even if she's the most awesome winning sympathetic person in the world & he's some asshole who sucks at everything #and even perhaps if she's getting anything out of it. even perhaps if you also dislike winston / think he Could & Should be different.... #imagine wendy brings the attempts at systematic aba for real l o l (wretched) (she also brings it organically anyways) #winston billions #and whatever all's going on here....who knows. a blogger saying some things. your guess is as good as mine #tfw ppl think ppl are just desperate to Read Into the least shit abt themselves & Self Dx As Autistic For Clout / how ohhh disabled ppl need #Special Treatment out of Sympathy/Pity / ohhh disabled ppl are actually all asking too much of us all & using Excuses.... #certainly easier to Not actually fundamentally question &/or alter your understanding of the concept of disability #like no i will Not conceive of the fact that making eye contact during a convo is not a universal human behavior hinging on basic respect #to look away isn't neutral or to help someone actually listen to you better. e.g. being autistic Has to be An Excuse(tm) #adhd would be Solved by me if only they all cared as much as i do where Choosing To Remember = Remembering. excuses excuses #winston as a Totally Objectively offputting asshole doesn't deserve basic respect as a person; nor as a colleague / coworker / employee... #he definitely deserves the punishment to Specifically Not have casual acquaintanceships; friends; lovers; partners; family is saddled w/him

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

You meet god and she's mostly dead fish. You ask her why and she says most of the world is dead fish, and she's made herself to appeal to the most common denominator, the everyman funnyman comedy show that runs for eleven seasons but with the entire universe in mind. You ask her how much of the dead fish is your fault, she says it's far less than you'd think, in the grand scheme of things. You ask her if you matter at all. If you can do anything. She shrugs her rotting shoulders and says mattering is a made-up concept, like life, but sure, you can matter if you want to, on some scale. She has many scales. She doesn't know what you mean by 'anything', but you can do everything you can. You ask her if it's enough. She says there's no base requirement for deserving to exist. She's smoking a joint and the smoke filtering out of her gills gathers and forms gas giants and red dwarfs. You ask her if there's any hidden secrets of the universe you should know and she says it's not a secret if she tells, plus it's fun to let you figure it out yourself. You ask her if any of your questions were right questions and she says you worry about being right so much it might keep you from fucking around, which is as close to meaning of life as she ever bothered to make. You don't ask but she says she loves your hair, also your whole being, also your planet. She says she figured out what love is yesterday and is trying it out, which explains the ten thousand rainbows and sudden influx in rains of fish. She offers you a drag of her joint and you wake up half past midnight behind a chain restaurant clutching a smoked salmon. The new stars are winking like they're in on some joke and you're sure if you try hard enough you'll remember what it is.

#food mention #oleg's writing #my writing #original poetry

[vindixta]

of all my ocs ronnie is absolutely one of the ones that i have put the most of myself into in terms of mannerisms and image, like obvs i wasn't attacked in a slasher-movie esque scenario but a lot of the ways she deals with her trauma is directly pulled from my own, the way she addresses it and recovers is my way of finding peace and closure, even if it seems toxic or unhealthy (i do not endorse unhealthy coping mechanisms by the way. do as i say not as i do.) she is very cathartic to write and think about to me idk i just love her a whole lot :)

#ooc. #musing. #yadda yadda something abt the final girl trope being identified with by queer people and similar #something abt feeling isolated from the rest of the world and using your differences as a badge of honour #but also shying away from addressing your trauma because you feel like all you are is your pain #abt feeling broken and like you'll never be normal and like everyone around you somehow knows some universal secret to happiness you don't #abt seeing everything bad that's happened to you or you've done behind your eyes when you lay down to sleep #about healing not out of care for yourself or belief that you deserve it but for the people you care about #and most of all out of spite #abt the way that even when you act in ways that feel cruel and ugly and hostile to people who don't know your story you can still be good #veronica is a bitch in so many ways. she's argumentative. she can be cruel. she sees people being kind to her as pity #but she'll also (literally) die for those she cares about. she's someone who's seen the worst of the world and now trusts nobody. #even if she doesn't trust the majority of people she still chooses to see the best in those that she thinks are misjudged #she's very much a love letter to my struggle with self image that i still struggle with now and the way i've had to fight to like myself #anyway this is an entire novel i promise i'm ok mentally rn i just think about her a lot <3

[4giorno]

please PLEASE beware massive spoilers for gi in the tag but im just so upset so i need to rant

#i KNEW like in the back of my mind i knew a female character who has done wrong against children can never remain in the narrative #like dont get me wrong i think characters should die and some of them deserve it but unfortunately in this game #if a character dies it meas they wont be playable and will not be relevant anymore #and like doing this to arle........ it sucks but honestly why did we expect anything else #(i didnt want this leak btw it was on twitter without a spoiler warning 💀) #like once again she does deserve to die. as does dott0re. as does scara and i still wish he did at the end of the aq line #but that doesnt have to mean non playability and complete erasure from the narrative #and like. sign0ra and arle die. meanwhile tartag gets the whole family man hes not actually so bad everyone can trust him stuff #and scara not only gets his character retconned but literally gets the entire FABRIC OF THE UNIVERSE AND HISTORY rewritten #so that he doesnt have to deal with the consequences of his actions #and some might say well the leak also says d0ttore will die so its not misogyny is it #but not only has he commited atrocities towards children he has also wronged hoyos favorite poor little helpless baby scara #yeah idk. im just unbelievably upset #multiple leakers have backed up this thing but even still this might be fake and im getting upset over nothing but hdkfjdjd

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

#hazbin hotel

[hollowdeath]

obsession (hjp)

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

summary: harry potter (19) is attending university after hogwarts, and isn't recovering well from the war. completely alone, harry soon grows attached to you, the girl from his potions class. however, his attachment quickly turns to obsession, and harry isn't sure how much longer he can be just friends.

content warning: smut!!! perverted thoughts/acts, shame, masturbation, stalking, obsession, yearning/pining, intoxication, jealousy, stealing panties, dry humping, cumming in pants, oral sex, overstimulation, penetration, creampie

a/n: sooo i wrote over 19k words in like 2 days. but i haven't written a proper fanfic in literal years so please be kind. heavilyyy inspired by "never have i ever" from @selfcarecap , please go read it when you have the chance!! this is very much a SLOW BURN, do not proceed if you do not thoroughly enjoy pining…ft. a shy, inexperienced, slightly obsessive university student harry who has jealousy issues and perverted tendencies but is still such a complete gentleman…some of this might not be book/movie accurate…sue me...

song: Do Friends Fall In Love? - Rachael & Vilary

harry's expectations of university weren't very high to begin with, but he didn't expect it to be this shit.

there were limited options for him since he had no desire of leaving the U.K. to further his career as an auror. and since the only 2 schools that offered a program for him were either an old, run-down campus in the middle of nowhere or an overpopulated city school known for its infamously average quidditch team, his decision wasn't difficult.

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

though harry was grateful to have a solo room, it was entirely bleak and smelled vaguely of mildew. one tiny window he's unable to open past a few inches and a depressing overhead fluorescent bulb was enough to have him searching the other university's dormitory information, only to be just as disappointed with the result.

harry gets over it quickly, as it becomes fitting to his mental state at the time. plain, cold, and unforgiving, harry feels like it's what he deserves to live in after everything he's seen.

to say harry hadn't been doing well after the war was a criminal understatement. his whole life had been leading up to and dedicated towards killing voldemort before he killed harry first. in that time, he held a purpose and drive to fulfill everyone's expectations of him. and, once he did, he was left with nothing.

voldemort had consumed harry's entire life, and the lives of everyone around him as well. though they technically both died, harry had the choice to live again. after he made that choice, he was never the same.

the relationships around him were changed forever. he lost friends. he lost family. he lost himself. and yet, life continued.

applying for university felt so silly to harry at the time. he had just fought in a war and died, and now he had to sign up for 9 a.m. transfiguration classes. to say he was uninterested was putting it lightly.

it didn't help that he knew no one there. it was nobody's first choice school by any means, and it didn't exactly have the best reputation. his classmates fizzled out into other schools or already had jobs, like ron…

ron and hermione. seems like lately wherever hermione went, ron followed. of course she got accepted into some of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, with some practically begging her to pick them over the others.

in the end she chose westminster, a legendary university along the northern ireland coast that saw many great members of the ministry in its time. harry's school was practically the furthest it could've been from her all things considered.

ron worked for the ministry office in the area like his father, though he was more like an assistant or secretary than an active member. still, he was paid well and ultimately he and hermione were able to find a place near both of their priorities that worked well for them.

harry knew he wouldn't see them very often at this point. no matter, his relationship with them had long since changed, and not for the better. ron had lost his brother and hermione had lost her parents. once the calm settled after the storm, there was a lingering tension between him and them that went unmentioned for over a year before they split ways silently.

harry still talked to hermione towards the end, mainly to discuss ron and his grief. harry knew the growing coldness between him and his friend wasn't unjustified. harry felt a level of guilt that he previously thought was impossible when it came to fred, and though ron never out right blamed harry, it was just never the same between them.

harry knew their relationship wasn't completely at a loss. like hermione told him, it just needed time. once they both process what happened they can always come back to each other.

but for now, harry was alone. completely and utterly alone.

his first day of classes were confusing, boring, and packed with students. seriously, every seat in every lecture hall was filled, and the hallways were just a mess. the sidewalks weren't much better with too many people being too loud, walking too slow or too fast. in the end, harry was exhausted by the time he showed up for his last class of the day.

another packed room despite his effort to be there earlier than he planned. rather than a lecture hall like all his other classes that day, this last one was set up with plenty of tables and cauldrons. potions. harry loved this class at hogwarts. as his eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, he felt eyes fixated on him from every direction.

though he looks like the same harry potter everyone's read about, he's completely different now. his once bright eyes and radiant smile have been replaced with eye bags and unkempt facial hair. both his short beard and his overgrown hair gave him a messy, disheveled appearance that was rougher than people remember. but, as always, the glasses had never left, and neither had his scar.

ignoring the curious glances and whispers, harry takes a seat towards the middle of the room at an empty table. as more students filed in, his table became the last place to sit. he couldn't help but feel like an outsider, his first day and he already had a reputation.

as the final bell rings, the last student comes walking through the doorway.

it's you.

you're walking quickly, rushing into the classroom just as the ringing of the bell comes to an end. right behind you is the professor, a man of small stature with an impressive beard yet bald head.

"ms. [y/l/n]." he simply states.

you stop in your tracks, a look of defeat crossing your face as you slowly turn to him.

"professor rodden." you respond cheerfully. "it's nice to see you."

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

"we should try to be a bit more punctual next class period, hm?" he asks condescendingly.

harry is taken aback by the immediately intense interaction between the two of you. there's clearly an established relationship there that doesn't seem to be positive.

he can't see the look on your face as your back is turned to him, but he can hear the forced smile in your voice as you cordially respond, "of course. my apologies."

you turn on your heel, facing harry as you quickly find your seat across from him at his table. with all eyes on you, harry looks away and at the front of the room towards professor rodden.

rodden had an indistinguishable look on his face about the situation, but quickly moved on with introducing the class. as he shut the door and began writing on the board, harry took a moment to look back at you.

somewhere in that time you had pulled out a book and ink pen as you began taking notes. your hair fell around your face as you concentrated on your penmanship; a slight furrow of your brows and pursing of your lips.

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

something about the way you got lost in your notes was so mesmerizing to him. the intense exchange between you and the professor seemed to have no effect on you as you continued to scrawl your thoughts onto parchment. harry couldn't imagine himself being so calm as to just begin jotting down notes immediately after such a conflict.

his eyes flickered from your concentrated expression to your ferociously moving hand, writing line by line in succession without so much as a second's pause. he had to admit he was impressed with you, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

looking up at him, harry's struck with how beautiful your eyes were. his heart jumps along with his stomach, he's never had such a physical reaction to someone's features before. you're just, so…right. like everything about you just makes sense together.

harry's used to people recognizing him pretty quickly, mostly before he even sees them first. it almost feels like having a big sign taped to his back that says "harry potter, the boy who lived twice". but, you…you just looked at him. simply looking, nothing more.

he felt so see-through at that moment, like you were looking right past him. he could feel his heart thumping, and would be surprised if you couldn't hear it for yourself.

you give him the most casual smile in the world, barely an acknowledgement of his existence in that moment, and yet it fills him with something entirely warm and familiar. he's sure he looks completely lost staring at you, turning his head at the last moment to relieve you of his gaze.

it's a simple, introductory, first day of class. you're all let out half an hour early with no assignment other than to show up for the next, real class on wednesday.

as you're packing up to leave, harry is back and forth between introducing himself to you or letting you leave. surely you'll talk to him at some point during this class, right? especially if no one else seems to sit with you two for the rest of the semester.

but, as you turn your back to him to leave, he makes the split second decision that he can't let you leave without a proper introduction.

quickly gathering his books, harry follows you out the door along with the ridiculous amount of students flooding the halls. scrambling for a reason to talk to you, harry catches up to your left side as you look over at him with surprise.

"how does rodden have it out for you already, hm?"

it's a genuine question he has, but he's not sure it's a great topic to bring up during your first interaction.

looking up at him as you both walk away from the classroom, your cheeks go red as you chuckle dryly to yourself and look away. "oh, arthur?" you ask.

harry's shocked. not just at the way you're looking at him, but the boldness of calling your university professor by their first name so casually. he doesn't know how to respond.

"he's a total wanker," you say with a smirk. "had him 3 semesters in a row now and he just…ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. harry is even more at a loss. he's surely never called anyone a wanker, let alone a professor, but he can't help himself from laughing at your frustration.

"oh? what's so bad about him?" harry asks as he continues to follow you outside, a cool breeze blowing your hair back in the most cinematic moment harry's ever experienced in real life. as you look up at him, your eyes catch the sunlight and practically melt him on the spot. his breathing hitches at your shy smile and rosy cheeks, and he just couldn't understand how a human could look like that so casually.

"honestly, he's not so bad. he's actually quite a good professor…" you say with a twinge of guilt, turning to look ahead of you. "he just doesn't like me, i guess. we don't see eye to eye, to put it kindly." you laugh it off.

harry doesn't understand. you seem like such a pleasure to be around, and he's only known you these past few minutes. how could anyone dislike you? especially when they're looking into those eyes.

he continues to walk with you, asking about your classes and what your schedule's like. no other classes together, to harry's disappointment, but it's because you're a year above him.

"wow, have any advice for a first year, then?" he asks. it feels like a bit of a silly question, but he just wants to keep talking to you.

you chuckle, like you do after everything he says. he's not sure what to make of it, hoping it's that you truly do find him that funny. "well, i guess i would just tell you to study constantly, keep to yourself, but don't take any shit." you smirk at him again.

he likes that advice. he can already tell you're the type to not let anyone push you around, like with rodden. he likes that about you. you're a bit more confident than him, and you're not afraid to be bold despite your naturally sweet, gentle nature. you're funny, witty, intelligent, and, of course, unbelievably beautiful.

harry just keeps coming back to it through your walking and talking together. every time he looks at you he instantly loses his place in time. it's like everything goes quiet for just that split second that you're looking at him. he's never felt like this, but he's practically addicted to the feeling after the 10 minutes it took for him to walk you to your next class.

before parting ways, he asks for your name. "well, it's nice to meet you then, [y/n]. i'm–" "harry, right?" you ask sarcastically, giving him a cheeky smile. normally that answer would have left him defeated, you already knowing who he was, but for some reason, it didn't feel so bad this time. you never acted like you knew him once this whole conversation. you just let him talk and ask questions without feeling like he was anyone special.

well, of course he felt special. when you looked at him, that is.

he didn't want to let you leave, it physically hurt him to say goodbye. but he wasn't about to creep you out already. no, he had to make a good impression with you. so, he simply turned around and walked away, knowing he would see you again soon.

and as harry walked to his potions class that next wednesday, he had the biggest pep in his step he's had in a while. you'd think there was a tree full of presents waiting for him in that classroom the way he practically jogged through the maze of people between him and you.

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

how could you get even more beautiful than you were before? he's actually taken aback for a moment as he makes eye contact with you. his heart is so loud in his ears it's deafening. as he slowly makes his way towards the table left for you two, he can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips.

"[y/n]." he says, letting it roll of his tongue. you smile warmly at him, your eyes softening. "harry. it's nice to see you again," you chirp.

he's just mesmerized by you yet again, the way you say his name is like a song he never wants to turn off. he's pretty much in complete awe of you as he sits across from your seat.

you chat a bit before class starts, an introduction to your first experiment. professor rodden explains that each table of four will split into partners for each assignment. as harry instinctively looks at you, he's already meeting your eager gaze.

he can't help it when he smiles like a fool at you. he can just hardly believe someone as amazing as you would want to spend even more time with him.

after class, you gush to harry about how excited you are to be potion partners together. his face completely flushes as he tries to return the sentiment, thanking whatever luck he has in this universe to be deserving of this opportunity to be with you all semester, twice a week at least, not including outside studying and walking you to your next class.

that night, after exchanging numbers with you to "discuss class", he finds himself staring at the number you scrawled on a ripped piece of notebook paper along with your name. he just holds it for a while, tracing the curves of your name with his eyes. you're just so amazing to him in every little way.

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

you see, he's become, well…completely obsessed with you. every moment he spends awake is spent thinking about you. in the midst of hours-long homework sessions or mind-numbingly long exams, all he wants to do is think about you.

you two have become increasingly close over time, figuring out your commonalities and learning about each other's interests. you invited him to your dorm and he was amazed at your ability to dress up such a desolate space. it felt warm, inviting, and quickly became a common place for you two to spend your time together.

you also bonded over food, and would often meet up for lunches or dinners and sometimes even breakfast if you were up early enough to respond to his calls.

and you two were always studying together, you really inspired him to stay on top of his classes not only to keep up with you but to also impress you. he really admired your work ethic as a second year and would always ask for your help with assignments.

of course it was nice to have help, but he mainly just wanted you to sit closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you explained something complicated to him in your soft voice, pointing at the book that sat in his lap. you could read the most boring textbook to him and make it sound like the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

a lot of things he did were mostly just an excuse to have you pay attention to him in some way. if he felt a bit unwell, he'd play it up a bit to get your sympathy and a back rub. he still gets the most insane goosebumps thinking about your hands all over him.

if he was hungry, he was suddenly starvinggg and needed one of your amazing grilled cheese's made in the student common room kitchen. you would roll your eyes every time, reminding him that you don't do anything special to it, but he insists it's better because you make it specifically for him.

in short, he was head over heels for you. he pretty much knew that first day you two met that he was already smitten with you, but it took a while for him to fully realize just how deep he'd gotten himself into this.

not only had he learned your entire class schedule without asking you directly, he knew your schedule outside of class as well. not through any disrespectful tactics, he just so happened to always study at the library next to your dorm building with a perfect view of the door you go in and out of.

he also knew who all of your friends were, at least the ones he's seen you with so far. it's not difficult when the university yearbook practically gives away their books for free to get rid of them. that's also how he found out what clubs and organizations you're apart of, and knew exactly what to ask you to get you to talk about them with him.

see, some might see this and think harry's a bit creepy or overstepping some boundaries. and harry would agree.

he constantly feels guilty when it comes to his feelings for you. he's a complete gentleman when he's with you, but then he turns around and becomes this incessant stalker who needs to know what you're doing at all times.

that's not even the worst part. he feels so, so incredibly guilty about the thoughts he has of you.

harry's not one to feel shame from lust or masturbation, he doesn't have much experience with that stuff anyways so he never really understood the hype around it.

but now, things are different.

he's had random erections before, and he's gotten riled up from previous makeout sessions, but now, he was constantly horny.

all it took was an innocent look from you and he was hard. you often sat in your bed with him as you two studied and insisted on having a leg or arm touching him at all times, which made him completely hot and bothered. certain tones of voice you use or things you say to him can completely melt his brain on the spot.

this isn't meant to brag, harry felt truly awful for these one-sided thoughts. he felt like such a stereotypical man who thinks with his dick. the last thing he wanted was to make you think he saw you in a sexual way at all; he hated your stories about guys who only turned out to be sex fiends with no respect towards you. his blood boiled to think about it, actually, and swore to himself he would always be your friend first despite what he may feel towards you.

this is where the guilt was heaviest. you were constantly saying he was your best mate, one of your closest friends, someone you can really trust, and he held that so close to his heart. above all else, he cared about you so deeply. he wanted to keep you safe.

so when he started to think these thoughts or feel these feelings, harry beat himself up. how could he truly be a good friend to you if he was just so obsessed with you in every way?

you two had just finished up the last steps of your potion experiment for professor rodden's class in the library that harry frequented by your dorm building. as you and harry are talking and packing up to leave, you look out the wall of windows and laugh.

"hey, look. you can see my dorm perfectly from here." you say, pointing towards your building. harry freezes, feeling his mind go blank as you look back at him with a laugh. "little creepy," you say with a smirk, lifting your bag over your shoulder and the rest of your books in your arms.

harry is still frozen, terrified you're going to somehow figure out that that's exactly what he's been doing for the past month now.

"yeah, weird." is all he managed to get out.

as he walks you into your dorm, he barely has the door closed before you start taking your shirt off right in front of him, not even 3 feet away.

harry immediately turns around, letting the door close in front of him. "oh, sorry." he quickly mutters, his heart racing yet again. he didn't even see anything crazy, just the small of your back and the navy of your bra, but it was enough to immediately get him worked up.

he hears you laugh behind him, opening up your drawer. "you don't have to turn around, harry. i'm just changing my shirt." he can hear the smirk in your voice.

he's dumbfounded. all he's thought about for weeks is your body in front of him, and it's right here, and he can't bring himself to look. he feels each second pass by painfully slow, trying to answer himself as to why the fuck he's not turning around.

"okay, you can turn around now." you laugh as you roll your eyes at him. he slowly turns to you with an undoubtedly pale face and shocked expression.

you're standing at your drawer, new shirt fully on, and he can't help but feel a bit disappointed. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by watching, but you seemed okay with it. he's a bit lost in his feelings before you start asking him about something completely irrelevant, taking his mind off the mini-show he just got for free.

that night he's lying in bed, room completely dark except his bedside lamp, and he's thinking of you. like always.

as he replays the moment you took your shirt off right in front of his eyes, he finds himself grabbing for his cock without even meaning to. his hand wraps around the shaft as he begins thrusting his hips, imagining it's your hand like he has so many times before. it only takes a few seconds of stroking and thinking about your blue bra before he's made a mess of himself.

cleaning up afterwards was always the most guilt-ridden part of the entire experience. it was bad enough he thought of you sexually and constantly got hard just from you looking at him or calling him a loser as a joke, but to actually jerk off to the idea of you is something else entirely.

he tried not to get too down about it, plenty of guys do this right? whats so wrong with it if it doesn't affect his relationship with you?

except, it does. harry doesn't know how much longer he can go without telling you how he feels. the guilt he feels every time you refer to him as your best friend, not knowing he spends almost every night cleaning up his own cum off his chest just from thinking about your smile. how would you feel finding out your so-called best friend had these perverted thoughts about you?

as harry falls asleep, he hugs his pillow and pretends its you, asleep in his arms, completely safe.

it's halloween, and harry's never been more excited.

you enthusiastically asked if you could do a matching costume with him, and he'd never been so quick to agree. wearing a matching costume with you to a university party was possibly the first step in becoming a real couple. he wasn't necessarily thrilled about going to a party, but he knew if he was with you he would enjoy himself no matter what.

you couldn't decide what you two should be until harry suggested pirates as a joke.

"oh my gosh, harry! that's perfect!" you said with a huge smile. harry laughed at you, shaking his head. "really? i was kidding." he deadpanned. you narrowed your eyes at him. "yes, really! i think it'd be so cute. and i have the perfect top."

harry gets excited once you say it's cute, and is just happy to be included in your plans.

you take harry shopping just a few days before the party to find pirate-like clothes and end up with a good collection of stuff. at the last minute, harry pays for everything you bought and you give him the biggest, warmest hug he's ever gotten.

yeah, that was enough for him to know this was worth it.

the night of the party, harry feels a bit ridiculous walking up to your dorm in such a billowy white button up and the most uncomfortable, oversized pants he's ever worn. to top it all off his bandana didn't look right on his head, so he embarrassingly knocked on your door and waited for your reaction to his failure of a costume.

when you opened the door, he was stunned into silence.

you were just. so. hot.

your hair was loose around your face under a perfectly tied bandana, an off-the-shoulder white top similar to his worn over a red lace bra, along with ripped fish net stockings under a tied skirt and, shit, a fucking garter wrapped around your thigh.

to say he was insanely turned on and completely stunned by your beauty was an understatement. he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman in front of him was dressed like this to match with him at a party in front of everyone. he just couldn't stop staring at you up and down, not caring if you noticed him practically drooling over you.

"you look so cute!" you exclaimed at the sight of harry standing at your door.

he looked up at you, your soft eyes wide with excitement as you clasped your hands together. you motioned for harry to come in and opened the door further for him. he slid past you into your dorm room, intentionally breathing in your scent as he did, and practically fell apart at the seams. he was so, so attracted to you right now.

"but, let me fix that bandana." you say with a giggle. he turns around and you're already reaching for his head. his breath gets caught in his throat as your arms wrap around his head, retying the bandana tightly just below his hairline. you pull away a bit and smile at him before looking down at his shirt, reaching for that as well.

harry carefully watched your fingers begin to unbutton his white shirt, his world stopping in its tracks in this moment. he was so lost until you said, "gotta show off the chest hair."

as you continue to adjust his shirt with the top buttons undone, he can't help but admire your body and outfit from this angle, this close. everything worked together so well on you, and fit you perfectly in every spot. he felt like such a joke standing next to you, who could ever compare to such a goddess like yourself?

on your way to the party just outside of campus, you felt chilly in just a skirt and cropped top. harry noticed instantly. "cold?" he asks. you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you start to shiver. harry instinctively wraps an arm around you before he can even process what he's doing. "uh, is this any better?" he inquires.

you look up at him with those damn eyes, and he's lost once again. "a lot better." you say sweetly.

at the party, you stick with him for a bit until a few friends pull you away to do some shots. he gives you a reassuring smile as he tells you to go, and he watches your barely-covered ass as you run along.

and so do a few other guys.

harry notices at least 3 guys around him who watch you leave, and at least one of them makes some snide comment about you to a buddy. his blood boils like he's never felt before. he could feel himself tensing up as he imagined what he would do to them if they ever tried to touch you.

harry takes a deep breath and finds a bathroom, running some water over his face to calm down. you were not his girlfriend. not even close. but he felt like any other guy who looked at you was looking at what was his. he was there for you 24/7, he knew your favorite everything, he saw how beautiful you were in all your states, not just dressed up at some costume fraternity party, and though that gives him no right over you, he just couldn't help but feel protective over someone who means so much to him.

you find each other again at some point during the party, and you're a bit drunk. harry finds it somewhat amusing at first, but quickly hates the way those guys are looking at you again. so, he wraps your arm around his waist, tells you it's time to go home, and you mindlessly abide.

on the way home he's completely in awe at the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulder. he felt like you looked like a proper couple, matching costumes and all, and he loved that thought.

as he walked you into your room, you immediately began stripping off your accessories. he was caught in that same predicament he found himself in not too long ago. does he casually let you unclothe in front of him or turn around and give you the privacy you deserve?

he quickly decided on the latter and turned away, making sure the door was locked for your privacy. you started giggling infectiously, stumbling around behind him. "you ok?" he asked with a smirk, amused at the sound of you struggling.

"no, need helppp," you whine, slurring your words slightly while still giggling. harry freezes. he hadn't even considered that you might be too drunk to get undressed by yourself. he's even more conflicted than before.

"m-my help?" he asked. obviously he knew the answer, he just didn't feel right taking your clothes off of you while you were intoxicated. "well duhh…" you giggled, taking another stumbling step behind him.

what should he do? if he says no you might feel like he's annoyed with you or doesn't want to help you out, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

before he can make a decision, you turned him around, his eyes landing on your glazed over eyes.

you had taken off the bandana and gotten your shirt partially off before asking harry for help. he's a bit startled to see you half dressed in front of him, but he quickly makes the decision to be professional and friendly about this situation.

he helps you take off your shirt the rest of the way, and unties your skirt around your waist. harry tries to divert his eyes as he does so to give you the most privacy possible in this moment, though his mind was pushing the most sinful thoughts he could muster.

his hands were shaky as he put both your skirt and top in the laundry, not even noticing how hard and fast his heart was beating until he took a moment to breathe.

just behind him, he hears you take a seat on your mattress. "can you take my shoesss pleaseee," you whine, sticking your left heel in the air towards harry.

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

you, practically naked except for your underwear and fishnet stockings, pointing a bright red heel at him with a pouty face as you wait for his help. he could devour you whole right here, right now. the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet tonight honestly had harry impressed with himself.

he nervously swallowed before reaching for your shoe, carefully sliding it off your foot as you gracefully lift the other leg towards him. he takes that heel as well and sets them next to your other shoes. he reaches in your closet for a big, comfy t-shirt and turns around to give it to you.

he sees you on your back, rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get your fishnets off, laughing to yourself as they get tangled on your legs. harry cant help but laugh at you as well, your carefree intoxicated state was just so adorable to him.

harry briefly helps you out of the stockings before handing you the t-shirt. "here, is this okay to sleep in?" he asks, putting the stockings on your dresser. "yeah!" you say cheerfully. "thanks, harryyy," you coo. harry immediately blushes, the way you carried out his name just made his heart sing. he was so lucky to be this close to you.

"gotta take this off," you say, pulling at the straps of your bra. harry nods and turns away. you giggle softly, grabbing for his hand. he turns to you in shock, looking down at your hand as you stand up from the bed.

"help me?" you ask seductively.

harry is frozen. are you meaning to be so overtly flirty right now? is this a bit from the alcohol? are you about to start laughing him off and put the shirt on anyway?

but you don't, you just patiently wait for his answer with puppy dog eyes. he glanced between you and the t-shirt in your hand, clearly a worried look taking over his expression.

"you don't have to," you say softly. that snaps harry out of his daze. "n-no, of course i'll help," he says eagerly. you smile again and turn around, gathering your hair to one side to get it out of the way for him.

harry has never been so aroused in his life. this is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone. he's never unclasped a bra before, and worries he's about to make a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful girl in the world.

but he soon figures it out and manages to unclasp it for you. "there you are," he assures you. you slowly turn around, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you hold the bra up. harry's completely infatuated with the delicious sight of you in front of him in this moment, but quickly diverts his gaze to an uninteresting part of the room.

"harry, do you want to see my boobs?"

harry snaps his head back at you with concern. his brows are furrowed and mouth agape. you have a genuine expression but your eyes are still a bit bloodshot.

"wh…what?" he choked out. he can't believe you asked that, even in this state. you've truly never showed interest in harry like this before, only subtle touches and looks that he interpreted how he wanted, but never anything like this.

well, unless you count the other day when you undressed near him.

but that was friendly, wasn't it? you were just changing, lots of friends change in front of each other. but this was completely different, you were purposefully exposing yourself to him. not only that, but you were asking him if you could, as if it wasn't the only thing he wanted in this moment.

"do you wanna see my boobs?" you ask again, giggling slightly.

harry blinks a few times, trying as hard as he can to not ogle over your body. this is all he's wanted, for months this is the only thing he's wanted, but right now just didn't feel right. you weren't fully aware of what you were doing or saying, and he couldn't, in good faith, continue further with this situation.

he carefully places his hands on your crossed arms, keeping them close to you as he talks.

"[y/n], you're drunk right now. and while i helped you get undressed, which was already a bit over the line, i don't want you to do something you'll regret."

you give him a look he can't quite decipher. your smile drops, your eyes focus, and your arms tense.

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

harry quickly reassures you. "don't be! seriously, don't be. i am so, so glad that you trust me enough to help you in this state. truly. it means the world to me, because i care about you so much." he gives you a warm smile.

you smile back at him. "then i hope you understand when i say i want to do this,"

you begin to pull your arms away from your chest, but harry is still holding them. he looks you in the eyes with worry, afraid of what you're about to do, yet more excited than he's been in a long time.

"but [y/n]..." he protests. "please?" you ask simply.

harry is reluctant, but he can tell you're going to be insistent, so he slowly lets go of your arms as you remove your bra from your body.

harry glances at your chest, his heart dropping. you're perfect.

perfect, perfect, perfect.

your skin looked so beautiful in the lowlight provided by your lamps and fairy lights. the curves of your boobs looked so soft and untouched. this was the first time harry was seeing tits in real life, and he was pretty sure this was the best they could possibly get.

he looks back up at your eyes, a shy smile spread across your expression. "beautiful…" harry whispers before he even realizes what he's saying.

you giggle, unfolding the shirt you handed him and swiftly pulling it over your head. "thanks, harry," you say so casually, turning around to make your bed so you can sleep in it.

he can hardly believe what's just happened. the girl of his dreams, the girl he'd practically been obsessed with for months, just willingly showed him her boobs for fun. though you were intoxicated and would most likely regret it tomorrow, hopefully not mad at him for letting it happen, he was still grateful that you felt that level of trust with him in any capacity.

what he wasn't grateful for, however, were these bloody pirate pants that gave him the most uncomfortable erection of his life. this was also definitely the hardest and most turned on he had ever been, so he's not sure if there's any comfort to be had in this moment anyway. while you focus on the bed, harry takes a step away and tries to calm himself down, thinking different thoughts to try and let the hornieness subside for just a bit longer.

as you plop into bed and begin getting comfortable, harry turns off a few lamps for you but keeps on the fairy lights in case you need the bathroom at any point.

"do you need anything before i head out, [y/n]?" he asks.

you sit up in your bed, a look of pain on your face.

"you're leaving me?"

harry is utterly heartbroken at the tone of your question. you sound so genuinely upset he immediately comes to comfort you, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

"oh, no, i-i won't if you don't want me to." he stumbles out. harry wasn't planning on staying, he was actually just imagining how good of a jerk he was about to have in 10 minutes, plus he's never technically stayed the night with you before. but he quickly pushes his perverted thoughts of you to the side and knows it's much more satisfying to him if he stays here and makes sure you're okay through the night.

you reach for the bandana that's still tied around his head and pull it off swiftly, leaving his hair disheveled. you throw it across the room with a laugh.

"sleepoverrrr" you cheer, patting the spot next to you on the bed. harry laughs with you, standing up and realizing he's still dressed as a pirate. "i didn't bring any clothes…" he says with a twinge of sadness.

you look at him confused. "you're a guy, just sleep naked." you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. harry is a bit stunned at this statement but quickly laughs you off, going to your drawers to look for a pair of pants. besides, he's still slightly struggling with a situation in his boxers and being naked next to you wouldn't exactly help him out.

he eventually put together a shirt and pants combo that fit him comfortably enough to sleep in. "hope you don't mind," he says as he changes into them.

"not at all," you say, watching him change in the lowlight. there's something in your voice that makes harry feel feral, an overwhelming desire to just let go and release the tension between you two. at least, the tension he thinks is there.

he quickly gets dressed, setting his pirate clothes and glasses on your dresser as the sleep begins to settle into his bones. he crawls into bed next to you, and is quickly invited to join you under the covers. he's a bit reluctant at first, but realizes he doesn't have much of a choice as he starts getting cold.

within a few minutes of saying goodnight to each other, you and harry drift off to sleep together.

you're the first one awake, a splitting headache and dry mouth creating an unpleasant feeling immediately after opening your eyes. you rub the sleep away from them and reach for a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, sitting up a bit to sip slowly.

"good morning," a deep voice rumbles just beside you. you instinctively jump a bit before your brain quickly recognizes harry's tone and accent. as you turn to him, he's adorably disheveled wearing one of your university crewnecks under your blanket.

he smiles at you. he looks so different without his glasses on.

"morning, harry," you say groggily. the moment doesn't last long before another wave of your headache hits you, causing you to rub your forehead. you groan in pain. "what happened last night?"

harry's a bit frozen. this is exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. you don't remember anything from last night. he should've just dropped you off here and left right away, not even letting there be a chance of anything happening.

he's brought out of his thoughts when you look back down at him, a look of curiosity in your eyes as you continue to rub your head.

harry also sits up a bit before climbing out of bed, putting his glasses on from the top of your dresser.

"well…" he starts out nervously, scratching his head. "we went to the party," he says as he begins to stretch his back out.

"oh yeah, the party. we were definitely the best costumes there." you recall the night fondly. harry laughs nervously, worried about how you're going to react when you find out he undressed you and even saw you nearly completely naked in such an intoxicated state.

"right, yeah, of course." harry chuckles dryly. "but, um…at some point you left me and started drinking, so we didn't stay for long." he says carefully, his mind racing as he slowly, nervously paces between your bed and your dresser.

"classic," you chuckle, reaching for a hairbrush as you begin to comb through your knotty hair. "thanks for bringing me home, harry," you smile at him.

the guilt twists in his stomach like a knife, he can't believe how innocent you are. but he also can't believe what happened between you two last night, and just how eager you seemed for it to happen. he has to stop thinking about it before he gets turned on again.

"of course, [y/n], but, um…" he takes a deep breath before he continues. "you look cute in my jumper, by the way," you interrupt him, standing up from your bed as you begin to collect toiletries to take a shower.

his brain fogs from the compliment, but doesn't let it distract him from what he knows he has to tell you.

"well, thank you, but, um…" harry says with a blush.

you give him a confused look. "what's up?" you ask him. he's just going to come right out and say it.

"look, [y/n], i don't know if you remember, but…you asked me to help you get undressed last night because you were too drunk," he spits out, trying to immediately gauge your reaction before continuing. you just give him an even more confused look. "oh, well, thank you then. is that okay?" you ask incredulously.

harry stiffens. "yeah, um…i didn't mind helping, of course, it's just…" you giggle, opening the door to your en suite bathroom that's barely bigger than the shower within it. "harry, you're such a dork. do you actually feel bad for taking care of me when i was drunk?" you ask sarcastically as you set down various lotions and hair products onto the sink.

he cracks a small smile at you calling him a dork, but it doesn't last long. his heart settles a bit after hearing your positive outlook on the situation so far, but it doesn't stop completely.

"it's not that, um…but, uh, afterwards, you, well, kind of…" he awkwardly tried to find the words.

"you…showed me your boobs." not the most eloquent way of putting it.

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

"n-not by my request or anything!" he quickly reassures you (and himself). "it's just, i told you you might regret it, but you were insisting on doing it anyways…" he doesn't want to feel like he's blaming you when he was the sober one in charge.

"oh…" you say despondent, seeming lost in your thoughts as you search his expression. he gives you a moment to process what he's said. "yeah…" is all he manages to say.

you sigh. "i'm sorry, harry. it was wrong of me to force that on you." your apology is so sincere, and it immediately confused harry. force that on him? bloody hell. you really had no memory of just how much he enjoyed himself in that moment. harry's sure he looked like a kid at a candy shop just staring at your beautiful body in the warm light.

"what? no! i-i'm sorry i let that happen," he responds with a ridiculous tone. "i was the sober one, i should've tried harder to–""to what? stop a drunk girl from showing her tits? yeah, good luck with that one." you laugh, cracking a joke.

harry's nerves are much more calm. he's insanely grateful that you seem to be taking this news well and aren't angry with him.

"look, harry…" you start, adjusting your shirt around your shoulders. harry's been stealing glances of your delicious thighs and legs every so often as you talked.

"i'm really grateful for you. just in general, but for last night especially. you helped me out, and you were a complete gentleman, at least from what i can remember…" you joke with him. he cracks a smile too.

"so don't stress about it, yeah?"

harry lets out a breath of relief, physically feeling the weight of the situation lift from his shoulders. "yeah, of course. i'm really grateful you trust me like that." he's in awe of your grace in this moment.

you smile, stepping over to the laundry next to your dresser. you grab a shirt and some pants from your closet, and, before harry even realizes what you're doing, you drop your underwear you were wearing last night to your ankles, stepping out of them and walking towards the bathroom again.

"gonna shower for a bit," you inform him as you close the door behind yourself.

harry's left behind, staring at the door before returning his gaze to your panties.

they're red, much like your bra from last night, and he remembers taking note of them to keep in his fantasies later for accuracy. but now, here they were, just laying right in front of him.

he finds himself still staring at them when he hears you turn the shower on and step inside, closing the sliding glass door behind you. he looks at the door, and looks back at your panties.

for a while he just looks at them incredulously, not entirely sure why this specific detail has made him so irrationally horny. you were completely naked on just the other side of this wall, but he's practically mesmerized by the image of you casually sliding your red panties down your legs right in front of him like it wasn't the most erotic thing he's ever witnessed in his whole life.

before he knows it, the shower turns off. he's still left staring at your red panties. as he shifts his weight, he can see that they're a bit wet and slick in the light from you wearing them all night.

he can't take it anymore. his erection from last night has returned with a vengeance this morning. before harry could even realize what he's doing, he's picked up your underwear carefully, holding them between his fingers, your wetness still soaking through the cotton.

his heart is racing as he hears you brushing your teeth. what is he doing? if you caught him being perverted with your panties like this after just reassuring him that he wasn't in the wrong for what happened last night, he'd surely be on your bad side. but he can't stop himself.

he brings them to his face and takes a slow, deep inhale.

you smell completely divine. slightly sweet, slightly bitter. he gets goosebumps just thinking about how you must really smell. his erection is raging beneath your sweatpants he put on last night, feeling incredibly dirty from being so turned on by your used panties.

his stolen pleasure is too quickly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling. shit. as you're about to open the door, harry panics and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.

you come out with freshly damp hair and raw skin. the wonderful smell of your shower products fill the room as you brush through your hair casually.

harry keeps a hand in his pocket over the panties so you don't have the chance of catching him, and to better conceal the raging boner that's not going away anytime soon.

you don't say anything as you place your toiletries back in their rightful spots, humming to yourself as you comb through your hair occasionally.

so casually beautiful, so effortlessly pristine. you amazed him every time with just how ethereal you could be at any given moment. a freshly clean angel fluttering around the room without a care in the world.

you begin complaining of your hangover headache and ask harry to get food with you. he's more than willing, his stomach already growling in response for him.

at breakfast, you sit in silence with harry as you both hungrily devour the pancakes you ordered. harry got you two glasses of orange juice to keep you hydrated after last night.

after a while, you inform him you have to go study, and he offers to help you. "thanks, but i can't be distracted. this exam is going to kick my ass." you complained to him. harry gave you a look. "i distract you?"

you laugh at him, leaving him at the lunch hall with a simple, "goodbye, harry. call me later."

when harry gets to his dorm room, he realizes he's still wearing your clothes. and, shit, he's still got your panties in his pocket.

harry slowly reaches for them, feeling a twinge of guilt and lust once his hand finds the fabric. pulling them out, he's in shock that he actually stole a pair of your panties. to be fair he didn't intend to, he just panicked and wasn't thinking straight.

but, now that he has them…

keeping the red lace hanging from his fingers, harry climbs into bed and begins to remember those unforgettable moments with you just the night prior. it doesn't take much to get him just as riled up as before, imagining the moments he was undressing you in slow motion. taking your heels off as you looked up at him with the most seductive eyes in the world. seeing the flesh of your breasts for the first time in the dim lighting, imagining how they'd feel in his rough hands. god, he feels so bad finding pleasure in these moments, but he physically can't resist it.

his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking slowly as to savor the memories flashing through his brain. he's been aching for this release since seeing you in your costume last night, just another memory that brings him closer to the edge.

finally, he slowly brings your panties to his face. though they've since dried in his pocket during breakfast and the walk home, the lingering smell is still enough to drive him wild. he's breathing them in like it's oxygen and he's drowning.

just as he's nearing the end, he brings the panties to his other hand and begins stroking his cock with them. the sight alone is enough to break him, his cum spilling onto his hand and all over your red panties as images of your half naked body continue to infest his brain.

this time, the immediate guilt was the worst it'd ever been.

as he began to clean up, he realized just how much he ruined your panties in his excitement. his cum had soaked through the thin fabric and was already drying around it. he cursed himself for ruining such a sacred momento that he should've cherished, but also quickly cursed himself for thinking that way about you in the first place.

you even said yourself that harry was being a perfect gentleman last night. yeah, a gentleman with a raging erection the entire night who steals your used panties for his sick pleasure…

he continues to clean himself up, putting your panties in a safe place where nobody can find them and he won't lose them. even just the thought of them being in his possession was enough to get him riled up again.

it's the stressful time between thanksgiving and christmas where school has the two of you completely spread thin. harry's constantly writing essays while you seem to have endless lab experiments to finish for other classes. the one saving grace is your potions class together, twice a week. it's what kept harry sane during this chaotic time.

spending even just this short hour and 15 minutes with you is enough to fulfill harry. he hasn't properly hung out with you in nearly two weeks and was missing you like he was withdrawing.

sitting close to you to copy some notes about the potion you two are working on, harry admires your handwriting for the millionth time since he's met you. "i just don't understand how you write so well, i can barely read my own," harry jokes, holding out his notebook, making you laugh and blush.

the potion you're working on is one that allows the consumer to communicate with animals for a short period of time. it's rather complex, but harry helps you keep things organized and encourages you when you get frustrated.

"i just don't get it, how is it 3 drops and not 6? i swear it was 6 last week…" you groan, looking through your notes as you set down the tincture, rubbing your face, exasperated.

harry sets a reassuring hand on your arm. he's gotten pretty good at being more physical with you, and isn't afraid to touch you casually like you always have with him. "hey, [y/n], it's okay," he tells you, catching your eyes with his. "it's been a stressful week, yeah? just a mistake, no big deal."

you give harry that same, warm smile you delivered on your first day meeting him. he often looks back at that day fondly, forever grateful he got the sudden courage to talk to you after this class. not only were you now his closest friend, you were also the light of his life.

as harry finishes up, he hands you the round vial full of luminescent, purple potion. "here you are, test it out."

you take a small swig of it just as professor rodden makes his way to your and harry's table. next to the table is a bird's cage on a hook, with a sweet owl inside named jewel.

you make eye contact with the owl, and begin to speak. to you and everyone else it just sounds like regular english, but the owl begins to hoot and flap its wings at you immediately.

"hello, jewel, how are we feeling today?" you coo.

amazing, incredible, unbelievable! jewel's hoots become intelligible to your ear as you practically jump up and down with a huge smile on your face. "it worked, it worked!" you announced to harry, instinctively jumping in his arms for a hug as he spins you around excitedly.

"yes! you did it! see, i knew you could." harry exclaims, setting you down and giving you a toothy grin.

you look at jewel again, who is turning her head at you every which way. how nice, you and the boy! how sweet indeed! her loud hoots make the class silent as they watch you interact with her.

"what's she saying?" harry asks curiously. you give him a shy smile, feeling your face turn red. "she likes us." you're not totally lying.

"well, ms. [y/l/n], i must tell you i'm quite impressed. not just at how quickly you two perfected this potion, but of your performance this semester overall." professor rodden compliments you. he turns to harry. "i see mr. potter has been a positive influence on you this year."

harry quickly shuts him down. "actually, sir, if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, [y/n] has helped me way more this semester than i've helped her. she's brilliant."

professor rodden turns to you, a pale face and shocked expression, and gives you a smile. "well, then, hat's off to you, ms. [y/l/n]." he says, bowing to you before continuing with his rounds in the classroom. "thank you, professor rodden."

after class, you're all over harry, resting your head on him, hugging him, touching him randomly, but he's not complaining of course. he feels lucky enough that you're so comfortable around him as to be touchy feely.

"thank you, by the way. for what you said to rodden." you thank him as you two walk into your dorm room. harry takes his usual seat at your computer desk. "of course, i wasn't about to let that wanker give me credit for all of your hard work." harry says, laughing. he's become so much more confident with you, even using your lingo in his own vocabulary.

"no, really, thank you. just, for everything." you smile at him. "you're the best friend i could ever ask for."

harry feels his smile slightly falter. he's always reminded that that's all you are is friends, and while he's insanely grateful for your friendship, probably more than anything else in his life, he just can't help but feel a bit lost at this point. he's insanely attracted to you, ferociously protective over you, and, yet, can't bring himself to tell you any of this.

"you're welcome, [y/n], but if anything i should be thanking you. you don't even know how much you've helped me, not just with school but with everything. you're, like, the only friend i have at this point." harry laughs, but it's true. he's tried to make friends in other classes this year but has been disappointed each time, they're just not you.

you give harry a sad smile. "that's not true, ron and hermione are still your friends. more than that, they're practically your family." you walk over to him and run your hand through his hair, something you know he loves. he looks up at you slightly through his eyelashes.

"hermione's right, they'll come back to you one day. just give it some time, yeah?"

harry melts into your touch. nobody can settle his mind like you do. he didn't exactly look for pity from people, but you were someone he felt so safe with that he could be completely vulnerable in front of you. the reassurance and love that you provided him in these moments healed him in a way he didn't understand.

"right," he sighs, giving you the same sad smile.

you whine and pull his head into your chest, resting your own head on top of his. "awh, i hate seeing you so sad." you say sympathetically, still running your fingers through the back of his hair.

if harry's being completely honest, he's not sad at all anymore. how could he feel anything but pure bliss with his head buried in your sweater and your fingers leaving goosebumps throughout his scalp? he leans into you like a dog being pet, so desperate for your touch.

you stay like that with him for a while, just enjoying each other's company. harry found solace in your heartbeat, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks. "i've missed you." harry practically moans, intoxicated by your warm scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

you hum, smiling softly to yourself, feeling harry practically melt into your arms. "missed you too, harry," you coo, enjoying the feeling of being together.

"the semester's almost over, then it's christmas." you remind him, lifting your head as you look down at his closed eyes. he looks so peaceful resting against you.

harry smiles. almost christmas. but more importantly, almost your birthday.

harry very vividly remembers a conversation he had with you towards the beginning of your friendship about birthdays and how neither of you particularly enjoyed them.

your birthday fell close to christmas, so, inevitably, it became synonymous with christmas growing up. never really getting a separate party or separate presents, you learned to not expect much the actual day of, and to rather wait for christmas so you could be celebrated on the side.

harry was having none of this. he thinks you forgot about the conversation with him completely, but he's thought about it constantly since then. he's been planning on giving you a special birthday on your actual birthday this year, and he's practically dying to tell you. but he doesn't, and he won't, because it has to be a complete surprise.

"hm. christmas." is all he says, tilting his head back to look up at you. from every angle he finds you so fascinating, you just get prettier and prettier the more he truly looks at you.

you're gazing at him so gently, so warmly, your hand practically cradling his head against you. harry blinks and you're suddenly leaning forward, planting a soft kiss against his forehead.

harry could've died happy at that moment.

he brings his head away from your chest as you step away, soft smile and blushing cheeks. watching you turn and start folding laundry mindlessly, harry feels the lingering kiss tingling his skin.

for a brief moment, he imagines himself coming up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, feeling you, pushing you to the bed…

harry quickly shakes his head, grinding his teeth at the horny urges he gets at the most simple actions. what other boys in university get an erection so quickly from a forehead kiss? sometimes harry felt like such a loser, not just with you, but with sex in general.

he never thought about it much before you, so it's not something he knows a lot about. he'd masturbated before, but not as often as he does now, or in the same way. usually he thought about making out with someone, maybe touching them, but now…he just felt so dirty, the things that his brain creates about you.

once you finish the laundry, you ask for his help to put stuff away. he's done this for you many times before, so he knows where you like everything to be.

he hangs up a few shirts and puts away some jeans and socks. he turns around to see you handing him a pile of your panties loosely stacked together. "here," you say as you're turned the other way, gathering another pile of clothes with your other arm.

harry is frozen for a second before reluctantly taking the underwear from you, immediately feeling his face flush.

he's instantly reminded of your panties sitting in his room right now. the panties he stole. the panties he masturbated with.

he's since washed them and keeps them out of guilt, partially, but he's not quite sure how to subtly return them to you. not like he wants to anytime soon.

as harry turns around and opens the drawer you put your panties in, he takes his time so he can admire all the different pairs in his hand. pinks, purples, reds, neutrals, blacks, he was practically holding a goldmine. it almost made him chuckle, the irony of you asking him to put these away.

he neatly tucks them into the drawer, admiring them one last time before slowly closing it.

for the first time that month, you and harry actually have the freetime to leave campus and get food together. your favorite diner is open all night and serves the best milkshakes either of you have ever had.

"how are we splitting the checks?" the older waitress asks, eyeing harry up and down. before you can say anything he tells her just one, handing her his card out of nowhere.

as she walks away you give him an evil look. "you don't always have to pay for everything, y'know? i'm perfectly capable of paying for myself or the both of us." you tease him. he smiles. "i know." he states simply.

you finish your milkshakes within minutes, handing your cherry to harry like you do every time. "cherry for harry," you always say. it always gets a smile out of him.

after a few minutes of chatting alone in the diner, the bell at the front door rings. you get a big smile across your face as you stand from the booth. "thomas?" you ask.

harry turns around to see a man in a quidditch uniform, his hair sweaty and book bag full to the brim. he's carrying his broomstick around, like a total tool if you ask harry, and gives you the cheekiest smile possible.

"[y/n]?" he asks.

harry could've killed him just for saying your name the way he did. like a predator hunting its prey again.

harry's anger immediately worsened when you practically jumped on this guy to give him a hug. nothing like the hug you gave harry in class today, he wants to note.

harry stood up, causing the guy to look at him. he had a scar as well, one from quidditch harry would assume. a slash across his left eye, healed but still somewhat recent.

you look back at harry as well, smiling at him. "harry, this is thomas." you introduce them.

yeah, he picked up on that. harry's face was red from anger.

he reluctantly steps forward, offering his hand to the douchebag who still kept a light hand on your shoulder. harry wanted to break his wrist when he went in for the handshake, but instead he offered a polite, "harry. nice to meet you."

the guy, thomas, gives a half smirk. "harry potter." he states matter-of-factly.

harry was sure his anger was visible at this point. it was enough that this guy was touching you and clearly had a past with you, but for him to pull the boy who lived card on him in front of you was enough to make his fists ball up.

"that's me." he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

there's an awkward moment of silence as harry continues to stare thomas down.

"so. how do you two know each other?" harry asks you, his tone and gaze softening just looking at you.

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

"we dated back in high school." thomas finishes for you.

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

"yeah…for, like, 2 months…" you awkwardly laugh off, clearly not the most comfortable discussing this in front of harry.

thomas laughs with you as the waitress hands him a to-go box. "well, i'll see you guys around," he says as he hikes up his bookbag. "it was nice to see you again, [y/n]."

if looks could kill, this guy would've been dead long before he left out the door. harry knew he was visibly upset when you looked over at him.

"you okay harry?" you ask with a laugh.

he breaks, looking at you with a smile as he loosens his tight muscles. "sorry, i'm fine," he says.

as you both put your coats on to walk home, harry can't help but replay the interaction in his head. "dated…in high school…" "yeah…for, like, 2 months…"

harry's mind was swimming as you left the diner with him, walking into a light snow. "wow," you sigh, looking around you. harry looks up. it's beautiful out. the snow gives everything a light, soft look under the street lamps. he looks down at you and smiles at you admiring the scenery.

sometimes it scares harry how jealous he gets when it comes to you, and how quickly it can happen. that guy did nothing but say your name and give you a 2 second hug, and he actually dated you, so what right does harry have to get upset as just your friend? but all he can think about on the walk to your dorm is pummeling this guy's stupid face into the ground.

harry hadn't told you yet, but he had actually been going to the gym lately with all the time he had spent away from you during the busy school weeks. nothing too intense, he actually focused on boxing and lifting specifically because he wanted to be better prepared to protect you in case anything happened to you. and for self defense reasons, of course, but mainly for your benefit. he would do anything for you.

upon arriving at your dorm, you plop onto your mattress with a groan. "too much milkshake," you whine.

harry chuckles at you, shaking the snow out of his hair. "i told you not to get the large." he smirks. you frown at him, making him laugh again. "it's not funny! and you're wrong, i deserved a large after this month." you protest.

he laughs you off again, taking a peek at your alarm clock next to your bed. his eyes widen. "bloody hell, since when was it half past 11?" he asks astounded.

you laugh at his shock. "time flies when you're havin' fun,"

harry rubs his eyes. "if i don't leave now i won't get enough sleep to make it to my 9 a.m." he groans, not wanting his time with you to end yet again.

"nooo," you whine, clearly wanting the same. he gives you a sad look at your tone. "stay?" you ask.

harry's a bit taken aback. he hasn't stayed the night since the halloween party. thinking about that night for even a split second makes him break a sweat. it's his most replayed memory. he could even call it his sexual awakening at the ripe age of 19.

"stay? are you sure?" harry asks. you immediately nod your head, smiling at him. he can't say no to you, and he doesn't want to. he has no reason to leave, anything he needs is already here.

"well, if you insist." he smirks. you roll your eyes, taking off your jacket and hat and setting them in your closet. "i only insist because that snow is turning into a storm." you reply. you're not wrong, harry would've had to walk for 15 minutes through heavier and heavier snowfall, not to mention the windchill.

"well, thank you." he says. you smile back at him before reaching to take your shirt off. harry's seen you in multiple states of undress since the halloween party, so it's not uncommon for you to just change at any point during your conversations.

but that didn't make it any less pleasurable for harry.

sometimes he just sat back and watched like it was a personal show just for him. he would memorize the shape of your back and, shit, the curve of your ass. he watched as you pulled down your jeans, left in nothing but a bra and panties. he tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away for too long, your ass was just perfect to him.

before too long you unclasped the bra hooks behind your back and let the black fabric fall into the laundry. you slipped on a big t-shirt, your favorite thing to wear to bed, and harry caught just the slightest glimpse of your tits from behind you.

as you turned around, harry quickly began taking off his wet, snow covered converse to appear as though he wasn't just observing you like his own personal dirty magazine.

when he looked up, you were handing him some clothes to change into. he thanked you, grabbing them as he took off his jeans and sweatshirt. harry had also learned to be more comfortable changing around you, even if it wasn't as often.

harry put on the sweatpants and fresh pair of socks before realizing you hadn't given him a shirt. he looked over at you and you were already staring at him.

"harry, have you been working out?"

his face flushed, feeling exposed with just a pair of sweatpants on his hips. you were looking at his body with an expression of shock and amusement.

"u-um, yeah, a bit…just between classes, get some stress out." he's not entirely lying, but he could never tell you the real reason.

you smile at him, but a different smile than normal. you're almost…nervous? you've never been nervous around harry, even when you two first met.

"you look…good…" you say with a slight crack in your voice, still looking at him. harry can feel his blood pumping, and he knows that can only lead to an eventual erection, so he turns around casually pretending to fold his jeans. "oh, thanks," he tries to say casually.

he can still feel your eyes on him as he hangs his sweatshirt on your coat rack. "damn, harry. you're like…ripped." you say with genuine shock in your voice.

harry turns towards you, but you're fixated on his exposed torso. he nervously laughs, not sure how to respond. of course he thought getting stronger would mean his body would inevitably look better, but he cared more about his ability to fight off any creeps he needed to in order to keep you safe. however, he hadn't necessarily considered your reaction to his transformation. he had somewhat forgotten you also saw him change his clothes that halloween night. he thought you had forgotten too.

"i don't know about that," he laughs awkwardly.

you just giggle and look away, shaking your head. you climb into bed and invite him next to you. harry accepts and joins you beneath the covers, turning off a lamp beside him.

after a few moments of silence, harry could hear your shallow, even breaths indicating you're asleep. he looked down at you, peaceful, beautiful. he sat up as gently as possible and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, [y/n]."

it was finally your birthday.

harry had been planning this day for weeks. he made sure to ask you way ahead of schedule when you would be seeing family so he could time everything perfectly.

he had completely set up your room to look like a birthday party for a kid. balloons, streamers, a birthday cake and ice cream, presents, even fun plates and napkins.

you should be coming home from going out to eat with your parents for brunch in about 10 minutes. harry made sure to call you before you left early in the morning to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.

as he was waiting for you to arrive, he made sure everything was perfect, down to the last balloon. he had put your favorite cd on and even lit a candle. he's not quite sure why, he just felt like it was right.

soon enough, he could hear your keys on the other side of your door letting yourself in, so harry positioned himself beside your bed and waited eagerly for the reaction he'd been thinking about for months.

when you open the door, you're a bit startled to see him at first. "surprise!" he says with a suppressed smile, trying to contain his excitement.

your eyes slowly examine the room, your jaw dropping as you bring a hand to your heart. "harry…" you choke out in a small voice, still noticing different details around you as the door closes behind you.

"happy birthday." he says lovingly, taking in every second of your realization.

"you…how did you…" you can't even get the words out as you set down your purse and coat on your bed next to your presents from harry.

"i've been planning this for weeks. i wanted to give you the birthday you never had." he tells you.

you look at him with tears in your eyes, quickly looking away and towards your dresser. "you got me a cake…" you say tearfully, walking up to the custom cake he had placed an order for an entire week ago.

"we also have reservations for the diner at 5. if you'd join me, of course." harry smirks. you chuckle at him, jumping in his arms and enveloping him in a hug. "thank you…" you begin to cry into his shoulder.

harry holds you tight, dazed from your scent and enjoying the softness of your hair. he rubs your back softly as you get the tears out, letting you know it's okay.

you pull away, wiping your tears as you laugh at yourself. "sorry, i just…this is so amazing of you harry."

"don't be sorry. i'm glad you love it." he reassures you, making you smile. "let's have some cake, hm?"

after some cake and ice cream as well as messing with the balloons and party favors, it was time for harry's favorite part. the presents.

he sat you both down on your bed and savored each reaction you had to each present. every thank you was followed by, "how did you know i wanted this?" "how much was this?" "how did you get this?"

harry had his ways. and again, he would do anything for you.

his last present for you, though, was the most important. he kept it beside him until the very end, handing it to you with a shy smile. you lifted the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful necklace, one he saw you looking at multiple times while out shopping with you.

you were speechless. you looked at harry with the most genuine expression of shock, gratitude, and confusion. "harry…" you gasp. "you got this for me?" you ask.

harry chuckles. "do you like it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"harry…you really shouldn't have…" you tell him, staring at the necklace in your lap. he smiles even bigger, the look on your face was already enough to convince him it was worth it. it was all worth it. "here, i'll put it on you."

you hand harry the necklace, turning and scooting towards him as you hold your hair to the side for him. he's immediately reminded of the night he helped you take your bra off.

he clasps the necklace together and you turn towards him, looking down at it with him. "wow, it looks great." he says with a smile.

you look up at him, your faces nearly touching. harry can barely process your beauty before you lean in for a soft kiss against his lips.

harry's completely frozen, not knowing what to do or what's even happening.

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

you look up at him, your eyes soft and eager. harry can't hold himself back anymore. you've kissed him first, that's all the permission he needs for now.

he lightly grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a bigger, deeper kiss. soon enough, you're making out with harry in your bed.

he's a bit rusty when it comes to kissing, but he plays it safe with you and keeps it soft and light. your hands have traveled to harry's neck and hair, pulling him closer to you.

after a minute or so, harry pulls away. "i love you, [y/n]." he admits. he just couldn't keep it in for much longer.

your eyes light up, a shy smile on your lips as you read his expression. "oh, harry. i love you, too." you reply breathlessly.

the kissing becomes more and more heated as you eventually push harry back onto your pillows. he's surprised, and completely aroused, trying to ignore his growing erection from simply kissing you.

you climb on top of him, the visual making harry sweat already. as you lean in to continue the kiss, your legs end up on either side of him, straddling his torso.

harry is at a loss. he never imagined his birthday surprise for you would end like this. did you really mean you loved him? like, loved loved him?

his hands went to your hips, savoring the feeling of your weight on top of him, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. eventually, he can feel your hips slowly rock back and forth on his lap.

he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you above him with wonder. it was everything he could've imagined. even better than the constant fantasies he had of you.

"is this okay?" you ask him softly, searching his eyes, grinding your hips into his a bit slower than before.

harry looks at you incredulously. "[y/n], this is all i've wanted for so long. please. use me." the desperation in his voice surprises him, he knew he wanted you this bad but he couldn't believe how quickly you had him begging.

you practically moaned at his desperate request. "fuck," you whisper as you go in for another kiss.

harry guides your hips into his, and he's sure you can feel just how hard he is through his jeans. you're softly moaning into the kiss, stopping to catch your breath every so often as harry slightly thrusts his hips into you, desperate for more.

"oh, harry…" you moan, causing his eyes to roll in ecstasy. for so long he imagined how you'd sound moaning his name just for him, and he's more than happy with the real thing.

"you're so beautiful, darling," harry says, reaching for your flushed cheek.

you whimper at his voice, tangling a hand in his hair. "tell me again." you demand him.

shit. harry could seriously cum just from that. he's doing everything he can to keep this going as long as possible, but he's not sure how much longer he'll last under you.

"beautiful. so, so beautiful." he says between heavy breaths, watching your incredible body grind onto him for pleasure. "you have no idea how badly i've needed you," he looks back into your eyes, half shut with pleasure as you continue to blush.

"touch me." you tell him, putting your hair behind your shoulders. he looks up at you slowly moving up and down on his lap. he could watch you do this for hours. a dream come true.

one hand slowly makes its way towards your tits, massaging one through your clothes. harry's head rolls back in pleasure, hardly believing this was his real life. involuntary moans slip through his lips as you continue to dry hump him.

"fuck, harry…" you whimper, kissing him again. he can feel the necklace he got you against his hand as he continue to feel your tits. everything about this was perfect. as far as he was concerned, right now, in this moment, you were his and only his.

"i-i…i think i'm gonna cum…" you tell him between kissing. his hands grip you tighter, all he wants to do is please you, be the reason for your ecstasy.

"please, [y/n], please cum for me," he begs of you, feeling his own body tipping over the edge. you look him in the eyes, your hand on his cheek as your breathing gets more rapid and uneven.

you're whimpering, desperately grinding for relief on harry's jeans as he feels himself about to cum. "harry, please…" you beg.

harry slightly thrusts into you, meeting your rhythm as he pulls you closer to him. you begin to shake in his grip, your eyes and jaw going lax as your whimpers become breathless. your hand finds one of his and interlocks your fingers together. you squeeze his hand as you ride out your high. he's completely enthralled with your face and body's reaction to him. he could be here forever, letting you use his body for pleasure, and he would hurt anyone who tried to stop him.

as you start to come down from your climax, harry gently pulls you in for a weak kiss. you crawl beside him, hiding your face in his chest as you continue to catch your breath.

"that was…so hot…" you manage to say between breaths. harry laughs softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on your head. "you're amazing." is all he can say.

"so…did you…?" you shyly start to ask. "yes. i came in my pants." harry admits, hiding his face in your hair. you can't help but laugh a bit, looking down at his jeans. he looks down and sees a dark spot near the zipper.

"oh." you say, clearly amused. "how couldn't i? i had the most beautiful woman in the world orgasming on my lap." harry smirks.

you hide your face in his chest again, giggling. you look up at him with dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, and sore lips in a small smile. "i really do love you, harry," you speak softly.

"i love you too, [y/n]."

it's the day after christmas, and you and harry had spent the holiday with your family. he loved your parents, and got on well with your siblings. he had even rented a room at a local inn near the area for you two to stay in. a private place to escape the chaos and have some alone time.

you and harry were practically all over each other all the time at this point. he couldn't help himself, all he ever wanted was to kiss you and now he could, whenever he wanted, and he was going to take advantage of that.

it was your last day at the inn, a cozy cottage type place with the softest beds you've ever slept in, and harry paid for all of it before you even knew about it. "merry christmas," he had told you.

you were eating your complimentary breakfasts together in silence, across from each other at the little table in the corner of the room.

"thank you, again, harry. this was a wonderful idea." you said as you finished your orange juice, admiring the snowfall out of the window. "it's so beautiful here."

"you're beautiful."

you give harry a look, but crack a smile. "and you're cheesy."

harry chuckles, admiring you like he always does. his soft eyes and kind smile give you butterflies.

as you're packing your clothes to get ready to leave, harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. you smile, giggling, continuing to pack your suitcase. his lips end up on your neck, but you ignore him as you put your panties inside the bag.

harry laughs to himself. you look over at him. "what?" you ask with a smile. he's blushing, shaking his head. "nothing, nothing." he continues to laugh.

"tell me," you say. he shakes his head again. "no, its…it's weird." he says. you can hear a bit of shame in his voice as he hides his face in your neck again. "harry, tell me. please?"

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

he sighs, taking a step away from you and sitting on the bed next to your suitcase. "well…" he starts, rubbing his face nervously. "um, after the halloween party…" he trails off.

"yes…?" you ask, amused at his shy demeanor.

"u-uh, the morning after, when you took a shower…" harry recalls, shifting his weight. "i may have, um…stolen your underwear you took off in front of me…." he cringes at his words, turning his head away from you.

"i knew it!" you declared, pushing his shoulder.

harry covered his face completely, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment from the embarrassment.

"god, that's so bloody hot, harry," you practically moan, pushing his arms to the side and sitting in his lap. he's completely red in the face, bewildered by your reaction.

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

you hold his face in your hands, admiring his shy expression as you sink into him. "you don't find that weird? or creepy? or extremely perverted?" harry asks you incredulously.

you giggle at him, your eyes full of love. "yes, harry, stealing my used panties behind my back is very perverted. if you did that to any other girl they may find it really disturbing." harry's heart drops, his eyes focused on you completely. "but, i like you. i've really liked you for a long time. and…i find it so fucking hot just how desperate you were for me…"

harry's heart is immediately pumping at your words. you wrap your arms around his neck as you force a kiss on him, his hands grabbing your waist with a hunger.

after a moment he pulls back, nervously blinking and clearing his throat. "um, that's not all, though," he says regretfully. you give him a curious look. "i might've, um…used the panties to masturbate…" he admits.

you smile at his nervousness, biting your lip and giving him a desperate look. "oh, harry, tell me what it was like…" you moan as you begin kissing his neck.

harry's voice is caught, his head rolling back in pure bliss. sometimes he still can't believe this is real life.

you continue to bite at his neck, leaving marks as harry tries to find the words. "i, um…" his hand travels to your ass. "well, i smelled them first…" you moan against his skin, your legs tightening around him. "go on…" you say with a smile.

harry's trying to focus on the story without getting distracted by your lips. "they smelled so good, and you almost caught me, so i put them in my pocket," harry fights back a moan.

"so naughty," you tease him, pushing him onto his back. "tell me more." you demand.

harry nervously swallows at the sight of you above him. you hadn't done anything since your birthday just a few days previous, but it was all harry could think about. he missed the feeling of you being above him, using him, telling him what to do.

"when i got home, i immediately started jerking off thinking about undressing you, seeing your tits for the first time, smelling your panties, i felt so dirty because you told me i was such a gentleman that night…" harry rambles. something about revealing his perverted obsession with you as you're on his lap makes his erection harden.

he grabs for your thighs, sighing at how heavenly they feel in his hands. "then, i just…wrapped your panties around my dick…and i came on them, almost instantly…" harry reveals, the embarrassment fueling his lust.

you're practically aching for harry listening to his story, watching him become desperate for you once again. he's falling apart in your hands and you just can't get enough of it.

"god, harry, that's so hot…you were so obsessed with me…" you say as you lean into his lips, your bodies entangled on the bed.

harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands gently. "i still am, [y/n]." he says sincerely, admiring your eyes. "so, so obsessed…you have no idea…"

you gaze longingly at him, melting his heart. after a moment you kiss him passionately, savoring his eagerness.

"well…would you like these panties too?" you ask with a smirk, putting his hand on your ass. he looks up at you with begging eyes. "please," he says so softly.

soon you're sat on the edge of the bed, harry pulling down your pants with the fireplace lit behind him. he's looking at you so tenderly, taking in every part of you, constantly reminding you how much he loves you, and how beautiful you are.

you open your legs for him as he kneels in front of you, his eyes fluttering from your face to your panties, which are undoubtedly wet from hearing harry's perverted stories.

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

he gently kisses your thighs, higher and higher until he reaches your panties, taking a moment to look back up at you. you're intently watching him, a blush spreading across your face. you look so pretty from here, a view he's daydreamed about plenty of times.

he buries his face in your smell, moaning, taking you in completely, eyes drooping shut as he feels complete bliss overcome him.

you whimper at his reaction, a hand reaching for his hair as he comes back to earth. he reaches for your panties when he pauses, looking up at you shyly.

"i-i've never done this before." he admits.

you giggle at him lovingly. "i know, harry. it's okay. i haven't either." you reassure him, reaching for his glasses and setting them beside you. he smiles shyly and lays his head on your thigh, letting your hand tangle itself in his hair, memorizing this angle of you.

"just enjoy yourself."

harry blushes at that sentiment. he was enjoying himself no matter what, with you he was always happy, especially in moments like this.

but harry more than enjoyed himself. he had always fantasized what it would be like to eat your pussy, your hand in his hair as you ride his face and cum in his mouth. what he didn't expect was just how intimate it felt with you, the soft whimpers that escaped your mouth, having your legs rest on his shoulders, practically making out with your pussy while you writhe with pleasure beneath his hands.

you were both a bit unsure at first, awkward smiles and laughs and reassuring touches, before harry eventually lost himself in the act. he paid close attention to your reactions, your facial expressions, trying to figure out the best way to pleasure you. he loved feeling you get more and more wet for him by the minute, he couldn't get enough of you.

harry didn't want to stop. cumming once wasn't enough for him. he ignored your begging for him to wait, please, it's too much, holding your hands down with his own as he continued for several more minutes. he had waited so long to finally do this for you, showing you just how badly he wanted you. his dick was aching from how hard it was. this was easily the most turned on he'd been for you so far, watching and hearing you orgasm because of him, on his face, he was convinced there was nothing more enjoyable or desirable than this.

"harry, god damn it…" you sighed. he stayed between your legs in the same position, leaving loving and longing kisses on your thighs and stomach, enjoying the aftershocks your body was having in response to him, looking at you with hunger in his eyes.

"yes?" he asks innocently, still admiring your delicious pussy. "harry, i can barely move…" you whine, your body aching and sore. harry smiles devilishly at your weakness, loving the effect he's come to have on you.

he kisses up your body, leaving a desperate kiss on your lips as you taste yourself on him.

"that was even better than i ever imagined it could be," harry practically growls. you giggle at him, your eyes tired and lips bitten.

you look down at harry and see his throbbing erection through his pants. you look back at him, and offer to return the favor.

"oh, honey, you don't have to, you should rest…" harry insists, stroking your hair out of your face. but you're not backing down, and you at least convince him to let you help him out.

he lays next to you on the bed, shirt and pants off as you start feeling his dick through his briefs. harry's instantly desperate under your touch, realizing just how long he's waited for this moment, no longer having to imagine his own hand as yours.

"[y/n]..." harry moans, his eyes filled with lust as he looks over at you. you. blushing, beautiful, natural you. "i swear i could cum just looking at you."

you giggle at harry again, blushing into his chest as your hand continues to stroke him. you look back up at him innocently, admiring the look of desperation he couldn't hide. reaching for a kiss, harry moans softly into your mouth, his dick twitching in your hand.

"oh god…" harry whines, his head falling back in pleasure. you can tell he's close, just from light touching and barely any kissing. you can't help but giggle at his state, loving the control you have over him.

"go ahead, baby, cum for me," you whisper seductively.

that's all it takes for harry.

trying his best to keep his eyes on you, he comes completely undone under your touch. his breathing becomes completely ragged, breathy whimpers, vaguely trying to say your name the longer you stroked him. similar to how he kept going with you, you didn't back down. he begged you to stop, but you could tell he didn't really want you to stop any time soon. you kiss him to quiet his begging, continuing to overstimulate him until he came for a second time, ruining his briefs for good.

after cleaning yourselves up, harry gives you the longest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever received in your life. you bury your head in his chest, taking in the feeling and smell of his skin. his, now muscular, arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you like harry had nothing left in this world but you.

"i love you, so much, and i'm so thankful for you." harry says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

you hug him even tighter. "i love you, harry,"

————————————————————

by the time next semester starts, you and harry are full-blown boyfriend and girlfriend, constantly holding hands wherever you two go and seeing each other off to your classes or study sessions. people talked amongst themselves about the harry potter having a girlfriend, but you both paid no mind.

being with you has really made harry come out of his shell. by the time spring sports roll around, harry feels confident enough to try out for the university's quidditch team. with your support, of course.

it was never a question that he'd make the team, he instantly became their new seeker and brought the school out of their losing streak. through this, harry also made tons of friends, real friends, who wanted to get to know him outside of being harry potter.

not to mention that you had become his number one fan, showing up to every game and most practices to cheer on your best friend and help him strategize for future games.

in every aspect, harry's life completely changed for the better. he loved his classes, he loved his team, and above all else, he loved you, and felt like he owed everything he had to you.

the only thing that bothered harry anymore was that jerk you dated and introduced him to at the diner, thomas.

thomas hadn't made the quidditch team this season, and he made it very clear that he blamed harry for that. he tried spreading a rumor that harry paid his way in, but people didn't buy it after seeing just how well harry played every game.

but that's not what bothered harry. what bothered him was the way thomas used you to get to him.

everyone knew you and harry were dating. it was the topic of conversation on campus for nearly a week when everyone found out. so why is it that every time thomas talked to you when he saw you alone you had to remind him that no, you can't hang out sometime soon, you have a boyfriend now? to harry it felt personal, and he didn't like it.

it was one of the most important quidditch matches of the season, it determined the university's qualification for finals. harry was on top of his game, especially seeing you cheering for him in the stands, and won the match easily, being celebrated by his team on the field.

after taking a few photos and congratulating the rest of the players, harry eagerly runs to meet you at your usual spot just beside the stands to get his usual post-win kiss.

what he finds instead makes him see red.

thomas. he has you completely backed up to the stands, a clearly heated conversation going on between you two. harry can tell you're pissed just by looking at you, speaking with your hands and trying to walk away but being stopped by thomas each time. finally you push him away, and he grabs you.

that's all harry needs to see before he begins sprinting towards him, his mind racing a million miles an hour and yet completely blank at the same time.

you had managed to push thomas off of you, now yelling at him to get the fuck away from you before you rock his shit.

before you can even try, harry tackles thomas to the ground and begins rocking his shit for you.

you gasped. "harry! stop!" you tell him, not wanting him to get caught and punished. but harry doesn't stop. you've never seen this anger from him. it's like he can't stop, not showing any signs of fatigue or resistance.

"harry! stop!" you yell at him, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. harry stops punching thomas, only to stand above him and kick him in the stomach. "harry." you warn him, giving him a concerned look. "stop. you'll get expelled." you tell him in a hushed tone.

harry looks at you, softening, coming back to earth as you motion for him to just walk away with you. harry looks down at thomas, a bleeding mess in the dirt, crying in the fetal position.

harry kneels next to thomas, making him flinch. harry points his wand at him and mutters quickly, "episkey."

thomas's nose fixes itself, his cuts heal, and his stomach bruise lightens. he looks at harry incredulously, feeling no physical pain, but in fear of the threat harry posed.

"don't ever fucking touch her again. do you understand? next time i won't be so nice." harry growls. thomas quickly nods his head, desperate to leave. harry stands up, sneering at him still in the dirt. "and don't talk to me either while you're at it." you add at the end, your voice just as intimidating as harry's. "got that?" harry asks sarcastically. thomas nods again, standing up and running away from harry.

as he turns to you, you notice his bloody nose, multiple cuts from the game, and bruised knuckles. "oh, harry," you coo sympathetically, grabbing his hands and examining them. "come on. let's go home."

and by home, you meant to your house. the university had upgraded your room and board in exchange for you to work for them as a professor's assistant in potions. it was a small cottage just outside of campus, one bedroom, one bathroom, but it was enough for you and harry.

walking into your living room, you send harry to the bathroom as you lock the door behind you and drop your stuff off on the dining table. you grab a rag from the kitchen and get it wet with warm water.

you enter the bathroom to see a shirtless harry already attempting to clean a wound on his chest. you can see his reflection in the mirror and are completely infatuated with his focused, bloody face concentrated on his reflection as he tends to his injury.

you come up behind him, barely able to rest your chin on his tall, broad shoulders. his reflection instantly softens, his muscles relaxing.

you turn him around, cleaning the wounds on his chest, arms, and hands. his knuckles were bruised, nothing a spell couldn't fix. "you're lucky you didn't break anything." you remind him.

he watches you so intently. your gentle, caring touch bringing him instant relief. even now, all these months later, you still mesmerize him every day. he's not sure he'll ever get used to having you for himself. but that's just what you were, for himself.

"i wanted to kill him. i would've killed him." harry reminds you, rubbing his knuckles. "sit, please," you ask quietly, pulling him over to the closed toilet. harry sits down, letting out a groan as his entire body aches from quidditch and nearly killing someone.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and angry again just thinking about it before softening at you. you bring the rag to his face, wiping away blood and dirt from his scars. a tense silence falls between you two. harry can't tell if you're angry at him for what he did. he has no idea why, that thomas kid was dead meat as soon as he decided to touch you.

as you carefully finish cleaning the last of the dirt off harry's face, you notice how tenderly he's watching you. you sigh, holding his face in your hands.

"i'm not mad at you." you say. he swears you can read him like a book.

"but, you could've gotten in serious trouble. or hurt yourself. i just don't want to be the reason you're down." you explain, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"i would do anything for you." he reminds you, his hand finding yours.

you smile warmly at him. you can't stay upset with him for very long.

"then do this for me: stay out of trouble."

harry smiles. no promises.

as you're getting ready for bed, harry walks in from his shower in just a pair of shorts. you walk up to him, running your hands along his torso to make sure his scars are sufficiently clean. and to just admire your boyfriend in general.

harry revealed to you some time back his real reason for working out. you found it sweet, but a bit silly, as you could handle yourself perfectly well. however, tonight, harry proved you wrong. though you were never in immediate danger or physical harm, as far as you knew, it still felt really nice to know he had your back when things got scary.

while working out definitely helped his strength, quidditch is what really made his body so exceptional.

he was perfectly toned, incredibly strong, and more buff than he ever had been his entire life. you were never someone to have a thing for muscular guys, but something about watching harry's body get better and better with time just drove you crazy.

"you know," you start off, resting your hands on his chest. you could feel his heart racing. all this time later and he's still such a nervous wreck for you.

"i may not approve of it, but…i can't deny how fucking sexy you looked beating thomas up for me,"

harry could feel his blood boil just from you mentioning that douchebag's name, but he was somewhat distracted by your observation.

"oh, really?" he smirks, grabbing your waist possessively. you instantly have goosebumps, leaning into harry's tight grip. "mhm. i haven't stopped thinking about it…you in your quidditch uniform, your muscles, the anger in your voice…" you practically swoon for him.

harry blushes, but takes advantage of the situation. "i was seeing red." he recalls. "i was seriously going to fucking kill that loser for even thinking he could touch my girl."

you're instantly turned on by his fierce protectiveness. normally you find harry's jealousy funny, since he has no reason to ever worry about you, but tonight it made you see a completely different side of him…

harry was always so soft and careful with you, and was a normally mild-tempered person with everyone. the only time he really got upset was if someone was getting too comfortable with you too quickly. to see him completely lose his cool, to watch him unleash onto this guy who thought he could just grab you…

you were just so, so attracted to him right now.

"yes, your girl, all yours," you reassure him as you lean in for a kiss. he quickly takes control and brings you to your bed, laying you down with haste. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between sloppy kisses.

the lingering anger within harry needs to be released, immediately.

he quickly undresses you, a complete 180 of the old harry who was afraid to help you take off your bra. he practically rips your panties in half trying to get them off of you.

you're already soaking wet from his aggression. he smirks at you. "guess i should get angry more, yeah?" harry teases.

you blush, but you wouldn't exactly be against it.

as harry slowly begins thrusting into you, he feels that familiar bliss overcome him like it does every time he's inside of you.

you and harry have had sex a couple times before, mostly slow and passionate with lots of kissing, enjoying each other's bodies and intimacy.

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

not to say he never is. he might always be hungry for you, quite literally. but this time, he lets the hunger consume him.

harry's thrusts become less careful and more desperate, he leaves dark, aching bites all over your chest, marking what's his. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between each bite.

you're in a state of pure ecstasy. you didn't know harry could be so rough with you. his desperation usually came in the form of shy begging, whimpering, and a desire to please. but this kind of desperation was aggressive, jealous, and aimed to please himself. you didn't mind, you thought it was bloody hot. you also wanted to help harry get his anger out, and you were the perfect way to do that.

as his thrusts become more possessive and sloppy, his arms rest on either side of you, the sight above you enough to make your orgasm accelerate. a sweaty, tired, aching harry, desperate to prove something to you, looking at you like you're the first meal he's had in years. his muscles flexing, veins popping out, and his breathing becomes labored.

he can feel you tightening around him and quickened his pace. "harry, harry, i'm cumming," you warn him, whining, desperate for a release.

"that's right, cum for me, baby." he groans in your ear, wrapping his arms around you as he continues pounding into you relentlessly.

watching you fall apart under him is enough to send him over the edge himself. his head is buried in your neck as he breathes heavily, moaning your name in your own ear.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum inside you, baby. can you let me do that?" harry asks you, his sweaty face desperate for your approval. you nod quickly, eager to be his release in anyway you can.

"can you take it? can you be a good girl for me?" harry loves to dirty talk, and this is the hottest it's been yet.

"please, harry, please give it to me, please, please, i need you," you beg harry, grabbing his shoulders, feeling your body prepare for its second orgasm.

"take it, baby, take it, god, you feel so good," he groans into your ear, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you.

your body convulses from the feeling and watching harry melt into you. his face is relieved of all anger, his eyes soft and full of love for you as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss.

he steps back, watching his cum drip out of you, and could easily get turned on again just by the sight of you right now. but he's too tired, and he knows he has lots of time with you to do it all over again.

after cleaning up and crawling into bed, harry holds you against his chest. you're asleep in no time, steady breaths and slight snores coming from your peaceful expression. harry wraps his arm around you before leaving a kiss on top of your head.

"i love you, [y/n]. goodnight."

————————————————————

[if you actually read through all of this, i salute you. if you actually enjoyed it, pls let me know. i definitely want to post more like this in the future so i always appreciate any feedback <3 thank you!!! happy new year btw lol]

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[kaleldobrev]

Old Man

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Summary: Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: Age Gap, Cursing (13x), Sexual Innuendos, Dean talking bad about himself, Frat guys giving Y/N the disrespect she doesn’t deserve Authors Note: Me and Jensen have a 17-year age gap – what’s your age gap? | This came out A LOT longer than I expected | I don’t know how to write frat guys xD | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You and Dean pulled up in front of a gas station; needing to stop for gas and maybe a few snacks before the two of you continued your almost four-hour long journey back to the Bunker. You and Dean had just spent the weekend in Lawrence, due to the very rare occurrence that there were no cases. You had told Dean that even though you’d been living at the Bunker with him and Sam for the past couple of years, you had never once been to Lawrence even though you could have easily made a day trip out of it. With that being said, Dean was more than happy to take you and show you around, reminiscing about some of the things that he remembered doing all those years ago back when he was four; back before everything. But that’s not all the trip was, you had done some other things too; like visiting the Biodiversity Institute and Natural History Museum – which was considered to be one of the best museums in the entire state of Kansas, along with Grinter Farms – who prided themselves on their sunflower photo-ops. You enjoyed both places immensely, and were happy that Dean did too, even if he wasn’t initially keen on going to either place at first.

“I’m gonna grab us some snacks while you do the pump.” You said, grabbing your wallet from the glove compartment. Once you closed it and before you exited the car, you looked over at Dean, who was currently giving you the most serious look on his face. “What?”

“You already know what I’m going to say Sweetheart.” His tone sounding just as serious as his facial expression had looked. 

“Pie.” You said in unison.

“Cherry or apple?” You asked, the two of you getting out of the car at the same time.

“Like you have to ask.” Dean stated, opening up the fuel cap.

“Just making sure Dean. I mean, I don’t want to come out with apple when you really wanted cherry.” Your comment earned a slight chuckle from him.

“I’ll be getting some cherry pie later, don’t you worry.” He winked.

“I don’t think that applies to me anymore.” You smirked.

“We can always pretend.” He started fueling Baby just then. 

“Now that’s a roleplay idea I can get behind.” You winked at him before making your way into the store.

As soon as you walked into the store to grab some snacks for the two of you – one of which needed to be pie; a car pulled up the next pump over with a group of about four men who all appeared to be from the University of Kansas solely based on their Jayhawks apparel. “I don’t know dude. I’m pretty sure that chick was into me.” One of the men said, causing the one that he was talking to, to roll his eyes.

“No dude. She was into me. She was giving me the old fuck me eyes. Did you not see that? Or were you too busy looking at her ass?” He laughed. It was the other guy’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Can you blame me? You could bounce a quarter off that thing.” The young man replied.

“Hell yeah you could!” The other one agreed, giving each other a high five. 

There was a part of Dean that found their conversation funny because he had remembered when he was like that; but it hadn’t been for some time. Yes, there were times when he was still like that, but it was solely reserved for one woman: and that woman was you.

“Check out that piece of ass in the store there.” Another one of the men who hadn’t talked before was talking now. His comment caused Dean to turn in their direction and then back into the store. There was no other person that they could be talking about but you, as you were the only person in there besides the clerk behind the counter; and Dean was pretty sure they weren’t talking about the balding clerk.

“Bet she’s a good fuck.” One of the men said. Oh you have no idea. Dean thought to himself. 

“I’ll bet you thirty bucks that I can convince her to have sex with me.” The first guy said, the one that had noticed you in the first place.

“Dude, there’s no fucking way she’d have sex with you.” The next guy said. “Look at her! She’s way out of your league. Plus, even if you could pull her, where are the two of you gonna do it uh? The dirty gas station bathroom?” 

“Sure why not? I bet she wouldn’t mind it at all.” He winked. His comment caused Dean to chuckle a little to himself, knowing how wrong that guy was. You and Dean have had sex in a variety of different places, but never a gas station bathroom. “Dean, as much as I love you, I’m not fucking in a gas station bathroom. That’s honestly my only limitation.” You once told him. “So, Waffle House bathroom is okay then?” He joked back, causing you to give him a playful smack on the arm from his remark. 

“Dude, she’s not gonna give you the time of day. She needs a real man. And that ain’t you.” The man started walking around to the other side of the pump and started making his way toward the store. You ain’t a real man dude. Dean thought to himself. None of them were what he would call a man, only boys pretending to be.

“Watch and learn boys!” The guy said using his most charismatic voice. Dean wasn’t worried at all; he knew that you would never give the guy the time of day. You two had been together for the last couple of years, and the group of quote on quote men weren’t remotely your type in the slightest. Dean had seen pictures of your previous exes or have worked cases with them before. All your previous exes besides about one were all hunters; not varsity jock looking guys, and that’s what those guys were.

“Hey kid, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Dean finally chimed in. At first, he wasn’t even going to say anything. He had almost wanted to see the boy come back out the store with the look of utter embarrassment on his face when you had rejected him; which he knew was going to happen. But the jealous side of him won in that moment. He knew that you were more than capable of handling yourself – you were one of the best hunters he’d ever seen or worked with. He’d seen you get hit on plenty of times either when you two went to the bar together or while working a case; but those men never seemed like threats to him. But this time, this time felt different for him.

“I’m sorry?” The guy questioned.

“I said, I wouldn’t if I were you.” Dean said, his voice a bit more stern than usual.

“What’s it to you?” The guy asked, giving a slight snort.

“She’s going to reject you buddy. Trust me.” Dean finished filling the car up and put the pump back in its place. “Just trying to save you the embarrassment in front of your buddies here.”

“Oh yeah? Why do you say that?” The guy turned to look at you. You were currently standing at the counter laughing, probably at something the clerk had just said with two apple pie containers in your hands. Although Dean couldn’t hear your laugh, the sound of it echoed in his brain. God, he loved the sound of your laugh.

“That piece of ass” Dean began to say, hating using the words that they had used to describe you, “is my girlfriend.” Dean smirked. He had hoped that his usual tactic would work like it had done in the past. In the past, whenever Dean was with a woman; regardless if she was his girlfriend or not, the minute he said the word girlfriend to another guy that was hitting on his girlfriend, date, etc. the guy would usually back off, not wanting to get into any trouble. But his usual tactic didn’t work, it had simply just made the guy laugh.

“Your girlfriend?” The man laughed again. “Yeah, okay Old Man.” 

“Old, Old Man?” Dean was caught off guard. No one had ever really called him an old man before; the only one who ever did it was Claire, but she was the exception, because she was basically family to him.

“Yeah. What are you? Like 50?” The guy behind him chimed in.

Dean turned around. “50? You think I’m 50? I’m 42 dude.” Yet more laughter from the men.

“Close enough.” The man that was close to the store said. At that moment Dean had saw you wave goodbye to the clerk and started to head out toward the door. The man looked at you, and then eyed his buddies, making his way toward Dean. “Listen, tell her that if she wants someone that can keep it up without the use of meds and doesn’t go to bed before 6, to give me a call.” The guy said, giving Dean’s shoulder a slight pat before going into the car with his other three buddies.

Dean started to take out his gun just as the guy in the driver’s seat started the engine. Before he could fully take out his gun you were standing next to him, two boxes of pie in your hands and a slight look of worry on your face. “Can I shoot them?” He asked you. 

“Not in public.” You responded, handing him one of the boxes. “What did they say to you?” You were curious, and you had every right to be. Even though you were accustomed to Dean pulling out his gun, you were confused as to why he had wanted to pull it out in that moment, especially since you were pretty sure that the men in the car weren’t any kind of monsters.

“Nothing.” Dean was quick to respond, but his response sounded angry, almost hurt.

“It didn’t look like nothing. Especially since you asked if you could shoot them.” Dean handed you back the box of pie that you had just given him, causing you to give him an even more worried look.

“Can we just leave?” His voice was panicked now, maybe with a small hint of embarrassment.

“Yeah.” Was all you said as the two of you got into Baby.

There was a strong silence between the two of you, and it wasn’t the comfortable kind like you were used to. That was one of the things that you had loved most about Dean; that you and him didn’t constantly need to fill the silence with talking. It was something that you enjoyed because your past boyfriends always needed to have some kind of conversation going because they hated the silence. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Always.” You turned your attention to Dean.

“Am I…Am I old?” He asked. His eyes flicked in your direction and then back onto the road.

“Old?” You asked, not sure if you had heard him right. Him asking if he was old was something that had caught you off guard.

“Yeah. Am I old?” He repeated again.

“Did those guys back there say you were old Dean?” This conversation topic was something that Dean would have never brought up, not unless someone had specifically said something to him. The last time he had this conversation with you was because Claire had jokingly called him an Old Man.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Dean stated. You were positive that’s what it was.

“No. You’re not old Dean. I don’t even know why you would think that.” You knew why he would think that; you were pretty sure that the men back at the gas station had said something to him about it. But you didn’t know why they would have said something to him.

“Those guys back at the gas station called me…Old Man.” His voice sounded slightly defeated, like he was embarrassed even though he had no reason to be. “I caught those assholes looking at you, making comments.” He turned to face you for a slight moment before looking back at the road, his knuckles started to turn white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “They were trying to make a bet about who would be able to pick you up. When I confronted them about it, telling them that you were my girlfriend, that’s when they laughed and called me an old man.”

“Dean –” You began to say, but he cut you off before you could finish.

“Sweetheart, I know you could have handled that yourself. You have a black belt in three different martial arts and you don’t take any kind of shit from anyone. Hell, a part of me had wanted to see you embarrass the guy because I know for a fact that he isn’t your type but…he was your age.” He was your age. 

“Well, you’re not old. It’s not like you’re 90 Dean. You’re 42. That’s still young.” You stated, putting your hand on his thigh, a small gesture that you knew he loved. You had hoped that your comment would make him feel slightly better.

“I’m not young Sweetheart, you are. I got like 15 years on you.” His response made your face drop.

“That’s never been a problem for you before. I mean, it’s not like I’m 17 Dean, I’m three years shy of 30.” When you first met Dean, it was roughly five years ago when you were 22 and he was 37. Initially when you had first met him, you had figured that the two of you would be nothing more than just friends due to the semi-massive age difference that there was between the two of you, despite the fact that you did find him attractive. For the first couple of years that you knew him, you didn’t try to pursue anything; and neither did he, although the two of you had similar feelings. Dean had figured that you wouldn’t want to be with someone his age, and you thought that he didn’t want to be with someone your age. It wasn’t until Cas said something and both of you almost dying on a hunt that caused you two to realize that maybe you should give it a shot – and you’ve been together ever since.

“Exactly. You’re three years shy of 30. I’m far, far past that. You know what I was doing at 30? Trying to stop the Apocalypse. When I was 30, you were still in high school. You weren’t even on my radar back then.” 

“Would have been pretty good jailbait though.” You joked.

“Not funny.” He responded.

“I’m not laughing.” You said back.

“Can I ask you another question?” His knuckles were still white against the steering wheel. 

“Of course.” What else could you possibly say?

“Why me? Why out of all the guys you could possibly be with, that are your own age, that you actively choose to be with me? I mean, I know I drink too much, I have way, way too many screws loose, I’ve been to Hell, Purgatory, been possessed more times than I can count, I have major trust issues, PTSD.” He looked over at you again. “The list goes on and on. I’m all kinds of fucked up Sweetheart.” Your heart sank at Dean’s comments. You hated more than anything when he talked bad about himself, because there was no reason for him to do that. 

“Pull over.” Was all you said.

Dean looked at you with a confused expression. “What?”

“Did I stutter? I said pull over.” Your voice was stern now, but it made Dean pull over on the side of the road.

“Dean, the fact that you even have to ask me why I’m with you shows me that you don’t actually realize or understand the reasons why I love you. You’re right, I could be with someone my own age. But you know what? I don’t want to. I’ve dated people my age, and they honestly suck. Hunters or not, men my age or even a year or two older have no fucking clue what they want in life. The only thing they’re positive about is wanting to fuck anything that has a pulse and gaslight women.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “My parents used to tell me, ‘not all men,’ and I knew that. You may have a slight case of alcoholism –”

“A slight case?” Dean interrupted, raising an eyebrow. He thought you saying that he only had a slight case of alcoholism was a tad too generous.

You pointed a finger at him. “Don’t interrupt me.” Dean put up his hands in defeat. “As I was saying. You may have a slight case of alcoholism, are insanely prone to nightmares, get angry more often than you probably should, enjoy murder every now and then, have been to Hell and Purgatory and back, but wanna know something? I’ll take all of that, gladly! Because you are honestly the best man I could ever ask for. Yes, you have some flaws, but who doesn’t? I mean look at me for example.” You went into your jacket and pulled out your hunting knife. “I’m someone who brings a hunting knife wherever they go like it’s a security blanket. No normal person does that Dean.”

“As you should. You need to be prepared at a moments notice.” He agreed.

“Exactly! No sane person would agree with me.” You said, putting back your hunting knife.

“Y/N, are you saying that part of the reason you’re with me is because I’m not sane?” He raised an eyebrow. He’s been called crazy or insane more times than he could count, so this wasn’t particularly newsworthy for him.

“I was thinking more…cautious.” You shrugged. “I mean…No, cautious isn’t the right word. You are cautious but…” You were really trying to come up with the right word to tell Dean, and you could feel it on the tip of your tongue. “What I’m trying to say is, any other guy would be freaked the fuck out if they saw me walking around with a hunting knife in my jacket. You? You couldn’t give two fucks. And you wanna know something else? I’ve worked with a lot of hunters over the years before I met up with you and Sam, who just looked at me and laughed because of my age, thinking that I don’t know the difference between rock salt and holy water.” You took one of his hands in yours intertwining your fingers. “You, not including Sam of course, accepted me as someone that actually knows a thing or two about hunting despite my age. You treated me like your equal. Hunter or not.”

You treated me like your equal. Your words rang in Dean’s mind. “Of course I treat you like my equal Sweetheart. What man wouldn’t? ‘Sides those other hunters and the Jayhawks spirit squad back there.” He chuckled, and you let out a small laugh too.

“Exactly. You’re a feminist icon.” You smiled.

“A feminist icon uh? Who knew?” Dean finally smiled.

“In all seriousness, I could give a rat’s ass about your age. You treat me right and my parents love you. What else could I possibly ask for?” You gave his hand a slight squeeze as you shot him another smile, but a softer one this time.

“Still amazed that your parents love me.” He said, starting to lean in closer to you.

“You treat their daughter right. That’s all they care about.” You confessed. When you had first told your parents about Dean, one of the first things they asked is if he was treating you right, they never asked about his age. And when they had met him, they still never commented on that fact, even when he wasn’t in the room.

He caressed your face. “I really am lucky to have you.” He smiled and leaned in fully to kiss you. “I love you so much.”

You smiled. “I love you more.”

He let out a slight chuckle. “Show off.”

“Always.” You responded, leaning in to kiss him again.

#dean Winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #spn #supernatural #reader insert #female reader

[evilminji]

You know... >.>

My Dad always used to tell me, if I get a Genuine Genie(tm)? Get a lawyer first. Before I make my Wishes(tm), so they can help me word them correctly.

Obviously, a human lawyer would not be foolproof... BUT! What about a Ghost Lawyer?

Like? Obviously Desiree would be PISSED. How DARE you twist HER wish twisting! Her THING is "what you believe is your heart's desire always comes at a terrible cost" which is what she DIED to learn.

So obviously she would NEVER, willingly, bend her Obsession for ANYONE. And you'd have to make a DAMN good case to that Lawyer for why he ISNT breaking the law by helping you. Probably some "you can: save the life of an unconscious person against their will/shove an unobservant person OFF the train tracks, even if they get hurt, to save their life" clause.

Like? Using a ghosts Obsession against them? Bad. Illegal.

Using it against their will, to save OTHER ghosts, who are in immediate danger? Not illegal, but they will be PISSED. Still not great though, you will want to apologize and fast.

So like??? Reality Bending Power. Patrick Star Method of "what if we MOVED the city... somewhere else?" Considered at 1am. Team of Ghost Laywers, acquired.

Amity and all Limnals are REMOVED from the DP-verse.

Wish worded juuuuust so. Any ghost that forms there? Yoink! Instantly removed to the Zone. Natural Portals? Cut off. Let the whole Reality fade out at an accelerated rate, as no NEW energy is fed into the system. Entropy will do, what entropy does. Exactly as they wished it.

They hated Death so much, they speed up the heat death of their ENTIRE universe by Eons. Congratulations, you guys "Won". Enjoy the wildly more fragile flora, fauna, and general ecosystems. Now that none of you have that ambient Ectoplasm strengthening your bodies. Yeah, the things you used to shrug off? Those are gonna maim or kill you now.

Doesn't MATTER if you "learn your lesson" though! Cause this is WAY past that point! This is "cutting off the tumor before it kills us" territory, and buddy? Amity ISNT the tumor. Go forth a grow, just like you wanted.

They won't be here to fix your messes anymore.

Because Danny got himself a dictionary thick "I Wish..." contract. Which was worded, as it needs to be, in one loooooooong run on sentence. Shouted "I Wish what's written on THIS, as it is currently, and without any form of editing or negotiation!" As fast as he could. Yote the document in Desiree's direction. And Flew like an INCANDESCENTLY pissed off Genie was trying to set his everything of fire.

Which she was.

Thankfully, Paulina came in clutch with her History of all things Jewelry, world fashions, and Make-Up knowledge. That, coupled with the Power Of Rich Friends(tm)? (Sam. Her mother was THRILLED to take her Jewelry and clothing shopping for something other then blacks and dark purple. They went on a jet setting whurl-wind tour. Sam actually kinda liked a some of what she found.)

They have Apology Bribes.

They shamelessly HIDE behind the mountain of Apology Bribes, while they explain themselves. Is Desiree HAPPY? No. But those bracelets are magnificent and she DOES deserve nice things. Those silks will really bring out her eyes. And she... DOES... admit...

Maybe...

That things are not... SAFE. Any longer. Danny TRIES. Everyone else can see it. And he's made incredible strides! Even convinced his lunatic parents. Though they're still not quite POPULAR. (WAY too pushy and invasive with their questions, for most people.) But the fanatics in white?

They nearly killed Box Lunch. If her father hadn't BEEN there...

And the poor man will have that scar on his back for the rest of his afterlife. Desiree can see why Danny is pushing. Does she LIKE it? No. But...

She supposes she will content herself with the suffering of the Fanatics in White and all who support them. THEIR wishes, twisted. Their ugly heart's desires.

Fine.

"SO YOU WISH IT. SO IT SHALL BE!"

And? The ghost town of what WOULD of one day grown into Amity, had the witch's there not been found by those they had fled from, which sits in long rotted ruins, amongst the trees in nowhere Illinois? Poof! Two "Towns" are switched.

The roads out of town coming to a clean line stop, meeting not even goat paths. Just trees. Old growth.

But it's not ALL of Town, is it? Faces missing. New, confused, faces from every corner of the map, taking their place. No Limnal left behind. No supporter of the GIWs genocide, brought along. Family's kept together where they could be. But by the few, scared and upset, green flashing eyes of children in the crowd?

It seemed for some, it was easier to fear and hate, then love their children.

Already they were being gathered up by school teachers and PTA parents. As everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Concerned, quite muttering a dull roar as everyone tries to coordinate.

Red Huntress joins Danny and Dani in the Sky. She doesn't get a word in. Wanted to know what the HELL was going on. She was with her dad in Chicago! Dani was in Taiwan! Literally! As in, sitting in a SUBWAY station one second, the next? Outside!

But they don't get to demand those answers. Because there is a sonic boom on the horizon. And then? Floating... weird... not ghosts?

Uuuuuuhhhh?

Hi?

That much blue... sure is a Statement. Like the cape and... bloooomers? Shorts. Bikini bottoms? It.. it's a Cool Look, dude! No, really. They are being VERY supportive here! If YOU like it? That's the only thing that matters!

Red Huntress smacks the Danny/i's Repeated upside their heads and demans to know what the Not-Ghosts are doing in their airspace.

Oh YEAH. Good point! What she said! And can it WAIT? They're kinda going through A Thing right now...

Kon? Wants it on record he loves these guys. They're hilarious. The LOOK on Clark's FACE?? He wishes he could frame it. Preserve it for future generations. Thing is? There was NOT a town here a second ago.

Well, bout 30 minutes or so, but you get the idea. One moment? Tree noises. Bam! Thousands of people! Obviously the checked it out. Only to be met with two... three maybe? Heros who have NO IDEA who they are.

Clear Reality warping shenanigans. Might be time travel or multiverse. Question is... are they STAYING? And if SO? What now...

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

[peachypinkygloss]

call me tomorrow — jjk

Jungkook takes more and more place in your mind as you still wonder if he has a place in your life. You try to find an answer, but fucking him in his car might not be the best way to find out.

☼ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

☼ genre: strangers to fwb to lovers, summer break au, university au, smut

☼ word count: 3.5k

☼ warnings: alcohol consumption, another party (am i unoriginal? yes), they're hornyyyy, don't think too much about the drama it's nothing 👀, car sex, unprotected sex & oral sex, tits play, brief face fucking, blowjob, cum eating, cum play (well yes again).

a.n.: happy bday to jk!! as promised, here's my gift for you guys 🫶🏻

You're looking through the big window in the living room, perched over the sofa, chin resting on your open palm. You're watching Jungkook working, following your father's instructions.

It's sunny today, so the temperature is really hot, not a great weather to be outside, honestly.

"You should bring him some fresh lemonade." You hear your mother tell you from the kitchen, clearly seeing that you're gawking at the cute guy mowing the lawn. You're not super subtle about it to say the least.

You turn around and sit on the sofa on your butt instead of on your knees. Since the kitchen opens on the living room, you can see your mother filling up a glass with the lemonade she just made.

"He deserves it, don't you think?" She questions and you glimpse at him again, noticing he's almost finished with the backyard. You look back at your mom, squinting your eyes at her, wondering what she's trying to do.

Even though you don't know what she has in mind, you have to agree with her.

That's how you find yourself walking up to him, halting in the middle of your way because he offers you a stunning view of his muscles. He stops the mower from moving and uses his right hand to lift up his white t-shirt, wiping his forehead and neck with the hem, showing off his abs at the same time.

His skin glows under the sunlight, the tattoos adorning his arm making the entire scene look so sinful. This guy is ripped and you ask yourself if you'll be able to find your sanity after that.

You have a flashback of him between your legs, fingering you until orgasm. You feel your face heating up, but you shake your head and quickly find your senses again.

You're just bringing lemonade so he can ease his dried throat a little bit. That's what you tell yourself, but you know you secretly have ulterior motives.

He notices you when he lets go of his t-shirt, his eyebrows raising as he watches you walking up to him.

"My mom thought you might be a little thirsty," you explain as you hand him the glass of lemonade, some droplets of water trickling over your fingers.

He smiles, taking the drink, his fingers brushing against yours. "Thanks." He brings the glass to his lips, swallowing the fresh lemonade down his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he does so and you have to look away to not melt down at the sight.

He hands you the now empty glass back, having drunk the whole thing in one shot. He really was thirsty.

You tap your nails against the glass as you look at each other, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you think about what you should tell him.

He did call you after your pretty incredible hook-up a few days ago. He's a man of his words, unlike you. That's a good reason to give him a chance, right? It's not like the men in your life have been really honest so far.

When you look at him, you really don't think he would hurt a soul and surely not yours. When you remember how his eyes were glancing at your naked body, how soft they were, like he truly had no intention of letting you go one day.

You wonder if really the bad guy might be you. If there has to be one, anyway. But if someone would have to be hurt, it'd probably be him.

You check if your father's around, but you don't see him. You pull on Jungkook's arm, bringing his ear close to your mouth. "Meet me in my room after. My mom will be out," you whisper and back away to look at his face.

He looks surprised, but he nods his head nonetheless. "Okay," he agrees, not so difficult to convince. Especially if it concerns you.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

As you're waiting on your bed, mindlessly scrolling on instagram, you finally hear a knock on your door. You jump on your feet and rush to the door. You take a big breath and open it, butterflies flapping their wings in your belly when you see Jungkook's adorable face.

"Hey," he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Hi," you smile and bring him inside your bedroom by pulling on his arm.

You close the door behind you and when you turn around his eyes are already on you, the corners of his lips lifted up in a toothy smile. You exhale through your nose, wondering how this guy can be so good-looking and end up working in your backyard.

"Cool room," he says while looking around, seeing the small — but growing — collection of purses you have as well as your bookcase, mostly filled with books you still haven't read.

"Thanks," you respond, walking up to him as he's still observing every corner of your room. You grab his hand, pleasantly bigger and warmer than yours, and make him face you. "I have other plans than looking at my room, though," you grin.

"Oh, yeah?" He mirrors the smile on your face, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth to refrain the smirk on his face from growing larger.

"Yeah..." You lay your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss you've been thrilled to finally give him.

You look him in the eye as you slowly drop down to your knees, Jungkook's breath itching when he sees you kneeling for him. "You don't have to, really..."

You place your hands on his thighs and raise your head to lay your eyes on him, smirking. "You hurt your knees for me, Kook. It's my turn," you say confidently, dragging the fly of his shorts down and popping out the button.

Jungkook can't help but grin, helping you with his shorts, pulling them down under his butt. You palm him over his boxers and you're happy to feel him again, big and stiff; how you like it.

He extends his arm to pat your hair, taking a hold of your chin and making you look at him. His thumb gently strokes your cheek, then delicately passes over your bottom lip, parting your lips from each other.

You kiss his digit, a beautiful smile forming on his lips. His piercings slightly glint under the dim light of your bedroom, his pink tongue coming to toy with them.

He brings his thumb to his mouth and kisses it too, approaching it again to your own mouth, pressing his finger down on your lips. You giggle, not expecting this silly gesture to make so many butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You really don't need him to act all lovely when you're about to suck him off. But you kind of enjoy it, you won't lie.

You focus back on his crotch, tugging down his boxers to free his cock from his briefs. It springs out instantly, so excited to see you, twitching vigorously.

"Happy to see me?" You grin, shifting yourself a little bit closer. You caress his whole erection with your hand, fingers parted as you go all the way up to his leaking tip.

Jungkook has this undying smile on his face while he looks down at you, his hand placed on your head. "You don't get enough of me, do you?" He responds by asking a different question, making you roll your eyes playfully.

"Never," you flirt, whispering slowly, a smirk tugging on your lips.

Arriving at his head, you wrap your hand around him, feeling how warm and engorged he is under your palm. You lean forward and direct the tip to your mouth, kissing it tenderly. You smear his pre-cum on your lips, licking them after, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

"Shit," he curses, watching you do the filthiest things to him. "I'll never get enough of you either," he says under his breath, sounding like a promise and you know Jungkook sticks to his words.

You don't think it means much, so you lick the underside of him, starting to his balls and going up to his glistening tip. You finally take him in your mouth, lips enveloping his beautiful, bulbous head.

You gradually sink down, his hard cock entering your mouth inch by inch. You know he doesn't want you to take too much, himself being very aware that his size can sometimes be problematic, but you really don't care.

Your tongue rolling over his meaty length feels good, weighing down on your pink muscle while twitching avidly makes waves of heat go to your core, igniting a whole fire in your belly.

Jungkook deserves it, he deserves to get his cock sucked by you. Only by you.

You look up at him with teary eyes, holding the base of his cock with your right hand while the other lays on your lap. His gaze is already on you, observing how his fat cock fits in your little mouth, stretching it out at a point it hurts a bit.

You bat your eyelashes at him, gulping him whole until your nose touches the patch of hair on his pubis. "You're so fucking greedy," he rasps out and frowns his eyebrows, his fingers tangling in your hair. His knuckles turn slightly white at how tight he holds it.

You pull out til you only have his wet tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and eliciting cute, little groans from Jungkook. You sink down again, your lips smoothly sliding over his big cock since he's completely covered in your saliva.

You then start bobbing your head over him, just taking what you can in your mouth as you stroke the rest that can't fit. "Holy fuck," he curses, literally in heaven getting his dick sucked by the girl he's deeply attracted to.

You swallow, your throat contracting around him. You play with his balls a bit, gently fumbling them in your warm and soft palms. Jungkook sweetly moans, eyes fluttering shut as his head rolls back on his shoulders.

Your heart swells at the view, palpitating at how good he looks, veins pulsing out along his tattooed arm and shiny black bangs covering his forehead.

You eagerly bounce your head over his hard cock, only desiring to make him cum in your mouth, wanting to have his salty taste lingering on your tongue again.

You realize how much you missed that — him, his touch, his voice. If only you could admit it...

"Oh, baby," he sighs, eyelids slowly opening to look back at you, lips wrapped around his pulsing erection and spit dripping down your chin. "Feels so fucking good, I'm close..." He announces in a shaky voice, thighs flexing as he fights to not cum on the spot.

You love to hear that, proud of yourself for making him feel good. It's honestly the only thing you wish for right now; to be the one to take care of him — in a sexual way, but maybe, potentially also in a more meaningful way.

It's right when you thought you had him in control that he cups your face, one hand on each side of your head, and starts face fucking you. You're surprised, but your pussy is literally mewling, loving how Jungkook isn't scared to manhandle you.

You relax your jaw and lay your palms down on his thighs, feeling how tense his muscles are. You let him use you like he wants, thrusting his cock in your mouth as if you're just a sex toy; a fleshlight for him to use.

You gag around him, but he doesn't stop and you clearly don't want him to. More drool falls from the corners of your mouth, making a huge mess on you.

He thrusts in your mouth a last time before he steadies his hips, holding your head in place over his cock, nose brushing against his pelvis.

"Oh, fuck..." He moans, eyes strained down where your two bodies connect. "Mmmh." His erection twitches and he releases himself in the warmth of your mouth.

Ropes of cum spurt out of his swollen tip, tasting salty on your tongue. Jungkook lazily and slowly guides your head over his cock to milk himself dry, getting down from his high.

He then pulls out and you stick your tongue, eagerly waiting for more. He squeezes his dick, little white beads falling on your awaiting pink muscle. He groans, finding your obsession with his cum quite arousing.

He lewdly taps the head of his cock on your wet tongue, circling your lips with it when you purses them out. He spreads some of his cum on them and you can't help but kiss his beautiful tip as if to say thank you.

You giggle after, licking your lips clean. You get up on your feet, rearranging your hair since Jungkook pretty much ruined them by gripping them tightly earlier. He stuffs himself back in his shorts, pulling up the zipper.

You expect him to leave, but he stays in front of you instead.

"There's a party tomorrow night," he begins a bit shyly, looking away from your face and your raised eyebrows. "Was wondering if you'd come with me," he suggests, a smile tugging on his pink lips.

That's not something you thought he'd ever ask you, but it doesn't displease you at all. It sounds fun going to a party with him. Doing something normal, hanging out and just being yourselves.

"Uh, yeah, okay," you smile back, accepting his proposition.

He nods his head at your response. "Great, well, call me tomorrow when you're ready. I'll pick you up."

"I'll do that," you chuckle.

He doesn't seem to want to leave and even though you kind of don't want him to either, he can't stay in your room longer. So you gently push him back to the door, opening it to let him go.

"Please," he says before you can kick him out. "Promise me?"

You feel bad a tad bit, remembering what you did the last time he asked you to call him. But you know you won't do that again.

"I promise," you confirm, looking into his eyes. He grins, satisfied by your answer and leans in to steal you a kiss. You push on his chest, laughing as he whines from the loss of your lips against him. "Go, now."

So he does, reluctantly, but he's confident you won't ghost him this time.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

"Yes, yes, please, more," you beg in the crook of Jungkook's neck, your breath tickling his smooth skin.

He circles your entrance with the tip of his cock, turning you crazy and making you mewl loudly. Your arms are wrapped around his strong shoulders, your crop-top just pulled over your chest to free your boobs.

Your moans are very loud and it's evident that anyone passing by will easily guess what you two are doing in Jungkook's car. The windows are fogged up and many traces of hands are visible.

There's not a lot of place in the vehicle, but you work with it, too horny to just get in the back or wait to get home to finally fuck. He consumes you entirely and your brain can't think properly about anything. All you can think about is the head of his dick entering and exiting your quivering hole.

"Yeah? Like that?" He groans, holding his cock at the base and moving it in circles inside of you.

It stimulates so many nerves at the entrance of your pussy, your eyes rolling back in your skull. You move your hips up and down as well, just a bit so his tip can stretch you out and tease your wet cunt.

"Yes! Fuck, Kook," you whimper, his free hand groping one of your asscheeks, making it bounce.

You lean on his large shoulders, nails digging into the flesh of his back, leaving red marks and crescent forms behind. Your tits are squished against his chest, your hardened nipples brushing against the material of his white t-shirt.

You won't lie that you're a little bit tipsy, but you're sober enough to feel the pad of his fingers sinking into the fat of your hips, holding them up tightly over his hard cock.

Jungkook's pupils are blown out you notice and his eyes don't leave your face, just shifting down to your pussy occasionally. Most of the time, he's staring at you, telling himself how irresistible you are and how fucking hot it is to hear you scream his name.

After some time, you decide to sit down, slowly sinking his cock into your soppy pussy. You gasp when his whole length is deeply nestled in you, walls clasping around him repeatedly.

"Oh, god," Jungkook sighs, throwing his head back against the car seat. "You're so fucking tight," he grits his teeth, gripping your hips and guiding them on his lap.

You whine weakly in response, throwing your own head back and showing a clearer view of your breasts to Jungkook. He has your chest right in his face and he moans at the sight, diving his face in your chest.

You pass your fingers through his hair, gripping at his roots as he flicks his tongue over your pebbled nipple. He wraps his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks on it gently while you grind your hips on him.

You move back and forth, the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot so deliciously. So many moans escape your mouth and you only realize now how vocal you are. Truthfully, you know the alcohol has a big influence on you, but you're usually not very loud.

Not a lot of men have made you scream like that before and the fact that Jungkook effortlessly elicits so many moans out of you is so hot.

Your pleasure has such a tight hold over you that you don't think about anything else than Jungkook and his cock thrusting in your pussy. You're like in a trance until knocks on the car's window pop your bubble.

You jump out of surprise, halting the movements of your hips and anxiously looking at Jungkook. The knocks resonate a second time against the window and he has no other choice than to roll it down.

You're still on Jungkook's lap as you both look outside, the head of a guy peeking through the small gap between the window and the car. You frown and cover your breasts with your forearm, confused as to who this person is.

"Tae...?" Jungkook croaks out, squinting his eyes to better see the man outside.

"I want to get the fuck out of here," the guy explains, taking a sip of the beer bottle he's holding. "You owe me a ride." His gaze stays on Jungkook as silence settles between you three until he diverts it to you. "And someone's looking for her."

"What?" You breathe out, frowning even more. "Who?"

"Don't know," he shrugs. "But he looks and sounds like a rich asshole."

You feel a lump in your stomach as you have an idea on who could be looking for you. If it's really who you think it is, then that means the rest of your night is totally ruined.

You roll over to the passenger seat and pull down your crop-top. You wince as you feel your wetness sticking to your inner thighs. You look for your panties, but remember Jungkook hid them in the pocket of his baggy jeans.

"You okay?" He asks his friend, genuinely worried and it should endear you, but right now is not the time to have a deep conversation about their feelings.

You groan out of frustration and perch yourself over Jungkook's body to reach the button to roll the window back up. He doesn't protest and you pull your panties out of his pocket.

You both are quiet as he stuffs his cock back in his boxers, zipping his pants and buttoning them back. You pass your feet through the holes of your underwear and squirm around to slide it back up your legs.

"Who is it?" He breaks the silence, his big eyes meeting your guilty ones.

Leaving him to join another guy. That's really not what you want to do, you want to stay with him, but it's not like you have a choice.

"A friend..." You trail off, unsure if you really can call him a friend. "I'm sorry, I'll... I'll see you, okay?"

He only nods his head, nibbling on his bottom lip. You pout and you can't help but bring him for a kiss. He reciprocates it, but you feel like he's not really convinced. When you pull back you look at him one last time before exiting the car.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

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a.n.: we stop here because i want the next part to be in jk's pov. i don't plan on having part 4 out before october/november since i'll be working on something else. so don't ask when i'll post, i've just told you!! if you don't like drama and only want the story to revolve around jk, then you should stop reading now because it's gonna be like that next.

part 1: call me later ☼ part 2: call me soon ☾ part 3: call me tomorrow ☼

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic