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traumxrei-archive · 2 years

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BUT ITS LIKE I LOVE BOTH OF THEM SO MUCH

FLOYD is just so hwjxjsjxjdnn, I wanna hug him so hard BCUZ HE’S FR 190 CM (I think) AND IM 144

IM SO TINY COMPARED TO HIM AND ITS LIKE COMFORTING BCUZ I LOVE HUGGING TALL PPL and he’s just so handsomeeee <3 with his cute smile/smirk and his beautiful eyes like exjsjdjnend <3

AND HAVE U SEEN HIS DORM OUTFIT?? HE’S SO HANDSOME IN A SUITT LIKE HE PULLS IT OFF AND WITH HIS LITTLE FEDORA OMGG WJDJENDN

AND THE WAY HE TALKSSS LIKE HELLO?? SIR?? I LOVE U?? SQUEEZE ME PLZ??

BUT AT THE SAME TIME THERE’S JAMIL WITH HIS BEAUTIFUL HAIR STYLE AND HE’S SO BEAUTIFUL AND HE CAN PULL OFF LITERALLY ANY TYPE OF OUTFIT

like have u seen his jasmine silk card?? AND HIS OVERBLOT OUTFIT?? THEY’RE LITERALLY THE SAME PERSON AND HE LOOKS HOT IN BOTH OF THEM

JDFJJEJD AND HIS PERSONALITYYY?? HE’S JUST BREATHTAKING LIKE YEAH- HE CAN BE MEAN BUT HELLO? THATS HOT?? I SIMP

AND HE CAN BE SO SWEET TOO WITH HIS CUTE LITTLE PET NAMES (in ur fic cuz u characterized him very well)

NOT TO MENTION THAT HE (head??)canonically SPEAKS ARABIC- LIKE HABIBI, I LOVE UUU

anyways :] I’m very torn between them

you and your dilemma with these two boys jskdfjsdf

floyd n jamil are kinda hard to choose between i mean, hey, look at me, i love them both. they're both very magnetic when you get to know them, and both have a different type of charisma to them as well,,,not to mention both are exceedingly confident. floyd wears his confidence in his easy smile and the way he walks while jamil's confidence is hidden behind secretive smirks and hidden power.

also. this is personally something i love abt them both: their voices. i want to thank their vas personally for making their voices so nice to listen to *cries* like floyd n his very expressive intonations, he gets whiny but he can also go really deep and intimidating when needed. i love listening to him ramble abt random shit. it's so cute. and jamil. let's not talk abt the embarrassing amount of times i make him say his lines in the archive- his voice is smooth and quiet, but when he gets angry,,,,when he was overblotting, the PASSION in his voice and the ANGERRR auuughhshfggfuf i was dying inside.

let's hope that you'll put your dilemma to rest sometime soon lmao or else you'll be stuck between them forever

#/trau replies #/misshavoc #/moots <3 #jamil viper #floyd leech #we simpin

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probably-writing-x · 5 years

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Circles.

Request from the lovely @bringmethehorizonandpizza : kay, but, like, being in the same circle as harrison and having a crush on him but never really saying anything cause, reader things that he doesn't even know she exists, and then she gets drunk and 'cheekily slides' into his dm's and they strike up a conversation, and finally when they meet again (idk at a photoshoot or something) he mentions it and the reader is a blushing mess mortified at what she has done. (she may have admitted to having a crush on him during their drunk conversation)

~~~

The red cup in your hand was definitely the burning fuel to your current dancing - having been at this party long enough for the concoction to begin to take hold. You weren't complaining however with the noughties throwback blaring through the speakers that you knew all the words to and enough casual dance moves to keep you going all night. It was a house party hosted by a friend of a friend with your entire circle invited to make the house packed with half known faces. Thankfully, you had your close group of friends and were more than happy to mingle that you only really knew through a mutual connection to someone else.

"Ayyy go on (Y/n/n)!" Sam laughs, one of your closest friend's boyfriend, as he makes his way over to where you were.

"Come on, you should be dancing too!" You exclaim, taking his free hand and swaying it in time with your steps, trying to provoke him to dance a little.

"No, no, no," He shakes his head, taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand, "I was just coming to say hi,"

You roll your eyes, "This is your party! You should always dance at your own party,"

"It was Harry's idea," He points out, "And he's not dancing either!"

You glance over to where he was looking to see his twin brother standing rigid in the mass of dancing people, being encouraged to dance by the boy beside him. He looked to be a couple of years older than you with verh distinctive features for you to instantly deem him handsome. In fact, he was Harrison - the best friend of your best friend's boyfriend's brother's brother. Or something along those lines...

"See he-" You point toward the blonde haired boy, "He seems like my type of guy," You take another gulp of the drink in your hand and know it is definitely taking effect now.

Harry and Harrison see you two looking over and it doesn't take long for Harrison to be dancing in time with you from across the room, both of you moving thanks to pure intoxication and with no real skill but with enough drunken rhythm to keep you going.

Everyone in the room yells the known chorus to the song and you find that Harrison has dismissed your presence, dancing around the people surrounding him. Because you were just another of the bodies in the crowd of people that loved the cheery companion - the one that could talk to anyone. The one that you couldn't deny you had a bit of a crush one - one mainly fueled by his Instagram photos and the few times you two had been in each other's presence.

"Let's get me another drink!" You say, lifting your cup up and making your way toward the kitchen to find whatever alcohol was scattering the counter tops that would refill your cup and re-intoxicate your mind.

And boy, oh boy, was it a good night.

~~~

The headache the next morning wasn't one that you welcomed however, despite it being a sign that you'd definitely enjoyed yourself the previous night.

Your phone flashing alive beside your head was what woke you up originally and you groan and roll over to reach for it on the adjacent pillow.

Oh shit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. You enjoyed yourself wayyy too much last night. There were texts to random people on here. One to Sam telling him how lucky he was to have your best friend - she must've helped you get home. One to Harry telling him that he has a terrible taste in music - you could vaguely remember sharing a conversation with him about it when he was in charge of the playlist. One to your Mum asking her if you'd ever be ready to be a parent - you must've went through an emotional phase. But the cherry on top of a pile of shit cake, the top message sent to Harrison. Harrison flipping Osterfield!

And he'd replied. You dreaded to think what you'd said originally. But, with overly cautious movements, you clicked onto the new conversation.

'Hey handsomeeee x Your a pretty good dancer maybe we could have more of a private dance soon ;)'

The god awful attempt of flirting, the sickeningly poor use of the incorrect 'You're', and the pathetic winky face at the end. What were you thinking?!

'I'll take it you're feeling the same headache that I am this morning so I'll brush past the drunken comments for now. Always good to meet someone that's the life of the party x'

Hmm... A surprisingly polite reply to your extremely forward and stupid message sent only a few hours before when the alcohol was running through your veins more than blood or sanity for that matter.

You settle back onto the pillow beneath you and stare up at the white ceiling above, your phone above your head in your hands like you would be able to magic up a response that was witty enough to recover your previous words. But, in your true fashion, the phone fell from your weak hands and slapped you straight in the face. Yeah, his casual collected response was not one you could easily match.

~~~

It was later in the day and you'd been busy catching up on some uni work from the hungover comfort of your bed when your phone buzzed again - signalling a text you weren't expecting.

'Okay I don't want to seem stalkerish but you were pretty wasted last night and now you haven't replied... Are you alive or do I need to call someone? x'

Why did that make your heart flutter so much? And why had Harrison bothered to send a second text? Why did he even think about you again? Had he been thinking about you since the first one?

'I'm good, just welcoming the comfort of sober sheets. Although I think alive might be a bit of a stretch, I haven't found a cure for this headache yet x'

Your response is sent and you find yourself procrastinating work by waiting for his response which is quick to follow.

'Pancakes. Always pancakes. Get some syrup on there and eat as many as you can x'

And that's how it all starts. You two spend the rest of the day talking. About pancakes and cooking and Netflix and university and acting and everything but what happened last night. So much so that part of you believes he has completely forgotten and it will never be spoken of again. You welcome the thought.

With an empty plate where pancakes once lay beside you and your body spread diagonally across your bedspread, you were in the midst of conversation with Harrison about which breed of dog was best. He was making his ongoing point about spaniels when you really realised what was going on - he knew you existed. And that was enough to ease the pain of the headache just a little more than the pancakes did.

~~~

The conversation died out by the next morning. You assumed he'd fallen into a deep, very-needed sleep just like you and the last effects of the alcohol had worn off completely - leaving you sober and him moving on to another day without your existence. Why did it pain you a little? But, despite your enjoyment of hungover, still slightly drunk texts, you knew it was probably for the best. Lord knows it wouldn't turn out well if you properly fell for him.

Instead, you had a text on your phone from another H - Harry.

'Right, I've given you a day for the alcohol to be drained. Now can you do me a huge favour? I need a model for a photography project I'm working on and you'd be perfect, care to help a Holland out? x'

'Of course, when do you need me?'

The two of you plan a time for a couple of weeks from now and you think nothing of it. Until the day arrives.

~~~

You were already running late which you would forever despise yourself for - you hated people being late but never found it in yourself to be punctual. And with a steaming coffee in hand and the last street of pavement beneath your feet, ten minutes late was enough for you to celebrate yourself. Ten minutes, that's not too bad.

"There you are! I thought I'd given you both the wrong address," Harry exclaims as he opens the door to the studio for you.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," You repeat, tugging your earphones out of your ears and stuffing them into your pocket, "And both of us?"

"Yeah he should be here any minute," The Holland brother calls over his shoulder as he hurries toward the set for the shoot, clearly far too run off his feet to focus on you too much.

You walk over to the clothing rail to scan across the outfits for the shoot - a fashion brand had contacted Harry and asked that he take full control over the entire shoot - a great opportunity for him but a concerning one for his stress levels.

"Well, hello," An oddly unknown familiar voice comes through from the other side of the rail, hidden behind the jackets.

When you glance up, you spot the crystal blue eyes that couldn't be mistaken in a crowd of thousands, least of all when it was just the two of you.

"Harrison," You exhale and it's as much as you can manage to say.

"And you're (Y/n)," He laughs, "But I thought we already knew that,"

"Yeah," You nod, scratching awkwardly at the back of your neck and suddenly regretting not choosing a more flattering outfit for the day.

It is decided by you that now would be the best time to exit, swiveling on your heel and hoping to get away from him quickly.

"And, hey," Harrison's hand catches on your wrist and stops you, his chest flush against your back and his lips low next to your ear, "Maybe we can find some time for that private dance,"

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