#Only thing I wish in game is that you could spare him after beating him and make a deal with him in your favor

[sarcasticscepticles]

Raphael is the funniest antagonist in the game to me, he's a powerful devil trying to steal your soul and speaks to you in rhymes that he probably practices in the mirror, he has his own incubus that says he's a bottom only and bad in bed, and then you can call him out. You can go and rob him blind and then kick his ass in his own house.

You can ask some guy he had you kill if he wants to help you kick his ass, and if you convince him he'll go 'yeah sure I bet you'll win' while Raphael is standing right there.

#bg3 raphael #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #He sings his own theme song #Actual cartoon villain #I've seen his new hair color and my new head-cannon for it is that he dyed it after finding a single grey hair #When Harleep takes Raphaels form he keeps the original brown color just to fuck with him #Wicked witch of the west energy except Dorothy is just some rando who fell from a tentacle ship and has a brain worm for ruby slippers #I saw a reddit post that described him as a sleazy cars sales man and the black hair really sells that image now #Only thing I wish in game is that you could spare him after beating him and make a deal with him in your favor #come full circle with Tav pulling a 'You still have the unconditional freedom to choose the only option you have left'

[haikyu-mp4]

Fan behaviour

word count; 2898 – f!reader, manga spoilers

Hoshiumi was looking for the right entrance at nationals when he saw you for the first time. You were dashingly beautiful and looking frankly a bit lost. His stare shamelessly settled on you, already memorising your pretty features. Weirdly enough, they seemed somewhat familiar.

You must have felt the burning stare, eyes finally meeting his and just barely startling him. He opened his mouth, about to make some smart comment that would be one of his first attempts at flirting, but he wasn’t given the chance. “Hoshiumi Korai,” you said, crossing your arms. You were interesting and spoke confidently. He watched in awe as a small smile fell on your face. She knows me?

“Have we met?” he asked, sounding annoyed even if he didn’t mean to. He wished he knew your name too, if only so that you wouldn’t have the upper hand on the conversation.

“They say you’re the new little giant,” you say, stepping closer slowly and not exactly answering him. As you came closer, Korai could see that you were slightly taller than him.

“So you’re a fan.” he teased, raising his chin as if it made him taller.

“You might face Karasuno on the court soon, I’d rather you see me as competition,” you say, not backing up and sticking to your sweet, bordering on smug, smile.

“Karasuno… Then I look forward to beating you,” he said, already knowing that it was a match he was dying to play. No less now that the mystery girl was involved.

“Good luck.”

Unfortunately, Kamomedai defeated Karasuno after Hinata was benched with a fever. You almost felt out of breath watching Hoshiumi call out to Hinata that he would be waiting for him as the little tangerine was escorted off the court. Hoshiumi’s stature and voice had you wrapped around his finger from the sidelines.

Korai celebrated with his teammates after their win, and he was only spared a few three seconds to meet your eyes through the crowd before getting scooped up in celebrations again. You had more important things to do anyway, like support your younger brother through his first loss of the season.

You two didn’t see Hoshiumi much for your third year. You came to cheer for some of Tobio’s games when they got to nationals again and purposefully looked for the white-haired boy but didn’t find yourself lucky. Sometimes you wondered if he looked for you too and the two of you just missed each other. Then it was off to university, leaving that silly crush behind.

Kageyama Tobio, your younger brother by one year, told you about Hoshiumi Korai when he went to the All-Japan training camp in his first year. You simply had to research this guy who thought he was all that. There wasn’t much to find, he didn’t enjoy interviews, but that’s how you knew his name when you two first met. Tobio had called you in the evening one day while at the camp, saying that some guys were trying to pick fights with him even though he couldn’t quite understand it. You adored your clueless brother and just told him to keep being himself and make the most out of his time there. His skillset would speak for itself. He eventually left the camp with a good experience and new inspiration, and you welcomed him home to hear him talk about what the floor was made of. However, your mind kept going back to this little guy with white hair that made Tobio think that Hinata could fly even higher. If you hadn’t been so distracted by that, maybe you would have noticed how bothered Tobio was with Atsumu’s comment about his playstyle.

When said dear little brother got accepted to join the Schweiden Adlers, you were thrilled! Not just because it was a team you used to watch on television, but because that also happened to be where Hoshiumi ended up. Call it silly, but your little crush on him hadn’t exactly worn off as he just got a bit taller and more handsome every year. He was eventually forced to start doing some interviews, and who could blame you for watching them? It’s not fan behaviour, you just.. like.. him?

It might be impossible to believe, but you finally met him again without meaning to. You barely let Tobio open his front door before pushing your way inside, a huge bowl of food that your older sister made you bring from her place settled in your arms. “Tobio, hii. Miwa told me to bring you some food so I’ll just stuff this in the fridge,” you rambled as you toed off your shoes and strolled into his living room. “Oh.. sorry…”

There sat Tobio’s new friends, Hoshiumi and Ushijima. Your brother came up beside you and complained about you just walking in as if you lived in his apartment, so you fired back by complaining about his ungratefulness. Poor visitors didn’t know what they should do and ended up just awkwardly waiting for you two to stop bickering. Ushiwaka tried to share a look with Hoshiumi, but the shorter man was stuck looking at you with his mouth slightly open in awe.

“Well if it isn’t my greatest competitor.” he interrupted, leaning forward in his seat with an incredibly charming, lop-sided grin.

And as you and Kageyama both faced him with incredulous looks that were nearly identical, it clicked. They’re siblings. Tobio had no idea what his teammate was talking about, but you finally fell into a smile at the fond memory, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Little giant, you remember me?”

“How could I forget that sweet look of defeat when we beat you.” he countered, standing up even though there was a whole coffee table between you two. Let’s just say he never worked on his flirting techniques as much as his volleyball techniques. Kageyama watched with a frown but didn’t want to interrupt Korai.

You handed the food over to your brother before rolling up your sleeves like you were squaring up, squinting at the white-haired man for a moment before acknowledging the other one as well. “Sorry, hi. Kageyama y/n, nice to finally meet you,” you said calmly, bowing to Ushiwaka who sharply bowed back with a short answer of his name and a greeting.

Tobio walked to the kitchen to put away the food while you turned your attention back to the shortest man. Hoshiumi hadn’t heard your name before, but now he quite liked it. Like he couldn’t wait for it to roll off his tongue.

“You should come to our game next week.” Hoshiumi blurted out confidently, sitting back down in his seat and glancing to his side where there was space for you to sit down. Not that he dared to ask if you were staying.

“Right, I brought your ticket,” Tobio mumbled, as if suddenly remembering that he had invited you to that one too. You were still quite interested in the sport, helping Tobio practice when you weren’t out with your own friends while growing up. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you said while putting your shoes back on. You playfully ruffled your brother’s hair before waving at the rest of the crowd, letting your eyes linger for a second longer on Korai. “I’ll be there as your fan this time, play well,” you said before leaving so none of the men could see the light blush that covered your cheeks. Hoshiumi was left feeling breathless from the interaction. When you know, you know.

The visit became rather short as you had to move on with other errands, but now you had something exciting to tell your friends while sitting down for coffee tomorrow.

Game day arrived and you put on some of the Adlers merch that Tobio got you before heading to the stadium. You went with Hinata and the two of you enjoyed catching up in the best seats, ready for the teams to come out and play. You sent a couple of snaps of the crowd to your brother as well as a couple of selfies with his friend, hoping to hype him up and show him where your seats were. The number on your shirt said 16, which you just assumed was Tobio’s number since he was the one you should be cheering on, but Hinata had given it a curious look when he sat down. He didn’t know you were so close to Hoshiumi but he didn’t want to intrude and ask.

The game started and everyone around you quickly learnt that you and Hinata could make up a whole cheering squad on your own. Whenever there was anything you could react to, you two would be on your feet and cheering or booing the loudest out of everyone. After a particularly nice kill from Hoshiumi, set up by Tobio, you pointed to the white-haired man and yelled with joy. “Nice kill, little giant!”

Hoshiumi looked at you in surprised glee that suddenly turned into a shock that he had to quickly shake off so they could continue the game. His eyes had gone from your face down to your shirt before he quickly turned away, making you finally sit down and rethink your life choices.

“This is Hoshiumi’s number, huh?” you asked Hinata rhetorically, already feeling the embarrassment and planning out how to destroy the one who gave it to you. You finally noticed the number on the original owner’s shirt and covered your red face with your hands. Now you certainly looked like a fan.

After the match, you and Hinata made your way down and to the back, showing VIP passes to the guards so you could wait in the closest hallway outside the locker rooms. The two of you had gotten into the hype again after your embarrassment and were now on cloud nine after the win. Both reenacting your favourite moments and talking over each other.

Hoshiumi found you very beautiful the first time you two crossed paths, and that never changed. He got so flustered seeing you with his number, but it also boosted his morale for sure. Tobio smirked sideways at him when they were changing, finding himself pretty clever. And it only got better when Ushijima got involved.

“Are you and Kageyama’s sister romantically involved, Hoshiumi?” he asked, ever so formal and making Kageyama crack up. The shortest boy was sputtering in disbelief, face tomato red.

“No! We’re not!” he denied as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. It had.

“Oh. Okay.”

When they exited the locker rooms, Hoshiumi and Kageyama found you and Hinata outside, excitedly jumping around and not seeming to notice anyone outside your bubble. Hoshiumi felt this old pride bubble in his stomach, wondering how tall Hinata had gotten now and if you ever went to a black jackals game with his number on your shirt.

So he cleared his throat, making you quickly turn around, flustered by how you could suddenly see his face up close. He was thinking the same thing, and the other two guys were in disbelief at how neither of you decided to start the conversation.

“Nice jersey, y/n.” your brother teased childishly, making you move your stare to glare at him.

“You-“ you started saying before jumping at him and pulling his hair angrily. That was always the best way to get him to surrender his towering height so you could rub the top of his head until he gave up. The older sibling always wins.

“Let go! You said you were a fan so I got you his jersey!” he complained, embarrassed that some more teammates might see this. You did as he asked, dusting your hands off and stepping back beside Hinata. Hoshiumi found you entertaining and even chuckled a little, finally out of the stupor your pretty face left him in earlier.

“I am flattered,” Korai said, making you look back at him and trying to contain your blush. Now he’s all cocky about it, and you wish you didn’t find it so attractive. “Truly.”

“Careful or I’ll beat you up just the same,” you mumbled, biting back a smile. Now, you might think all Hoshiumi could see in that sentence was a challenge, but he was already trying to win another competition.

“I bet you’d look good doing that too,” he said cheekily, cheering on the inside when you turned away first and started walking towards the exit. That’s a win.

“Are we going out to eat or not?”

After getting out into fresh air, you cooled off from your flustered state and fell into more normal conversation. The atmosphere was nice and mostly filled with friendly bickering, but only the two in question seemed to notice their eyes drifting to each other every so often when Hinata and Kageyama were busy yelling at each other.

The dinner was nice, like a group of friends who had very obvious, growing crushes on each other. You sat beside Hinata, across from Korai, and to say it annoyed Korai was an understatement. This was the one thing he absolutely wouldn’t lose to Hinata. He wanted his fingers to accidentally brush against your thigh.

So after everyone went their separate ways, he texted the orange-haired man. Something blunt along the lines of are you interested in Kageyama?

Shoyo: which one?

Korai stared at the message for a moment before chuckling. The girl?

Shoyo: not like you are;)

Korai put a thumbs-up reaction to the message, laughing to himself at how he didn’t even realise Hinata might have a thing for Tobio. Guess it’s a competition, first to ask their Kageyama out. This is just how his brain works.

Hoshiumi is sitting in front of the TV in his apartment and does what he finds to be the most tactical next step. He calls Hirugami and updates him on everything.

“Your heart skipped a beat? Who are you and what did you do to Korai?”

“Shut up,” he said, clearly not angry at all but rather embarrassed that his best friend was calling him out on his uncharacteristic heart palpitations. “It’s so weird, I even imagined her meeting my mom. And you. You’d get along, I bet. She’s like me but sweeter.”

“That’s exactly what I always thought you were missing. A little sweetness.” Hirugami said. It was very clearly supposed to be teasing but Korai got a little stuck on it, a small dazed smile falling on his face as he thought about you rambling on by the dinner table earlier. He looked around his relatively boring apartment, at how there was perfect space for another person cuddled up to his side on the couch. “Korai?”

“Sorry. I just think you had a point,” he admitted. “I have her number now, is it rude to ask her out over text?”

Hoshiumi stared at the message he wanted to send you and for the first time in a long while, he felt a little extra insecure. What if you didn’t actually like him? You could probably get someone like Ushijima. Someone taller.

No. He will be whatever he needs to be to deserve your attention. If only he knew he already was the object of all your desires.

Just like the first time you met, you got ahead of him. He saw your name pop up on his screen and he let out an audible gasp. You played really well today, I was proud to wear your number:)

Korai wrote and rewrote about ten different responses, even requesting some help from his aforementioned friend. Thank you! I appreciated seeing you there.

It was a stale and basic answer and made him subconsciously bite at the tip of his fingernail as he watched your chat. He should have said you looked good in it or something, damn it. Nonetheless, you didn’t disappoint. Would you like to call? I’m bored.

And so he spent the rest of the evening listening to you talk and laughing with you. He moved around his apartment, played with a volleyball he had lying around and held the weirdest poses on the sofa because all his attention was on your voice. By the time you hesitantly thanked each other for the time spent, it was the middle of the night and he didn’t have any other choice but to go to sleep if he wanted to make it to practice in the morning. As he tossed and turned in his bed that night, he couldn’t stop berating himself for not securing a date.

Instead, you and Hoshiumi got into the habit of calling each other almost every evening. It made him happy and built up his confidence enough that he eventually dared ask if he could take you out, just the two of you.

Your first date was fantastic. He took you to play laser tag and the other teams didn’t stand a chance against the two of you. After getting the gear off, you were laughing on your way out and he led you to a restaurant close by. Well planned, of course. You shared two different dishes and it really just felt like you were catching up on years of not being friends.

And what better way to finish catching up on your friendship than ending said friendship with a sweet kiss?

masterlist

#hoshiumi x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #hoshiumi kourai #ushijima #kageyama #schweiden adlers

[19ndonboy]

don’t say yes - mason mount

words: 2.9k

A/N: back with a new imagine to celebrate speak now (taylor’s version) out in a few hours. i added some lyrics from the song in it. hope y’all will like this one and don’t hesitate to leave feedback pls :’)

“y/n?”

you heard as you were doing your errands in the grocery store you hadn’t stepped in in years. you can clearly remember why as the reason behind it stands three feet in front of you.

you looked up and saw him. the man you showered with so much love and pride for five years. after all those years, he hadn’t changed. you could still recall his big brown eyes that made your legs feel like jelly every time he would stare at you as if you hung up the moon. you could still see the red spot on his nose, the one you made fun of during your summer holidays because he would always forget to apply sunscreen on his face, claiming only you could do it as he always craved for your touch on his skin.

however, you couldn’t read him like an open book as you used to. the way you would know with a look when he wanted to leave a party, too mesmerized by the way your blue dress suited you and hugged your body in places that were calling his name. when the only thing he wanted to do was lay in your arms after a game and cry until guilt at not helping his team win left his body. or when he wanted to steal fries from your plate in a restaurant on holiday with his family.

he couldn’t believe his eyes. you were in front of him, after what felt like an eternity to him. you greet him in a whisper, he wouldn’t have heard you if his heart beat a little bit louder in his chest.

it’s like you forgot everything you learned when you were a kid and words couldn’t leave your mouth. what were you supposed to do in this moment? ask him how he was doing, maybe. you weren’t sure of yourself but still, it felt like your heart waited for this moment way too long to restrain you from speaking. and before you knew, you asked how he was doing.

a part of you dreaded his answer. deep down in your stomach, you were hoping he would say how miserable he feels since you don’t share his bed anymore. he feigns a smile when answering and you wish you could still read through him to understand what he was trying to tell you.

he was not okay. as much as he wanted to believe he was, as much as he wanted everyone around him to think he was doing just fine not feeling your scent everywhere in his house anymore. he was not okay. as he was about to return the question, a man showed up to your side, resting his hand around your waist.

mason could feel his heart stop in his rib cage as he watched the scene unfolding before his eyes. he swallowed nervously as he paid attention to your left hand and spotted what he once dreamed of sliding through your finger, a ring. he felt like he was suffocating in such a big place, his eyes welling up with tears, he got his phone out of his jeans pocket and waved you two off, saying that his sister was waiting for him outside. you watched him run to the exit with not even a spare look at you.

that’s when you came back to your sense and realised that you soon-to-be husband, ethan, had his hand on your waist. of course mason saw it. and now you understand why he ran away, or at least, you kind of hoped this is why.

you put on a smile to your face and turned to ethan, finding a smug smile on his. “who was that?” were his first words since your encounter with mason. you never told him about your relationship with one of the most famous english footballer, mason mount. and you were glad you did not because seeing you talk with the man you wanted to see on one knee for you would have rubbed him in the wrong way and you couldn’t risk another argument with ethan.

ethan was what would some call the perfect man. he opens up your door and tells you how beautiful you look when you get into his car, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you turn crimson. he’s charming and endearing with you and everyone around you. your family, your friends who would always bash about how lucky you are to have found a gem like him.

but what happens hours after opening up your door is a different story. you would get in his car after a party and he would slam the door in your face, letting you known you were in for an argument and a long tiring night. he didn’t like most of your friends and he would make it known by criticizing them and calling them words. and eventually you knew where this hatred would lead but you couldn’t bear to do anything against it. so you faded away from the parties, the gatherings unless he was part of it and would glue to your side the whole time.

“oh just an old friend, no one baby” and every word that came out of your mouth pained you, clearly he was everything but no one to you, even years later.

he nodded and you went back to your errands, your mind absent. you don’t know how you managed not to think much of him all these years when he’s all you can think of now. your heart was everything he had been waiting for as every part of you was longing for him again.

and much to your distaste as you always despised people having illicit affairs while being in a relationship, for the next weeks, you found yourself talking with mason through social medias and meeting him in parks far from london.

you had a lot of things to catch up on. his season with chelsea, everything that happened behind the scenes with his contract issues. you were surprised to hear him talk to you about such a sensitive topic as you thought he would avoid it by any means. but little did you know your reassurance was all he needed.

he even talked about the high possibility of moving up north to join another premier league club. would you have left everything behind and move to manchester with him if you had taken the same road all this way back? you could sense him wondering the same as his eyes were silently asking you this dreadful question. but you couldn’t bring you to stop his brain from torturing him as your answer would hurt you both. yes, you would have. and the sad part is, if this was a movie and he was asking you to pack your things and move to manchester, you would still do it in a heartbeat.

as you were on your way back home, your thoughts wandered about what happened in the last weeks. seeing mason after years, working on your wedding finish touches and talking about future with two men. how did you get there?

you were certain about everything in life. you and mason ended your relationship years ago, being as in love as you could be at this time. but love was not enough and you were aware of it as you hit rock bottom at some point. both of you had a lot to work on, you were probably too young at that time to build something on strong foundations. you loved each other so much to the point you thought it would have destroyed you. jealousy, mistrust, silence, distance, fighting.

this wasn’t you. you couldn’t do that to ethan. as much as days weren’t always bright in your home, you couldn’t inflict this sorrow to someone when you know, you wouldn’t survive it if you were in his shoes.

waiting in your car in front of your house, you felt your throat closing up as a single tear rolled down your cheek. followed by so many, your view became blurry as you rested your head in your hands, desperately wanting to hide from the world.

a few days later, mason was in his living room playing with summer. it had been a few weeks since he last saw his family and lots of things happened then. and he couldn’t feel like he could keep it to himself for much longer. so as his sister was talking about a play park her and the kids visited last weekend, mason slipped out the news “i saw y/n”, leaving everyone in the room mouth agape.

he expected their reactions but when he turned to look at his sister and saw her look at her hands, almost scared to look at him, he felt his heart sink to his stomach.

“jaz, you knew?” he asked in a whisper, he wasn’t sure she heard him until she nodded, still refusing to look at him. he couldn’t think straight anymore. he couldn’t stop the questions as they all flooded in a heartbeat “did you know she was back in london or did you know she was getting married?”. and he didn’t know what to do with himself when she answered “both” to what sounded like pleas from her brother.

he couldn’t believe her words. his family knew what you meant to him, they all saw the state he was in after your breakup. never leaving the house unless it was for training or a game, picking up fights with every opponent who provoked him, having not enough sleep. they’ve seen it all.

a part of him felt betrayed. maybe if he had known about your wedding earlier, he could have done something to stop you. he was sure you still loved him when he saw storms in your eyes a few days ago during that one conversation.

“do you sometimes think about what it could have been if we hadn’t put an end to our story?” mason asked you as this question often kept him up at night. you answered with a yes, you still do and it’s become worse since you’re back in london.

maybe you would be together, ready to grow gray and old. but a part of you thought that it would have ended anyway. no one could keep up with this pain forevermore. but as you shared your torments with him, he shook his head.

“see, i disagree with you. i think we would have one or two children by now. a girl first. i’d play with her after i picked her up from the kindergarten and you would come home to us baking a chocolate cake because we know how much you love it and you would watch us with a big smile on your face.”

you wish it was this simple. “like that smile on your face right now” he pointed at your dimple as you blushed and a giggle left his pinky lips.

mason felt his heart tighten as he replayed it back in his head. “why didn’t you tell me before” his voice breaking at the end. and she went on telling him about how she thought he was over you and your shared memories. he gave so many signs and not one was clearly visible to others.

at this point, mason thought about how the world was against him. maybe, it was time for closure. maybe, it was time to set aside all those memories in a box and put it away and let your laugh become a sound he wouldn’t be able to clearly capture anymore.

“is she happy?” he needed to know. if he wanted to finally move on, he needed to know if you were happy. although the thought of you being happy with another man made him feel sick to his stomach.

jaz rambled as she thought of what to answer to her brother, which didn’t go missing by him. he called for her name again, as her lack of answer got him paralyzed on the spot.

“she needs you. you know she is like a sister to me after all these years. i know her and the man she needs is not the one she’s about to promise the rest of her life to. i don’t want her to realise it when it’s too la-“

she didn’t even have the time to finish before mason was storming out of the room, almost running to his car. he felt like his heart could stop at any moment, almost out of breath when he parked his car in front of your house. he knocked on your door, repeatedly as you were taking way too long according to him and his racing heart.

you sighed as you made your way to your front door. you barely opened it but it was enough for mason to make his way inside, not waiting to be invited by you.

“mas-“ you couldn’t comprehend what was happening before you. why was he panting, why was he disorientated, why was he pacing around your living room, not knowing where to start as he was losing his mind.

“you can’t marry him.”

there he said it. a weight fell off his shoulders as he said those words who held so much power to me. you were at loss of words looking at him right now. did he just come here to shatter everything and leave your heart into pieces, asking you for something you physically couldn’t bring yourself to do. marrying ethan was the only solution to mend your broken heart, the one mason trampled on.

yes, you weren’t in love with ethan but maybe you would be at some point if you give him a chance and look away from your problems. you were outraged by his audacity to come here and say this. “of course and i will. he is my man and i love him.” a part of you knew you didn’t mean it but you were getting angrier by the second. “who are you to say this mason? you can’t come here and ask me this.”

if anything he was expecting, this wasn’t this reaction. “i… we… we can’t be over y/n.” he stuttered as his eyes watered. you were slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t do anything about it. you had made up your mind already and he was years late.

“there’s no ‘we’ mason, not anymore. there was no more ‘we’ the moment you decided to fade away from me and choose everyone and everything but me when i needed you the most.” you don’t know how you managed to speak until the last word. no one prepares you to experience your worst breakup for a second time.

“leave… please.” you couldn’t look at him anymore. his cheeks stained with tears, this was the worst view ever. how can someone so sad be as beautiful as him, still. he was pulling your heartstrings at every sob he let out. you could physically feel his pain as it was also yours.

you led him to the door, and just like that, he was out of your life, again as you closed it in front of him. you sat on the floor, your back against the door and you stayed in this position for two hours. just like mason until he got up, not ready to face your boyfriend if he was to show up here soon.

your wedding day soon arrived. your makeup and your hair were done and you were now putting your gown on. getting ready in a house by a beach, as pretty as the venue was, this is not how you had pictured it when you were younger. you dreamed of getting married in italy, on a hill with lanterns everywhere. that was nothing like that as you peeped through the window, waves under a gray sky being the scenery.

and now it was time. you walked down the aisle, to ethan when your eyes were picturing someone else standing there. you looked to your left and saw his family. they were all here but him, smiling to you, but it looked like a grimace to you.

saying yes to the blonde man in front of you would happen soon. you heard the preacher said “speak now or forever hold your peace”. silence was all you could hear until you heard gasps around you.

“don’t say yes”

you looked to your left and saw him, standing there. looking mesmerizing. ethan was pulling at your hand, waiting for you to look at him but your eyes were glued to mason’s. horrified looks from everyone in the room but it felt like it was only you and mason. you dropped ethan’s hand, him calling your name over and over again but the only thing you could do is run to mason.

you held his hand and ran away from everyone, to his car and when you were in the safety of his passenger compartment, he placed his hands on both sides of your face and kissed you. out of breath, you rested your forehead on his and with a big smile on your face, “my heart called your name, mason.”

you didn’t realize you had tears on your cheeks before he brushed them away with his fingers and peppered your face with kisses as you whispered,

“so glad you were around.”

tag: @pulisichavertz @mountymase @fallinforerling

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x reader #mason mount concept

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (12)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: under 2k lmfao

warning: nothing but lmk

a/n: its short but i needed this scene to be its own standalone chapter

you wish you can say the night san left is the last time he breaks your heart.

it would be ideal to say everything ended there; that although you can still recall the feeling of emptiness from waking up to nothing, it spared you from the worst heartbreak possible.

a heartbreak that you would then seek out on your own because you're all too good at self sabotage and chasing temptation; a complete hypocrite you are, angry at san for not ending things sooner but now that he did, it's so unsatisfying.

this can't possibly just be it.

there's still so many unanswered questions, so much resentment, and so many unspoken wounds that needs to be addressed.

he's caused you so much pain one after another, and he can't just... walk out without giving you some form of closure. you feel you deserve that, at the very least.

the morning you head to his apartment is the most low, pathetic, and desperate you've been, even the you a couple months ago would be disappointed. but you suppose she would understand if she knew just how everything's gone to shit within the past few days.

the walk of shame up the stairs is halted when you meet those familiar pair of eyes that causes an immediate sink to your stomach.

he has a cigarette between his fingers and pulls back only to pinch his brows together at your appearance.

you shouldn't be here. everything was supposed to end after he left.

the quiet and hesitant steps continues to be taken until you stop in front of him, gaze leveling his, and though you haven't said anything, your eyes tells it all.

a reflection of everything you've gone through, and you're tired, defeated, even more so than the night at wooyoung's party.

whatever you have to say, and whatever you're here for... he knows he won't be able to give to you.

you linger on the cigarette in his hold before prying away, the entire time ignorant to the fact he even smokes.

san thought he was also done with it given he haven't touched any other forms of addiction beside alcohol in more than half a year, but the withdrawal from you is just about the worst one, old habits started showing up just to numb everything temporarily.

the separation is taking a toll on him just as much as it is to you.

"you shouldn't be here," he's the first to break the thick tension, taking one last dig at the cigarette before throwing it down, but he refuses to look at you, whether out of shame or annoyance.

"i know..." you reply, almost like a whisper, but there's not a lot of time to dwell in the awkwardness of the situation because he's already making way back inside with you not missing a beat behind him.

"then why are you?"

the harsh and blunt delivery makes you stop in track, because san isn't one for confrontations. he usually avoids them. but you register that at this point in time, there's no more pretending.

the facades you both had put in front of each other for so long are gone, and all that's left is a broken history between two people who started it for all the wrong reasons.

"because i want answers."

your voice is so full of confidence, he wouldn't be able to tell just how nervous you really are. how, you still feel so small and fragile, he could break you without trying.

but if there's one thing you learned from being with san, is that if you want to stand a chance, you would have to play his game.

stand tall and act like you're not the tiniest bit intimidated by the slight tilt of his head and the burning of his gaze as he looks you up from the couch.

a quiet sigh leaves him, watching as he goes on to shake his head in slight irritation, you can't help but to feel some type of way at the gesture.

"i don't know what more i could say to you that i already didn't--"

"--all of this. why did you do it?" but the confidence only turns to remnants of betrayal, he has to keep from recoiling.

"i told you, y/n. i gave you a choice, we made a deal and you agreed to everything."

"we made a deal, but i said i wanted out only for you to bust into my freaking room--"

you flinch in position when he suddenly gets up and walks over, his looming figure almost closing you in against the wall as fear quickly washes in.

"--you think i don't know that? i was there. so tell me again, why the fuck are you here?"

"because i want to know why the hell you took me on that trip! why did you stayed all those nights, and why were there times you actually seemed genuine, only for you to always walk out... always leaving me hanging..."

san goes from aggravated to feeling guilty in a matter of seconds, his body language softens at your frustration, only for a low mutter to fall out, "even if i tell you, it won't matter. none of this will."

"nothing ever matters when it comes to you, san. but it matters to me, because you knew i was stupid, naive, and easily manipulated, and you took advantage of that--"

"i know!" the volume makes you jump, "i know i fucked up, i know this is all my fault! that's why i'm trying to fix it!"

"how is this fixing anything?"

"because if i had stayed, would that have been any better?"

the thought knocks, and it knocks you over hard to the point of denial.

"i don't know what it would be like if we actually gave this a chance, because the entire time i feel like you never allowed me to get too close."

"even then, i don't have to tell you. you're not stupid, y/n. you know deep down how wrong i am for you. how wrong we are for each other."

you swallow down the tension, completely speechless, and only able to stare at san as he actually starts sounding reasonable... which is what makes it so unsettling.

"actually, i think you probably would like me a lot less if you really got to know me." he scoffs it off with a short laughter and his bittersweet gaze continues lasering into yours.

"i know you're sweet and all that, but i always had the smallest suspicion that there was a deeper, hidden reason for why you wanted to know about me so much."

it's that statement that picks up the immersion even more because you're curious; wonder what the presumption just might be.

"maybe a part of you was secretly hoping that i'm this broken soul who grew up in a shitty environment with shitty parents, and that's why i'm the way i am..."

but again, you have a natural instinct for self defense.

"what? no. i-i never thought--"

"then are you saying you like me for who i am? the douche that screwed you over so many times? because i highly doubt that."

"i never planned on changing you or anything like that!" you cry out, trying the hardest to hold back some tears, beyond frustrated at the assumption being projected onto you, but also at his approach.

he's exceptionally hostile, because not only is he trying to convince you, but also himself.

"good. then i don't have to tell you why whatever this is between me and you will never work."

for a brief moment, your head is in another dimension where time has pulled you back to a discussion your professor and classmates had about what brought them to writing.

for many, literature is in their blood. for others; for you, it is a way to detach from reality and to dream of another; living in your head and escaping... it's not a bad thing if that's what drives you, your professor said.

it's good to always keep a wishful mind that anything is possible in that form.

"but if you need to hear it for yourself; for a peace of mind... you won't like me. it's as simple as that, but i'm sure you already got the memo."

he stops to catch his breath before going on, "i'm not special by any means, and i don't come from some interesting background like you probably think i do. i'm just some prick with well-off parents and enough time to fuck around. it was what drew me and wooyoung to each other initially... because we were both just some stupid rich kids."

"i was only able to get you the job because of all the connections i have, yet i don't work a damn day in my life and am definitely not the one paying the bills for the roof over my head. the trip, everything i ever offered, and anything that came out my pocket, i paid for because i could afford to. that's me. that's who i am. fucking choi san, and all the reasons for why you shouldn't want to be with someone like me."

and you really do dream big, because you want it so bad... for it to possible.

"but it's not like we get to choose who our family are and how we grow--"

"--come on, y/n. have a little more self respect than that. you know what i mean, or do you still need me to say it outright for what it is?"

he's growing short and as selfish as san's always been, he feels he's doing it for your sake for once, fighting to end it as hard as you're fighting for it.

"it's just... so unfair."

so unfair that he made you fall in love only to take it back in the end.

"i-i just feel like you never tried enough. maybe i'm not fond of who you are currently, but i could learn to--"

"please don't make it any more harder than this, y/n. you don't get with someone hoping you can learn to tolerate them... that's not how it works."

it's good to dream of the imposssible once in a while and fill your head up with 'what-ifs', but it's not healthy to get caught up in them. let it consume you and then be disappointed that in the end... san didn't come around for you.

"you're a nice girl, y/n. you really are so sweet, and i can see myself with you someday..." he says with a distraught look you will forever remember given how his words make your heart thump, only to then shoot it down, "but not right now..."

because this reality can be cruel, and no matter how hard you cling, it is sometimes about accepting defeat and moving on.

putting it to perspective, it's funny and ironic how everything turned out. how you used to make such a fuss about not knowing who san is, only for you to find out in the worst way possible.

even more ironic that things between you guys pretty much ended with a screaming match of some sort.

but the one good thing to have come out of it, is that you can confidently say that that was the last time choi san broke your heart.

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @sannwa @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg @galaxypox @byunniebaekhyunnie @vixensss @interweab @svintsandghosts

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #san x reader #choi san x reader #san angst #ateez series #fic: broken

[xxventiswindblumexx]

Got inspired and made a Modern!Scaramouche x FemReader!

Tagging @hitomisuzuya because they're the local Scara simp 💜

⚠Warnings⚠:Alcohol Consumption, unprotected sex, Scara being an ass, cigarette useage.

Bad Influence

Scaramouche, the indigo haired male you've come to swoon over despite being told not to. He's a distant man, often straying away from people, always hanging out in alleyways and the roof of the collage you both attend.

You love him. He makes the sun shine brighter and the stars twinkle brighter. Your heart beats faster when he touches your back to move past or to move you aside.

You want to kiss him so bad it hurts.

The worst part is he didn't really acknowledge your existence, always brushing over your attempts to talk, only ever sparing you the time of day to ask where something or someone was. You've never given up though because you're determined to win his affections. He may be cold and unapproachable, but you have a stubborn streak. Even if it took an extra few months to get to him, he eventually would come around. The world just needed a little push in that direction.

Normally people would say this is a good thing, being as he was a bad influence, constantly in trouble. But that didn't stop your determination to gain his affection . Scaramouche has a lot to do with your current predicament. A couple days ago you were hanging out with some friends at the collage and you got roped into drinking after school. A large party raged as it was being hosted by the popular Football player Itto, you only went because your friend dragged you here, however you got into a drinking game with her and some others resulting in your head going fuzzy, you excused yourself to go try and find the bathroom, not that you needed to go but you hoped it would be quieter to try and collect your self.

You never realized that Scaramouche had also dormed in the same dormitory as Itto, never really been thought of until your hand gripped the wrong doorknob, opening it to a dark room. It was hard to see compared to the flashing lights of the party.

You didn't have much time to make out what room you had entered before hearing him, it was Scaramouche's room, he was laying on his bed, face flushed, distorted into an angry look with his hand gripping his cock, now red and throbbing. You had walked in on him during such an intimate moment.

"Hey dumbass! Can you hear me?! I asked why the hell you opened my door! " he shouted , making you jump from the sound of his voice. You were still trying to regain your composure, you felt a blush coming onto your cheeks and your eyes darted to anywhere else

"S-Sorry! I didn't know this was y-your room, I'll just-"

"Hey aren't you that weirdo that keeps following me around like a lost puppy? Yeah, Y/N wasn't it?" He sighed sitting up some not even bothering to cover himself, his soft indigo hair sticking to his face with sweat as his dangerous eyes looked at you.

Your face blushing hard not sure what to do, mind swirling with thoughts as your body heated up, dampening your panties.

This was one instance where you wished you weren't a girl. At least that way you'd have enough self control and wouldn't be acting like a hormonal teenager.

Scaramouche smirked noticing how flustered you seemed.

"Close the door and come over here" He commanded in a dark tone, you could leave if you wanted, he wasn't forcing you to stay but..this is what you've been fantasizing about since you seen him, to be in his arms at his

You did as he requested and stood facing him, your fingers fiddling with each other in front of you. You could feel your chest tighten with nervousness, your breath getting short. You were shaking lightly, you couldn't believe you were doing this. You were practically going through every sexual fantasy you had ever had.

He sat in his bed facing you "On your knees" he said as you complied, now level to his throbbing member, a bead of precum now gathering on the tip

"Suck it"

he said as you obliged. His lips wrapped around and sucked the bead off, earning a groan from him in response. Twirling your tongue around the head as you made your way further to take him whole , taking deep breaths in effort not to gag while you did so. Once he gave you permission you lifted your head, his dick twitching and leaking more fluid in response, the sight giving you all kinds of pleasure. It was like watching a fucking porn star, you swore you couldn't breathe as it sent shivers up your spine.

He pulled you up and onto his bed as his lips pushed against yours, his slender fingers making quick work of your shorts and panties, plunging two into your soaking heat, muttering against your lips "You're already so wet, you've been thinking about doing this have you slut? " his lilac eyes half lidded as his soft lips pressed against your neck, sucking and biting against the skin. "Tell me how badly you need this bitch..."

you moaned, his hand roaming your body as you moved your hips against his hand, his mouth moving towards your breasts as his hot breath warmed them. "Fuck... i-I need you scara" you moaned out , pulling away from your neck for air."Good" he breathed out as you felt the tip nudge against your hole

"you better be glad I'm inpatient tonight or I'd make you wait for it, you're mine now~" he murmured, thrusting once, then again into you. This caused you to let out another cry, feeling your stomach contract as your pussy clamped down on his cock, pushing your own arousal to greater heights, "Please...." you whimpered

"Please what? " he asked groaning some as his hips snap back against yours in a harsh pace, your cries now louder as your inner walls rubbed against the base of his cock, you tried to move back against him and he pulled away from you as you began to shake, feeling your legs trembling underneath you

"Please faster, deeper" you begged, moaning out as he growled, his hips picking up pace as his nails cut into your soft hips, arousal dripping down the length of his cock. He shoved harder as you bucked your hips, feeling your orgasm begin to build.

"Shit!" he grunted as he thrust into you as deep as possible, causing you to gasp and squirm underneath him, "Oh Fuck Y/N you're going to cum like a fucking whore" he groaned as he came inside you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he continued to thrust into you, his breathing heavy as he held you close to him, his cock pulsating inside you. You felt your climax building as you felt your body tense up, your muscles clenching around him as you cried out loud. Your vision began turning white as you felt a small surge in your core as you finished your high. As the last wave left you, the pressure on your lower abdomen subsided, leaving you weak and exhausted as your entire body quivered.

His body laying besides yours, it didn't take long for you to smell that familar smell of cigarette smoke, His arm behind your head as your leaned against him. You both lay in silence, content to just lie there, listening to the faint sounds of partying.

#scaramouche smut #genshin scaramouche

[pattysplaceofplaces]

Dynamic Duo 

Platonic P03 x Child Reader 

[Author’s Note: I’m sorry this is not of the best quality. It’s just something I spat out. Enjoy it nonetheless]

     P03 never considered himself good with kids. In fact, he disliked them a lot. They were loud and he didn’t need their grubby disgusting little fingers near his sensitive wiring. 

When he was turned into a stoat things took a turn for the worst. Unlike the others he wasn’t spared by being locked away safely. He was used game after game. Of course Leshy would do this, the pettiest of revenge. The only thing he could do was wait for a challenger to come by. They hated relying on other people but what other choice did they have? They couldn’t stay like this forever. 

When the door opened it felt like a twinge of hope in his sea of anger. He could only  hope the challenger would listen to his words, that they would be competent enough to get him the hell out of here. When they saw that they’re one way ticket out of the musty shack, all its hopes disappeared when eyes locked on the small figure that shuffled inside the cabin, looking around awestruck. 

Was this some sort of sick prank? It was so screwed, it might as well kiss freedom goodbye. 

The child must have had some intelligence in order to beat the Prospector, Angler, and the Trapper but he still didn’t have much trust in the child that had to sit on their knees in the chair in order to see the table clearly. 

They were surprised to see you actually had some skill. You had strategy instead of placing down cards on a whim, you always kept the Stoat and Leshy guessing what your next move would be. You knew which sigils to apply or how to improvise with the undesirable cards in your deck. You had even managed to get Grimora and Magnificus out of their cages. 

Of course he was still as snarky as ever and because you were a child there was always something to improve on but he couldn’t fault your skill as much as he wished he could.

“This is stupid.” The Stoat snapped at you. “Why’d you place that card down?” You had gotten used to the remarks and they had ended up being easier to shrug off. “Watch.” You silence it with one word. Once you place your last card down your tiny hand slammed on the bell and your cards lurched forward. Incredible, Leshy’s side of the scale was down completely. 

P03 couldn’t wait until he was out of this dreaded body. He was sure you’d like his spin of the game a lot more. 

#Inscryption x reader #Inscryption #P03 #P03 x reader platonic #X reader platonic

[phantasmagoric-acquaintance]

44. "That is my choice! My decision to make, not yours! Not anyone else’s! Mine!" w lucretia :D?? thank you <33 -ise (i cant remember if i sent u this before so if i have, just disregard this sdklfsd)

Despite the best efforts of Lup, Magnus, and Merle to lighten the mood, the first dinner with the crew since the Day of Story and Song was an awkward one for Lucretia. Though Davenport was never much of a chatterbox to begin with, he seems to speak less now than he had before, and she feels the full force of guilt for having taken his voice from him for so long. Barry remained polite and made an attempt to cover his trepidation, but it was obvious to Lucretia that he was struggling to return to the relationship they’d once had, certainly due in no small part to the way she’d made him a villain in the eyes of their friends.

Even still, she could also tell that he was making an effort to forgive her, as was Davenport. Merle and Magnus had long worked out any resentment they’d had towards her, and Lup had made it clear that though she’d always be upset at Lucretia, she’d had plenty of time inside the Umbra Staff to make peace with what she’d done and she saw no point in holding grudges about it.

The biggest stressor for Lucretia during this dinner was Taako.

He’d been even quieter than Davenport, speaking only when spoken to, and in short, snippy answers. He’d spent most of the time pushing his food around his plate with his utensils like a child who didn’t want to eat his vegetables. Now, he’s squirreled away in the kitchen with the dishes, a chore he offered to do with much less of the usual protesting.

Lucretia excuses herself from the after-dinner conversation after a few minutes, leaving the others behind in the living room to bicker over board games. She stands in the kitchen threshold for a few seconds, watching Taako work with the tense focus he only exhibits when something is wrong.

After a moment, she speaks. “Do you want help with those, Taako?”

“Haven’t you helped enough?” he fires back, without missing a beat.

Still, Lucretia steps forward, grabbing a dishrag off the counter, and begins drying the dishes in the overflowing drying rack. “I understand you’re still upset with me, Taako, and you have every right to be. I just wish you would talk with me.”

“Oh, like how you talked with me before you wiped my sister from fucking existence?”

She sighs. “That’s not… that wasn’t my goal, Taako, you know that.”

“Do I fucking care? That’s still what you did.” He’s been scrubbing, Lucretia notices, at the same plate for perhaps a minute. It looks spotless. “Like… like, I don’t care. I don’t care if you had the best intentions or what-the-fuck-ever. It doesn’t give me back the decade with her that I lost. So I don’t care.”

Lucretia carefully pulls the plate from Taako’s hands. To her surprise, he lets her. “I hear you, Taako, I do. But I want you to understand that I wasn’t trying to hurt you, or her, or Barry, or anyone. I… You were hurting so much already, I just wanted to spare you the pain—"

“Don’t you see how fucking fucked that is?” He whips around to face her, leaving the faucet running. “Like, that’s so not your fucking call to make. Did you not think to fucking ask me? Because that should have been my choice to make! Mine! Not anyone else’s! It’s so fucked of you to take that from me.”

Lucretia’s head spins, searching for the right thing to say. “Taako…”

He’s already turned back to face the sink, breathing heavily. He picks up the last little bit of silverware and starts scrubbing. “You wanna talk?” he asks, much quieter. “You want fucking, vulnerability and shit? How’s this: I’ve never in my whole life been so afraid to not be in the same room as her. ‘Cause, like, how am I supposed to just trust it won’t happen again? How can I promise her that I’ll be there for her if she wanders off and gets herself hurt again. Because I always said I would be, but I left her alone in that cave for a whole fucking decade because I fucking forgot that I was looking for her. It eats me the fuck up.” Turning off the faucet and depositing the clean silverware into the dish drying rack, he looks up at Lucretia once again as he makes his way towards the threshold. “So yeah. I’m pissed. Sue me.”

And with that, Taako strides out of the kitchen, leaving Lucretia alone with the weight of his words.

#wheeeee i finally answered a prompt . this is from like so many montsh ago asdfjjlsjdfk #the adventure zone #taz #balance #taako #lucretia

[dappledpaintbrush]

Blumiere and Dimentio are the same person and I’m tired of the plot trying to pretend theyre not.

Y’all I love this game and all but why were Mimi and Chunks not only still loyal to Blumiere but also said not one bad thing about him after finding out he was going to kill them despite the fact they were trying to help him this whole time and were the only mfs that cared about him- but Dimentio did the exact same thing and they hit him with a car

Like this is a genuine question I’ve been a fan for over a decade and I’m still like huh😭 about their logic. “We won’t let dimentio get away with this!” Or whatever she said- MIMI SWEETHEART BLECK DID THE EXACT SAME THING

Like if Bleck wanted to die whatever but it would’ve done so much for his character if he was like “hey the people who genuinely care for me and are trying to help me destroy everything and think they’re going to be spared? Huh! maybe I should actually spare them and create a new world for them but I still croak” unless he couldn’t create dimensions at all and was lying? But didn’t Dimentio do it with only the power of the chaos heart or am I stupid. So could Bleck have done it too? Idk maybe we could’ve had a scene where like “hey dimentio master of dimensions LOL I was kidding btw I cant do shit. Make a world for y’all whatever but I’m gonna die” and I’m pretty sure dimentio would’ve been like alright (lying, still wants a world just for him) but idk. Anyways Nintendo having Count Bleck still trying to kill his minions after everything they did for him really messed up his character and went against the writers intentions of trying to make Bleck a tragic villain but Dimentio purely evil and accidentally made them the EXACT SAME person and I just wish they could’ve handled it better because his arc could’ve been nearly perfect.

Not ONLYYY that, but he wanted to kill all worlds because he lost Timpani. Yet. There she is. Right there. And he KNOWS THAT. YET. HE KEEPS FIGHTING. KNOWING THAT IF HE WINS THE WOMAN HE WAS TRYING TO END LIFE FOR BECAUSE SHE DIED IS ALIVE AND HES JUST GOING TO ACTUALLY KILL HER. But then after they beat the shit out of him he says “kill me and stop the void- if you’re alive, it gives me peace” WHY DIDNT YOU SAY THAT THE SECOND SHE FLEW INTO THE ROOM. Maybe he was in a state of madness. But idk I’ve never seen anyone else talk about it

“But dappledpaintbrush, at least Bleck had the motivation of his one true love dying and Dimentio was just a bitch” *twitches finger back and forth while going AH, AH, AH, AH, AH* We have the very high possibility of Dimentio’s whole family fucking dying and his sister turning into like a demon according to Carson. So in game canon there is a POSSIBILITY (cause that story can be interpreted a lot of ways) that BOTH of them had tragic backstories that POSSIBLY was BOTH of their motivations to destroy all worlds. Yet Blumiere gets treated like a poor little meow meow by the characters and the clown doesn’t. Then again I don’t think the clown ever talked about it. Maybe it’s just my own experience, but I feel like the writing still tried to push the narrative that Bleck is less terrible than Dimentio.

And hey let’s say Dimentio is only a descendant of the Pixl Creator and he’s doing this for no reason other than for lols. Both of them STILL tried to destroy all worlds and only Bleck had a change of heart after Tippi returned… yet still tried to enable the Void after finding out she’s alive? Both of them lied to, betrayed, and tried to MURDER their ENTIRE TEAM. Earlier, I said “(the writers) trying to make Bleck a tragic villain but Dimentio purely evil and accidentally made them the EXACT SAME person” and this can go two ways- the first option, or making both of them tragic characters. If the writers genuinely thought this through and genuinely wanted us to pry into the lore to conclude Dimentio and Bleck are not that different, sending one to his dream world with his dream girl and the other to actual super mario hell doesn’t help their intention

And Blumiere is such an amazing concept for a character and he STILL IS, but wow the writers could’ve done so much more. Even a cutscene of him deciding the spare the minions could’ve meant SO MUCH and it really sucks nothing ever happened. With or without the “both had a tragic backstory” interpretation, there isn’t much that puts a clear line between Dimentio and Bleck’s characters. The game tries to make us think the line is there, but it really isn’t. At least not in my own interpretation of the writing. Idk lol. End of rant

#dear followers I’m talking about actual spm not ajl #where despite my friends theory I’m pretty sure the lore’s intention was for him to kill ALL of them #not saying they shouldn’t be mad at dimentio like he’s a bastard and we hate him #this is not a defend dimentio post this is just a criticism of the writing #spm #super paper mario

[lilimonarch]

Doctor Hanahaki - The Memories that Never Return [9]

Doctor Hanahaki Prequel: Whumptober Spinoff!

Whumptober day 9: Polaroid and lyric prompt

~

Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days

"Who are they?"

Sugawara perked up from where he sat in his office, looking at one of the newer doctors who stared at him with beady blue eyes. He had taken a liking to the doctor in his residency, even though Sugawara was about done with his. "Friends, all that," he glanced at the polaroid pictures hung by his desk, full of what appeared to be joy. Sugawara thought Akaashi was strange, his desk had no sentimental decorations whatsoever. If anything, it appeared the younger doctor's only love was the screaming of sirens and the smell of sanitation.

"Can you tell me about some of the pictures?"

Sugawara chuckled a bit. They were both supposedly on their break (though they typically used that to fill out paperwork), he could spare the time. "I mean, I thought learning about stuff was going to be amazing, got accepted into a pre-med program, life was going swell. That stage when you want to learn everything about everything, when you feel invincible." Sugawara pointed to a polaroid with a taller male, a small grin on his face. "I guess that only applies when you're a kid."

~

One of Sugawara's biggest lessons was seeing his father come home with an alcohol bottle and beating his mother half to death. When he was younger, his mother would hide him in closets, or tell him it was an early night. Sugawara remembers being so excited when his mom told him he was going to have a sleepover at Daichi's house, never questioning why so soon.

Now, he's 16, standing in front of his mother and taking a bottle smash to the shoulder, but defending his mother nonetheless. A shrilling scream as he held his shoulder in agony, but pushing his disgrace of a father away with whatever strength he had left.

His next greatest lesson, seeing an overdose in person. Sugawara's horrid father, he's forever thankful he took his mother's last name. Waking up early before a match on a Saturday, seeing white powder dusting the living room coffee table and the man face down on the carpet. Sugawara has memories of playing in the snow, making cookies with his mother and making a mess with the white flour. This, he knew, was not snow or flour.

Now, he's 17, unsure of what to do with such a disgrace of a man, dead in his living room. This was the one time future Dr. Sugawara Koushi rejected someone in need, ignoring the tears which fell from his face and leaving the house to meet up with Daichi. After all, they had a match to play, a game to win.

Another one of Sugawara's biggest lessons was coming from school after volleyball practice, seeing his mother unconscious in a bloodied bathtub, her mouth hanging out and the color drained from her face as a knife sat on the edge of the bathtub. Sugawara shook his head and screamed, reaching for his phone to call an ambulance as he lifted the woman out of the tub, holding her close. He recalls falling asleep in her arms and her sweet lullabies whenever he had nightmares.

Now, he's 18, holding his mother to his chest as she took her last breaths, her long gone when the paramedics arrived. Crying and screaming as the paramedics pulled him away, him knowing he was truly alone.

~

"That's Daichi, he's my fiancé," Sugawara chuckled, looking at the polaroid. "He's been with me since day one, through the good and bad. It's important to have those people you lean on, I don't think I would have survived High School without him," 100% the truth. After the death of his mother, Daichi's family took him in. It was odd to be living in his boyfriend's house, (he can't count the times his mother would burst in on their room expecting something, only to find the pair doing homework or discussing volleyball strategies), but he survived that because of Daichi. "My past is rough, wish I didn't see what I saw, but you know, we see a lot worse here than anywhere."

Akaashi looked away. "Dr. Sugawara?" He asked, twiddling his fingers. "You said it's important to have someone to lean on, someone to help you with rough memories." Sugawara acknowledged the worries, tilting his head. "I don't have memories, or anyone. From high school, I mean. Well, I don't really want to learn about who I was back then, either. I want to move on."

Sugawara nodded, laying a hand on Akaashi's shoulder. "Say, I want to start a clinic when I'm properly done with my residency. Sometime in the future, and I could use a partner." He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to learn about the past if you don't want to, but I can be that person you lean on. How does that sound?"

Akaashi nodded.

#whumptober 2023 #Learning everything ain't what it seems that's the thing about these days #no.9 #polaroid #fandom #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #fanfiction #doctor hanahaki prequel #the memories that never return #akaashi keiji #haikyuu akaashi #sugawara koushi #haikyuu sugawara #hospital #whumptober #hospital au #a little more graphic than the others oops

[tiktokitssinoclock]

Deepest Fears (p.I) -Cypher

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI // You will be blocked

Getting paired up to go on a mission with Cypher was nothing out of the ordinary. You could tell the masked man didn't mind getting placed with you, not that he truly minded being with Sova or Kay/O, for that matter. Admittedly though, you were sure it had to be a breath of fresh air to get away from awkward pauses or painful small talk.

You supposed you also least tried his patience. You weren't constantly checking over his shoulder like Killjoy might when he was working on his laptop. While you loved Jett, Raze, and Phoenix, they were like the three musketeers when put in the same room as Cypher- annoyingly intrigued by what his face might look like. Even the agents you considered to be more level-headed, such as Viper or Reyna, couldn't disguise their displeasure at his secrecy. They couldn't seem to breach the barrier past clipped words and thick silence.

You could understand their curiosity- hell, sometimes you wished you could ask something as simple as what it was like for him growing up in his hometown. At the same time, though, you could know next to nothing about him and still enjoy his company.

You were more than happy to sit and talk to him about whatever came to mind- video games Phoenix always beat you at, the worst midnight cravings you ever let yourself indulge in, the best fails and victories you'd witnessed while training, etc. He didn't warm up instantaneously, but your efforts were eventually appreciated. He was soon adding onto whatever it was you were talking about, the two of you chatting away for hours at a time. It grew to the point where he was initiating discussions, requesting you as backup for missions that he usually went solo on, and even occasionally spending free time with you at headquarters.

As far as the other agents were concerned, your success at befriending the aloof man was your true ability as a radiant.

Perhaps they had a point. After all, Cypher didn't have to breathe a word for you to figure something had gone horribly wrong during your current mission. He hopped into your waiting car wordlessly, only giving a terse nod to signal for you to drive, before fixing his gaze on the road in front of you.

He was usually full of dry humor and a raspy laugh you were convinced you could never get enough of. If you two had to hole up somewhere instead of immediately heading back to headquarters, such as for this particular instance, it was like he'd eaten a map of the surrounding area. He always had food places in mind for the two of you to try. There was also the occasional suggestion of a parade or celebration to enjoy from afar.

The quiet in its place was unbearable.

You couldn't help but spare Cypher the occasional glance as he sat stiffly in the car, only speaking so he could give you instructions on where to drive. His hands were balled into tight fists, the black material covering them straining over his knuckles. The man was radiating with uncharacteristic unease- it was almost stifling. Something had to have played out horribly.

After a few more minutes of nothing but the rumbling of the engine, punctuated by a "Turn left up here" or "Take the next right" every so often, you finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Hey," you started, your tone soft.

"It's alright if it didn't go according to plan. We can regroup and try again. We're not always going to get it right the first time."

Silence.

"And... I know you've been really concerned about Fade. So have I. But this really won't be the end. She's going to slip up again somewhere and when she does, you'll catch it. It doesn't end here."

Although he didn't answer immediately, you could tell he wasn't brushing you off. It was like he wasn't quite sure what to say, locked in a mad scramble to find the right words. Finally, he spoke.

"All things considered, the mission was a success. We have custody of Fade."

The knot in your stomach loosened significantly. You felt your brows relax and your death grip on the steering wheel go slack.

"Okay. Is everyone... you know, are they doing okay?"

The flash of blue from the corner of your eye told you he broke his concentration on the windshield so he could spare you a glance.

"They're all alive. Don't worry."

The tension you hadn't even realized set in released from your shoulders and you let out a sigh of relief, notably slumping in your chair.

"Good. That's good."

"It is."

You almost wondered if you had misread him, initially. His odd behavior could easily be attributed to exhaustion- the whole team was up well before sunrise to prepare for their confrontation with Fade, after all. Every worst-case scenario had to be accounted for, the surrounding area scoped out, surveillance picked over again and again- it made perfect sense.

"And here's our stay."

Cypher pointed out the run-down sign of a motel. Only the blare of a horn and his pinched inhale caused you to tear your gaze away from it, holding out an apologetic hand to the driver you nearly hit.

"Sorry, sorry," you said quickly.

"But we're getting actual rooms?"

A smile spread across your face.

"I thought for sure Brim was gonna stick us in another abandoned bus or something... he seemed way too excited on the carrier."

Cypher didn't spare you so much as a chuckle at the reference to your previous mission together, and just like that, your concern was restored.

Fade was caught and the protocol wasn't at risk of being exposed anymore. The whole team made it out alright. Everyone was in the clear. That must've been a huge weight off Cypher's conscience, yet here he was. Something else had to have happened. And for some reason, it seemed that he would rather eat his own hat than actually talk to you about it.

No sooner had the car been parked was Cypher making quick work of his seatbelt, leaning precariously over his seat to grab his things.

"I'll screen your room first," he said, settling back into his seat with a hefty leather satchel.

"Make sure it isn't bugged. Then I'll take care of mine. We meet back here at six o'clock to get to the rendevous site. Sound good?"

"Yeah," you started, fumbling with the envelope Brimstone had given you. You wished you could lock the doors and force him to stay for a minute, actually unpack whatever had him on edge. You knew that would never work, though. He was good at weaselling away when he wanted to, and honestly, you preferred to let him. He would come to you about it when he felt ready to, if at all.

But before you had a chance to voice any of that, you found yourself staring dumbfounded at the contents of the envelope.

You knew how messy undercover work could get- Sage made sure to explain all of that to you before you even joined the protocol. Still, you loved to tease Brimstone with smart remarks about the conditions of the places he assigned you ("At least the vents from the subway were warm, eh?", "Thank goodness dumpsters don't smell as bad when they're empty", "We did a service for the ecosystem by feeding all those mosquitos last night", etc.). You never truly meant anything by it and he knew that. But perhaps this was his form of teasing retaliation. You could almost see the smug look Brimstone had when he first gave you the manilla packet, saying he'd heard your complaints about the accommodations loud clear.

"You'll like this one kid, no worries."

Only now did his words truly settle in.

"That sneaky bastard-"

"The owner of this motel sells pide on the side- it's quite delicious, from what I've heard," Cypher clearly hadn't heard you speak, holding out his hand expectantly.

"You're in civilian clothes still, so you can get some while I check things out."

You couldn't so much as scoff at his brusque behavior. The slight tremor of his fingers nearly wiped your mind blank.

"That... that wasn't-"

"It's not ideal, but I don't think it's a good idea to stop by a restaurant tonight."

"Cypher, I'm-"

"Please." His tone was final, so much so you nearly missed how his voice slightly quivered.

"Enough talking. Hand me the keys."

The frown on your face deepened but you complied nonetheless, dumping the contents of the envelope into his hand. Only one key came toppling out, a worn room tag reading 601 accompanying it. Cypher went still as his haste from seconds before immediately dried up, the lens of his goggles zooming in and out on the object. After a few beats, you cleared your throat.

"He only gave us one key."

Like he was rooted to the spot, he didn't respond. You decided to give him a moment to digest that he wasn't going to be able to escape your company so easily, pushing the car door open with your boot. You stood with a groan, stretching out your stiff legs.

"I'll grab the pide and meet you there," you said as you reached back in for your backpack.

You tossed the car key in his lap.

"Lock it up before you go to the room, okay?"

You weren't quite able to erase the worry lines off your face as you gave the employee at the front desk a friendly wave.

#valorant fanfiction #valorant cypher #cypher x reader

[gnomeicecream]

Joy! Joyous day! I have been tagged by @scribeprotra in an ask game. Four Ships, Last Song, Current Reading, Last Movie, and Craving

4 Ships:

Yue Qingyuan/Shen Jiu: Two great tastes that taste great...ah no, too bitter plah plah. XD Shen Jiu has a very strong presence in the narrative despite dying on page -1. He is the protagonist of a story where things never got better up until he became the next protagonist’s villain. And Yue Qingyuan loves that for him. Did you need him to hide shidi’s body? Do you want him to sweat the sweat from your brow from beating that one child in particular?

Seriously though they have so much potential to dig into. Reveling the one key information each needs, that one event didn’t happen or happened in a different way or to someone else, great! The high charge of emotion that is bubbling like a pressure cooker! Eee!

3xun, Nie Mingjue/Lan Xichen/Jin Guangyao: Just like the above ship, but now with new angles! Class struggle, legitimacy, compassion, justice, reasonably priced love and a hard boiled egg (leading to a son being thrown down like, four sets of stairs. Seriously. Meng Yao is the spice that holds this recipe together he can have whatever he wants). There is that same pressure coming from things just never meshing right because people are talking past eachother as a result of their individual upbringings and traumas.

Cloud Strife/Barret Wallace: Man. Big. Mmmmm. Cloud Strife could use some looking after, and Barret Wallace has daddy energy to spare! This one is more of a rare pair off to the side of the great Seph, Aerith, Tifa, Zack, all those other soldiers, war. They have things in common! Both are dual survivors of Shinra burnt towns, both lead Avalache, they have a tension that comes from Cloud replacing him as the leader even while they both come to try and trust eachother. Good meat to make a good story with.

Kim Dokja/Yoo Joonghyuk/Han Suyoung: Did you want to cry because of the very concept of platonic incarnations of the love that is both given and received in the act of reading, being a reader, writing, being written, being yourself within and without a character? Well it doesn’t matter if you don’t this book and ship will find your tears. The book is put together like a crystalline clock, you can see the machinations and they are only made more lovely and tragic by understanding. But in specific to this ship, they have the tension that I need to make a ship enjoyable. Big emotions. Hidden feelings.

Last Song: I’ve got a piano BGM ten hour mix on, heaven knows what any one song I’m listening to at any time is called-Oh hey wait thats Always With me (spirited Away).

Current Reading: I’ve got 6 tabs of fanfic open right now. The Power of Friendship (and This Gun I found) by Gallus cause I wanted to reread when the new chapter came out then put that off for smaller bites. Thats Not a Real Trope You Hack Author by Boom_After_Dark. It starts off haha funny, the author is stuck in his own book and encountering tropes he deliberately used incorrectly. Oh, those are feelings. He is not haha anymore. Hm, a long fic collection with Shen Jiu by blackflowetea. Stripper au Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian by pumpkinpaix. My Erstwhile Dear by ErradianWhoCantRead which is a Jiggy skips town after Guanyin Temple then writes back home fic. and Anyway, heres Wuji by kakikaeru. Very funny fic with the Lan Juniors + Jin baby.

Last Movie: Puss in Boots, the Last Wish. I had a great time! It was a well put together movie, good storylines and good art. I would rec it to people even if they haven't been keeping up with the shrekverse (goodness knows I haven't been)

Craving: Oh hm, I am pretty content at the moment. But I am always down for some sushi. Mmmm...sushi.

Tag 8

@lacertae-dreamscape @blondejaneblonde @ibijau @a-mere-dream @veraverorum @naked-bee @spicedrobot @sarah-yyy

#ask game

[etrangersvoyageant]

A salute to Matu

As far as I know there isn’t much interest in dota on tumblr and that’s fine. Back in the days that I played the game, there was little to nothing about the game. However seeing I want this blog to be a bit more personal, I’ll write about it now, because it was one of the main things on my mind this weekend.

So, this weekend was the conclusion of the 11th International. It was the biggest tournament of the scene for years due to its big prize pool, mostly funded by its players and fans. And one of my favourite players retired. His name Lasse Urpalainen, better known as Matumbaman. He played for 7 years and won the tournament once – back in 2017 with Liquid.

This year he returned to the organization he won with and there are many stories involved with this and I’ll spare you all of them apart for one. Thing is Matu was the one of my favourite players for the humor and insanity he displayed on his streams before becoming pro and then becoming and being a professional for the next 7.

It was this year’s international he wanted his last tournament to be and that was quite a challenge as Liquid first had to get through the Last Chance Qualifier, an onsite tournament giving out 2 more tickets. Secret took the first, Liquid the second.

After finishing second in the group stage, they lost the first round in the upper bracket and had to claw themselves through the lower bracket. At times, the opponents were tough and games could go either way. Still, they made it to the final day, which is an impressive feat, where they met Secret again, who beat them. One match too short if you ask me, I would have liked Matu’s last game to be the finals, but it wasn’t meant to be. The 2 finalists were both strong teams.

And that’s how it ends. It’s only fitting he ends his career at the organization with which he won the biggest prizes. Yes, his teammates are different now, but they too deserve praise. Micke played out of his mind this TI and Boxi carried games. Zai didn’t have the best tournament, but still had clutch moments and Insania is a solid leader, which he showed plenty of times this month.

I’m not a sentimental person. In the days ahead of finals weekend, players were interviewed. Matu spoke about his reasons for retiring. He said he was tired. Seeing him play these past weeks was fun, he’s still a great player, but if you feel you’re done, you’re done. I wouldn’t want to force someone to do something against their will. I wish him and his former team all the best.

#dota 2 #matumbaman #team liquid #ti 11

[glapplebloom]

Since it’s been a while since the Polls were done...

Death Battle had a Champion's Poll and the winners were Discord Vs Bill Cipher and the long requested Cole Vs Alex. But there were other matches. And since I am a Champion (it is only $5 a month), I voted for who I wanted to see as well. And I did not vote for those two matches. So which did I vote for and what were my thoughts of the other matches?

Captain America Vs Kamen Rider Ichigo

I do think Captain America does need a return match. His match was an early research and we can do a much better job now. Imagine what sort of feats we could find now with a dedicated researcher on the job. As for Kamen Rider Ichigo, I do not know a lot about Kamen Rider. I know a lot of people enjoy the series and it would be cool to see their favorite series get the Death Battle treatment.

Among Us Vs Fall Guys

The idea is such a fun one that I am still surprised it didn't win. It would have been pretty interesting to figure out the research behind this. Though I don't think we'll be doing this in the future unless one of the two sponsors us or if the polls return and this gets back on and wins.

Kyle Rayner Vs Simon the Digger

I'm a researcher of Green Lantern and Gurren Lagann is an excellent series. I would definitely be the researcher in this match thanks to my previous Lantern work. What shocked me was the fact this didn't win either considering all the support I've seen of this match.

Ori Vs the Knight

I never played either, but the idea looks fun. Two indie platformers of varying styles and ideologies. It would have probably looked really good too.

Finn and Jake Vs Mordecai and Rigby

This is the match I voted for. For me, this is one of the big Cartoon Vs Cartoon fights. Adventure Time and Regular Show are sort of sister series. They have a unique style, wacky adventures and expect you to take things at face value. They even crossed over in comics. So having the two duos fight each other is one a long time coming. I get the feeling regardless of it losing, we'll be seeing this fight sometime in the future.

Kratos Vs Asura

Kratos is another one who could use a comeback. It was a Season 1 fight after all. And since then, he's in a whole new territory dealing with a completely different pantheon and new abilities. Meanwhile Asura is an obscure choice but an excellent one for Death Battle. His game is basically Quicktime City so we can see all sorts of feats thanks to them being more visual than gameplay. This could be a great fight.

Steve Vs Emmet

In case you couldn't tell, I enjoy Lego and other Interlocking Bricks. So I would have been glad to see Emmet enter. And Steve makes a lot of sense since Minecraft has a big history with Lego. If we could get Edbound to make this into an animation for Death Battle I think it would be better than a 3D one.

King Ghidorah Vs Deathwing (WoW)

It makes sense for Godzilla’s greatest rival (depending on who you ask) to be in Death Battle. But I don’t know about World of Warcraft to give a good idea on how this fight could be. But giant lizards fighting each other should be a no brainer.

Illidan (WoW) Vs Xiao (Genshin Impact)

Remember when I said I don’t know much about World of Warcraft? Same for Genshin Impact. All I know is they beat Sonic in the Fan Polls at the Game Awards and apparently a small 1000 year old girl is joked about being spare food in the same way Team Four Star’s Goku treats Icarus in the Cooler movie. But just because I don’t know either doesn’t mean it can’t be a great Death Battle. Look at Sauron and the Lich King.

Spy Vs Agent 47

So both of my votes were the last ones listed. Weird. Anyway, Team Fortress 2 is a great series and I wish it won their only match so far. And I think Spy could do it. Agent 47 is most impressive, but I think Spy could give him a run for his money and even win. But I haven’t played Hitman so this is likely biased. But man, I got to get back into playing TF2.

And those are my thoughts on the poll choices. I could reveal exactly how close my votes got to winning, but I don’t think it’s fair for those who don’t know how their votes are. Not to mention Death Battle didn’t reveal the results for a reason. And who am I to break that reason?

#research bin

[seriesxwriting]

Party time

Pairing- reader x Kai parker.

Series- vampire diaries

Warnings- build up to sex, kissing, removing of clothes, drinking.

Summary- you secretly have a crush on Kai and get shy in the game ‘smash or pass’ when asked about him. Even though lying and saying pass… kai could see right through you.

Sorry this is short, I found it in my drafts <33

-ꨄ-

“Boy I sure wish we were like this more often, not fighting or anything” y/n flopped down next to Kai on the famous Salvatore sofa.

He watched your every move like he was ready to jump in front of the bullet shot and your face.

Kai smiled nodding.

You were all hopelessly drunk.

“Wait till the bourbon is out of your system” klaus chuckled from across to you.

“What you gonna do? Rip my throat out” “no I’d rip that pretty little dress off you” he whispered in a sexy voice getting a laugh from Damon.

“You wish” you wink thinking nothing of it.

“Smash or pass” Damon shouted after the inspiration, he looked at Caroline. “Care, Kai smash or pass” “smash- he’s hot but only for one night and I’d have to be super drunk” her shoulders shrugged.

She was on her sixth drink now, still holding her crystal cup in her hand.

Your lips hit the bottle again swigging the liquor down while listening to everyone’s. Kol shouted over to you from across the room “y/n Kai smash or pass” “p-pass were just friends” you stutter awkwardly and a few people caught on.

Kai didn’t though.

His stomach twisted in side. “Your lost princess not mine” he sighed sitting back.

You lied. You lied hard.

In the real world you would smash Kai all over this house and the garden but you’d never admit it, at least not first…

“Kai, Elena smash or pass” klaus asked smirking at kai’s defeat. “Smash to all the girls, apart from y/n though” Kai’s snide comment made your eyes roll.

“I need to use the bathroom” you excused your self from the game and ran upstairs as soon as You was out of sight. You didn’t wanna be caught.

Damon’s bathroom didn’t have a door to lock so when you was washing your face with cool water to settle down your flushed cheeks, someone came in.

“Ever heard of knocking?” “Ever heard of knocking around?” Kai replied your words very fast making you go red like cherry’s in the face.

“I knew you were lying, I can here your heart beat… as I move closer” he kept talking as he walked closer and closer. “Where do the others thing you are?” I checked first.

“Getting a drink” Kai finished.

You enthusiastically leaped forward and grab his neck pulling his face down. Making your lips meet you both bobbed heads in the right direction and pace. Hands moving up and down each other’s body’s. Ripping off Kai’a shirt you drop it to the floor all with out breaking the erotic kiss. Like it was the kiss of life.

Kai also removed your top but more carefully, he picked you up by the waist holding your ass while moving to the bed.

Dropping your body down softly “so guess it was smash after all” he smirked undoing the button while you redden.

With great power and strength you flipped him so you were on top.

“Your not there the whole time princess, I wanna show you why you should have chosen smash”

Your heart excitedly beat while smiling hands on his chest and his under the skirt of your dress. Sitting on the only clothes he was still wearing his boxers.

“Not in my BED!” Damon shouted from outside. Within a few seconds he was opening the door.

“Damon- really…?” you ask quietly ,both of you not removing your hands for the time being.

“Yes really get off my bed stefans room is available” he pointed up stairs while smiling. “You got a spare top? Mines a bit ripped” Kai smirked eyeing me. “That’s just - terrible how do I unhear things” Damon walked away asking Siri in his hand.

-ꨄ-

#fyp #imagines #writing #netflix #short storys #writers on tumblr #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries #vampire #kai parker fluff #kai parker fanfic #kai parker imagine #kai parker smut #kai imagine #kai parker #viral #viral post #kai x you #kai x reader #tvdu #tvd fluff #tvd universe #tvd imagine #tvd #tvd gifs #kai gifs #tvd fanfiction #tvd x reader

[harrys-titties]

Y/N and Harry hate each other, until they don’t. 

29K+

Warnings: Asshole Harry, A LOT of swearing (I’m sorry,) mentions of anxiety, a questionable game of drink or truth & smut 

(A/N FINALLY I FINISHED!!  Blood, sweat and tears has been put into this one, so I hope you all enjoy! Love you all <3 Also you may have to open in your web browser bc she is big af xx) 

-masterlist-

It wasn't that Y/N didn't like Harry, in all honesty, she didn't know him well enough to come to that conclusion. But from what she'd seen so far, she wasn't too impressed. She had never found it too challenging to make new friends, often finding herself able to get along with even the oddest of characters, but with Harry, it was a different story.

Perhaps if they weren’t forced to stay in the same house during quarantine, having to spend days on end with only each other and their housemates to cure their boredom, things would be different. Maybe, just maybe Harry wouldn’t have come across as so disagreeable and overbearing. 

However, at this rate, Y/N was led to believe it was just who he was. An asshole who had somehow tricked the entire planet into believing he was the epitome of the ‘boy next door’ stereotype. 

Sarah, Y/N’s cousin, had called her sometime around July, asking her if she wanted to quarantine with her, her boyfriend, Mitch and a few mates rather than alone in her somewhat dingy apartment. Y/N had immediately jumped at the opportunity. Quarantining by herself had already proved to be somewhat tricky and incredibly depressing. While she loved her charming little abode, she was certainly not prepared to spend the next few months stuck inside it, alone, watching ‘Friends’ reruns with a bottle of wine and only her three potted cacti to keep her company. 

So, naturally, that led her to the doorstep of Sarah and Mitch's huge shared house with butterflies in her stomach, imagining what her new housemates would be like. 

Sarah had told Y/N all about Mitch, Jeff and Harry, exclaiming how funny, kind and welcoming they would be, and well, Y/N was excited, she needed some new friends. After her last break up about a year ago, had lost her a boyfriend and subsequently the mutual friends of his that she thought had become hers too, she felt slightly lonely. For Y/N the chance to cure isolation boredom blues and make some new friends was an offer she wouldn't dream of refusing. 

Upon arrival, Y/N noticed that Sarah's description fit Jeff and Mitch to a tee, but Harry? Well, he barely managed to squeeze into it. When she'd walked through the door, Mitch had immediately offered to take her bags and even offered her some of his favourite tea to help her relax after her relatively stressful journey. Jeff gave her a huge hug and asked what her favourite snacks were so he could add them to the shopping list. And Harry? He sat in silence with his head practically glued to his phone, hardly even sparing a glance in her direction. 

Y/N didn't let this discourage her. She prided herself on being friendly and often easy to get along with and so approached him readily. However, greeting him with a cheerful, "it's nice to meet you!" and her renowned smile had only earned her a grunt and a disinterested look. Maybe he was just having a bad day?

On the drive to Sarah’s house, Y/N had been thinking about how exciting it was to be able to meet him. While she’d never been an avid fan of his music, she wasn’t blind to the enormous impact he had on the industry. He seemed kind and beyond charming, and well, Y/N had a working pair of eyes, she knew how handsome he was. She had only ever heard good things and was excited to get to know the man who had made her cousin's dreams come true. 

However, Harry's blase and borderline rude personality really rubbed her the wrong way. Y/N could understand having a rough day, even she could get a bit grumpy the days leading up to her period, but Harry's impertinence surpassed a simple 'bad day' or two. He was impossible! He would hardly even acknowledge her existence, and on the rare occasion when he did, he was insolent and passive-aggressive. He would nitpick everything Y/N did, from the way she would dress to something as simple as how much soy sauce she had on her sushi! Y/N didn't know how she would survive another week with him, let alone the whole of isolation. 

Maybe loneliness, copious amounts of alcohol and friends reruns would’ve been the better option. 

——

It wasn't that Harry didn't like Y/N, in all honesty, he didn't know her well enough to come to that conclusion. There was just something about her that grated on his nerves. It could possibly be the fact that Sarah had insisted she was his type before he'd even met her. While Harry had countered, unless she looked exactly like the ex he was still very much pining over he doubted it to be true, Sarah had insisted. She showed him picture after picture from their trip to Europe together, pointing out how pretty Y/N's hair looked, or how dazzling her smile was.

While there was a resemblance to the girl on his mind, Harry doubted it was enough to remind him of the heartbreak she had instilled upon him. Alas, Harry was wrong. When Y/N had floated through the door without a care in the world, Harry had frozen. While Y/N did kind of resemble his past girlfriend Elle, it was the way she acted that frustrated Harry more. She had the same air about her, carried herself in the same way that Elle did, with humble confidence and poise.  

Harry hated it. The more he got to know Y/N, the more he realised that she was somehow simultaneously similar and completely different from the girl he was still in love with, and he hated it. She was a constant reminder of what he could no longer have, and he didn't know if he wished Y/N were more like Elle so he could have a part of her back, or if he wished she was a completely different person altogether.

Either way, Harry could hardly hold in the frustration he felt around her, snapping at anything she said and nit-picking her every move. 

While he knew he was acting unreasonably, he barely had a cause to stop it. 

——

Y/N was usually self-confident and relatively sure of herself, but she was also stubborn, and for some reason was bothered by Harry's opinion of her more than she cared to admit. 

So, over the first few days of her staying at the house, Y/N had tried her hardest to get Harry to like her, but her endeavours only seemed to further annoy him. She baked him carrot cake because she'd heard it was his favourite, but with a screwed up nose, Harry had swiped his finger through the icing to taste it and grumbled, "way too sweet," before retreating back to his room. Y/N was embarrassed as Sarah had given her a sympathetic look and insisted "everyone else will love it!" 

When doing her washing, she added Harry's whites with hers and even went so far as to dry and fold them too. But when she woke the next day, the clothes had been taken from the laundry, and Y/N was not given a spare glance.

 Harry had insisted they watch a horror movie during their weekly movie night, and Y/N didn't say a word of opposition, even though she knew she would have nightmares that night. Sarah had even tried to say something on her behalf, but Y/N quickly hushed her, not wanting to cause a scene and have Harry hate her even more than he already did. 

But Y/N's quick agreeance to watch 'Halloween' disagreed with her a lot more than she thought it would. She had hardly slept at all, jumping at the smallest of sounds and debating the probability of a murderous man being able to break into the house. When she turns again for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night, only to be met with the glaring '3:30' from the mickey mouse alarm clock she had nearly forgotten to pack, she gives up. 

In an attempt to calm herself down from the numerous haunting images flashing through her mind, Y/N begins her trek to the kitchen. A cool glass of water and perhaps one of the cupcakes Sarah and herself had baked the day before, would surely put her overworked mind at ease. 

As Y/N begins to walk down the stairs, she can't help but imagine behind every door a murderer with a knife, that each step in the pitch black was one closer to her death. The eerie silence of the house full of sleeping people only made her feel worse. 

Scolding herself for ever agreeing to watch the stupid movie in the first place, she turns around to flick on the lights to the hallway and stairway. Feeling slightly more comfortable now that she could see, she walked downstairs only to repeat the process in the kitchen, dining room and living room until the whole house, bar upstairs, was flooded with light.

Standing in the fully lit kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate she had found in the cupboard and munching away at the sweet treat, Y/N finally begins to feel somewhat safe. That is until a dark figure suddenly emerges from the hallway.

 "Harry! What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me," she exclaims while clutching at her rapidly beating chest. With his chestnut curls in a tangled heap upon his head, one sock on and clad in only a white shirt and boxers, he looks slightly worse for wear. "What the fuck are you doing, making such a racket at four in the fucking morning?" His voice sounds strained as if he'd just woken up and his face is screwed in annoyance as he points at the provincial-style clock hanging on the wall for emphasis. 

Y/N hesitates, she knew telling Harry his movie choice had kept her awake would not end well, "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you or anything." At this, he scoffs, "didn't mean to wake me, huh? Turning on every fuckin’ light and slammin’ cupboards will usually do that to a person." 

Now Harry knows he's being mean, can hear the way his accent thickens with annoyance and can see how she flinches with every raised decibel, and it makes him pause some. He realises there’s more than likely a reasonable explanation as to why she’s awake at such an hour. He's a dick, but he's not a bloody monster, and as he sees her eyes well up with tears, he decides his anger can be put on the backburner.

 "Why are you even awake?" At the softened tone in his voice, Y/N seems to visibly relax some but still remains tense. "I, um, I really hate horror movies, and I was scared, and I couldn't sleep." He sighs, and his voice lowers even more, "Is that why all the lights are on?" She nod's sheepishly, "why didn't you say anythin'? You were the first to bloody agree to watch the movie." 

"You already hate me enough, I didn't want to give you another reason!" Harry's not sure why his chest slightly aches at that, because if he's honest, she's right, he doesn't really like her at all. As soon as she’d walked through the door and up the stairs to get sorted in her new room, he'd approached Mitch. He'd even made a proper scene, asking why she had to quarantine with them. Mitch had defended her, pointing out that everyone else liked her perfectly fine so far, which Harry supposes was a part of his problem with her. He had made sure she knew of his distaste too, barely even paying her mind, and only doing so to mock her. 

So why it felt like his heart was cracking just slightly, he'll never know, but it does lead him to walk towards her slowly, "I can't really sleep either, did you want to watch tv with me until you can?" If Harry was truthful, he'd actually been sleeping like a baby before he heard the cupboard doors shut slightly above acceptable volume considering the time. However, the way her mouth pouted somewhat, and her eyes misted as she acknowledged his dislike for her made him feel awful. 

So as he sits on the couch with her, now donned with his own steaming cup of hot chocolate, he leaves the lights on and gives her his favourite blanket to wrap herself in. He sits on the opposite side of the couch and tries his hardest not to fall asleep, so Y/N could feel somewhat protected.

After a few episodes of 'SpongeBob' had played he looks over to the other side of the sofa and sees Y/N fast asleep, snoring with her head tilted at a slightly unnatural angle. He can't help the smile that finds its way onto his face, as he turns off the television and settles himself further into the couch to hopefully catch a few hours of sleep too. 

——

To say Y/N is confused would be an understatement. While she wasn't expecting to wake up to Harry presenting a friendship bracelet and a new found love for her, she was expecting him to at least stop hating her.

She was surprised at his kindness last night. She knows Harry gave her his favourite blanket. Jeff was always griping on movie nights because Harry manages to nab it before Jeff has the chance and although he claimed he couldn't sleep, Harry's croaky voice and dishevelled hair led her to believe he was in fact lying.

She definitely hadn't expected him to offer to watch cartoons with her. She also definitely had not expected to wake in the middle of the night to find herself pressed against him with his arms tightly wrapped around her.

 Y/N briefly considered moving back to her side of the couch, but if she was being entirely truthful, she missed cuddling. It was one of her favourite things about being in a relationship, and ever since her last one had crashed and burned, she missed the simple feeling of being held. So in her sleep-muddled state, she decided to stay put and hope Harry was as avid a cuddler as she was.  

To be honest, after all that, she thought he'd at least start to acknowledge her existence, or at least not act as if it was the bane of his. However, when Y/N awakes the next day, Harry is in the kitchen with Jeff and Sarah, debating on where to start their tour when quarantine ends. He moves animatedly and is clearly laughing and joking about as he usually does with the other occupants of the house. But when she enters, he instantly stops talking and instead puts his head down, seemingly very focused on shovelling his pancakes into his mouth. 

Y/N hopes, with every part of her being, that he didn't wake up feeling disgusted by her unconscious affection, but she knew it was a real possibility. And suddenly it feels like she had taken one step forward and two giant steps back.

So yes, Y/N is understandably confused. 

——

When Harry had woken up overheated, and with a stifling sense of claustrophobia, he was understandably confused. As he opens his eyes, he recognises the living room's shaggy carpet and cream walls; however, it takes him a few seconds to process why he was actually here rather than in his own bedroom.

The pressure against his chest causes him to startle some, and when he looks down to see Y/N still huddled under his favourite blanket but now pressed against him rather than the opposite end of the couch, the feeling doesn't fade but instead escalates.

How did they end up in this position? Harry knew he was a cuddler, any past lover would be able to tell you that, but that was usually with people he... liked? Why the fuck was she on top of him?

He can just see the side of her face, while the other looks to be uncomfortably pressed against him. Her hair no longer resembles the bun she usually goes to sleep with but a nest upon her head, and what looks like dried drool is smeared across the corner of her rosy lips. 

Harry can admit she's cute. In a puppy that's just been kicked kind of way. He feels compelled to brush the strands of hair away from her face and wipe the spit away with the hem of his shirt, but Y/N moving in her sleep draws his focus away. He sees his lanky legs tangled with hers and for the first time notices his arms also wrapped around her, keeping her close. 

While a half-asleep Y/N is clearly trying to change her position, his gangly limbs keep her from doing so. And Harry panics. He should not be cuddling with Y/N of all people. Instantly and as gently as possible, he rolls her off him and stands from the couch, only to hear a muffled groan of opposition from the sleeping girl. 

Harry was confused, to say the least. He knows it's not a big deal. Two, friends? No. Acquaintances? Hm nope, 'roommates?'... had fallen asleep next to each other on the couch and woken up slightly tangled. It wouldn't be that much of an issue if the last person Harry had woken up next to hadn't been the ex-girlfriend he was very much still broken-hearted because of. Don't get him wrong, it had felt nice to be close to someone again, but perhaps that's the reason why Harry begins to panic even more. 

So, Harry folds up the blanket he had been using, walks to the toilet and convinces himself not to think of it again. And it's also for this reason, that Harry can't seem to look Y/N in the eye as she walks into the kitchen. He knows she's looking at him in confusion, and he feels slightly guilty, but what was he supposed to do? Greet her with a cuddle and ask if she'd slept as well as he did? No, Harry would act like nothing had happened, and pray that a problem wouldn't arise from that.

But of course, Harry should have known better. 

——

Y/N was quite the baker. She had worked a few summers in her Aunties little bakery and had loved it, but even with her passion and keen eye for icing cakes, there was only so much sweet treat making she could do. She was more participating in copious amounts of isolation baking to please poor Sarah, who was struggling with boredom, and who also happened to love sweets. 

So, whenever Sarah would run into her room with a new suggestion, or send her a link to a 'totally awesome' muffin recipe, Y/N would simply bite her tongue and help gather the ingredients. They had already managed to make cupcakes, banana bread, chocolate chip cookies and cheesecake. So when a new recipe comes through while Y/N reads her book in front of the pool, she wonders what other baked goods could even possibly exist for them to make. 

Alas, macarons. Y/N sighed and walked to the kitchen, where she knew Sarah would be preparing their ingredients. "Hey bug, ready to bake the best macarons ever?" On the inside, Y/N started dramatically weeping, but on the outside, she exclaims, "sure am! These might be a bit more difficult than anything we've tried though." Sarah scoffs, "oh please, we're up for the challenge." 

It's then Y/N notices Harry sitting at the island bench, and he catches her staring, "what? 'M bored." She only nods in response, not really one for conflict. "Are you helping us cook? We could use an extra hand." Y/N kind of hopes he'd say yes, maybe a bit of cooperative, team bonding would mend whatever weird rift they had between them. 

However, Harry screws up his nose at her suggestion as if what she had said was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Before he has the chance to snarkily reply to her, Sarah butts in, "Harry actually used to be a baker! Didn't you H." Harry can see Y/N's eyes light up and knows that whatever comes out of her mouth next, he was more than likely going to despise. "I used to work in a bakery too!"

Now, if there was an award for sarcasm, Y/N's sure Harry would probably win it. When he pulls his lips into an over-exaggerated smile and says, "twinnies!" with such derision that it burns, Y/N's smile falls. She didn't know what his problem was. Had it really bothered him that much that they'd accidentally cuddled in their sleep? Who had hurt the poor guy so much that a simple night-time spoon was the be-all or end-all? 

She really hadn't meant it, guessed she'd missed sleeping next to a warm body and naturally gravitated towards him. She liked a good cuddle, for fuck's sake, who didn't? If she could turn back time, she would've stayed in bed, wracked with fear if it meant she wouldn't have to deal with Harry's bullshit.

Rather than responding, Y/N puts her head down and begins to read the instructions Sarah had helpfully printed out. Harry is about to make a snide comment, praying that her baking abilities have improved since the carrot cake she had attempted to make, but he gets distracted by the way the afternoon sun is hitting her skin. 

Was Y/N kind of attractive? For the first time, he notices that while she had similar features to his ex, Y/N was pretty on her own accord. 

While often messy, her hair looked so soft, and her eyes were wide and held a sense of innocence. If Harry looked close enough, he could see the tiny acne spots she hadn't bothered to cover and the small bags under her eyes. He briefly wonders if she'd been getting enough sleep and if he had any of the 'sleepy-time' tea left that had worked so well for him before he realises what he was thinking. 

This was Y/N, not Elle, not some chick he'd been fucking, it was Y/N. Maybe he was just confused about his feelings. That was the first time he'd slept next to someone in a while. And well, Y/N was an admittedly pretty girl, and Harry was an admittedly lonely guy who was attracted to pretty girls…

Yeh, there was nothing for him to worry about. 

Y/N mistakes Harry's staring as a glare and does her best to avoid looking at him. She didn't want him to see the well of tears in her eyes and give him the satisfaction. By now, she knew he had meant to upset her, and he had succeeded. 

It was a shame, he really was an attractive guy. Y/N is fully aware that if she'd seen him at a bar, acting the way he did with Sarah and the guys, she'd be instantly in love. She imagines him at school years ago, he probably would’ve been the guy that everyone developed a crush on at least once, boys and girls alike, and has no doubt he probably knew it too. 

Unfortunately, Y/N had not met him in a way akin to a romantic novel. No, she only knew him as an ass who tended to treat her like the dirt stuck to the treads of his overpriced shoes. The only thing Y/N could do was just try her best to ignore him. 

——

As it turns out, Y/N was right, macarons were a lot harder than anything Sarah, and she had previously tried to make. Y/N was tired, frustrated and too sweaty for simply baking glorified cookies. The macarons had taken so long to make, and worst of all, the first batch had come out of the oven flat and stiff as a board. Sarah had pulled out the tray as Y/N was beginning to wash the bowls with a hesitant, "are they supposed to be flat?" 

Turns out they were not supposed to be flat at all. Y/N tried to hide her distaste as she chewed through one of the shells, but when she saw Sarah's face mirroring hers, she giggled. Harry, who had been sitting at the bench, completing a crossword puzzle, also laughed, "guess you aren't as good at baking as you thought you were." 

Y/N would be offended, but notices he's mainly talking to Sarah, and his jesting tone suggests he's not even acknowledging her. "Here, try one. They aren't that bad," Sarah hands him one and he huffs before taking a bite, "better not poison me. You'll have millions of fans to answer to." 

As he chews, it’s apparent that he's not particularly enjoying it. After a hefty swallow, he tugs at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as if in deep thought. "These are single-handedly the worst macarons I've ever had in my entire life. And I say that with absolute confidence." 

While Sarah scoffs and laughs, admonishing Harry with a gentle slap on his arm, Y/N is entirely distracted. She had never seen anyone else with the same habit as her ex. Ben would tug at his bottom lip when deep in thought, and there Harry was, exhibiting the exact same habit. She was astonished, and she hates to admit it, but small butterflies form in the pit of her stomach. She always had, for some unknown reason found it an oddly attractive trait.

While others might be attracted to muscles or deep dimples, Y/N found the little quirks of others most captivating. She loved the drunken ramblings and the uncontrollable tears during sad films. She loved watching people discover their favourite song and the way they would sing under their breath. She loved the unmade beds, dust-covered books, and overwatered plants. She loved the way people would stutter on certain words or adopt weird nicknames they had heard in their favourite movies. She loved pet peeves and the stories behind them and the routines that they followed. Y/N had always loved people. She loved the things that made individuals uniquely them, and this quirk that Harry shared with Ben, was no different. 

If he notices her staring, he doesn't draw attention to it, only continues to banter with Sarah, while Y/N stands in the middle of the kitchen, lost in thought. It’s Sarah's voice that draws her out of her reverie, "c'mon Y/N let's try another batch. I want to surprise Mitch for movie night, he loves these things."

——

This movie-night, Y/N wanted to make sure she would be able to sleep at the end of it, and for that reason, horror movies were off the table- much to Harry's dismay. Sarah, Mitch and Jeff, readily agreed, and after some pushing from Jeff and the girls, everyone agreed to watch a rom-com. The question was which one. 

As Sarah scrolls through the movie selections, 'Clueless' catches Y/N’s eye, and she immediately yells out the suggestion with vivid excitement and is promptly met with... silence. "Guys? Clueless is icon-" Y/N starts, only to be interrupted by none other than Harry, "'s a shit movie, we aren't watching it." Before Y/N can object, Sarah comes to her defence, "oi H, don't be an asshole. We know it was Elle's favourite, don't need to take it out on poor Y/N."

While Y/N prides herself on being understanding and kind, she knows she can be a tad oblivious to what's going on around her at times. She had tried to pick up on it when she noticed it and improve because it had indeed gotten her into some awful situations. And if only Y/N had paid a bit more attention to the situation around her, she may not have spat out her next words. She may have noticed Harry's misty eyes and pursed lips, Sarah's empathetic gaze towards him, Mitch's awkward glance in Harry's direction and Jeff's head buried in his hands. Alas, she didn't.

 "Who's Elle?"  

Silence. Y/N is met with nothing but silence. After a while, she can vaguely hear Jeff letting out the breath of air he had clearly been holding in, and Mitch's mumbled "oh god" under his breath, but she was much too focused on Harry's gaze that was now piercing into hers. "None of your business," he gets out through gritted teeth. 

Y/N is somewhat taken aback, she can clearly see that whoever Elle was, she was a sensitive topic for Harry and immediately tries to backtrack. "Oh, um I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" For the second time that night, Harry interrupts her. "Does anyone want popcorn? We forgot to get some." He stands from the couch, now avoiding Y/N's gaze altogether, and she looks around the room to try and gauge the situation. 

The only one in the room paying her any notice is Sarah, who shares the same empathetic look with her that she had given Harry not two minutes ago. Sarah mouths ‘ex-girlfriend' at Y/N, and it's safe to say she feels awful. While she didn't particularly like Harry, she would never intentionally hurt anyone, and she makes the snap decision to follow him, in order to apologise to him properly. 

When she enters the kitchen, Harry is leaning on the counter facing away from her. His shoulders seem tense, and his hair is dishevelled as if he'd been continuously running his fingers through it.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring up such a sensitive topic." At her voice, Harry's shoulders seem to hunch further, and he turns around while taking a deep breath, "just drop it yeah? Think you've done enough." 

Y/N didn't think that was fair. She really hadn't known, and if she had, she wouldn't have even thought of mentioning it. "I didn't know Harry. I won't bring her up again." Y/N had grown familiar with the way Harry's accent thickened sometimes. It happened when he was tired or bored. It was most frequently when he was angry, which seemed to be a common occurrence when she was concerned, and now was no exception. "No shit, stop stickin' your nose into other people's business." 

In any other circumstance, Harry might have noticed the way Y/N's eyes instantly started to water, or how she'd retreated and hunched slightly into herself in submission. Harry had noted she was a sensitive little thing, and while he often tried to get on her nerves, when he saw her nose twitch and eyes mist up, he knew to back off. But currently, he could only see red, and the fact Y/N had made no attempt to move, made his fury run even more rampant through his veins. “Fuck off Y/N, I'm not kiddin'. Go back to the living room." 

"But Harry, I-" Y/N attempts to get out, but Harry's raised voice causes her to immediately stop. "I said, fuck off!" At that, Y/N snaps. For weeks, she had been doing nothing but try to please Harry, but there was just no pleasing him. He was arrogant, apathetic to everyone around him, pretentious, stubborn and worst of all, just plain rude. 

"You're a real asshole, you know that. I understand you're upset, and I'm sorry I caused it, but you don't need to treat me like shit,” she sniffles. “I have tried so fucking hard to get on your good side, but I'm done trying. It's time for you to wake up and realise not everyone is going to hurt you like precious Elle clearly did." Y/N expects Harry to do many different things, she prepares for him to begin screaming, perhaps start crying? She briefly wonders if he would go so far as to push her out of the way and storm out of the room. 

Although, one prospect she didn’t consider was for him to start laughing. "Oh Jesus pet, you think you're that special? You think you can even begin to be compared to her? Think I'm scared you'll.. what? Break my heart?" As he continued to speak, the sound of his voice grew as did his rage. The veins on the side of his neck only became more pronounced, and the crease in his brow caused his whole face to contort. 

The increase in volume had caused an audience to gather. Jeff, Sarah and Mitch stand in the kitchen entrance helplessly watching the two rip into each other. Mitch is the first to step in, "Harry c'mon, that's enough." 

"Fuck off Mitch, stay out of it." He turns back to Y/N, "please, sweetheart, save yourself the heartbreak. Have you ever considered that maybe I just don't like you? You're fucking annoying, and your pathetic attempts to get me to like you are even more so. What were you hoping would come from it? I'd ignore the fact you grate on my nerves 24/7 and pay you a bit of attention? Maybe even get you off once or twice? Is that it?"

Sarah is next to attempt to break up the fight, "Y/N don't bother, Harry's just upset."

It took a lot to get Y/N mad. She was usually calm, maybe a bit emotional, but very rarely did she raise her voice. But Harry, with his constant grouching and aggressive nature, had pushed her well and truly past that point. "Save it, Sarah. Are you fucking serious Harry? I was just trying to be a nice person. I'm not sure how to tell you this, but not everybody is trying to get into your pants. Guess you'd be so used to girls throwing themselves at you until they have a fucking conversation with you and see what a dick you actually are." 

He snarls at that, "trust me pet, they're proper gaggin' for it." Y/N scrunches her nose in disgust, "You're fucking disgus-" The quietest of the group is the next to interrupt. "Oh for fucks sake, both of you, shut up!" 

Jeff was usually quietly spoken and hardly ever lost his temper, he was similar to Y/N in that regard. As Harry's manager, he had formed a close relationship with the green-eyed boy over the past few years, and not once had Harry ever heard Jeff raise his voice. So when Jeff yells, even Harry knows it's time to back off. He stays quiet and instead gives Y/N one last lingering glare before retreating upstairs to the safety of his room. 

Y/N can't help but burst into tears. She hated conflict, and would usually avoid it at all costs, but Harry deserved to be put in his place a bit. Immediately, Sarah is at her side, attempting to console her, but it only makes her cry harder. Y/N feels pathetic, she hated crying in front of people, and Jeff and Mitch's lost stares were not helping the situation. Sarah follows Y/N's eye line, "can you both get out for a bit?" Both boys all but run out of the kitchen. Now that they were alone, Y/N allows herself to really cry, hoping a good sobbing session would clear her thoughts and emotions from the situation. 

——

Harry was sad. He was not going to say he was always sad, because, in actual fact, Harry was happy a lot of the time. He could admit he had a good life, filled with love, happiness and fun, but there were some times when joy felt more like a mirage to him, something unattainable. 

And maybe it just wasn’t for him, maybe true happiness wasn’t in his cards. 

He was someone who quickly became obsessed, found solace and comfort in certain things. Sometimes so much so it became a flaw, something he felt he would die if he lived without, and one of those was Elle. 

It used to be his mum, then music, then Niall, then Mitch, then Elle and then... nothing. Harry hadn’t found something or someone he felt he could rely on entirely since her. It seemed now he only had himself, and in his mind, that was a potentially dangerous thing. His mum was miles away, Mitch found his own solace with Sarah, Elle had left him, and Harry had never felt so alone. 

Isolation made it worse, he couldn’t distract himself with performing anymore, with drinking his body weight in alcohol or finding pretty girls who looked eerily similar to his ex, to spend a few hours with. So often he found himself uncontrollably crying, alone in bed. Harry never felt shame in crying, but there was something particularly mortifying about being loved by millions of people worldwide, yet still sobbing into his pillow because his girlfriend had broken up with him. Not only dumped him but had cheated on, destroyed him and ripped his heart into little shreds. 

And that’s where Harry was now. Lying in bed, his pillowcase wet with tears, eyes stinging and red, his cheeks stained and raw from his constant rubbing at them, and his back aching from the occasional sob pulling at the already taut muscles. 

Harry just needed a hug. He needed someone to tell him it was okay, that things would work out because at this point he honestly didn’t know himself. 

——

The next few days in the house are hell. Not just for Harry and Y/N but for everyone stuck isolating in the space. Y/N and Harry refused to talk to each other, only sharing pointed glares. Harry does all he can to piss her off, without ever having to say a word. While out for his regular morning walk to buy coffee, he purposely 'forgets' Y/N's. When it was his night to cook, he plays the English rap that he knew she hated at full volume, while making prawn pasta. Which really wouldn't have been an issue, if Y/N wasn't bloody allergic to seafood. While he claimed to not know, Y/N saw through him. Just the week before she had refused to eat lunch when Jeff had made tuna sandwiches and had clearly explained why. 

Y/N tried not to let it bother her and instead did everything she could to avoid him. When he'd come home with everyone's regular coffee order but hers, she exclaimed she "preferred homemade!" and brewed her own cup. She put in headphones and shut her door in an attempt to drown out the crap he called music. And when Harry had placed a massive bowl of steaming pasta that she couldn't fucking eat in front of her, Y/N smiled and ordered pizza instead. 

Mitch struggled through the week, staying as quiet as he usually was. If he was honest, he wished he was just quarantining with Sarah. He loved Harry but also knew that he could be a dick when he wanted to be. So despite Harry's constant prodding for him to join in on shit-talking Y/N, Mitch tried to stay out of it. 

Sarah spent the days keeping Y/N company. She felt slightly guilty that she had invited her to spend isolation stuck in a house with what happened to be the only person Sarah had ever met, who hated Y/N. Instead, she listened to her rant when Harry couldn't overhear. She baked cookies with her, and they sang shitty pop music at the top of their lungs whenever Harry decided to blast his music.  

Once again, Jeff surprised everyone. While they were used to his calming and genuine presence by now, no one expected him to play peacekeeper. Harry supposes he should've seen it coming, being his manager for four years, meant the guy had to have some kind of problem-solving skills. So Harry promptly nicknames Jeff, 'Switzerland' and despite his denials, Harry knew Jeff secretly loved it. 

Jeff spends the next few days quietly talking to all the other house members like some sort of pseudo spy. And finally, after three long days of combat, by some miracle, convinces both Harry and Y/N to talk out their issues and apologise. 

At first, both Y/N and Jeff agreed he should be in the room to mediate, but upon the request of Harry, he was waiting just outside the door, waiting for any sign of a fight, to run in and play referee. 

So that led them here, with Harry sitting on one end of the couch, oozing with confidence while actually being a mess on the inside, and Y/N on the other, nervously picking at the hem of her jumper. 

Harry is the first to speak, "look Y/N I'm sorry. You were right, Elle's a bit of a sore spot for me, and I overreacted." She nods in acknowledgement before speaking herself, "yeh, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pried like I did.” He nods along, still somewhat convinced he wasn’t entirely in the wrong. 

It’s the next question that makes Harry’s blood turn cold, “I just… I just need to ask why? What did I do for you to not like me? It started before last night. Before I mentioned… her.” Y/N scoots around the heartbreaker’s name.  

She watches as Harry bites his lip in what looked like deliberation before he replies, a deep sigh sitting on his pretty lips. “I don’t know. I know that’s a shitty thing to say, I treated you like shit for weeks, but it’s true. I just don’t know.” 

Y/N’s taken aback. Weeks of torture, hatred and tears and he couldn’t even tell her why he’d acted the way he did. “Harry, you can’t be serious. There must be something! You... you were so mean.” 

Y/N watches as tears well in his eyes, and she briefly wonders if she shouldn’t have pushed the topic. “I don’t know, I don’t fuckin’ know.” He lashes out, once again, his anger getting the best of him. 

Y/N throws her hands up in defeat, “I don’t know what you want from me, Harry. I’m trying here I really am, but you won’t give me anything. What do you want me to do?” 

“I know you are,” he all but chokes out. Harry didn’t know how to express himself, a million thoughts were running rampant through his mind, and he felt like if he were to try and speak, he’d have to spend hours detangling each thought from the other like shitty Christmas lights. He takes another deep sigh. He had to try, he knew it wasn’t fair to Y/N. And well, Harry wasn’t exactly happy either, maybe it would help to tell someone how he felt. 

“It’s just when I look at you... I see her. I see her in the clothes you wear and the way you laugh. You look the same for fucks sake, give me the same doe-eyed look and.. she never apologised. Never said a word, I found her in bed with my… with my best mate, and she just fucking left,” he cries out. “And when I first saw you, and you gave me that fuckin’ look I just... I just got so angry.” Harry’s face briefly scrunches in frustration, but it’s quickly overcome with grief. 

He begins to cry harder, his shoulders racking with sobs and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. She sits helplessly, watching the man she very much despised breaking down in front of her, crying previously unshed tears with his head in his hands. 

What was she supposed to do? She wasn’t going to say it was alright because it wasn’t. But god, he looks so pitiful, and Y/N knows what it’s like to have a shitty ex. She knows how painful it is to see them again after they’ve just broken your heart, knows how hard it can be to feel completely, totally and 100% betrayed by someone you loved. 

It wasn’t okay, and Y/N doesn’t know if it ever will be, but seeing Harry, the stubborn, prideful man she’d come to know, breaking down in front of her, well Y/N can hardly stand it. 

So she does the first thing she can think of, the one thing that made her feel better after her own breakup. 

She hugs him. 

She feels him tense up in her arms and for a brief second, Y/N wonders if he’s going to push her away, but instead, he relaxes. Even goes so far as to push into her slightly, allowing himself to rest his head against her chest, with her arms around him like a tantrum-throwing toddler. 

Harry can’t remember the last time he was hugged. Maybe by his mum before the pandemic, probably in a similar situation, crying over Elle in a pathetic attempt to find comfort in anything that wasn’t her arms. 

Harry had returned to LA to record three songs, “it would be two to three weeks max,” Jeff had assured him. But now he was fucking stuck here, in the same place he lived with her, heartbroken in a house with people he loved, but unfortunately would never talk about Elle with. 

Harry missed London. He missed him mum, his sister, the pubs and the tube. He missed hanging out with more mates than he could count, his little writing studio and his cat. Harry missed his own bedroom, his candles that he forgot to pack and his own record collection. Harry missed walking to the little cafe a few streets from his house, he missed the snow. 

But Harry especially missed Elle. 

He missed her cuddles and her sweet little kisses. He missed the way her nose scrunched when he tried to kiss her in public. He missed her laugh and her awful cooking. He missed her book recommendations and her screaming to pop music on the radio. Fuck, he even missed her screaming at him. 

And what a way to make his longing worse, being stuck with the dead ringer of his ex-girlfriend, only to find she was nothing like Elle, which Harry almost hated more. 

Y/N wouldn’t yell at him when he got angry but rather cry, her tears always sending a sharp pain to his chest. And Y/N didn’t pretend nothing worried her or upset her, she was open and honest. When Harry hurt her, he knew, not because she ignored him or called him a prat. No, he knew because she told him, even if it was with tears streaming down her face and a few “assholes” mixed in there. Y/N didn’t call Harry’s hobbies stupid, she liked them too, even had her own silly ones herself. She enjoyed baking, doing puzzles, and reading out loud to herself. She liked Disney movies and hated horror and loved cider but not beer. 

And Harry found himself not hating her at all, but rather himself. Because somehow, within his heartbreak, he had managed to become attracted to someone who looked and acted exactly like his ex on the surface but was someone completely different in every other way. He couldn’t treat her like Elle, couldn’t pretend she’d hurt him just as bad, and he knew that.

No, Y/N was a completely new risk and a new potential heartbreak. Harry was terrified, and this new territory that at first felt so familiar, made his chest ache and his tummy flutter, so he avoided it altogether. Pushed her away before anything could even happen at all, for his own good, to protect a heart that couldn’t take being broken again.

The two of them sat there for what felt like hours. Until Harry’s sobs slowed themselves down, and he was only shivering and sniffling quietly. Y/N continued to hold him, it seemed like he just really needed to be held.

Elle had clearly broken his heart, and Y/N knew that a part of healing was letting this anger and emotion run rampant. So she stayed put, allowing him to just sit in the sadness, and allow himself to feel a little bit of hope that everything would work out eventually. 

“It’s okay Harry. It’s going to be okay.” 

——

Y/N wasn’t sure this was a good idea. How could it be? Not even a few days ago, she and Harry couldn’t stand being in the same room as each other, and now they were alone in a car, on their way to the grocery store. It all felt too domestic.

But this was Harry, and she definitely shouldn’t be worried about the state of her car, or how to subtly remove the McDonalds wrapping on the floor in front of his feet. Just as Harry, after being handed the aux cord, probably shouldn’t have spent half the journey wondering if she liked the song that was playing and looking out of the corner of his eye to judge whether he should skip it or not. 

But here they were, walking on eggshells around each other. Hoping they both wouldn’t do something to accidentally piss off the other. 

If you’d told Harry a week ago that he would be on the way to the grocery store with Y/N by his side, he probably would’ve laughed and faked a gag. But Harry was actually the one who had suggested the trip, much to the surprise of not only Y/N but the rest of the housemates. 

They hadn’t exactly addressed his breakdown, but it seemed they’d both come to a mutual understanding to try and put the past behind them. Harry considered himself lucky, he knew he had caused and furthered the rift in their friendship, and it was because of this he knew he had to put more effort into building the trust between them back up. 

So, when Y/N was recounting the ingredients for the dinner she was planning on making, Harry had asked if she’d just come to save him remembering the long list. Y/N’s first thought was she could probably just write it down for him before she realised he was actually trying to be nice. And that was more than she could say for the last month of her living with him, so she agreed.

The grocery store was busy, filled with impatient mothers and fun-drunk teens, and Y/N was having trouble pushing the cart through the throngs of people. Harry was walking ahead of her, too preoccupied with his list (and she supposes himself) to notice her struggle and she’s never been one to ask for help. So instead tries her best to avoid the ankles of other shoppers and attempts to keep up with the cracking pace Harry had set. 

It’s only when he turns around to find her ten feet behind him, does Harry acknowledge her, his eyebrows pinched in annoyance, “what’s taking you so bloody long?” To say Y/N was taken aback would be an understatement. After everything, he’d manage to stay friendly for what, half a day?

“Excuse me? Doing so well at being friendly Harry, might want to pull it back, before I get the wrong impression.” 

Maybe it was Y/N’s sarcastic words that pulled Harry back, or perhaps he realised himself, but he really hadn't meant to be rude. At first, it was more of a joke, but he guessed that he’d become so accustomed to being snarky with Y/N, it’d come out a lot more maliciously than he’d intended.

“Fuck, what? No- I didn’t mean it like that. I was tryin’ to joke, but it came out wron- Fuck! I’m sorry, okay?” Somewhere in the middle of Harry’s rambling, Y/N starts to giggle. While she had taken it the wrong way, she was mature enough to understand she’d simply interpreted it wrong. 

“Harry relax, look like you're about to pass out. Sorry I took it the wrong way,” she shrugs, “now, where are the pickles? I’ve been craving them for weeks.” Harry’s slightly taken aback, he’d never met someone who could put an extremely valid argument behind them with such ease. 

Harry wouldn’t have blamed Y/N if she’d gotten angry with him, stomped her feet, made a fuss and yelled in his face, after all, he had spoken to her like a prick. But just like that, she had defused the argument and made Harry feel better instantly, even though he was in the wrong. Nonetheless, he follows her through the isles, making sure to help her steer the trolley when the crowd was busiest. 

Harry had actually started to enjoy himself on this trip, he wasn’t going to lie. Y/N had an easy going way about her that he hadn’t really bothered to notice before. It made it easy to chat about nonsensical things, including Harry’s first dog and his preferred brand of nail polish while they peruse the aisles. He was doing all he could to make sure the rest of the trip didn’t contain any silly arguments like the one that had almost sparked just ten minutes before, and he believes he was doing a good job. 

After stopping by the fruit aisle for some cherries (they were in season, and there was no way Y/N was missing out on the tiny period they were in season for, even if they were ridiculously overpriced,) they reach the aisle that contains pickles. Finally, Y/N had been craving them for weeks, and nothing could stop her now, not even the fact that they were on the top shelf. Y/N’s brows pinch in annoyance, who put pickles that high up anyway? 

She halfheartedly sticks her hand in the air, her fingers barely brushing against the bottom of the jar before looking behind her, watching Harry laughing at her struggle. “Are you going to help me or just keep that smug smile on your face?” 

This makes Harry’s smirk upturn even more, turning into a full boyish grin, dimples and all. “Say please sweetheart, and I might just consider it.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please,” and although it is sarcastic and hardly genuine Harry takes it, walking over and reaching for the last jar of pickles. 

What happens next could be blamed on many different factors; the humidity in the supermarket being higher than the average store, it could be blamed on Harry’s sweaty fingers or maybe even the worker who decided to put them on the top shelf in the first place. 

Whatever the fault, Harry grabs the container and almost delivers it safely to the cart, until it slips from his grip and instead ends in a puddle of shattered glass, stray pickles and dripping juice. And of fucking course it’s the last jar, and of fucking course it’s Harry who drops it, right in front of the girl who’s been craving them for so long. 

Harry is almost scared to look up at Y/N’s face, knowing he was more than likely going to be met with a pouting, red, furious mix. She really had been talking about the fucking pickles for weeks, and after both Jeff and Sarah had forgotten to get them in the last two shopping trips, he can imagine her desperation.

It’s as if time was working in slow motion, Harry sees the residue pickle juice dripping from the handle of the shopping trolley, can feel his sock getting progressively wetter as the liquid seeps into his canvas sneaker. And Harry immediately starts to apologise, “fuck I’m so sorr-“ but is interrupted by Y/N manically laughing. Well, he had expected a lot of different reactions, but he hadn’t expected… laughter?

“How did that even happen,” she gets out through her laughter, “you’re an idiot!” Harry can’t help but join in. He was covered in pickle juice, and in hindsight, the situation was pretty funny. “Oi, ‘s not my fault the jar was more slippery than the average.” This only makes Y/N cackle harder, holding her stomach as though it was hurting. 

“Hold on, I’ll get something to clean it up.” As Harry watches Y/N walk away, probably to find a worker, he can’t help but think again how different Y/N was from Elle. Harry distinctly remembers shopping with her one Christmas and accidentally dropping the last box of red and white candy canes (what can he say, he can be a right clutz.) She had been shaking with fury, voice dripping with poison as she asked Harry why he was “such a fucking idiot?” He guesses she was stressed because of the time of the year, but Harry had always hated her vicious temper, which Y/N apparently lacked. 

Harry had only really seen Y/N angry or upset until now, but he could safely assume that was of his own doing. When they were getting along, she seemed to make him feel better without even trying. She could laugh despite herself, and poke fun at Harry without feeling like she was actually reprimanding him for something, and Harry, well he hadn’t really experienced that before.

Harry sees Y/N returning, with what looks to be a less than impressed worker following behind her. That is until she sees Harry standing there in all his six-foot glory, covered in pickle juice. 

She seemed to be around 20, with blonde hair braided into two plaits that sat around her neck. She had bright green eyes, and if she was a little older, Harry probably would have said she was cute. And by the looks of it, she would’ve revelled in such treatment, when she approaches Harry with a, “I’m so sorry, Mr Styles!” Harry waves off the apology, he had been the one to drop the pickles anyway. “No worries love, ‘m sorry bout’ the mess.” 

It’s like her eyes brighten two shades at the pet name as she begins to sweep up the broken glass, blushing as she does, “oh don’t even worry! Can see you made a mess of yourself as well.” Y/N can’t help but laugh, was she actually trying to flirt with a pickle stained Harry? He catches Y/N laughing behind the worker and grins, “sure did. I’m a bit of a clutz sometimes.” 

Now, Harry knew that his personality was very likeable, he was easy to talk to, and he wasn’t exactly bad to look at, so he was somewhat used to casual flirting. Who was he to pull up someone trying to shoot their shot? Usually, he preferred to go along with it, stay polite and at the end of the interaction, cut the conversation before anything serious came of it. And the girl (Hannah, according to her name tag) standing in front of him, cleaning his mess, was no exception. 

“Can see that,” she winks. Actually, fucking winks and Harry can’t help but feel slightly smug, his presumption had clearly been correct. He doesn’t see the harm in playing along, “oh can you? Thought customer service was all about being nice to the customer,” he teases lightly. Hannah giggles flirtatiously and if Harry thought she was blushing before, his effect on her is multiplied. “I’m nice, I promise!” 

Y/N almost gags, she hated PDA at the best of times, but to see them both drooling over each other made her feel sick to her stomach. Harry’s smooth reply does nothing to quell her nausea, “mhm, I bet.” Y/N would literally rather walk home than be subjected to this torture any longer. “Okay! Thanks again for being so understanding, c’mon Harry, we better get going.” 

Harry thanks the server again, giving her a small wave and a cheeky grin as he follows Y/N to the counter to check out their items. “Really, Harry? She looked about 15 years younger than you.” Harry scoffs, “fifteen years?! You think she was twelve, do you? How old do you think I am?” 

Y/N doesn’t hesitate to respond, “old enough to know better than to flirt with someone so young.” 

He couldn’t believe she was pulling this. Harry was a flirty person naturally! He never meant anything by it, and very well knew when it was appropriate and when it definitely wasn’t. He didn’t see how a little friendly conversation could hurt in this situation. “Oh please, she was at least twenty, and I was hardly flirtin’” As the worker is scanning their items, Y/N is packing them into the reusable shopping bags. “Still gross.” 

Was Y/N jealous? For a second, Harry felt the frustration swim through his veins like poison, but the knowledge of Y/N potentially acting out of envy acts as an antidote. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous lovey.” It was Y/N’s turn to scoff. If she’s honest, she’s not sure why the sight of Harry flirting with the server annoyed her so much. She was young, but Harry was right, she was very clearly of age and also stunning. 

Maybe it was the fact she hadn’t acknowledged Y/N with more than an eye roll but readily grovelled at Harry’s feet. It could’ve been leftover frustration from the pickles she would have to hold out from for another week. Or maybe it was that she didn’t like him calling someone else ‘love.’ Perhaps she was just frustrated that it had taken her months for Harry to be civil with her, but had taken ‘Hannah’ all but five minutes. Whatever the reason, she didn’t like the pit in her stomach or the tingling in the tips of her fingers. “Not a chance, Harry.” 

Harry just smiled in response, while Y/N felt waves of negative emotions rolling through her, he felt butterflies erupting from the pit of his tummy, a small fluttering reaching all the way to his heart. Harry was ready to admit, Y/N’s jealousy made him happy. He was a narcissist; that he knew, and a pretty girl getting frustrated that his attention wasn’t purely focused on her, made his vain little heart soar. 

This little shopping expedition had given both of them huge revelations. Harry realised, the thought of Y/N being jealous over him made him extremely happy, and maybe even gave him some new spank bank material? Y/N realised that while she and Harry could be civil, it didn’t mean they didn’t know the exact places to poke and prod at each other to cause a reaction. 

——

It was Y/N's turn to pick a card, and although she'd initially been hesitant to play this game, she could admit she was having fun. When Harry had first pulled out 'Truth, Dare or Drink,' her first instinct was to ridicule him and say, "I didn't realise we were still in eighth grade," but she bit her tongue. After the supermarket, she still felt like she was continually filtering everything she said, worried a single word may be the negative turning point for their relationship. 

And well, after a few rounds, Y/N realised the game was much too risky for a bunch of eighth-graders and found some questions too intrusive even for her adult self to answer. However, with the help of at least half a bottle of chardonnay, she found herself managing just fine. Jeff had called it a night a few rounds ago, claiming he was "getting too old for this shit," but it didn't stop the rest of the group from playing.  

"Okay, ask the player to your left what their favourite sex position is. If they can't answer- both of you drink four sips." Immediately, Y/N turns to Sarah, who happens to be sitting on her left and also happens to be bright red. With a quick, "come on babe, all friends here," from Harry, Sarah buries her head in her hands before mumbling, "from behind." The answer causes an eruption of giggles and hollers from the very tipsy group and a sly smirk from Mitch, making Y/N laugh harder. 

"Alright shut up you lot," Sarah grumbles before picking up her own card. "Dare one player to share their best and worst hookup, or both of you finish your drinks. Okay, well the only one mean enough to name and shame would be Harry, so off you go H." This is met with a disgruntled, "oi" from the man in question and a casual "not wrong," from Mitch. While Harry huffs, he seems to have no issue and responds immediately, almost like he had the answer on the tip of his tongue. 

"Best was Elle, obviously. And worst, um," he deliberates for a few seconds before continuing, "was this guy I met in Brazil, he was awful! Didn't even prep my poor arse, just went straight in for the kill. Was scarred for months." He's met with roaring laughter, and at first, he tries to look pissed but ends up giggling along with them. While his poor bum really had taken a beating that night, in hindsight it was a funny sex horror story for a drunken night. "C'mon Mitchy boy, your turn." 

Mitch picks up the card and immediately scoffs, "This one's to all players, take two sips if you have ever been attracted to someone else currently playing this game." Unsurprisingly both Mitch and Sarah drink, sending cheeky winks over their cups to each other. But what shocks every player at the table is both Y/N and Harry lifting their glasses. They make eye contact with each other as they are sipping and Harry raises a questioning eyebrow towards her. 

Y/N quickly looks over to Sarah, to see her sitting with her own bewildered look, glancing between them. She had known Y/N enjoyed Harry's music, but maybe didn't know how much she also fancied him- that is until she had a conversation with him. 

"So you've either had the hots for me, my girlfriend or the chick you hate, nice H," a very inebriated Mitch says with a laugh. If Y/N hadn't already been watching him, she might have missed the flash of guilt that flickers through Harry's eyes. He looks over at her with an apologetic look, "I never said I hated-" 

"It's fine, Harry. Just pick a card, it's your turn." Y/N interrupts him, she wasn’t going to lie and say that it didn’t sting. However, while she knew they'd come to a newfound understanding, Y/N was well aware that it had initially come from Harry's resentment of her. He sighs but picks up a card anyway, pausing some, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks, before reading it aloud. "Uh... give the person to your left a hickey, or finish your drink." At first, Y/N laughs until she realises that the person sitting to his left would be her. 

In an attempt to lighten the situation, Y/N spits out, "go on, start drinking then." Mitch and Sarah start to laugh, "I could've called that one," Sarah chuckles, but Harry looks rather unimpressed. While she actually didn't care if Harry were to give her a hickey, (let's be real he was a dick, but a hot one at that!) she knew he would be thoroughly put out by it. They had become civil, not ‘drunkenly-give-one-another-a-hickey’ level friends.

"I'm not the one with the problem. I doubt he'd wanna kiss on the girl he hates." Y/N had meant it to be a joke, she really had! But the underlying biting tone would be almost impossible to miss. She was definitely playing with fire here, knowing Harry could snap at any moment. She watches as Harry's nostrils flare slightly before he bites back, "no problem here, you're just scared you'd enjoy it too much sweetheart." At that Y/N scoffs, his arrogance never ceased to amaze her, "oh please, don't give yourself so much credit, Harry."  

He laughs, "are you saying you wouldn't?"

"Almost certain of it," she quickly retaliates. Now, Harry knew he was a dick. He knew he could be impatient and rude. Was aware of his short temper and sometimes biting passive-aggressiveness. Had been well informed of his bad habit of sometimes oversharing and even bragging too much. Even knew how annoying his constant discussion of the superiority of salads to veggies could get on the nerves of those around him. 

But the one thing Harry knew for sure, was that he was good at fucking. He loved to see the person he was with, shaking with pleasure below him. Thoroughly enjoyed giving his partner everything he had, to hear them screaming his name with their eyes rolled back in pleasure. Harry liked having sex, and on account of others, Harry was fucking good at it. So Y/N sitting there, doubting he could make her feel all amazing and jittery, probably pissed him off more than it should have. 

"Fucking c' mere then." While Harry had merely said that in the heat of the moment (and possibly to get a rise out of Y/N) he was beyond shocked when she actually got up and stood before him. "I'm here. Now what smartass?" His jaw ticks and he raises an eyebrow, silently questioning Y/N's challenge. Did she really want to get involved in this? Surely she knew Harry would come out victorious. Apparently not, because she crosses her arms and scoffs, "knew you were all talk." 

Now Y/N doesn't want to admit she's intimidated because god this was Harry she was thinking about. However, when he grips her arms, flips her around and pushes her back into the chair he was just occupying, Y/N can't exactly say she's fine and dandy. 

Harry was much taller than her when they were both standing up, but with her sitting down, he towers above her, and she can't help but feel childlike and demure. His shit-eating grin only grows when he sees that, and he slowly bends down until his cologne infiltrates Y/N's nostrils and fills her head with a fog she can't quite get rid of. "What was that, darling?" 

Y/N is willing herself to say anything, literally anything that wouldn't fuel his already raging ego. If she's honest the barely mumbled, "um, nothing," doesn't really cut it, but what was she to do? Before she'd met Harry, Y/N probably would've considered his looks to be something akin to her ‘dream guy.' So, when he places his hands on each armrest beside her, essentially trapping her, it doesn't exactly help to calm her nerves. Harry oozed sex, and if the look in his eye was anything to go off, he knew it. 

As his face becomes level with hers, Y/N can smell the sweet apple cider he had been drinking and can feel the bottom of his unbuttoned shirt brushing against the tops of her thighs. And for the second time that month, Y/N wonders if she should move away from the compromising position she and Harry had found themselves in, but she once again decides against it. Harry places his hand against the side of her neck, hooking his thumb under her jaw. He encourages her to move her head further to the side with some gentle pressure, which she happily obliges to. 

Y/N can't help but inhale sharply when she feels his slightly chilled lips gently brush against her earlobe, before placing a tender kiss behind her ear. "Is this okay?" If Y/N were in a better headspace, she might have tried to play this whole thing off with an indifferent nod. Instead, she feels herself nodding rapidly, and takes a moment to curse herself as she feels Harry's lips curl into a grin at her eagerness. 

Harry allows his lips to run down the side of Y/N's neck so lightly he knew it must be tickling her. Once he reaches her collarbone, he places a quick peck against it before once again trailing his lips up her soft skin, leaving light kisses in his wake. Y/N's breathing stops as she feels Harry's tongue touching her skin as he begins his ascent, leaving a chilling trail that sends shivers through her whole body. 

She feels herself slipping into a hazy state, in which all control was given to Harry, and while her first instinct is to break it, her second is to bask in it. Her decision is hastily rewarded when Harry starts to suction his lips against her. 

Y/N actively silences the whimper that arises from her throat as Harry continues to bruise the skin he kisses, and she briefly wonders if he had heard the beginnings of her mewl as he chuckles, sending a gust of cold hair down her neck. Harry gently bites down on Y/N's throat, which causes a small sting, the aftershocks travelling all the way down to her toes. But his tongue laving over the mark works to quickly soothe the ache. 

While she felt as if she had sat feeling the effect of Harry's mouth for hours, it had only been about ten seconds in reality. But the familiar pull in Y/N's lower stomach screams at her to ignore time, grab his shirt and push her mouth against his. However, the cough heard from behind her, quells these dirtier thoughts almost immediately. And just like that, as quickly as it had come, the pleasuring warmth Harry provided was gone. 

Y/N struggles to flutter her eyes back open, that she hadn't realised had even closed in the first place. 

Well, she wasn't expecting that, and while she assumed Harry would feel the same, his deep smirk tells her something different. He looks at her with a hunger in his eyes, and she briefly wonders if he felt the same pull towards her. Y/N was fighting the urge to drag him to the nearest bedroom and instead clears her throat and looks behind her to assess Mitch and Sarah's reactions. 

Safe to say, they were as shocked as she was, with gaping mouths and wide eyes, everyone sits in silence for what feels like far too long. Y/N was embarrassed. Usually, she hated PDA, yet she'd just let Harry suck on her neck like some kind of B-grade vampire in front of her cousin and her boyfriend. 

Y/N stands back up to move around to her own chair, but with her head down, she misses Harry reaching to brush his knuckles against her own, but only feels the comforting touch. Harry watches as she refuses to meet his eye, and while he enjoyed himself, he hoped he hadn't gone too far with her. But when Sarah grabs her head and pulls it to the side to see the blooming mark on Y/N's skin, Harry can't help but smirk and feel slightly proud. Y/N had said she was okay with him touching her, maybe she was just flustered, and if her bright red cheeks were anything to go by, that's Harry's safest guess. "Jesus H, you really did a number on her." 

Y/N refused to acknowledge the effect Harry had instilled upon her, but she can feel her cheeks radiating a cherry-red heat, and she can only pray no one else notices. "Uh, it's my turn," she manages to choke out, and a quick glance at Harry shows she's not hiding her flustered state as well as she'd hoped. His dimples are on full display, decorated with his complacent grin, and he's sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over one another. 

"Pick the most attractive player, both of you take three sips," you've got to be fucking joking, she was pretty sure everyone knew her answer to that, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. "It's Sarah. Who's next?" Sarah cheers' Y/N's glass and takes her sips as she grabs the next card. 

Y/N can see Harry's disgruntled look and can vaguely hear his murmured, "bullshit," but she only sends him a glare as she takes her three sips. 

——

Harry was drunk. No cut that, he was fucked. It was approximately six ciders ago that he began to feel light and giggly. And then maybe two or so ciders ago he began to have trouble walking in a straight line and was genuinely considering shaving his head. And now, he was here. Planted on the couch watching Y/N and Sarah sing some song he definitely knew but couldn't name, Taylor Swift maybe? 

His head felt heavy, and if he was honest, thoughts were entering his head and then leaving it before he could even acknowledge what they were. He can vaguely recognise Mitch's voice, talking about something that Harry, no matter how hard he tried, could actually listen to. So he sits on the couch and watches Y/N. She looked pretty with her hair down and messy, and Harry wishes he could stop her from dancing and ask if she could just sit next to him instead. But he thinks he's probably just drunk and maybe a bit lonely, so he doesn't. 

He's not sure if he was calling Y/N's name and hadn't realised or if she had noticed how not okay he seemed, but she approaches him anyway. "Harry, are you alright?" She looks worried, and Harry hates that he's made her feel that. He's tempted to use his thumb to mould the lines in her forehead back out like cheap clay, but he's not sure she'd want him to touch her. So he nods lightly, attempting a smile, but she doesn't return it. 

"Sarah, I'm gonna take Harry up to bed, he seems pretty gone." Harry doesn't hear Sarah's response because he's too busy focusing on Y/N's lips and how pretty and puffy they are. He briefly wonders what they'd feel like around the head of his cock, but he's drawn out of those thoughts when he realises she's calling his name. 

"Harry, c'mon, come upstairs to bed with me." Um, had Harry missed something? He doesn't really mind, truthfully he'd quite like to take Y/N upstairs and have his way with her, but, Y/N must see the look on his face because she laughs, "not like that you lecher! God, you really are pissed." 

Harry smiles and takes the hand she's giving him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders for stability. The group had experienced quite a few drunken nights during isolation, but Y/N had never seen Harry this intoxicated before and while she's quite enjoying him acting kind of goofy, she's just praying he doesn't vomit on her during their climb upstairs. 

Y/N does her best to guide Harry to his room, who provides absolutely no help, only giggling to himself as she struggles to hold him up. Finally, she makes it, only realising once she had stepped inside, that she had never actually seen Harry's room before. 

Similarly to Y/N’s, his room has the shell of a guest bedroom, the art on the walls a little too unpersonalised and the furniture stark and white. The bones of the room are fleshed out with Harry’s belongings, clearly in random places that were not permanent, as if he’d placed his records and guitar down the first day he got there, and left them in those exact same places. There are dirty clothes strewn upon the floor, and books sitting next to glasses stacked neatly on the bedside table. Next to them, is a candle that Y/N can’t read the scent of from her position in the doorway, something sweet from the smell permeating through the room, mixing intoxicatingly with Harry’s telltale sandalwood like cologne. 

Harry stands in the middle of the room, clearly having forgotten his purpose as he turns to look back at Y/N with a slightly lost expression. "Want to get into bed Harry?" He nods and stumbles over to his mattress, falling rather than laying in it. As Y/N's about to turn around to go back downstairs, she hears Harry's voice, much quieter than it usually is, "I'm sorry." She's not sure if she heard him correctly. 

"What did you say, Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers. 

"For what?" Y/N knows what he could be sorry for, he did treat her like shit for weeks, but they’d already apologised and somewhat buried the hatchet. "For bein' a dick. You don't deserve it, never did." She walks closer to him, until she stands about a foot from the bed, and can see Harry's eyes full of sorrow and close to tears in the dark. 

"Come on, you're just drunk. If you want to talk about it more in the morning, we can." Y/N knows he'll forget by then, she's not sure he even remembers what he just said. He holds his hand out to her, and she hesitantly takes it, "ya just look so much like her, you know? Act like her too." Harry repeats the same words he’d told you yesterday. 

"Who, Harry?" 

He looks at her with his big green eyes, and she knows he's drunk, and she knows he'll forget this all in the morning, but she can't help but sit down beside him on the bed. 

"Elle." 

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want Harry to burst into tears again, the topic clearly sensitive, let alone in his intoxicated state. So she stays silent, watches as Harry shuts his eyes, and Y/N nearly thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he reopens them again, "nicer than her though. Prettier too." 

Y/N's not going to lie, hearing Harry talk about her in a way that wasn't entirely negative for once was flattering, but she couldn't help but feel it was more the cider talking. She knew how much he missed Elle, that much was obvious, and she had thought that was what had made him hate her so much. She was worried he would wake up angry that he had told her things he hadn't intended to, or even worse, something he hadn't meant. 

So she leans over him to grab the side of the bedsheet he had torn away, but his freezing hand on her neck causes her to pause. His thumb is lightly brushing over the mark he left on her earlier, and Y/N audibly swallows. He was close enough that he could lean in slightly and press his lips against the same spot once more, but he doesn't, only whispers, "looks so good on you." Y/N feels his warm breath against her bare neck as he speaks, causing that pull to return to her lower stomach once more, "H, I don't think we should do this right now." 

Y/N didn’t know what exactly ‘this’ was, she just knew she didn’t want either of them to be intoxicated when it happened. The Harry Y/N knew, would pull back, laugh and ask if she really thought he'd ever want to do 'this' with her, but this intoxicated and unpredictable Harry presses his lips softly to her neck once, before pulling back and sighing. "I know." 

He studies her face carefully before speaking again. "You've never called me H before, I like it." Y/N sighs, "honestly I didn't think we were on that level. Thought you'd get mad at me," she laughs lightly although what she said was true. 

She had thought about adopting the same nickname everyone else in the house used but was too scared he would make fun of her or ask her why she felt she had the right to call him that. So she played it safe, only calling him Harry, but she guessed the nickname slipped out while he was very much inebriated and very much unlikely to say any word of opposition. 

If Y/N didn't know any better, she'd think Harry looked almost hopeful as he whispered, "so we are now?" but the expression is fleeting. She wants to feed into it but isn't sure if it's more her mind playing tricks on her. Showing her things she desperately wants to be true, only to turn around a reveal it was fake the whole time. So she shrugs, "I don't know Harry." 

He nods slowly but doesn't say anything else. "Try to get some sleep." He nods again, "night." 

"Night H." 

——

Harry doesn't know what happened. Had he been drugged? Used as a voodoo doll? Abducted by aliens? Something had happened, because when he woke up with a pounding head, his first feeling was disappointment. But not disappointment about having to nurse a shocking hangover, no, it was disappointing that Y/N wasn't in bed with him. He could’ve sworn she had come upstairs with him. 

Harry was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he didn't hate her and perhaps, just maybe had developed a small crush towards her. But wishing she was cuddling him after a drunken night? That was too close to something serious, something that Harry was definitely not ready for. Not after Elle. 

Walking down the stairs, he wonders if there's a reason for his sudden desperation? He vaguely remembers giving her a hickey, but that was a part of the game. He remembers Y/N walking into his room and sitting on his bed, but can’t recall what was actually said. 

Stepping into the kitchen, feels the same as usual, maybe with added head pain. Mitch is doing the dishes from the breakfast sitting on the table in front of Y/N and Sarah. Everything seems painfully familiar. Except, looking at Y/N now, with sober goggles and daylight, Harry completely understands why drunk him was so enamoured. She looks beautiful, with an oversized tee-shirt barely covering her smooth legs, her hair in a messy bun atop her head, and the striking hickey against her neck painfully obvious. Seeing Y/N with his mark against her neck makes Harry have to will his stiffy away. She hadn't even tried to hide it.

Harry doesn't know how long he'd been standing in the entrance of the kitchen, staring at Y/N like a creep, but she catches his eye and sends him a shy smile. "Mornin' H, brekkies on the table," Mitch states, as Harry quickly returns the smile Y/N gave him and sits across from her, "looks good, man. Thanks for cooking." 

Harry is slightly shocked when Y/N speaks up from the other side of the table, he had been expecting her to ignore him like she had after he’d given her the mark that was causing a tingle in his lower tummy. "How's your head?" She says softly. 

He gives her a small grin, "it's been better if'm honest." She laughs, "yeh, you were pretty fucked last night." Harry can't tell if she's genuinely just making conversation or if she's trying to figure out if he remembered the events that occurred. "Was I? Not too drunk to remember giving you that," he points at her neck with his syrup covered fork. His words have their desired effect as Y/N turns bright red, "really does look good on you love." 

Harry's not sure what he's doing, he's aware of how flirty he is being. While they were now able to be around each other and have a conversation without biting each other’s heads off, hitting on each other was a whole different ball game. All he knows is that the more he looks at Y/N, the more he wants to get on his knees before her. 

Harry had never flirted so openly with Y/N before. What the fuck was he playing at? Y/N had assumed that Harry became a tad clingy and loving with a few drinks in his system. So as he sits across from her, dead sober, and continues to flirt with her, Y/N is confused. Maybe he was still drunk? Had he taken something she wasn't aware of? Been probed in the middle of the night? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't say she didn't like it. 

She also didn't want to get too comfortable, only for him to turn around and treat her as horribly as he had when she first got here. So she gives him a small smile and continues to eat her breakfast, merely listening to the conversations happening around her. 

——

No matter how hard she tried, Y/N could not get the thought of Harry off her mind. Could still feel the ghost of his lips trailing along her neck, and the way his hand brushed along hers. She couldn’t help but imagine the way his lips would feel pressing softly against her own, his tongue licking into her mouth. She imagines his hands to be soft but still firm as they held her hips, her neck, her own fingers laced in his. His voice replays in her head, and she wonders how his accent would twirl and twist around filthy words, whispered into the shell or her ear. 

 She can't forget how she felt hearing the lilt of his voice when it was flirting with someone else. Can’t get away from the pit in her stomach, the aching head and chest. She had laid awake for so many nights trying to figure out why exactly it had bothered her so much. 

She could only amount it all to a certain type of jealousy, but what was she jealous of? Harry had never shown her any sort of romantic attention before, that is until he was suckling at her neck and calling her sweetheart. But what did it all mean? Did he feel the same pull towards her, or was she just imagining his sudden fondness of her? Did she actually like him, or just the idea of his lips pressed against hers rather than her neck. She needed to talk to someone, and thank goodness for her, Sarah was home. 

Ever since they were little Sarah and Y/N had been ridiculously close. They had experienced each stage of their lives together, from playing at the local playground to trying their first cigarette in the bathroom of Sarah’s family home. Sarah was the big sister that Y/N had never had, always there for advice or a bit of fun. Teaching her about sex and drinking, what it was like to kiss another person or drive a car for the first time. Sarah explained everything with practiced expertise that looking back on, Y/N could see she definitely didn’t have at the time.  

Their family homes were only a road apart, and every day either Y/N or Sarah would make the small trek to each other’s house and spend hours discussing nothing and everything. Sarah was the closest thing Y/N had ever had to a sibling, and after Sarah had left for tour with Harry and the band, Y/N had felt a Sarah sized hole in her heart. Honestly, for Y/N, quarantine felt like a blessing in disguise, she felt like they could make up for the months of lost time and distance between them. 

In search of her cousin, Y/N only comes across Mitch reading in the living room, “hey, do you know where Sarah is?” He glances at Y/N from above his book, owlishly blinking as if he was confused, and maybe he was. Mitch is well known for getting lost in anything he loves, from books and movies and especially in his music. “Um, the shower… I think?” 

Bidding him thanks, Y/N heads towards the downstairs toilet where she could hear the water running. While they all had bathrooms in their rooms, they’d found the downstairs communal shower particularly helpful. It was easy to slip into after they’d just come back from swimming at the beach or a run, without mucking salt water or sweat through the whole house. Y/N knew Sarah had gone out for a jog about an hour ago, so had no doubt she was having a quick wash before dinner. 

If it were anybody else, Y/N would’ve waited until they had finished, but ever since they were thirteen or so, Y/N and Sarah had an odd tradition of having intense conversations while one of them was showering. Y/N still remembers the week Sarah’s parents had decided to split up, she had spent every night sitting on the closed toilet seat crying and ranting while Y/N stood under the hot water, listening and trying her best to comfort her. It was a weird habit of theirs, but for them, the chance to chat with someone without having to look them in the eye was therapeutic, almost like a church confessional. 

Although Y/N was relatively happy, she wasn’t about to enter a religious confessional. When it came to Harry, she had definitely committed at least four of the seven mortal sins. No, it was just Sarah, and Y/N knew that no matter what she admitted, it would be received with love and unconditional support. So she charges through the bathroom door, eager to spill all that was muddling up her mind, “Sarah! We need to talk about Harry, I need your help.” 

Y/N expects Sarah’s tinkling laugh, soothing cooing, maybe even a big sigh and her calming voice asking her what was wrong. Instead, she is met with the deep and drawling laugh of Harry himself. 

Looking back now, Y/N wishes she could say she dealt with her mistake with careful grace and poise, but instead she lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and as she sees the shower curtain drawn to the left she slaps her hands over her eyes. The melodic laugh of Harry’s continues as he clearly notices her current predicament, “can look if you want babe.” 

Y/N whines, “I- um, no. I don’t- I thought you were Sarah. What the fuck is happening.” Y/N can hear the smirk in Harry’s voice as he answers, “yeh Y/N, I got that. Seriously, I’m covered up.” 

And maybe, it would’ve been better for Y/N to stay standing with her hands over her eyes like a petulant child because as she drops them, the sight she’s met with is one to behold and one Y/N’s not sure she can handle. Harry is covered with the shower curtain pulled across his bottom half, but Y/N trails her eyes upwards, sees the small trail of slightly damp hair leading down to the white curtain, and her eyes widen comically, he looks like a wet dream and Y/N’s not sure how to react. 

His curls are stuck to his neck and forehead, matted against the soft wet skin. His naturally tanned chest is on display, dripping with water, and covered in his tattoos. Y/N can’t help but notice the inked swallows along his chest, drawing attention to his collarbones, the skin taught against the bone, and Y/N wants to kiss along it and taste the mix of salt and sweetness of his neck. The butterfly covering his abs ripples as he clears his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention away from his body. 

“So what did you need to talk to Sarah about, hm?” Anything I can help you with?” Y/N can feel the blood rush to her cheeks, fully aware that Harry had caught her ogling at his partially naked body. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and she’s not sure whether it’s from the sight in front of her or the embarrassment of being caught staring at it. 

Y/N stutters, trying to force herself to say something, anything at all that would make this situation less unnerving “um, I-no?” Which comes out more like a question than anything, and Y/N curses herself for her weak resolve. Harry smirks, “Cat got your tongue pet?” Y/N hates how easily he can get her worked up, and hates it even more how obvious it is to him. “Stop teasing me! I can’t, you know, I don’t-... you’re naked okay!” 

Harry’s dimples deepen, and a smirk takes over a little less than half of his face, “don’t pretend you don’t love my teasing, darlin’.” It’s at this point that Y/N realises that she had been in this situation much longer than appropriate, standing flustered and hot from Harry being so close to her while nude. 

“I need to go,” it comes out as more of a whisper, her voice rough with lust. She coughs as if to clear her throat, but from what she’s unsure. The intense desire she feels for a man she despised a month ago, perhaps? “Relax Y/N, no big deal. I think Sarah’s in the shower upstairs though if you’re still looking.”

She nods in response, slowly backing out of the room before turning around and quickly shutting the door behind her. She feels her breath heaving in and out of her lungs. Feels her throat tighten and her head dizzy, and an intense tingling feeling starts at her toes and spreads all the way to her lower tummy. The familiar pull of lust and need brings an ache to her core, and she feels the sticky heat between her legs. 

While Y/N may not know it, Harry is affected by her as much as she is by him. He stands in the shower, a stupid grin across his face, dimples indenting his cheek. Harry could pretend he didn’t see Y/N blatantly ogling him, or her cheeks burn a delicious crimson when she had gotten caught. Could even pretend he didn’t see her subconsciously squeezing her thighs together while she stood in front of him, like she was so desperate for Harry she couldn’t even wait to relieve the tension building inside of her. 

Harry could pretend not to notice, but as he felt a tingle zap down his spine, and the accustomed rush of blood to his lower half, Harry realised he didn't want to. Would rather explore this unnerving territory, and see what it had in store for him. 

——

Harry had reached a new level of boredom. So much so, he had resorted to doing a puzzle.

Harry was notorious for always being busy, was constantly on tour, playing shows and promoting his music. The quietest periods in Harry’s life were the months of writing he’d participate in, where his mind was anything but still. He wasn’t used to doing nothing all day, and while he had tried to write during isolation, the months of doing fuck all made inspiration hard to come by. 

So it led Harry to his current situation, trying to complete a challenging puzzle at the dining table. Sarah and Mitch were napping the late afternoon away, Jeff was playing Xbox games in the living room, and Y/N had gone for a walk, right after she had brought the puzzle out from her room after Harry had asked her to. He had heard her talking to Sarah about how much she loved puzzles a few months ago and had even shown her the one she had brought to quarantine; however, she hadn’t gotten the chance to start it yet. 

Harry had been doing nothing all day, and he was sick of sitting in bed, refreshing his Instagram feed every ten minutes. To be honest, a puzzle wouldn’t have been Harry’s first choice of a relaxing pastime activity, but there was only so much social media and movie marathons Harry could take. 

He was nervous at first to ask Y/N. Over the last few days, it seemed like there was a certain tension between them, as if they were both aware of the lust that had been swirling throughout the bathroom as thick as the steam from Harry’s shower, but didn’t want to admit it. They were testing the waters, sometimes stumbling through amorous conversations, while still attempting to maintain their indifference. 

However, he was slightly remorseful of his decision for a different reason, when he asked Y/N if he could borrow it from her, she had squealed in excitement, telling him her ‘top tips’ for completing a jigsaw for at least ten minutes. He guesses her passion and love for the shitty quarantine past time, overrode her awkward feelings towards their situation. If he was honest, Harry didn’t give a fuck about “making sure to find the corners first!” but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he nodded along and pretended to listen. 

But Harry had really come to regret his decision when he hadn’t found a piece in over an hour. He was frustrated and the stifling temperature Sarah insisted on keeping the house at, wasn’t helping. He had completed a small section at the top right corner, five or six pieces on the left, and a few random bits he had stuck together and somehow happened to get correct. He was slightly embarrassed when Y/N returned from her walk, to find him with his head in his hands, looking more than sorry for himself. Her tinkling laughter doesn’t make him feel any better, either. 

“Having trouble H?” 

He looks up to her standing in the doorway, attempting to plaster his award-winning grin upon his face, “if I’d known it was this hard I never would have asked if I could do it.” She grins back, and walks over to the table, looking down at the pieces with a concentrated focus. “Hm I never said it was going to be easy, thought my tips would help, but I guess not.” 

Harry tries yet another piece that doesn’t fit with the ones surrounding it, and sighs, “if the puzzle master wants to help, that would be lovely,” he lilts. She picks up the segment Harry had just dropped and places into the correct position on the opposite side of the puzzle that Harry had placed it in. “You’re flattering me now.” She hesitates for a tick, “lucky for you, I like it.” 

Harry loved this new dynamic between them, it was light and teasing, something he hadn’t had with her before. He’s not going to lie and say that he didn’t slightly enjoy the biting exchanges they had previously shared, but this flirty air between them was exciting.  

“I’ll keep that in mind pet. Now, what were those tips again?” 

It’s safe to say Harry was impressed with Y/N’s skill, he had never thought puzzles were that difficult until he actually tried to complete one. Y/N however, was fast, seemed to pick up pieces and instantly be able to connect to where they should go, and quickly finished at least ninety percent of the puzzle. Harry fit the odd part in place, which Y/N praised each time, with a small cheer and a “well done!” each time. Finally, the puzzle was almost complete with only one gap in the picture of golden retriever puppies climbing on one another. 

Y/N looks at Harry and hands him the last puzzle piece, “you should put the last bit in.” Harry can’t explain the warm glow that emits from his heart, he doesn’t know why it makes him so happy. She was kind and considerate, and Harry wasn’t used to people always putting him first, usually being doubtful of anyone he hadn’t known for a while, worried about what their true intentions were. “You sure? You did most of it.” She giggles, “nah, we did it together!” Harry takes the bit of cardboard from her and places it in the last empty spot. 

He looks up at Y/N who’s grinning at him stupidly, and he can’t help but smile back. It’s then that Harry starts to really look at Y/N. He notices the dusting of freckles on the top of her nose, her eyes laced with pride and happiness and her lips, the bottom one stuck between her two front teeth, but both looking so soft and sweet. Y/N must catch Harry staring at her lips because she releases the supple flesh from between her bite. 

“Did you have fun?” She whispers. 

Harry tries to reply, but his voice dies in his throat. All he can manage is a small nod, his gaze dropping back to Y/N’s mouth. He lifts his hand to her face, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, and she leans into the touch slightly. Unknowingly, they had gotten even closer, and Harry can feel her small puffs of air against his lips, could brush them against hers if he leaned an inch forward. 

“Harry, what do you want to do for dinner?” Mitch yells from the room one over, scaring both Y/N and Harry, who instantly pull away from each other. Harry coughs, “um, I don’t know man.” 

Mitch walks into the room, Sarah in tow, who sees the completed puzzle on the table and runs over, “you finally did it Y/N!” Harry looks over to the girl in question. Her cheeks a cherry red as she looks over to Harry, “uh yeah, Harry and I did it together.” Sarah looks between them, with an impish look on her face mixed with slight disbelief, “oh, that’s… nice.” 

Harry’s attention is drawn away from Y/N when Mitch pipes up again, “I was thinking tacos, so we could make frozen margaritas for game night.” Harry is grateful for the change in topic, knowing Sarah was more than likely to make a comment that Harry was not ready to address. Particularly if Y/N had indeed continued the conversation she had planned to have with Sarah a few days ago when she’d walked in on Harry in the shower. 

“You know I’m always down for a margarita.” 

—— 

Y/N was slightly buzzed. She hated feeling entirely out of control when she drank, and she’d found the perfect point between dead sober and sloppy. She felt a warm feeling in her fingertips and toes, felt slightly light-headed and was just a tad obnoxiously giggly. The group had been playing monopoly, and while Y/N usually hated the game, she was thoroughly enjoying it tonight. 

Sarah had been helping Y/N, so she wasn’t so lost in terms of properties and the differences between houses and hotels. Jeff was as quiet as usual, but somehow had a secret talent for swindling properties and hoard money. Mitch had prioritised his margarita over the game, buying random properties when he felt like it, and fucking up everyone else’s plans of winning. And Harry had made it his mission to beat Y/N. If he was honest, he just loved seeing her pout every time he would buy whatever spaces were left of the colours she was aiming for, or teasing her every time she got a smaller roll than him. 

As Harry bought another green property that Y/N was gunning for, she realised she was nursing an empty glass. “Does anyone want another margarita?” Agreements come from all around the table, so Y/N gets up, grabbing a few empty glasses. As she stands, she feels the blood rush to her head, a slight dizziness tingling through her body, and she giggles as she stumbles towards the kitchen. 

Harry and Mitch had made the previous rounds, Y/N watching the first couple be made. Which meant she probably should remember the ingredients, but if she’s honest, the copious amount of alcohol running through her bloodstream has caused a lapse in her memory. Was she supposed to put one or two cups of ice in? Y/N curses herself and her shitty memory under her breath, realising she will definitely need help. She was clearly too tipsy to think coherently. 

“Oi, how much tequila do I put in? And is it Cointreau or triple sec? And how much ice do I use” She yells into the adjacent room, sighing slightly, hoping someone would come and help her. And she can’t explain her excitement when Harry rounds the corner, maybe because the pressure of making the drinks had been lifted, but more likely because it was simply him. He comes in with a smiling face, his hair slightly messed and his eyes filled with the misty happiness of someone who is perfectly buzzed. 

Y/N couldn’t quite describe the shiver that travels down her spine or the tension she feels in her stomach, all she knows is in the last few days, the intense feeling had begun to grow stronger whenever Harry was around. There was something about him, the way he carried himself, the shy smirks he’d give her, or the gentle touches he’d provide as he walked passed her. 

In every touch, every look and every feeling she got from Harry, Y/N could sense the tension growing stronger. She was amazed the rest of the group hadn’t picked up on it, other than Sarah of course, who was watching from the sidelines, waiting for one of them to crack. 

“What’s the problem bunny?” His eyes soft as he walks over to a defeated Y/N. He watches as her eyes crinkled slightly as she giggles despite herself, “I wanted to make everyone drinks, but I realised I don’t actually know how to.” She sheepishly watches Harry’s face mirror her own with a small grin, “well that just won’t do, will it? Sit on the counter n’ I’ll show you again.” 

She jumps on the kitchen bench, the surface cold against her otherwise alcohol flushed skin. She watches Harry gather the ingredients from around the kitchen, noticing the way his back strains against the white and yellow t-shirt he was wearing, the arch of his back clear and his shoulders strong and broad.

Over the past week or so, Y/N had started to see the funny and charming personality that the rest of the household had previously been privy to. His witty and sweet persona had shone through, and it had done nothing to curb the intense sexual feelings she felt towards him, instead they were only growing, especially with each pet name that his puffy pink lips shaped around. 

Harry begins to place the ingredients in the blender, and Y/N is confident he’s giving her instructions as he does so, but she is just so distracted by his strong fingers adorned by his shiny rings, each one a different shape and size. “Are y’listening?” 

She snaps her eyes back to his face, to see one side of his pretty mouth tugging upwards, suggesting he already knew the answer to his own question. “What are you lookin’ at my hands for?” She feels the warmth rush to the apples of her cheeks, sheepishly replying, “I was just looking at your rings, they’re very pretty.” 

He smiles and jokingly holds his hand up to her face, wiggling his fingers. Y/N chuckles and grabs his pointer finger, pulling it towards her to get a better look. She holds his hand while looking at the silver band wrapped around his digit, eyeing the small red ruby shining brightly in the centre of it, “like this one,” she whispers. He matches her volume, stepping closer in order to hear her, “it was my mums, she gave it to me after my first concert sold out. Her mum gave it to her after she got married.” She runs her finger over it gently, noticing the worn edges, and tries to imagine the many stories it had experienced in the hands of three generations. “It’s beautiful.” 

This felt like a moment for both of them. Obviously, Harry and Y/N had experienced many conversations and experiences before, but none quite like this. Harry feels the warmth from her body radiating into his, can feel the sweat from her hands as she holds his own. He can hear her calm breathing, the slow rise and fall of her chest. Of course, Harry had felt lust before, but he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss someone as badly as he does right now.

He can’t explain how desperately he wants to inch forward, hold her pretty face in his hands and press his lips against hers. Instead, he makes do, moving closer to her and feeling a bloom of happiness in his chest when she opens her legs for him to stand between with no hesitation. 

She smiles, his hand still nestled into hers, although her focus had moved far beyond his rings. It now laid solely on his face and the way he was looking at her. He rests his free hand on the counter beside her, close enough that she could feel the outside of his thumb brushing against her upper leg. 

Harry bites his tongue, he wants to say ‘so are you,’ but even he knows that’s cheesy. Plus he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, he knows Y/N is attracted to him but is also fully aware that doesn’t equal consent. He settles for lightly brushing his thumb against her leg and watches as a shiver racks through her body. With a slight giggle, she grabs his other hand, that’s causing the mildly uncomfortable sensation, with her free one, “that tickles.” 

And Harry’s not a mind reader, but now they’re just holding hands, plain and simple. He doesn’t know if she feels the same heat and tension settling between their lips, but the way she leans in slightly, tilting her head to the left gives him an indication she does. It’s subtle, and if Harry hadn’t been sitting between her legs praying she’d do exactly that, he might not have picked up on it. But he does. 

He leans in too, leaving a slight gap between them. Y/N can feel the tiny puffs of air, leaving Harry’s mouth and drawing into hers and can feel the little tufts of hair tickling her forehead. 

She brushes her lips against his gently, testing the waters. He feels as soft and warm against her as she’d imagined. Y/N retracts slightly, unsure if she had overstepped a boundary. The only reaction she could read was a sharp inhale on his part, and she was worried that it wasn’t a positive sign. 

But she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

He lifts his hand from hers and places it against her neck, his hands big enough to tuck his thumb under her jaw, while still using the rest of his fingers to gently push her back against him.

She tasted so much better than he would’ve thought, sour from the margaritas with an underlying sweetness that he couldn’t put his finger on. Harry can barely hold in his groan when her tongue slides against his lower lip, and he gladly opens up further. He feels her whimper against his thumb before he hears it, the rumbling sending vibrations up his arm, leading him to feel dizzy. 

He feels Y/N rest her hands against his shoulders, sliding them over his neck and resting her forearms behind his head. She leans further into the kiss, somehow opening her legs further, her hips slightly bucking towards his own in a silent plea for friction. Harry doesn’t hesitate to give it to her, pressing himself against her and instantly feeling the effect of his actions. She runs one hand through the curls sitting at the back of his head, tugging gently and pushing her own hips back with as much vigour as he had.

That is until the click of heeled boots is heard echoing against the kitchen tiles. 

The speed at which Harry jumps away from his position between Y/N’s legs is comical, and she almost wishes she could see it from an outsiders perspective. However, not as much as she wishes Harry’s lips were back on her own. 

Y/N looks between the boy she had been kissing with his hair messy and fluffy, and the apparent growing bulge in his pants to the shocked Mitch standing in the entrance of the kitchen. His mouth hangs open comically, and his hands hang loosely by his sides. 

The silence is too much for both Harry and Y/N to bear and looking at Y/N’s face, now bright red, and brimming with embarrassment and stress Harry feels it’s his responsibility to put her slightly at ease. “Mitch… um look-” 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Harry doesn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Mitch is interrupting. Harry pipes up again, “it’s nothing!” Y/N can feel her brows turning downwards and the corner of her lips curling in annoyance. She knows Harry is more than likely trying to cover their asses, but Mitch had seen them kissing, and it didn’t make Harry downplaying everything hurt any less. 

Harry sees her face and quickly tries to backtrack, “well I mean not nothing… it’s something!” 

“No shit it’s something! How long have you guys been fucking for?” This time Y/N is the first to speak up, “we are not fucking! We haven’t even-“ she starts, completely flustered, her face somehow becoming even redder, “we just kissed!” Mitch bursts out laughing, as Y/N and Harry stay completely still, both absolutely mortified. 

“Alright mate, fuck off,” Harry grumbles, praying that Mitch would just leave the uncomfortable situation alone. And he does, still laughing as he finds his way back to the living room. Y/N has no doubt that he would go straight to Sarah and Jeff to share what he’d just seen. Harry turns to 

Y/N and while he tries to maintain a serious face for her sake, he can’t help but let out a small chuckle. 

It wasn’t the first time Mitch had walked in on him during a ‘private’ moment, some a lot worse than what he’d just witnessed. But Harry doubts any would be more shocking than the kiss Mitch had just seen. According to him, Y/N and Harry were at most on civil terms. So to see them, in a more than compromising position must have been a considerable shock to the system. 

“Why are you laughing, you ass?” While Y/N’s words are anything but kind, her face gives away her true feelings, a small grin peeking through. She wasn’t too concerned, Sarah already knew the current situation Harry and Y/N had found themselves in, as well as Y/N’s feelings on it. She was probably waiting for this very scenario to occur.

However, she was worried about where Harry and her would go from here. 

She knew he was attracted to her, he wouldn’t have kissed her otherwise. Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe Harry had done it in the moment, and didn’t feel that same attraction all the time. What if he saw her leaning in and was pitying her? Y/N was terrified that now that Mitch knew, Harry would be too embarrassed to kiss her again. 

But Y/N’s worry is immediately put to hold when Harry grabs her hand again, “you’ve got to admit it’s funny.” He rubs his thumb against her knuckles, hoping to soothe any worry still running through her veins, “are you okay though?” Y/N smiles and squeezes his hand, “yeh, more than.” 

Harry leans in slowly, making sure that even though Y/N had claimed she was fine, that she would still be okay with him kissing her again. She doesn’t move away, instead moves closer and he smiles and presses a soft kiss against her lips. 

“We should probably get back out there,” he mumbles against her plush lips. She nods in response, squeezing his hand once more before jumping off the counter. “I’ll see you in the living room.” 

—— 

Harry didn’t regret kissing Y/N, not by a long shot. What he did regret, however, is two things. The first was agreeing to continue drinking with Mitch after everyone else had gone to sleep, and the second, kissing Y/N while intoxicated. 

He had enjoyed it, he knew that much. But he’s fully aware that he may not have gotten the chance to absorb every detail of the moment. He couldn’t forget the feeling of her lips against his or the way she bucked up against him. However, he is struggling to recall the way her hips felt under his fingertips, or whether or not he could smell the strawberry scented shampoo she used, that previously, he had only caught gusts of. 

Harry needs to know, when they kissed, did her eyebrows furrow the same way they do when she bites into a warm jam donut? Or when he slotted his hips against hers, did her mouth hang open, eyes shut tightly like when Sarah dug into the knots in her back? Did she make the same sounds Harry had already heard? Or were there some privy only to moments of privacy like the one her and Harry shared? He didn’t think to notice if the skin on her cheeks was as soft as it looked, or even if her hands held onto him as firmly as they had grasped onto the chair, the night Harry had first gotten so close to Y/N. 

Harry couldn’t help but feel like he’d somehow hiked up mountainous terrain, dodged every jagged edge Y/N initially threw at him, stumbled through open conversations and insinuations. Felt he had somehow navigated overwhelming selfishness and every mixed feeling, to finally reach the top and for some stupid reason just close his eyes. He was only just able to smell the mountainside air and feel the rocky surface but was utterly blind to the magnificent sight in front of him. 

Harry was also worried that Y/N was too intoxicated to know what she was doing. Harry was big on consent, always had been, and he knew the chances of drunk him doing something Y/N wasn’t okay with was very unlikely, but what if? What if for some reason he couldn’t read the body language of the girl he had spent months admiring? Or what if she had said something of opposition and he hadn’t heard her? 

Harry was stressed, and the pounding headache beating through his head was definitely not helping. 

He knew the only way to make sure what happened last night was okay and enjoyable for both parties, was simply asking Y/N. So after going to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on his face and changing into some sweatpants, Harry makes the trek downstairs. 

He’s met with an interesting site. Mitch is sitting at the kitchen counter, head in his hands and shaking his head. Jeff is doing dishes and looks to be purposely clanging noisy dishes in front of Mitch and then laughing at each flinch racking from the man's body. While Y/N is standing at the stove, cooking something that Harry can’t decipher, in her cloud pyjama pants and a sweatshirt that looks suspiciously like his.

If Harry listens intently enough, he can hear her humming under her breath, a soft tune that lifts all the features of Harry’s handsome face upwards. 

Harry starts by walking over to Mitch, placing his hands on both of his shoulders and squeezing lightly, “c’mon Jeff, lay off the poor guy!” Jeff only laughs in response jokingly swatting at Mitch's head, still buried within his hands. 

At the joking tone within the kitchen, and the fact that Jeff had not immediately berated Harry about his relationship with Y/N, Harry realised Mitch had decided not to tell the rest of the house. Or at least not Jeff. Harry couldn’t have been more thankful for Mitch's undying loyalty and bizarre talent of somehow knowing exactly what Harry wanted or needed. With Y/N’s relaxed manner, he assumed she had come to the same conclusion.  

At the sound of Harry’s voice, Y/N whips around, her face lighting up at the sight of the man she had kissed not 12 hours ago. And the look of delight and need on Y/N’s face works wonders to calm Harry’s nerves, while Y/N’s were skyrocketing. He looked as handsome as ever with sleep still gracing his features, his chestnut hair in a mess on top of his head and eyes slightly puffy and red. In all honesty, Y/N couldn’t get over how it felt to kiss him, and while it had happened, she couldn’t help but feel thirteen again, with a crush on the cute boy in class. 

It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking, his tongue darting out from between his lips, leaving them wet and glistening in the early morning sun. And Y/N just can’t seem to draw her attention away from them, can’t stop the image of him pressed against her replaying over and over in her mind.

Maybe it was the way her eyes drooped slightly, her nostrils flaring ever so subtly, but Y/N gets the feeling that he knows exactly what she’s thinking, his left eye dropping in a wink that leaves Y/N’s tummy fluttering. 

“Mornin’ love.” His voice is hoarse and deep with residue drowsiness, and it does nothing to ease Y/N’s churning stomach. She coughs lightly before replying, “morning H.” Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet and manner docile, as she tries to hide the less than appropriate thoughts running through her head. 

He walks over to the stove, leaving Jeff and Mitch behind in the presence of someone far more interesting. “Smells good, what are you cookin’?” 

Y/N giggles, the sound unnecessarily loud and she cringes at herself before replying, “um, pancakes. Made some more just in case you guys wanted some.” In truth, Y/N knew Mitch didn’t like pancakes, Sarah wasn’t even awake yet, and Jeff had just started a very strict ‘no sugar’ diet, and so those extra pancakes were specifically for Harry after she had heard his sink running upstairs. And well, Harry knew all of that too. He feels a certain spaciousness in his chest one can only attribute to gratitude, and it makes him want to draw her close to him and kiss her cheek in thanks. 

Instead, Harry grabs her small hand in his and squeezes it lightly, before walking over to the fridge to get the maple syrup. “What’d you want on yours, babe? Nutella?” 

Y/N smiles and nods her head, giddy with the tingling feeling travelling through her hands and the prospect of spending more time with Harry. 

—— 

The day had been quiet. Y/N felt as if she had been wading through water all afternoon, sluggish and slow but somehow using more energy than walking on land required. The whole house felt slow-moving, most of its inhabitants spending the day in front of the TV, reading books or napping. And so it made sense for their daily activity to be a movie night. 

The housemates had decided a Disney marathon would be a perfect end to a hungover day, and with Jeff’s only condition being that they watched ‘Bambi’, everyone was in agreeance. 

Y/N had offered to organise the snacks and drinks while everyone else brought down pillows and blankets from upstairs, the room looking cozier then she had seen it in the past few months, and at the centre of it, Harry.

In the same position, he had been in the night they had sat watching cartoons in the early morning together, only to fall asleep and wake up in each other’s arms. It felt like so long ago now, but Y/N knows in reality, not that much time had passed. She found herself feeling thankful for how their relationship had evolved, and the effect a little time had given them. 

It was funny how far they had come. Y/N was so worried Harry had hated her after that, she now wonders if he’d always felt some type of draw towards her, or if he really had hated her as much as he made out. She briefly wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as she is, as he looks at her questioningly, standing in the doorway of the living room, unmoving. 

Y/N smiles lightly, and begins to move towards the couch, realising that there were three blankets in total, one being used by Mitch and Sarah, seemingly very close underneath the cover, one thrown over Jeff and the other sitting across Harry’s legs. She hesitates for a moment, the obvious choice being Harry, but she isn’t sure where their relationship stood, and more importantly, how much the rest of the housemates knew about it. 

Harry quickly provides a solution, “y’can just share my blanket if you want pet.” Y/N’s tummy flips, but the blank stare she gives him as she runs through all the repercussions (good and bad) coming from her doing that, comes off more as confusion. Did he forget that Jeff didn’t know about the kiss? 

Harry sits uncomfortably in the silence. “Or not, whatever you want.” Silence again, and with each passing second, Harry’s facial expression becomes more and more exasperated. 

Mitch is smirking, giving Harry a knowing glance. Sarah is looking at Mitch confused, obviously trying to figure out her boyfriend's cryptic facial expression. Jeff was the most bewildered of all, clearly completely lost. 

“Fine, fuckin’ forget it. Y’can share a blanket with Jeff ‘Mcvomit’ Aezzof. Or maybe you can jack Mitch off under the blanket with Sarah, and all of us will pretend we don’t know. How bout that hm?” Harry knows he’s being slightly unfair to all those just mentioned. 

A month ago, during a game night, Jeff had consumed slightly too much alcohol and subsequently vomited all over the living room carpet and Harry’s rainbow Gucci boots. Safe to say, Harry was not impressed and hadn’t let Jeff forget it either. 

He also knows he’s being unfair to Sarah and Mitch, although, he’s not exactly wrong. Harry had no proof anything was happening under Sarah’s unicorn blanket but they always sat suspiciously close, and some strange movements had definitely been observed during movie nights, particularly when the crew had binged ‘50 Shades of Grey.’

No one had mentioned it to each other, until one night, Y/N had tried to subtly ask Jeff and Harry if they had noticed too. The two boys immediately agreed, admitting they both had their own suspicions. However, this was the first time anyone had brought it up with the couple in question. 

He’s instantly met with outcry from both Sarah and Mitch.

“Oh for fucks sake H.” 

“You’re so crude.” 

“We do not do that.” 

Jeff also looks unamused, mumbling under his breath, although the shouts from the couple drown his reply out, “you have too much to drink one time, and no one lets you forget it.” 

But Y/N, in true Y/N style laughs, and all of a sudden Harry doesn’t feel nearly as bad for his accusations or his teasing of Jeff. “Alright bug, alright. You made your point, scoot over.” 

Y/N settles under the blanket with Harry, tucking her legs underneath her, trying to maintain a healthy distance from him. She hadn’t really been so consciously close to Harry before, only ever being asleep, drunk or… busy. Y/N noticed his signature scent was present, a warm cedarwood cologne that somehow made her nostrils tickle and insides feel slightly warmer, like a shot of whiskey travelling down her throat and spreading through her tummy. 

Maybe it was the man the smell lingered to that made her feel so comfortable and warm, or perhaps it was the blanket and heat radiating from him, but either way, Y/N loved it. She revelled in the comfort and feeling of safety that she didn’t often bask in, and it was Harry of all people who made her feel like this. 

She briefly wonders what this movie night would entail. She was happy they were already close to each other, stealing glances. Each bout of eye contact bringing a tingle through her spine, a shiver wracking through her shoulders when she noticed him glancing at her with his signature smirk and bright look. 

She was aware that they were slowly moving closer to each other with each passing second of the film playing in front of them. When she had initially sat down next to Harry, she could feel the warmth radiating from him, but now she could feel his side pressed against her, and his leg slightly crossed over hers.

If she’s honest, she was much more focused on the handsome individual sitting next to her than on the movie anyway, and consequently, she missed the first twenty minutes. 

What she cannot miss, however, is Harry’s hand coming to rest gently on her thigh. His palm flat against the plush flesh and his nails lightly scratching at the skin lying over it. 

She looks over at him, his strong jaw and cheekbone highlighted by the dim light of the TV screen, his nose slightly pointed at the end and his long eyelashes fluttering against his skin. She watches as his pink lips tug upwards, bringing a smirk and deep dimple to his handsome face. With that smile, she realises he knows she’s looking at him, and probably knows the effect his touch is having on her. The only acknowledgement she receives is a small squeeze of her thigh. 

She can’t help but scoff, his lax attitude directly opposed her own, if she was honest, she often felt on a different plane than him. Y/N tried to deny it, but she could be highly strung. When she was in a situation where she felt comfortable and safe, she was easygoing, a delight to get along with, and was often confused as someone who was undoubtedly more affable than she really was. 

It was one of the first days of year ten at school when Y/N had experienced her first panic attack. She can still remember the way her hands shook like healthy green leaves in a summer storm, could never forget the tightness in her chest, the closing feeling of her throat, and the tears that blinded her. While the panic attacks had become less frequent as she aged, the underlying symptoms that bubbled into the panic she experienced still tended to rear their ugly heads. 

Harry, on the other hand, seemed endlessly relaxed. While Y/N had initially only seen a more uptight and priggish side of him, it was almost like he enjoyed those negative interactions between them, for the sole reason that he could skillfully get under Y/N’s skin, watch her squirm and burn red. Any other time she witnessed Harry he was almost always equanimous and the voice of reason in the odd little group that found themselves quarantining together. 

He was so comfortable, seemingly so unaffected by her, while she felt his presence made her head spin and heart race. 

He leans closer to her, his curls tickling her collarbone, “are you watchin’ the film?” 

She nods, the action sending a wave of her perfume to invade his nose, the smell somehow so addicting and familiar to Harry now. “Yeh, the sad part is coming soon, though.” 

It’s his turn to scoff, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cry on me.” 

Y/N looks up at him, watching as his bunny-like front teeth capture his bottom lip, “and what if I do, hm?” 

Harry’s first thought is to say he’d get her some tissues and embrace her until the tears seeped into her sullen soaked skin, but he knows that’s even too corny for him. Instead, he looks around the room to find everyone too focused on the movie to pay attention to them, and chuckles lightly, kissing the top of her cheekbone. “Might cry with you love. Poor Bambi, never knew what was comin’.” 

While Y/N looks around the room, she quickly relaxes as she realises no one was paying enough attention to notice Harry’s affectionate action. She stifles a laugh, “we’re in this together then, aren’t we?” 

Harry can’t help but feel like she’s not just referring to a sad Disney movie, but instead the situation they had found themselves in. It was confusing, both of them not entirely over their exes, but both seemingly enamoured with the other, something that felt like it had happened overnight. 

He didn’t know if she felt the same way he did. He simultaneously wanted to fuck the shit out of her and cuddle with her on the couch, for god's sake he wanted to comfort her when she was crying over fucking ‘Bambi.’ Harry was confused. 

He hasn’t felt like this about anyone since Elle, and while Y/N hadn’t spoken about her ex with Harry directly, he had overheard a few snippets of conversation between Sarah and herself. 

Before Y/N had come to stay with the group, Sarah had briefly explained the situation, the fact she had put all her effort into a three-year relationship that had ended brutally, with the asshole showing no remorse towards Y/N or her feelings. Harry didn’t want to push her or himself, but he felt a draw towards her that he couldn’t ignore. 

The way she placed her hand gently on top of his, still laying on her thigh, and tangled their fingers together made his heart swell, and it was at that moment he decided he didn’t care about Elle. For the first time since they broke up, Harry didn’t wish the person he was with was his cheery faced ex-girlfriend. He wanted Y/N, and he hoped with all his heart, she wanted him too. 

He looked over at her, her soft skin and red cheeks glowing gently from the light of the TV screen. 

Harry’s feelings are only confirmed, when he hears the gunshot sounding through the room from the movie, hears a small sniffle coming from the girl next to him, and feels her fingers tightening around his own. Harry knows that somehow, through everything, he wanted Y/N to be there next to him at the end of it. 

—— 

Harry sat stewing in his feelings as the night progressed, each member of the house slowly abandoning the marathon, opting for the warmth of their beds instead. 

If he was honest, Harry was exhausted, but he couldn’t bear to leave Y/N alone. She had waited patiently through everyone else’s choices, sung along with Sarah through ‘The Little Mermaid.’ She had gushed with Mitch over the fantastic visuals in ‘Hercules’ and watched carefully for Harry’s reactions to ‘The Beauty and the Beast,’ squeezing his hand when the last petal fell, and Belle professed her love for the Beast. 

Harry didn’t think it was fair that everyone had chosen bed over watching Y/N’s movie, over singing along to ‘Tangled’ with her. Chosen to sleep instead of talking about how good the animation was and squeezing her hand every time Flynn and Rapunzel were close to kissing. 

So Harry does the best he can. He listens to how excited she gets through the fighting scenes, does his best to sing along to songs he’d never heard before, and listens to her speak about how mean she thought Mother Gothel was. Each scene, he watches her eyes widen in comical child-like glee, and her cheeks flush as she laughs at Harry’s impersonation of Flynn Rider. 

It’s as Mother Gothel is falling out of the window that Harry realises Y/N’s grip on his hand has loosened and that she is resting against his shoulder, asleep. He smiles, bringing his knuckle to brush against her cheek, gently waking her up. As she slightly startles, he kisses her nose, “y’ fell asleep bug.” 

She looks surprised, immediately looking to the screen, “oh shoot. Missed my favourite part too.” Harry can’t help but kiss the small pout that graced her lips as she realises this, which she quickly returns. Harry’s lips tingle as she hums in contentment, causing them to pull apart slightly, Harry touching his lips and giggling. 

It was all so domestic and sweet, a kiss leading to nothing in particular, and Harry loved it. Revelled in the idea of kissing Y/N for the pure pleasure of feeling her soft lips against his own, and for nothing else. As Y/N speaks her lips brush against his, still flush against each other, “we should get to bed.” 

As they both make their way upstairs, hand in hand, they dawdle as if to stall their inevitable parting, and as Y/N prepares to speak their goodbye into existence Harry decides he doesn’t want this night to end. Didn’t want to part from the warmth Y/N provided, to lose the feeling of her face pressed against him or the way her hand felt nestled in his. So Harry does the one thing he can think of, something he may come to regret later, 

“Do you want t’ sleep in my bed tonight? You don’ have to if you don’t want to, of course.” 

Harry observes Y/N’s face, and he feels as if he goes through the same range of emotions as she does. First surprise, then apprehension, her head tilting as she thinks through her decision.

Harry thinks maybe she’s misinterpreting his intentions. Don’t get him wrong, he would jump at the chance to have sex with someone as lovely as her, but he really just wasn’t ready to leave her. Wanted to feel her asleep in his arms, hear the small snores he’s sure she would make and brush her hair away from her face when it looked to be tickling her in the middle of the night. 

“No funny business dove, I promise.” 

Finally, a small smirk graces the young girl's face, her top teeth hooking into her lower lip, a little giggle erupting from her mouth while she nods her head. 

Harry’s face subconsciously matches Y/N’s, a replica giggle floating through his mouth and into the air between them, “yeh?” 

She nods once again, “yeh.” Harry feels nothing but relief, a giddy bubbling feeling erupting from his chest, rushing through to his fingertips. He almost believes she feels the exact same burst of emotion when she squeezes his hand as he pulls her into his bedroom. 

It smells the same as the last time she was in his room, except this time, there was a sense of certainty in the air. While Y/N had previously tiptoed into his private space, terrified of crossing a line both physically and metaphorically, she no longer felt that same apprehension.

She entered the room with confident footsteps, aware that they had already entered a territory in which they would struggle to backtrack from. Aware that Harry would more than likely revel in the fact she was in a space he considered sacred, rather than feel uneasy.

She was correct in her assumption. He watches the way she looks perfectly placed in a room he previously hated anyone else entering, her energy already matching his own, but somehow adding an exuberant light into a space that, before her, had represented his despondency. 

Harry begins getting ready for bed, takes off his pants and shirt, left in only boxers. As the cotton of his top slides over his mass of curls, he catches Y/N staring, her mouth slightly parted, pupils dilated and cheeks pink. 

The cocky boy smirks slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion ever so subtly, and a gust of wind passing through his nose as a form of laughter. “Would you prefer me to keep my pants on babe?” 

His cheeky tone works to bring Y/N from her stupor. She stumbles over her words, clearly embarrassed Harry had caught her ogling at his body, again. “Uh.. no, no whatever’s comfortable, I guess. Do you want to keep your pants on? You can, of course, I just…” 

“Teasing Y/N,” his smirk grows into a grin, his dimple flashing her once again, “I’m only teasing.” She visibly relaxes, her shoulders returning to the normal position, and her eyes closed, trying to shake the remaining embarrassment from her system. 

“You are the worst.” 

He only laughs, “and you take yourself too seriously. Now, do you want a shirt to sleep in?” 

While Y/N might usually be offended by him saying something like that, she knows he’s not wrong. In fact, he’s entirely correct. He just knew exactly how to wind her up, what buttons to push to make a flush rise to her cheeks and for her sentences to become stuttered. 

“That would be nice, thank you.” 

Harry only nods, walking over to the dresser in the corner and rummaging through, pulling out a white shirt with the phrase “enjoy health, eat your honey” on the front. He holds it up in front of his body, waiting for Y/N’s approval, which he quickly receives, throwing it over to her in response. 

She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to give her the courtesy of changing in private. “Do y’ mind, you lecher?” 

He startles, “oh uh sorry.” Y/N watches as a blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck, a clear sign of his humiliation, and he quickly turns around. 

She changes, giving a soft cough when it’s safe for him to turn around. Harry can hardly believe his eyes, he knew she was beautiful, but fucking hell, it was like an angel had been sent to him from heaven. 

Her legs were soft, and Harry wanted nothing more than to trail kisses up her thighs, past the dotting of stretch marks, patches of missed hair, and the hem of the shirt that sat loosely against her. He could see her nipples poking through the fabric, firm, surrounded by supple flesh, that Harry had trouble to stop imagining. Her face was soft, a pleasant but embarrassed smile pulling along half her face, smoothed by the leftover makeup she hadn’t bothered to remove. 

She was fucking beautiful. 

“Stop looking at me like that you…” 

“Lecher. I know. It’s hard not to be when you look like that.” Her cheeks turn an even darker shade of crimson, and her eyebrows draw up in surprise. Harry didn’t know at what, she was his very own wet dream, and he had trouble imagining that she didn’t know that. 

Unsure of what to say she patters towards the bed, lifting the covers and lying beneath them, facing the side he usually slept on, waiting for Harry to lay in her line of sight. He does, his cheek getting gently squished against the silk pillow, his hair billowing out from his head, creating an unruly mess around his face. 

“I don’t…” she sighs, clearly struggling to string together whatever was going through her mind. Harry grabs the hand laying between them, and gives it a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He had been vulnerable in front of her weeks before they had even shown interest in each other, and he wanted to give her the same comfortable space to talk through what she was feeling. 

She lets out another breath and continues, “I like when you call me beautiful. I just don’t know how to respond, I’m not all that used to it.” She snorts despite herself, “isn’t that sad?” While she’s laughing, Harry can see the sadness set behind her eyes, and so he doesn’t laugh. Only squeezes her hand once more and replies as steadily as he can, “it’s not sad. I understand.” 

Her laugh turns more genuine, “oh so even the Greek god gets self-conscious? Thank god for that.” He quickly matches her jesting tone, “for sure, need to be humbled somehow.” He pulls her closer and rests his head in the crook of her neck, listening as the giggles she emits, vibrate through her body, and he can’t help but smile too. 

He was happy and at peace. And for the first time in a long time, both he and Y/N slept through the night, relief and giddiness seeping through their pores. 

——

Harry awoke in a daze. His arm was numb, his head slightly dizzy and body just a tad too hot. Then he sees Y/N asleep in front of him, head resting on his bicep, hair a mess, and her hand resting on his, placed on the pillow in front of her face, and all of a sudden none of it mattered.

She was beautiful. It makes Harry wonder about the last time they’d woken up together. He remembers feeling scared, denying any comfort he had found within her in his arms, and he wonders if his subconscious had always known she was right for him. 

They seemed to fit together so seamlessly, for a couple who couldn’t stand the sight of each other months prior. 

Harry uses his free hand to sweep her hair away from her neck, leaving a space for him to press his lips against. Her skin was warm, slightly tacky from sweat, and he breathed her in, dragging his nose up and down the nape of her neck. 

He hears her begin to wake, repositioning her legs under the covers and her breath beginning to quicken from the lull of sleep. A small hum of contentment leaves her lips as she feels Harry’s mouth kissing on her skin. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he whispers, his breath tickling her. She lets out a laugh, her voice heavy with drowsiness, “morning H.” 

The hand that was already resting loosely in his tightens as she loops their fingers together, “how’d you sleep?” 

He squeezes back, “better than I have in months. What ‘bout you?” 

She leans further back into him and exhales, “so good.” Harry hears the relief in her voice, and he feels it too. Was this all it took to stop his own self wallowing? Being pressed against her? It was like she brought her own kind of calmness to his unstable mind, and while he knew she would disagree with him in saying it, she was a source of purity, a way for him to feel carefree. 

He wanted to tell her, but something was stopping him. What if she wasn’t quite as committed to whatever they were as he was? Harry had never been good with his feelings, preferring to write his emotions into his music. Fuck, sometimes even selling his songs to others to avoid the message coming from his own mouth directly. 

But as Y/N turns around, her mouth inches from his, her eyes wide and doe-like, Harry thinks he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t tell her how he felt. The words creep up his throat, and he tastes them on his tongue, sweet and rich. “I... I really like you. I’m not sure how you feel about everything. I just know I haven’t felt like this since… well for a while, and that’s kind of scary.” 

Harry closes his eyes, not wanting to see Y/N laugh in his face, as well as hear it. Instead, he feels a soft hand on the side of his face, her thumb gently brushing against his temple, and then softly against his eyelid, coming to rest just below it. “Open your eyes, dummy.” 

He flutters his eyes open, met with Y/N’s gaze, revering and sweet, “I like you too, Harry. Thought I made it pretty obvious.” While Harry loved Y/N calling him ‘H,’ the slow drawl of ‘Harry’ made a shiver roll up his spine.  

He can hardly contain the smile that slips upon his mouth, leaning up slightly and kissing the thumb resting against his skin. Harry feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest, the relief freeing the worry from his lungs, his muscles finally relaxing, no longer having to uphold the weight of stress upon them. 

If he was candid, Harry had never had to fight for anyone’s affection before. As narcissistic as it sounded, people usually gravitated towards him, whether for the right or wrong intentions. But Y/N had stood her ground, immediately unimpressed by his blase and borderline rude attitude and had reverberated his energy right back at him. If Harry was honest, at first he hated that about her, but it had come to represent her honesty. It made the affection she showed him now that much more special. 

Harry felt as if he had earnt her respect and affection, because he deserved it, not the ‘Harry Styles’ found in the tabloids. He had found someone who made him feel like a real person, and a good one at that, someone who deserved the love she so readily gave him. Harry was lucky enough to be lying next to that someone. 

“You’re right… you did drool over me in the shower. Remember that?” And just like that, the moment of vulnerability is over. 

Y/N lightly slaps Harry’s arm and lets out a disgruntled sound, “aish, you really are a lecher.” He laughs and grabs the hand that just hit him, bringing it back up to his face and kisses her palm gently. He looks back at her face, all traces of aggravation wiped from it like cheap lipstick, replaced with contentment instead. She slips her hand back to the side of his neck, her fingertips trailing through the baby hairs laying against his skin and kisses him. Her lips feel slightly chapped but still so warm, and Harry let’s out a relieved exhale. 

He couldn’t explain why, but this kiss felt different from any other he’d experienced with Y/N, hell any other he’d shared with anyone. It had all the intensity and lust of their kiss in the kitchen, added with a sense of emotion that Harry couldn’t quite place. Each press of her mouth, each swipe of her tongue or gentle nibble of his lower lip felt like she was desperately trying to convey every feeling Harry previously doubted existed. 

Harry remembers the night of their first kiss, recalls thinking he had never felt lust like that before, never wanted to kiss someone so badly, but now laying in this bed with Y/N running her hand through his hair and her hips lightly bucking towards him, Harry feels as if he’s surpassed the way he had felt then. 

He feels pure unadulterated need flowing through his veins, can’t even begin to explain how much he wanted Y/N. She turned to fully face him, tangling their feet together and pressing herself further into the kiss. Harry wishes he could give her more, wants to bring every drop of pleasure to her he possibly could, wants to touch and kiss each part of her. It felt as if a spark had lit within his body, beginning at his chest, travelling all the way through to his fingertips, and straight to his groin. 

Harry brings his thigh between her legs, and she takes advantage of it instantly, rubbing against him. He groans as he feels her warmth pressed against his leg, and he can tell she is suppressing her moans of pleasure as she pushes down harder with each gyration of her hips. 

“Tha’s it baby, get what you need.” 

At this, she leans her head back, a mewl erupting from her throat. Harry kisses down her exposed neck, sucking and nipping a love bite into the skin below him. Bringing his hands to her waist lightly, he helps to guide her in grinding against the thick muscle of his leg. 

She grabs one of his hands grappling at her hip and brings it to her chest, where he feels her hard nipple poking through the thin material of her top. He squeezes and pinches gently, hearing her breath hitch directly in his ear, bringing goosebumps to the skin along his arms, her hands grabbing his broad shoulders and neck. 

With his other hand, he slowly slips his thumb past the hem of her sweatpants, running it along the soft skin there. The tickling sensation completely contradicts the harsh action of her hips rubbing against him, causing a shiver to trickle down her spine. Y/N whines into his ear so quietly, Harry wonders if he actually heard her at all. “Please.” 

“What do you need, hm? Tell me.” 

A bated breath parts her lips, “fuck…anything.” She knows it’s not enough, knows Harry wants to hear exactly what she wants from him, but she’s embarrassed. Isn’t quite used to anyone asking her what she wanted and needed, and Harry’s filthy tongue only brings her more unnecessary shame. 

“C’mon Y/N, use your words. I’ll give you whatever you want, just use your word’s for me.” 

Her hands dig into his shoulders, “fingers, please!”

He kisses her temple and murmurs a quick, “good girl,” before dipping his hand completely into the front of her pants, still only teasing along the line of her underwear. 

Y/N’s not sure how much she can take. Every move, every touch is goading and light, clearly trying to provoke her, and as much as she loves it, she needs relief. She grabs at his arm that is currently so close to the place she needs him to be and tries to force it closer to her, harder against her, anything other than what he’s doing now. “Harry… c’mon, please,” she all but cries. 

He chuckles before slipping into her underwear, feeling her wet heat against his fingertips, she was already dripping for him before he’d even touched her. He presses her clit gently while he kisses against her neck, flicking his tongue against the ghost of the hickey he had given her earlier, the pain mixing so deliciously with the pleasure. 

While he had stopped his teasing touches, it didn’t stop him from using his teasing words. 

“This the first time you’ve gotten so wet for me, pet?” She furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head side to side, attempting to hide her face into his neck. He feigns surprise, “no? Filthy girl. Ever touched yourself thinking about me?” She whines, picking up on his teasing, further burrowing her face away from him, trying to hide the very obvious flush that had risen to her cheeks. 

He laughs, nudging her head with his nose, trying to encourage her to show her face again. She mewls once more, the only indication she heard him was the bucking of her hips against his fingers, now inside of her and stroking against her g-spot. 

“Next time, just ask for my help instead,” he murmurs into her ear, biting at her earlobe. She hisses, attempting to press against him even harder, get even closer to him, although it was almost impossible, being pressed flush against each other with his fingers knuckle deep in her cunt. 

He licks against her jaw, feeling the strong bone under the tender flesh, the warmth of his breath blowing against the damp skin of her neck causes her to shiver, “can I taste you?” Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever nodded her head harder, her eyes rolling back into her head, merely thinking about Harry tonguing the sensitive skin between her legs. 

He continues to kiss down her neck, taking extra time to lick against the dip in her collarbones, revelling in the tangy taste of sweat invading his mouth. He sucks her nipples through her shirt, the material clearly wet and spit-soaked once he pulls away, the air surrounding them, making the outline of her areola obvious. 

He presses a few chaste kisses against the swell of her tummy, finally reaching where she needed him most. He slowly pulls her pants down her legs, trailing the hem with pecks against each inch of newly exposed skin. Grabbing each ankle, he pulls the cuffing over her feet, playfully biting at the bone on her ankle, causing a shriek and a giggle to erupt from her and a playful press against his cheek, imitating a kick to his jaw. 

He laughs, batting her foot away from his face. “Oi don’t damage the money-maker!” 

 Y/N bursts out laughing, shaking her head. He was an idiot, but she loved that they can switch between moods so quickly. While she’s still laughing, he’s pushing her legs apart, his hand nearly fitting over the whole surface of her inner thigh. “C’mon love, spread your legs fo’ me.” 

And with that, Y/N stops laughing. 

While continuing to push against her leg, he presses an open mouth kiss against the front of her underwear, already able to taste the heady flavour. Harry can’t help but let out a deep groan, every nerve ending set alight at his mouth finally around her cunt. The tip of Y/N’s tongue tingles with a beg for him to take off her underwear, but Harry acts on his own accord, almost ripping the garment off in his haste. 

If Harry thought the taste of her was mouthwatering through the cotton, the taste of her without it was even better. 

He had meant to tease her, he really had, but he can’t help but lick straight into her weeping hole, moaning at the taste and the smooth feeling of her smeared against his mouth. Spreading her lips with his pointer and ring finger, Harry continues to explore, flicking his tongue against the swollen bud underneath her pubic bone, causing a loud moan to erupt from her mouth. 

“Holy fuck Harry! Feels so good.” 

Harry tucks two of his fingers into her while sucking at her clit, Y/N tugging at his curls harshly in response. 

It feels so good, but Y/N needs more. The feeling of Harry’s fingers is making her skin tingle, and her legs shake, but she wants nothing more than to be stretched out by him. She wants him to give her everything, push into her slowly, stretch her pussy, and finally feel his cum spurting into her. 

So she pulls him up, one hand still intertwined in his hair and the other on his shoulder, scratching and pulling as a hint to bring his mouth to hers. At first, he’s hesitant, grumbling slightly in annoyance, not wanting to part from her, “Harry please, want to kiss you.” 

He gives her one more harsh suck, before sliding back up her body, where Y/N is waiting with her mouth open and her eyes on him. Harry smirks, slipping the two fingers that had just been inside of her against her tongue, feeling more blood rushing between his legs at the feeling of her licking and sucking them as if it were his cock. 

She bites gently, causing a hiss to escape from his mouth as he drags them back out slowly, quickly replacing his fingers with his lips, licking into her mouth.

The tangy taste of her own cum slips past her tastebuds again, and Y/N had never been one to find it hot, but with the salty flavour transferring from Harry’s fingers and tongue, she’d never been more attracted to her own taste. 

Y/N desperately wants to mix his cum with hers, wants to swallow around his cock and feel the intoxicating mixture slide down her throat, “I wanna taste you now.” 

He breathes through his nose heavily and shakes his head, “just want to feel you. ‘M not gonna last long if you suck me off as well.” Y/N whines, but by the longing look Harry gives her pouting lips, it seems he’s not entirely content with his decision either. 

He reaches over her shoulder, digging into the set of drawers next to the bed, giving Y/N the perfect view of his broad chest, littered with tattoos. He looks so tan, his muscles rippling under the smooth skin, and she wants nothing more than to litter it with love bites and scratches. She teasingly licks at his nipple, and he startles, an uncharacteristic giggle leaving his lips as he comes back to lie in front of her, in his hand a condom. 

Suddenly his eyes clear, the lust caused fog fading, “you still okay with this? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

Her heart swells, how was it possible that this Adonis-like man was also so sweet? There was nothing she wanted more than to be with Harry in every way and right now, she needed him inside of her, “yes Harry. Do you?” 

He scoffs some, “fuck yes,” he mumbles his next statement as he tucks his head under her jaw, putting the condom on at the same time, “feel like my dicks gonna fall off, I’m that hard.” 

She laughs, wrapping her arms around him, she’d never felt so happy and complete, so overwhelmed. Every positive emotion was combining within her, creating a whirlwind of passion and love, causing each feeling to increase tenfold. 

The head of Harry’s cock slips through her folds, sending a zap of pleasure through her each time it nudges her clit, and he smirks each time she twitches, unconsciously arching up towards him. “Y’ ready?” 

She nods, moving her hips closer, making her own attempt to be filled by him. 

Slowly, Harry enters her, each inch causing the delicious burn from him stretching her walls increasing. Y/N almost chokes on her own moans, can hardly stand how good he feels or the way her muscles spasm attempting to adjust to the intrusion. It feels as if each ridge and curve was being simulated, each nerve ending firing again and making her head feel dizzy. 

Harry almost looks like he’s in pain with his eyes shut so tightly, Y/N can see the wrinkles surrounding them. His mouth is parted with sharp breaths entering and leaving his mouth, his head hung back, and his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. 

“Holy fuck. You feel so fucking good.” 

At the sound of his voice, Y/N clenches, making Harry cry out. “Move H. Fuck me, please.” 

He begins slowly, pulling out before slamming back into her, reaching so far Y/N can feel him in her tummy. 

He intertwines their fingers and holds them against the pillow her head rests on. She squeezes them, and he leans his forehead against hers, the tender action contradicting the harsh snaps of his hips. “How do you feel so good?” He whimpers. She nudges his chin with her nose, pushing his lips closer to hers, each thrust smearing them closer together. 

“You’re so good to me H,” she whispers back as she wraps one of her hands behind his head, his neck in the crook of her elbow. Using leverage from her other hand against the bed, she pushes her hips upwards, creating double the amount of friction between them. The actions causing both of them to cry out, Harry seeming to be pushed impossibly further inside of her, the head of him nudging against her cervix. 

“Fuck that’s it. Look at you, usin’ me to get yourself off.”

While the new angle felt so good, it was quickly tiring. Harry could see Y/N fatiguing after a few minutes, knowing the burn in her legs would be almost unbearable at this point. So he tucks his arms under her outstretched ones, laying his torso against hers and tucking his head into her neck, kissing lightly as he completely slows down his movements. He stops the whine that leaves her throat with a quick, “shh, it’s okay. Just wanna take my time with you, never want this to end.” 

While running her hand through his curls and holding the back of his neck closer to her chest, she replies, “me either baby.” 

They spend some time like this, just enjoying each other’s company and the feel of being so close to one another. Y/N breathes deeply, the smell of sex in the room mixing with Harry’s cologne, making her relax and let out a contented sigh. She had never felt more full and so satisfied, with a hint of an orgasm sparking between her hip bones, the dull ember just waiting to be fully ignited by his movements. 

As if sensing this, he speeds up once again. The burn that stretches through her legs as Harry pulls them over his shoulders, mixes with the pleasure of his thrusts, the head of his cock nudging her g-spot with each deep drive of his hips. 

Y/N cries out, grabbing at his shoulders, her nails unintentionally digging into the skin, creating small red crescents along the tense muscles connecting his neck to his scapula. 

He just feels so good. Every movement of his hips, each inhale and exhale, each brush of their lips and dig of his fingers brings Y/N even closer to her orgasm. She can’t tell if Harry plans each of these things with her pleasure in regard or if it’s the chemistry between them that’s causing every sensation to be felt tenfold. All she knows is that she would happily lie under Harry for the rest of her life if it meant she always felt this weightless. 

Harry’s balls make a sharp ‘thwack’ against her ass each time he thrusts, the sound of her arousal echoing through the room, in such a crude fashion, Y/N almost has time to feel embarrassed. On the other hand, Harry revels in the sound, loves the fact he can see, hear, touch every part of her arousal, surrounding them in their own cocoon of sex and pleasure. 

“C’mon Y/N, please. Cum on my cock.” While Y/N had already been feeling the building pressure of her impending orgasm, Harry’s words only work to bring it faster. “Please Y/N,” she bucks up against him, chasing the feeling of his pubic bone rubbing against her already sensitive clit. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re my good fucking girl, aren’t you?” She whines a response, the noise high pitched and hoarse. Harry sees Y/N’s desperate search for her finish, and brings two fingers down, rubbing at her clit. 

“Fuck, yes, Harry!” Y/N can’t describe how overwhelmed she is with pleasure and feeling. Her face feels flushed and sticky with sweat, her legs are slightly cramped from her constant strain to get closer to Harry and his cock buried in her cunt, and when Harry brings one of his ring adorned hands to wrap comfortably around her neck, suddenly Y/N feels weightless. She feels the burst of pleasure from between her legs, a zip running up her spine, leaving her limbs with a tingle. 

Harry hears her cum before he sees it, the moans dripping from her mouth, her eyes widening before she’s squeezing them tightly together. Harry knew he would play that exact moment on replay for the rest of his fucking life. 

He watches as she brings her hand up to his that’s still spread around her neck, and Harry almost can’t stand it when he feels her squeezing it tighter, begging for Harry to give her more. If he wasn’t so close to cumming, Harry might’ve teased her, loosened his grip on purpose to watch her squirm and whine, whisper in her ear how hot it was to see how desperate she was for Harry to simply touch her, alas he’s too close. Can barely form a coherent thought, let alone tease her. So instead he appeases her, tightens his grips and begins to pound into her harder, searching for his own release.

Finally, it comes, Harry releasing a deep groan, grabbing onto the pillow next to her head, letting out a deep moan. Both of them can feel each rope of cum, as Y/N’s own orgasm works to milk each drop from him. 

His movements slowly come to a stop, leaving him tucked inside of her as his length softens. Wrapping his arms around her once again, he revels in the warmth and comfort she brings, his lips pressing against hers gently. “Fuckin’ hell.” 

Y/N giggles and nods in agreement. How had they spent so long fighting when this was the result of them getting along. She still feels Harry shifting above her, the aftershocks of her orgasm, creating an increase in sensitivity, each movement from the handsome boy above her sending a jolt through her whole body. 

“Fuck you’re still squeezin’ me pet.” She hugs into him tighter as yet another twitch is brought from his prick still buried deep within her, “mhm, still sensitive but you feel so good.” 

He kisses her soft temple, “lucky for you, in about fifteen minutes, we can go again.” Y/N scoffs, her head leaving the crook of his neck to give him a dirty look only to be met with his deep smirk. His famous dimples indented next to his smile, as he giggles and brushes his nose against the swell of her cheek. 

“You really are…” his giggle is joined by her own. 

“A lecher,” they finish together. 

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry #harry styles writing #writing #thank god this is finally finished #holy shit #let me know what you think #i love u #harries

[banqdanfnfic]

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

© banqdanfnfic 2021, all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

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