#and it's so frustrating to watch bc i swear i could make a whole list of times when someone comes to Flint with a concern on the level that

[starbuck]

Inspired by @nysscientia​‘s excellent meta, I’m thinking about how the “I am your king,” line from 1x01 was not part of the early draft of the pilot script and instead that whole speech was replaced with the Odysseus monologue from 1x02, because I feel like the way it was ultimately written in the show is a really great case study into the phenomenon the linked post is discussing and it’s long-term negative effect on Flint’s plans.

In the final version of the 1x01 scene, Flint only focuses on rallying Billy against the looming threat of England (“Civilization is coming and it means to exterminate us. If we are to survive, we must unite behind our own king,”) as opposed to explaining his actual plans for Nassau’s future. No indication is given whatsoever that Flint has any end goal other than to be The King in question.

To Eleanor, however, Flint actually DOES open up quite extensively about his vision for a reformed, stable Nassau (“We could build ships to defend our shores and train new men to sail them. We could work the land, grow crops and raise cattle,”) and then adds the Odysseus monologue on top of that which ends with his declaration that all he really wants is just “to walk away from the sea and find some peace.”

Accordingly, throughout seasons 1&2, Eleanor’s support of Flint is centered around achieving something good (a stable, reformed Nassau), whereas Billy’s support of Flint is centered around preventing something bad (England’s return and subjugation). Of course, there’s a whole separate discussion to be had about how their opposite areas of focus reflect Eleanor’s assumption that she was in no danger of being hanged as a pirate vs. Billy being someone with no such luxury, but I’m mainly referring to how they view Flint himself which, although colored by their respective backgrounds, cannot be fully explained by that.

Eleanor views Flint as a trusted partner towards a mutually productive end goal because he repeatedly explains the details of that goal and his intentions to her. Billy views Flint as a necessary evil to defend the people he loves from a more powerful threat because that’s the extent to which Flint opens up to him about why his leadership should be valued.

And this is why Billy, who, considering his history, should have been the easiest person to rally to the cause in s3, is lost before it even begins. The storm and its aftermath lead him to conclude that Flint is not protecting them from anything and that his only real intent is to endlessly force them into fruitless conflict until they’re all dead (thanks, Silver). And so, with Flint making no attempt to convince him that he actually has higher goals than that, a Flint-led war against the British Empire that they were all conscripted into against their will is the last thing Billy is willing to commit himself to by that point.

#black sails #which brings us to the whole other point of Flint's constant insistence on making unilateral decisions #which wouldn't be an issue if his men trusted him which they would if they believed in his vision for the future #but they don't really have much of an opportunity to do that when he's unwilling to explain it #and it's so frustrating to watch bc i swear i could make a whole list of times when someone comes to Flint with a concern on the level that #what he really should have done is said 'I completely understand your concern and why don't we sit down and discuss it further?' #but what he says instead is something extremely dismissive (or that could be perceived that way) and that's the end of the discussion #99% of the examples coming to mind being conversations with Silver and Billy #and i'm over here banging my head against the wall like Flint!!!! My dude!!!!! Please make a fucking effort!!!!!!! #with Silver at least Flint Sort Of Tried... Eventually... #with Billy tho I have no idea what Flint was thinking #I really don’t think he would have been that hard to convince if Flint had properly explained Literally Anything #especially if he'd been willing to show Billy any respect whatsoever - that's what Billy wanted more than anything imo #and the bar was underground so i don't feel like it would have taken much #even just Flint's being willing to talk to him like a human person at all might have done the trick #it would have been So Easy for Flint to prevent all of the problems before they happened #but ig everybody's got a blind spot... #doesn't make it any less depressing tho #failure of communication is the worst kind of tragedy because it's the most preventable in hindsight #but as it stands - the conflict between Flint and Billy is the same in 4x01 as it was in the first episode #Flint is dismissive of Billy because he doesn't respect him and Billy distrusts Flint because he doesn't understand his long-term goals #and it just Didn’t Have To Be Like That...

[princemick-archive]

okay so a lot of people understandably don't really feel a connection with mick schumacher because he's just very clean and has probably been media trained since birth

so under the tab is a small collection of links and moments where you can really see small glimpses of who mick seems to be because everyone deserves to see that part of mick and why people like me genuinly really like the kid

(aka basically just a collection of my favorite prema mick moments)

please don't be afraid to add ur own favorite moments

notable moments that don't need or have a whole vid:

- mick's 'my dad, my dad, my dad, my dad, my dad' during grill the grid where he just seems so proud of his dad

- the way he intently listens when seb gives him advice when he's in his dad's car

- he always brings up his ranch like every second it could possibly fit into the conversation

- when he gets competitive and he starts swearing bc he's annoyed

- how close he is with the haas mechanics and how they genuinly seem to want him to do well

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- PREMA Stranger Things

he is so incredibly competitive during all the challenges but here he's so obviously comfortable at prema like hes one of the older boys and he doesn't feel ashamed by being loud and he's so giggly when something 'inapropriate' comes up.

- ⏱ The 5 Second Challenge ⏱

at 1:45 when he just starts listing food aggressively when asked things he has to unwrap. his giggles when he tries to do robert's accent.

just the moment where he gets asked "name three things you never want to find on a plane" and he goes "a bomb, a knife, a serial killer *ding*" with a straight face and then goes "it comes all together so" thats the schumi insanity that we're missing

- The Taboo Challenge (if ur gonna watch it pls do it for arthur too hes wonderful)

just shows here he is the idiotic himbo type he looks like he is with his "ty i was just gonna say desert' also mick trying not to swear here bc of his frustration he just proves he is incredibly stupid in this

- Seb And Mick Take On The Formula 1 Tower Challenge!

his chemistry with seb in general but this vid is just long and cute. "i mean if poeple ask me if I'm mick I usualy just say know. I learned that from my dad." insisting on seb being in his f1 band when seb keeps refusing. the tower falls and he imediatly pics up some blocks to help clean up.

- mick and daniel at the russian gp press conference

the way daniel seems to bring something more comfortable out of mick. he is a lot more open and a lot less shy.

- Cooking Pizza with Mick Schumacher & Sean Gelael

he is so confident in italian and he is so intro making the pizza, idk there's not much to say about the video it's short pls watch it it says so much abt him

- Prema Trivia Challenge

sean and nyck bringing out so much in micl he's a so competitive and loud. against msot of the things have been mentioned its my favorite video where hes in just pls watch it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

in conclusion, he's a highly competetive giggly kid who is introverted and is more open when surrounded by extroverts who bring out his fun side a lil more but i'd still love to see so much more of him bc he's still very clean and well manered and very pr clean ya know

#lol no ones gonna read this but pls i love him sm and he deserves so much hype and love #f1 #mick schumacher #kyle.txt

[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

[todrokishoto]

“i’m fine, idiot”

character(s): bakugou katsuki x reader 

warning(s): mentions of blood, injuries and passing out. swearing bc of bakugou. i think that’s it?

a/n: just found this in my drafts and decided to finish it. might do a part 2 if you guys want - let me know! 

also, i could not find a gif i liked for this so just,,, bear w me

“bakug-”

“’m fuckin’ fine,” he grumbles, voice gruff. you both know that is an obvious lie as the dark pants of his hero costume continues to grow darker, the green garters around his thigh also tinted crimson. 

while you often admire the hot-headed blond for his never-ending perseverance, today is not one of those days. sure, an ounce or two of determination never hurt anybody but his stubbornness was threatening to snap the last string of patience within you. 

rolling your eyes at his words, you poke a booted toe into the side of his injured leg. his jaw clenches tightly and his teeth comes in contact with his bottom lip in - what you assume - is an attempt to keep from voicing his pain. 

your gaze flickers toward his tightly wound fists, focusing on the telltale sign of his fingernails almost piercing skin. you roll your eyes again before letting your eyes move back to inspect his face. he’s clearly not fine. 

vermillion eyes finally meet your own but there is nothing but conviction swimming within them. and you want to punch him for it. if he doesn’t give up soon and admit defeat, he will have another injury added to the list, you swear to god. 

“stop fucking starin’ at me like that. i’m fine, you idiot.”

you inhale deeply, resisting the urge to pinch pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “shut up already. you’re clearly not fine and we need to get out of here before the whole place collapses.” 

“then start walkin’,” bakugou snaps, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat of his face. admittedly, it only makes it worse, red liquid now smeared on his skin as well. “i’ll be right behind ya.” 

you sigh this time, hopefully loud enough for him to understand that you’re not messing around. ignoring the protests from your joints, you kneel down beside him, reaching a slightly trembling hand out toward the tear in his hero costume. before you can do so, firm fingers wrap around your wrist. 

with questioning eyes, you glance up at him, not bothering to mask your increasing frustration. his crimson orbs trail your face briefly before he reluctantly loosens his grip. he groans quietly as your nimble fingers come in contact with the exposed flesh of his thigh. 

you eliminate the few obstacles keeping you from properly inspecting his most critical injury. this includes ever-so-gently pushing back the thick material of his cargo pants with your fingertips and using your discarded gloves to wipe away some of the blood. you quickly deem it hopeless, though, as the liquid just keeps oozing. 

he jolts. “ah - fuckin’ watch it - so what’s the diagnosis?” 

“if we don’t get out of here soon, you will more than likely bleed out at one point. by the way you’re sweating and how pale you’re looking, i give it maybe another ten to fifteen minutes until you pass out.” 

he scoffs, swatting your hands away forcefully. planting his palms on the dirty ground - which also most definitely need medical attention since his gauntlets were long gone - he goes to push himself up. you reach out a hand to stop him, which he slaps away without thought. 

and, so, you watch quietly (mostly from pure frustration and disbelief - some worry too, but you’d never tell him that) as he attempts and fails. a string of curses fall from his lips and he tries again, this time succeeding, just barely. 

he sways momentarily, unable to put any weight on his left leg. his body isn’t strong enough to keep up with his strong-willed mind, you can tell, and you’re able to catch him before he stumbles forward. the blood loss surely isn’t helping either. 

he groans in protest as you wrap an arm around his torso, grabbing his wrist in your other hand and maneuvering it around your neck. you ignore it, your worry only growing at how faint his pulse feels underneath your fingers. 

“stop being so fucking stubborn, katsuki,” you huff, the weight of his body only adding to the strain of your own. “accepting help doesn’t make you weak. you need medical attention. now. i refuse to let you die on me, so just let me help, okay?” 

you begin walking and he follows along to the best of his ability. he’s heavy - god, he’s heavy - but you keep moving. you need to get out, you need to get him out. he does nothing to ease your apprehension when slurred words leave his mouth that you can’t quite decipher. 

at the sound of a murmuring crowd and sirens, your speed picks up despite your legs crying out from doing so. bakugou feels so heavy in your grasp that you’re almost sure he’s passed out already. 

while soft - and beautiful, but you don’t have time to admire it - the twilight is still so bright that you struggle to keep your eyes open when you finally exit the crumbling building. the blond protests weakly and you realize he’s still conscious, although he seems to be right on the border of succumbing to his injuries. 

there are reporters. way too many of them and you ignore every single one as you focus in on the awaiting ambulance in front of you. still, you’re able to catch one of them saying something along the lines of ‘pro heroes dynamite and y/h/n just exited the ruins together and’- 

you stop listening. 

“bakugou- hey,” you pat his cheek a little more force than necessary as the medics help you load him onto the gurney. “stay with me, yeah?” 

“mm,” he hums, his eyes fluttering shut briefly before opening again. “like it bett’r when yer use m’first name.”

you chuckle, ignoring the look the medic shoots you. you’re not gonna cry, damn it. at a loss for words, you squeeze his hand instead. the anticipated squeeze in return never comes and you realize he’s lost his battle; he’s no longer conscious. 

“ma’am, you should—” 

you swat away the fretting hands, your eyes immediately scanning the crowd. there are sounds of metal clinking and doors being slammed, and then the ambulance takes off behind you. you spot a familiar mop of red spikes fairly quickly. 

“kirishima!”

the sturdy hero jogs over, his easygoing grin faltering slightly when he realizes you’re alone. “where’s bakugou?” 

“passed out in an ambulance. are you good here?” you leave the ‘do you need me to stay?’ unsaid because, as a hero, it is your duty to stay until every civilian has been evacuated and all villains are properly apprehended. 

kirishima nods eagerly and the relief you feel when he does instantly plants a seed of guilt in the pit of your stomach. but they look like they have things handled and you wouldn’t be of much help regardless, mind too preoccupied on the status of bakugou’s condition. 

“just go, we’ll handle the rest! he’d want you there when he wakes up,” kirishima admits, patting your shoulder reassuringly. “and do me a favor, yeah? get yourself checked out while you’re there. you don’t look too good, either.”

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo #bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha #bnha #mha x you #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bnha x y/n #bakugou oneshot #platonic krbk #tw: blood #tw: injuries #tw: passing out

[wazzupmrstark]

instead of you [part three]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

“No sex?”

“Y/n!” Sam hissed through his teeth. “You think you could lower your fucking voice a little?” His tone was even, but his eyes betrayed the thinly veiled panic you were all too familiar with. 

Pushing your best friend’s buttons was something you usually enjoyed, but in that moment you were feeling a similar sense of panic. 

“Sorry, how was I supposed to react to you telling me I can’t sleep with anyone this summer?” you snapped in a whisper. 

“How were you expecting to pull that off without making it look like you were cheating on me?” he countered. 

“I- I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about it...”

Sam had been typing the list of “rules” for the summer in the notes app of his phone for the better half of an hour as you brainstormed together, and you had been on board with everything that it consisted of so far:

No gross pet names (babe, baby, and darling are acceptable)

No kissing with tongue

No telling embarrassing stories!! (yes that includes that one time i got a condom stuck in my nose and we had to go to the emergency room- that’s literally only funny to you)

4. Share a bed together for the whole trip

ACT LIKE WE’RE IN LOVE (@ y/n)

Spend at least an hour with family per day

Take “coupley” pictures together when my parents as- bc they WILL ask

Wear the matching shirts my mother made 

Buy y/n all the alcohol she wants

It was a pretty decent list, all things considered, until he got to rule number ten. 

“I mean it’s not like it’s going to be easy for me either,” Sam reasoned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you for your service or something? Applaud you for keeping it in your pants for two whole months?”

“You’re literally complaining about the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m only doing it to save your ass,” you huffed.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, sighing. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

You gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“You don’t want to be. You’ve mentioned that several times.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.”

Sam smiled at that. “Thanks, I love you too.”

“Alright that’s enough sincerity between us for a lifetime,” you said and chuckled uneasily. “We can go back to being assholes to each other now.”

“Good, that took a lot out of me.”

You glared at him, but refrained from making a comment. “What’s next on the list then, lover boy?”

“Already breaking the first rule-”

“Fine, what’s next on the list, fuckface?” you asked with a smirk. 

Sam clenched his jaw and scrolled on his phone. “Okay, number eleven, no flirting with my brothers.”

“Do you really need to write that one down?” You watched as he typed it out without acknowledging you. “Like isn’t that kind of implied? You know I don’t see Harry like that.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” he muttered. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, he moved on to the next rule and left you sitting alone in your confusion. 

The majority of the rest of the flight was spent bickering with Sam over the list, undoubtedly annoying the hell out of everyone seated around you. The other passengers finally got some reprieve from the sound of your hushed voices when Sam put his earbuds in to listen to music. You knew he was only doing it to tune you out because whenever he was really listening to something he always shared one of his earbuds with you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. If he was going to be like that then... god, this was going to be a long summer.

You shifted in your seat so that you could comfortably rest your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. Even though he was frustrated with you, you knew he wouldn’t push you away. It was just like that with you guys. He’d get over it by the time you landed. 

When you opened your eyes again, Sam had fallen asleep too. He was slumped against you with his head resting on top of yours like something out of a movie. It struck you as ironic. To passers by you already looked like a couple. Game on. 

-

Sam led the way through the busy airport terminal to baggage claim, apparently trusting you were right on his heels. But it was almost like he was trying to lose you with the way he was weaving through the crowd like a wanted fugitive. You could barely keep up. Some fake boyfriend he was. 

You’d never seen your best friend like this before. Usually he was so calm and collected, the one who was always talking you off the ledge, but you could tell he was the one climbing stairs right now. 

“Fuck, there’s no way this’ll work.” 

It had been another one of those late nights in the library when Sam had thrown the stack of index cards onto the table in surrender and buried his face in his hands. You were both teetering on the edge of a caffeine crash. The words on the pages had started to blur together in a way that was almost illegible and neither of you could keep the important dates of your relationship straight. 

“Yes it will,” you insisted as you gathered up the cards and handed them back to him. “We’re just burnt out. That’s why we keep getting things wrong.” He knit his eyebrows together in a way that told you he didn’t believe you, but didn’t say anything in return. You sighed and took a sip of your coffee, giving him a measured look over the lenses of your glasses. “It’s four am., Sam. We just need some sleep and then we’ll come back fresh tomorrow, you’ll see.”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and nodded reluctantly. “Thanks for doing this with me... it’s, uh, really important to me.”

“I know.” 

But you didn’t know why. Sam didn’t even study this hard for midterms, but here he was night after night with you mapping out every single detail of your fake relationship. A small part of you wondered if there was something more, something that he was keeping from you, but you pushed the thought down. You told each other everything...

As you watched him wait for your suitcases at the carousel, arms crossed, left foot tapping the tile impatiently, it dawned on you just how nervous he was. You wished there was something you could say to ease his mind, but the right words were escaping you. To be fair, you weren’t having any luck shaking your jitters either. You’d never been in a relationship long enough to meet your significant other’s parents. Somehow the fact that you weren’t even dating made it even more daunting. You desperately needed the Hollands to like you- for both you and Sam’s sakes. 

“This one’s yours, right?” Sam asked and pointed to one of the bags he’d rolled over.

“Yeah, thanks for grabbing it.”

“Don’t mention it, babe.” You fought the urge to make a face- “you’re making a face.”

“Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Still adjusting to hearing that.”

“Well adjust quicker because my brother will be here to pick us up any minute.”

“Wait, what?”

“How else did you think we were going to get home?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

You followed Sam outside through the automatic doors to the car loop to wait for Harry. It was warm out, but there was a light breeze that lifted some of the heat from the pavement. The sun had set mere minutes ago, and dusk was lazily settling over the horizon. You were too close to the city to see any stars, but the moon glowed dimly behind the clouds, like a performer waiting in the wings. 

Sam scrolled through Spotify as you both sat there, carefully balanced on your suitcases, and offered you one of his AirPods. You took it wordlessly and put it in your ear. The gesture was comforting, almost intimate, a reminder that nothing had changed between you. At least not yet. 

He was playing something you hadn’t heard before, a classical piece. It sounded old and European which didn’t narrow it down at all. A glance at the title scrolling across his screen suggested that it was French, but he put his phone in his pocket and stood up before you could fully read it. 

Before you could ask what was happening a black Audi pulled up to the curb, parked, and a boy who was... not Harry stepped out of it. It was then that you realized Sam had never specified which brother was picking you up. 

You knew Sam had an older brother, but he didn’t talk about him much. You had just assumed they weren’t close, but as you watched them hug and laugh together you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“Y/n, this is Tom,” Sam said as he introduced you to his brother. “Tom, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You held out your hand and he shook it tentatively.

“Likewise,” he replied, sounding unconvinced. “Can I help you guys with your bags?”

“Um, sure. That’d be great.”

You handed over your suitcase and backpack to him and joined Sam back over on the sidewalk while Tom lifted the luggage into the trunk with surprising ease.

Tom was about Sam’s height, slender like Sam too, but far more athletically built. Even through his t-shirt you could see the distinct outline of muscles you hadn’t even known existed in the human anatomy- it was ridiculous. His smile was the same as Sam’s too, but what really gave him away as a Holland were the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap. They were impossible to miss. 

“Do you want to sit in the front, love?” Sam asked, pulling you back into the moment.

“No thanks, you catch up with your brother. I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. Tom didn’t seem too thrilled to meet you in the first place so sitting in the back seemed like the safer way to play it. Sam just shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat while you slid into the middle seat in the back. 

“Did you tell mum we’re running a few minutes late?” Sam asked Tom once he’d merged onto the road. 

“Yeah, she said she expects it from Heathrow anyway since they’re always so busy.”

“It was fucking packed, mate.”

“I know. Traffic was awful getting here. Everyone’s going on holiday.” Tom turned to glance at you, then back at his brother. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner should be ready when we get there.”

“When we get where?” you piped up in confusion, wondering who would’ve cooked at the boys’ flat.

“Mum’s and dad’s.”

You grabbed Sam by the shoulder. “Wait, we’re going straight to your parents’ house? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean? Why does it matter?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“Like what?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m wearing sweatpants!”

“And you look fine!” he argued. “Tom, tell her she looks fine.”

“Uh, you look fine.”

Why were men so fucking dense? You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. Your suitcase was just out of reach in the trunk so you hoisted yourself up over the seatback and grabbed one of the straps on the bag to pull it closer to you.  

With your limited access it was hard to find what you were looking for, but you managed to randomly pull out a nice pair of jeans and a floral print blouse you’d thrifted last semester to change into. 

Before either of the boys up front could register what was happening you pulled your t-shirt off over your head and started shimmying out of your sweats. 

“What the fuck are you doing, y/n?” Sam hissed as the car swerved. 

To be fair, you were just straight up taking your pants off in his brother’s car, but in your defense he’d really left you no choice. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You snapped and looked back up at him defiantly, catching Tom’s eye in the rearview mirror as you did. 

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road, Tom.” Sam grumbled, shooting daggers back at you.

You blew him a kiss in return followed by the middle finger as you buttoned your jeans with your other hand. 

Tom laughed and turned to his brother. “I like her.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland self insert #tom holland best friends brother #tom holland series

[h2bakugou]

Hello :) I really like your work and I was wondering if you could write about mha Shoto, Katsuki and Izuku having a girlfriend whos a badass while fighting but who's also bff with denki because they can act dumb together and are huuuuge weeb? (Also if you don't mind I would love to see denki's reaction to his gf being badass but also as crazy as him bc my pikachu deserves all the love) ? I hope it makes sense x)

a/n: hey love! awe thank you so much! this request is really cute, kaminari is such a sweetheart and i love him so much omg. thank you for the request hun!

headcanon: them with a s/o who is badass when they fight but also denki’s crazy bff

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Shoto probably doesn’t understand how you can go from being super badass to somehow short-circuiting yourself when hanging out with Kaminari.

If you don’t have an electricity-related quirk, he’s super confused, like how does that happen?

If you do happen to have an electricity-related quirk, he’s also confused because you aren’t even using it. Just being with Kaminari the two of you goof off enough to go all wheheyyyyy.

Todoroki enjoys watching you fight. You don’t take shit from anyone. Period.

Watching you take down bad guys is like a guilty pleasure past-time of Todoroki’s. You’re so skilled, and there’s so much he could learn from you in terms of combat.

You’ve done your training and you’ve learned and studied on your own alongside all your peers.

But as soon as you step off the battlefield, you’re somehow another person. Or at least you seem to be another person.

If there’s one thing you never stop hearing in the common rooms, it’s your laughter and Kaminari’s wheezing.

Todoroki is concerned when he hears it late at night, especially when you’re supposed to be asleep, and even more so when you’re trying to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone up.

“(Y/n). You should be resting, it’s late.”

“I know, I know!” You shush Kaminari who is rolling on the ground beside you, trying to stop the tears induced by laughter falling from his eyes.

“Kaminari just whipped out his Beyblades and challenged me. I beat him. 18 times.” You were losing your shit.

“It’s almost one am.” 

“Okay okay, Kaminari, I’ll beat you again tomorrow.” You stand and walk back to your dorm with Todoroki, sad to say goodnight to your best friend.

I don’t feel like Todoroki would get jealous because I think he genuinely understands that you and Kaminari are friends.

Kaminari also respects that you and Todoroki are in a relationship and has stopped hitting on you.

But he jokingly states that if you and Todoroki are to break up he might not be able to hold back.

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Bakugou is jealous 100%

“Stop paying attention to that loser!” Bakugou will hug you and drag you back to your dorm at one am to get you to go to bed all because you’re having fun with Denki.

He doesn’t understand how you can change from being a badass to a quote on quote ‘dunceface idiot’ like Kaminari.

He loves you a lot and loves seeing you in action. It’s mesmerizing to see you take down bad guys and be all tough.

You’re a tough cookie and Bakugou enjoys watching you intimidate all the villains.

But watching you goof off with Kaminari strikes a nerve in him.

You joke around with Bakugou, but there’s something about joking off with a best friend that is different than with your romantic partner.

You decided that your library of fart jokes was probably a little inappropriate for Bakugou’s ears, not that the curses came out of his mouth were all appropriate in the first place.

No one understands your jokes quite like Kaminari. He’s the one you're getting scolded with at four am for being too loud by Mr. Aizawa.

But who else was going to laugh at you trying to knit Bakugou a sweater and failing horribly?

“What is that supposed to be?”

“Bakugou!”

“That just looks like an angry porcupine!”

“Isn’t that what Bakugou is?”

Kaminari has officially lost it.

You and Kaminari have begun writing down every single roast the other drops to use later on and it’s even better when you both pull the same line in your little roast battles.

Everyone is silent and then you both just burst out into laughter.

Bakugou gets over his jealousy after Kaminari has a somewhat serious talk with him.

“(Y/n) wanted me to talk to you.” Kaminari starts, and Bakugou is already frustrated, is this how you tell him it’s over?

“I don’t see her romantically at all. I know you two are together, and as her best friend, I respect that. I know you’ll treat her well, so I expect you too. That’s my best friend you’re dating after all.”

Bakugou is speechless. For the first time, Denki Kaminari has said something that he understood.

“Did she tell you to say that? Did she write that down for you to say?” Bakugou is on edge.

“No! I came up with it myself because it’s the truth. She was just worried you were getting angry with her for hanging out with me so much.”

Bakugou cools down and eventually heads back to hang out with you.

Bakugou’s loud and obnoxious, so for the sake of you he tries to understand your humor, but sometimes you have to help him out.

It’s all in good fun though.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Izuku is probably super confused at first too.

He tries his hand at humor so he understands some jokes, and he himself can go from being all cute and adorable to fucking badass.

But when it comes to someone else, he’s a little lost.

Especially when that someone is his own girlfriend.

You’ve gone from tearing shit up on the battlefield to wheezing over a meme that is just a picture that says ‘top text bottom text.’

He surely doesn’t understand.

I feel like Izuku might get a little jealous at first. He’s unsure of why you’re always spending lots of time with Denki and having a good time.

“Izuku he’s just my friend.”

“But you never laugh like that with me.”

It’s an eye-opener.

Izuku is jealous of how you're happy around Denki.

You try your best to explain to Deku but you might need a bit of help from Kaminari.

Kaminari assures Deku that nothing is going on between the two of you and that you’re just his best friend.

“I promise you, she’s just my best friend, I respect the boundaries of your relationship.” Kaminari has a bright smile on his face while you hug Izuku.

“Thank you for telling me this.” Izuku feels better about the situation but still worries sometimes.

You begin to include Izuku some, but he may not understand your humor sometimes so you’ll have to explain it to him.

Overall, Izuku is happy to see you happy. You learn to balance your time for both your friends and Izuku.

Izuku still doesn’t quite grasp how you can be such a badass at times then lose your mind with Kaminari at two am for making a pizza with ketchup instead of pizza sauce.

“Isn’t ketchup essentially tomato sauce?” Kaminari examines the ingredients list.

“I think it has vinegar in it. It’s gonna taste weird.”

“Well I can’t find the pizza sauce.”

“Ketchup it is then.” You take the bottle and squeeze it out over the dough. Kaminari helps add the cheese and any other toppings.

Deku is concerned.

“I don’t think that’s going to taste very good.” He’s tired too but insisted on staying up with you so he could bring you to bed after you eat.

And Deku's right.

It tasted horrible.

But at least he was able to walk you back to your room and tuck you in after that terrible experience.

»»————-　★　————-«« 

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

The duality that y’all have. This relationship is POWERFUL.

Badass gf on the battlefield but goofy as shit when it comes to hanging out together?

Kaminari couldn’t have asked for a better partner. 

Watching you in action feels like a fucking movie. He’s drawn in constantly, admiring you every chance he gets.

Watching you fight, hell even watching you train is amazing. You’re incredibly skilled and your training pays off immensely.

Kaminari would like to say that training with you is amazing too, but the two of you can barely compose yourselves for that long.

You’re almost always laughing on the ground at like the one hour mark.

You can look at each other and just burst into laughter.

As much as I kind of hate the whole ‘marry your best friend’ saying, this relationship radiates that energy. You guys are endgame.

Kaminari couldn’t think of another person to share the love he has for you, let alone the plethora of jokes, puns, and roasts the two of you can make up on the spot.

Kaminari doesn’t want to imagine a world without you. And you couldn’t fathom being in one without him.

You guys are bound together, and are almost never apart for too long.

Granted you guys do have your days and you do make time for yourselves as any healthy relationship needs its boundaries.

You guys have shirts with memes on them, or phrases that you say constantly.

MATCHING PIKACHU ONESIES

You’re constantly yelled out for being too loud in the middle of the night, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kirishima, Mina, and Sero finding you guys sound asleep cuddling on the common room couch because y’all just passed out after goofing off for so long is a common occurrence.

If you have another best friend, I don’t feel like Kaminari would get crazy jealous because you only ever act like a goofy dumbass around him, and you’re crazy for him so he’s not too worried.

Might ask you about it but you’re in love with Kaminari’s dumbass and only his dumbass.

Who else are you going to watch cooking videos with a one am and try and recreate them on the spot?

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

#bakugou #bakugo #todoroki #midoriya #deku #izuku #kaminari #denki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #izuku midoriya #denki kaminari #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #kaminari x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[katierosefun]

caroline my love, you know i always go to you for random unrelated and unsolicited advice bc you’re so smart and i’m an egg so allow me to pose you a question. i’m moving away from a person that i’m very in love with in a few weeks. we’re not dating or anything at this point and i’m really worried that we’ll lose touch and they’ll just fade out of my life once i’m not physically present here anymore. so like. how do you keep in touch with people? bc like. i don’t think i can handle them not being in my life? like they feel like they could be my family one day type of shit. so uh suggestions??? how do we keep people around? not like forcing people who don’t want to stick around but like. intentionally keeping in touch. ANYWAYS you know what i mean, love you 💕💕

rach, beloved rach--(listen if you're an egg, then you're also the most lovable egg)

and like hm...see, it's always hard for me to be the one to initiate contact with people (so much so that my own very well-meaning friends have expressed their own frustrations with me oops), but thinking about my much braver friends who are so much better at this kind of stuff:

- texting out things that you think they'll like / reminded you of them! (i mean like. i think you and i both know exactly how touching and powerful that is. my heart personally makes little happy sounds whenever someone texts me something like "hey! this reminded me of you :)" or "i thought you would like this! :D". it just shows that the other person has you in their thoughts or at least knows you well enough/cares about you enough to like...give you something to smile about? so i'm sure this person would appreciate that.)

- hm, facetiming/zoom movie/game night? (okay, maybe zoom movie night sounds kinda :( because i know from firsthand experience that blaaaaah the video quality and also the lag isn't always fun. but game nights on the other hand...that might work? and if you feel awkward about having a one-on-one, maybe drag in some of your friends and pose it as just like. a chill time.)

- swap recs!!!!!!! (god. this is such a classic move, and no, i will never stop using this either, both on friends and people who i would like to be more than just friends lol. does your person have a list of books/movies/musics/shows they really like? like, swapping media to watch/read/listen to is always a fun way and excuse to keep talking to someone. not that you should feel the need to have an excuse to keep talking to someone, but...i mean. it's an easy way to get your person excited too--because all people, i think, kind of adore it when others watch/read/listen to things they recommended.)

- remember that people sometimes get busy, and that it's usually not personal! well. if they're a good person, anyways. (so like, i'm sure you know this, but sometimes people go radio silent for a few days, maybe a week or two. i'm not saying to tolerate an absolute flake of a person--definitely not that--but i know that personally for me, there are times when someone i care about messages me and then i'll forget to respond for like....a week and a half before they message me again and then i go "!!!!! WAIT I AM SO SORRY I TOLD MYSELF I WOULD ANSWER BUT I GOT SWALLOWED UP BY WORK AND STUFF I SWEAR I DON'T HATE YOU". but like, when you're messaging someone who you maybe possibly have strong feelings for, silence feels...well! not fun! but people aren't all that bad, and sometimes you just have to wait a little bit for the other person to get into a steadier place! and that's fine!)

and that's most of the advice i have! i'm definitely not as well-versed in the whole reaching out thing, but! i hope this helps!!!

#answered #rach snatched my heart #listen i am very much so an introvert #but sometimes my introverted self sighs and grits her teeth and goes 'OKAY OKAY OKAY WE WANT TO ACTUALLY COMMUNICATE #THAT WE CARE AND LOVE THIS PERSON SO WE ARE GOING TO DO THE BRAVE THING #AND REACH OUT FIRST' and so on and so forth #but anyways i hope this helps! #love is stored in the nice messages of 'hey this reminded me of you! :)' or 'i thought this would interest you! :D' #like idk. human beings crave connection and even the edgiest edge lords on this godforsaken planet #deep down....want to be known at least a little bit

[dragqueenpentheus]

You haven't watched every spn episode? That's crazy!

i hope for all my fanfics sake this means you CANNOT tell because my characterization is so on point <3

insane rant below the cut about..... my relationship w media and spn specifically??

but YEah...... i was a huge obsessive fan back in 2011/2012 and gobbled the whole thing up repeatedly over and over. i can not TELL you the number of times i've watched the first five seasons. absolutely unholy. i have a top 28 episode list of my life changers that i will rewatch regularly and did back after i ragequit the series as well because it was crossing over from??? hm. not answering questions for mystery and tension reasons and doin it just for FRUSTRATION and because of the massive number of writers just..... forgetting what the other was doing lol

im truly.....a pretentious bitch with my media........ i love when its been CRAFTED (the terror, les mis). i also adore just feel good idiocy (austenland, mama mia, the proposal). because they hurt me on purpose to say something and make me think OR its just a stupid joyful feel good time!

spn got to and ...... frankly stayed in a space that just. frustrated me and hurt me for.... no gain and no reason.

like...................... janurary of 2012 i made a bet with a friend that if destiel didnt get together by the end of the season they could smack me across the face. i lost and they DIDN'T but. i had totally given up hope and just felt JERKED around. ((also i never got smacked lol))

i had fallen behind and then heard about kevins fate and !! all the pain just added up and up and up and it wasn't worth it anymore, as much as i loved and DEFINED myself by spn i was getting so torn up every week that i just. dropped it.

and smash cut to ten years later when cas confessed and my brainworms awoke from their slumber. i remembered all the LOVE i have for cas and dean and !! its been and AWFUL year and so hard so i let myself slip back in but!!! my RULE for myself is only engage in ways that i know will fulfill me and make me HAPPY. i have no faith the actual text will do that. i have EVERY faith the smart talented marginalized people will present the BEST most creative most evocative version of that narritive

my fic-- if it's set post mid-season eight-- is pretty genuinely fanfic for the reams of meta i read and bits i like and harvest into my own internal narrative of spn.

THAT being said ive rewatched the confession scene TOO many times and did go ahead and watch tombstone and it autoplayed a few episodes after that and this freak named ketch started lying about being his own twin-- which!! hilarious. but not really what i'm after media wise. i also do watch throughs of all my fav minor characters episodes!! so i've done clairenatural but for wayward sisters bc its gunna break my heart bc itll slap so hard. someday i wanna do rowenanatural and garthnatural..... probably also gabriel! but ill likely stay cozy in my first five seasons home for a while lmfao

this is not a statement on my fave shower runners bc i literally dont know them all i swear to you im not a kripke supremacist/purist-- i just already KNOW the ways the early seasons will disappoint me.... im aware inside OUT of how it will break my heart and frustrate me. so ... easy rewatch content

SO ANYWAY here's way too much info about me and also an explanation of why i get nervous around fandom creators i respect-- in my head THEY are the spn writers

#reply #anon #irl #spn #uh.......................... sorry i think i feel chatty today gskbfjbjf

[wreckofawriter]

I Don't Love

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word count: 7,392 (Woah)

Warnings: Alochal, smoking, talk of sex.

Request: Hiii! Could I request a Sirius x reader imagine where the reader is like the girl version of Sirius. She wears her own leather jacket, and she’s basically a heartbreaker. Like Sirius, she doesn’t really believe in love, she believes in lust and attraction. Until She meets Sirius and starts falling for him and she’s super confused bc she’s never felt love before and Sirius starts falling for her and he’s confused cus of the same reason and it’s just super cute and fluffy 🥺

A/n: A few things: Number one. I am so incredibly sorry that this took me like 2 weeks to write. I had some pretty shitty crap go down and it just sorta fucked with me and I couldnt write. Number two. This is a little less fluffy than I wanted it to be but it still has a fluff ending. And Number three. To all the people who have sent me requests. I am going to start writing regularly again now so, I will probally have one out at the end of the week and another out around sunday or monday. Thank you so much for you patience.

    You had officially decided that there were two types of boys in this world. One would scream and yell at you when they realized you were only in it for one night, while the other would beg for a chance that you were never willing to give. 

               Conor had opted for the latter.

“Y/n, please” He begged, his eyes were wide and pleading, he was desperate. Desperate for you to stay, he just wanted a chance. 

    You sighed taking a large swig of your coffee, it was too early for this shit. “Conor how many times am I going to have to tell you, it was a one time thing.” your voice was monotone, as if you were bored, which was quite honestly the case. Have the same conversation over and over again tended to do that to a person. 

    “Please y/n, I swear you wont regret it. Just one date.” The Huffelpuff begged, he gasped your hand in attempts to gain your attention. He did not succeed. 

    You let out a stiffened groan, the conversation had become increasingly frustrating, the fact that most of the school was listening in on the exchange of words definitely didn't help. “Conor,” you spoke slowly, praying that he could get the information you were about to give him though his thick skull. “Friday night was fun.” you watched his features brighten, his sky blue eyes filling with momentary hope. “But that's all it was, Friday night and fun, so please leave me alone, you're giving me a headache.” 

    You heard the gasps and felt the glares, Conor was popular, he was also nice, and from what you heard extremely sweet. So as he slunk away from you head hung, tail between his legs, you could feel a good dozen people glaring daggers into your back.

    “Note to self: dont fuck popular people.” You mumbled quietly knowing you would never follow through with the rule. 

 You looked back down at your eggs rolling your eyes when you heard an all too familiar voice shriek in rage. 

    You along with everyone else in the hall turned to a furious Marlen Mckinnion who was practically dragging a smirking Sirius Black from his seat. 

    “You son of a bitch!” She shrieked, tears of fury and sadness leaking from her cheeks. 

    “Well my mother is a bitch.” He shrugged a cheeky grin pulling his lips apart. 

    She shrieked again, making you grimace. 

You tunned out of her pathetic argument and opted your attention to the book resting at the bottom of your bag. You were about a chapter in before you got sidetracked by Marleens redicoulsly high pitched blubbers. 

“How could you!” she sobbed behind you. God she was so loud. “You knew how I felt and you still fucked another girl!” 

You weren't sure why but this sentence made you snort. You attempted to muffle the giggles slowly evolving to laughter, but they poured passed your lips like an overflowing sink. Those close to you gave you angered looks, but you didn't care, you received enough of those already. It didn't take long for Marleen, to halt her reckless cries and turned to you with a fiery rage. 

She left Black standing where he was, her attention now focused purely on you. 

“What do you think is so funny y/l/n?” She hissed tears still sliding down her flushed cheeks, her mascara  trying her face into an angry blackened mess. 

You snorted once again “I'm sorry.” You wheezed out unable to contain your laughter, “I don't mean to offend you or anything,” You lied not even bothering to trap your giggles anymore. “It's just…” You burst into another fit.

The hall had gone quite, they wanted to see what was going to happen almost as much as you did. “You're telling me you actually believe that he cares what you felt?” 

He face flashed with surprise, you heard a few fellow Slytherins and even a couple Ravenclaws let out short bursts of laughter.

“How dare you!” She screamed, her voice shaky, hands bawled at her side.

“Look, it's nothing personal.” You shrugged calmly, "It's just ridiculous for you to overreact every time he sleeps with someone else. What did you expect?" You could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, they were thirsting for chaos, something about the way Marleens face twisted at you words made it seem like there was a strong chance of their thirst being quenched. 

"Maybe I expected him to actually give a shit about somebody for once in his miserable life!" She yelled turning around to see the dark haired boy biting his lips to keep in a laugh. "For him to actually love me the way I loved him." 

You scoffed rolling your eyes, "You don't actually believe you were in love do you?" 

"Of course I do." She hissed back tears still leaking from her blackened eyes, she had now taken a few steps toward you 

"Love is bullshit. And if you belive you were actually in love with Black after sucking his dick once, than you just as stupid as you look." You smiled sickly sweet at the girl as she began towards you, her wand suddenly clenched in her right fist. 

"You worthless WHORE!" Her voice rang clear through the hall.

You didn't move, you didn't even flinch because the second she raised her wand it was flying from her hand landing in Avery's, who then muttered a spell that froze her feet into the ground. 

You sent him a cheeky smile and a wink before gathering your things and standing from your bench. You stood in front of the girl, just out of her reach. She was shrieking and crying and over all just a mess. 

"Salazar, your pathetic." You murmured in disgust. 

She yelled something at you couldn't understand, not that you cared to, you were pretty sure it involved the words slut and whore multiple times. 

"Well I best be off" you smiled, "As said in Shakespeare's Coriolanus, Act 2 Scene one, 'More of your conversation would infect my brain.'" And with that you turned on your heel and left the room, green robes billowing neatly behind you. 

A few days past, and as much as you tried to hide it, your world collapsed. Of course this had nothing to do with Marleen or any of her prideful, idiotic friends, this didn't have anything to do with school at all.

It had to deal with your home. You had officially decided that being pure blood sucked. Your whole life had been planned out for you and you didn't want to do even one thing on the pre planned timeline of your life. 

The first thing directly after graduation was marriage. 

You had been attempting to put this one off the longest, you were definitely not the type to settle down and start a family. In fact the idea made you gag. You didn't even like the commitment of a date, let alone of a marriage certificate. 

So when you mother sent you a letter containing a list of names. Your heart sunk to the floor. 

The top of the letter read, "My dearest daughter, as you know you are set to be married soon after graduation. Many young men have asked for your hand, me and your father picked the best of the best for you to choose from. I hope all is going well." And then a list of 11 names, some you had never heard of and some, you sat next to during your meals or studied with after class. 

The thought of marrying any of them made you feel empty inside. You didn't love any of them and you weren't sure you would ever be able to love any of them. 

But you said it yourself, love is bullshit.

This fact didn't stop you from being pushed into a dark hole by your mother's words. She wanted an answer by Christmas break, and hell, you hadn't been able to make a stable decision since you received the letter. 

It started with a party after Slytherin beat Hufflepuff in quidditch. That also happened to be the day you were sent a reminder of your impending doom. So alcohol solved all of your problems for a couple hours and you woke up in the bed of a Ravenclaw you didn't recognize. 

The next day you had an exam you failed which resulted in a mental breakdown that left you dehydrated with a migraine. 

You had downed seven Advils and passed out on your bed by eight. 

The next day your headache had progressed, you had taken an absurd amount of medication to ease the pain that day, you ended up in the locker rooms with a Gryffindor beater.

And now here you were already a quarter bottle deep of firewhisky staring at the list of names scrawled neatly on the tear stained parchment gripped tightly in your hand. 

You glared down at the grounds so far below you, wondering what it would be like if you just jumped. You wondered who, if anyone, would actually care. You wondered if Marleen and her bitchy friends would laugh, you wondered if, some would say you deserved it. They probably would. 

This brought a bubbly giggle to your lips, before the bottle you were holding drowned them. 

You glanced back down at the list. So far you had crossed out two names you would never marry even with a wand held to your neck. 

One was Lestrange, the other Malfoy. The thought of their hands touching you, lips on yours, made you gag. 

You glanced back down at the list circling your current top choice, you would have to do some research on the names you didn't recognize, they must go to a different school. 

You brought the cool glass of the bottle back to your lips, sighing slightly at the burning taste it brought with it. 

You let a few more tears slide down your  cheeks, one dripping lazily off your chin, you watched it disappear into the dark grounds below. For just a second it shimmered in the moonlight appearing to be a drop of pure silver, before it disappeared into the night.

You let out a heart broken sob before letting the stars see the bottom of your bottle. 

Just then you heard a short cough. 

You turned to see Sirius Black, he was adorned in a pair of black ripped jeans a queen t-shirt matched with his signature black leather jacket.

You glanced down at your own appearance, black skinny jeans, tares in each knee, white t-shirt that read "Fuck Off" in black letters and of course your signature black leather jacket. 

He so seemed to be eyeing your appearance. Yiu suspicions were confirmed when he spoke, "I see you've copied my style y/l/n." 

"You wish," you laughed, "I'm pretty sure your the one copying my style." 

He rolled his eyes before walking to your side and staring down at the shimmering of midnight dew on frosted grass. 

"What is Sirius Black doing alone up in the astronomy tower at night?" You asked curiously, offering him your bottle which he took, downing a quick swig, grimacing slightly. 

"I could ask you the same." He huffed glancing at you, taking in the wetness of your cheeks and red tinge in your eyes. 

"Well I asked first." You pointed out before glancing at him as he brought the bottle back to his lips. 

Sirius shrugged passing the liquor back to you. "I guess I just needed some alone time." 

"Guess I ruined that, didn't I." You smirked lazily. 

"Nah," Sirius sighed waving your comment away with his hand, "I didn't have a fire whiskey anyway." His smile was dopey, his hair drooping in front of his stormy grey eyes. 

You let out a giggle, taking another swig from the bottle. 

"So why are you up here." He asked teasingly. 

You grimaced taking another sip. 

Sirius waited for a response for a minute but as he watched you avoid his gaze he realised you weren't going to answer. He sighed sadly, "Come on, you gotta be drowning something with that shit." He motioned to the bottle your lips were closed around. 

You chuckled lazily, "Myself I guess." 

He let out a snort, something you've never seen him do, you simply assumed it was the alcohol getting to him.

Sirius glanced at your paper and before you could whip the list away he gasped.

"Why is my brother on your list!?" He asked in alarm. 

You said nothing feeling tears reach your eyes, the last thing you wanted was someone you barely knew knowing what was slowly tearing you apart. 

"And why is his name circled!?" 

You cringed tears pricking your eyes, Sirius glanced at you, flushing a bit at your glassy eyes, you weren't one to show emotions, seeing you smile alone was a rare opportunity, that was if you only counted sincere grins, not deadly smirks. But crying, he couldn't recall seeing you crying or hearing of you crying from anyone, he figured that you had about the emotional range of a teaspoon. 

But here you were tears sliding solemnly down your cheeks, moonlight causing the drops to shimmer like rare gems. 

"Is this some sick kill list or something?" 

No response, just tears, leaking silently from your deep y/e/c eyes. 

"Because if you mess with him I swear-" 

A choked laugh escaped you crimson lips, your tongue swiping some lipstick from them. "I'm not going to hurt you brother." You then handed him the note and turned, your back facing the window you were gazing from and sliding to the floor. 

Above you Sirius eyes widened as he read the note left by your mother before processing the list below. 

He glanced down at you, your mascara was leaking slightly from the corner of your eyes, your hair was a bit tangled, your hand wrapped around the neck of your bottle as you brought it to your lips, leaving a bit of deep red lipstick on its rim. He recognized the look on your face. It was completely vacant, despite the tears, no emotion lived in your features. 

Your eyes blank and staring, mouth a straight line, not turning up or down. Your whole face was simply empty. Sirius remembered seeing that face in his mirror after he received a letter from home. And he knew that you felt how you looked. Empty.

He sighed, sliding to the floor beside you. Your long black nails came to your face furiously wiping at the tears on your cheek, refusing to meet his eye. 

"I know this doesn't matter to you but 11 guys wanting to marry you is pretty good." Sirius shrugged attempting to lighten your mood

You emitted what was either a sob or a laugh, he couldn't tell, "There were more, my mom cut out the ones that she didn't think were 'acceptable'" you made air quotes with your hands. 

"Damn." The Gryffindor huffed, "What does the circle around Regs name mean?" He asked he didn't want to push you but he had to know. Because for some reason, he didn't want it to mean what he thought it did. 

You fidgeted with the end of your jacket, leaning your head back against the rock wall behind you. "He's my top choice." You mumbled, blushing a bit, another thing that Sirius had never seen you do, even when your sex life became everyone's life. 

Sirius cringed, feeling dread soak into his bones and fill him to the brim, the idea of the y/h/c in front of him marrying his younger brother made him sick. "W-why?" He stumbled lightly over his words as they seemed to get caught in his throat. 

You finally met his eyes, they seemed to swirl with different shades of grey like a hurricane with a black eye. 

"I don't know." You voice was rough, sounded like it was a tap away from breaking, "Hes nice, polite, attractive. He's not a complete perv." 

Sirius now wore a sly smirk, the corners of his lips curving up neatly, "You think Regulus is attractive?" 

You rolled your eyes, "Yes, of course I do, jawline like that don't grow on trees." 

Sirius let out a barking laugh, you could feel his shoulder shake beside you. 

You exhaled loudly rolling your eyes again before handing the bottle to Sirius. He glanced at the almost empty bottle than back at you eyebrows raised in a silent question. 

You shrugged, "High tolerance." 

"You know that isn't good right?" 

"No Black," you drawled sarcastically, "I'm as stupid as you are."

He smacked his hand to his chest and mimicked a shocked expression you felt your eyes roll instinctively in their sockets. 

He dropped the act and chuckled finishing off the bottle with a final swig. "So if you think my brothers hot, where does that leave me?" 

"God Black, don't you think your head is big enough already?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow. 

"Humor me." He smiled pulling out a pack of smokes. 

You took a cigarette, holding it out for him to light, "Fine, yes you are extremely attractive." 

He flashed a set of pearly straight teeth, the warm orange light from his lighter reflecting from them as he lit the smoke you held out to him. 

"How bout me?" You asked after taking a huff and watching as the smoke from your exhale trailed away. 

Sirisu hummed in confusion.

"You know, humor me, how attractive am I?" You asked nonchalantly.

Sirius suddenly felt color rise to his cheeks, he hoped you would blame it on the alcohol. The truth was no girls really asked him what he thought. Well that's a lie, they ask if he thought they were pretty all the time. Asked if he thought they were good enough. But never like this. They all cared, they would burst into tears if he answered wrong. They would hate him for an answer and love him for another. 

But not you. You didn't care in the slightest. He could have said he would have rather fucked a lizard than you and you would have shrugged and continued with the conversation. And something about that made Sirius flush. 

"Well? Don't tell me I'm that bad." You giggled, although your tolerance was high, the alcohol was definitely getting to you. 

Sirius quickly gained back his charms, "My dear y/n, trust me you are gorgeous." 

"Thank you." You smiled suggestively adding a wink that made Sirius stomach fill with wings. 

There was a long pause, the sound of crickets and small frogs chirping faint in your ears. Smoke drifted from the room as a crisp chill filled the air. 

Finally Sirius spoke, "So your really gonna marry my brother?" 

You cringed at the word marry scratching at your wrist nervously, "I guess so. What other choice do I have?" 

"You could leave." Sirius muttered putting out his cigarette on the wall behind him. 

"No I can't." You all but whispered.

"Yes you can y/n, no offense but your parents are assholes, you don't need them."

"No Sirius!" You yelled voice loud and echoing off the open room, "I can't." Your voice had dropped once again, your words almost inaudible."I can't." You repeated face once again empty of emotion. He watched in horror as you put your smoke out on your own skin. He could hear it sizzle in protest for just a moment before the small orange glow disappeared. 

"Why?" He asked annoyed, "What are you scared?" 

"Yes!" You shouted. Sirius' eyes widened in surprise and for a brief moment fear as you turned toward him in anger. "You wanna know why I can't leave? Because last time I tried to leave I almost died!"

Sirius eyes filled with guilt. His annoyed look turning to one of pity. 

"You think I haven't tried to leave? I have! The second my mom mentioned marriage I packed my bags! But when my mother and father caught me trying to sneak out they used two of three of the unforgivable curses on me to get me to stay!"

Sirius winced, feeling the pain from far away memories returning to him. 

"So I can't leave. They'll kill me. I know they will." 

Sirius said nothing. He simply sat staring straight ahead. You expected him to say some inspirational bullshit or just tell you to go for it, but he didn't. He just handed you another cigarette and lit it for you. 

Your face had been sucked of all signs emotion except for one tear rolling slowly down you right cheek. It had cooled from the midnight air and now felt like a drop of ice slowly melting down your warm cheeks. 

You could feel the alcohol slowly affecting you as if it was finally catching up with you. You could feel the rational parts of yourself drift away and just then it was occurring to you that you had been irrational since the long haired boy walked in. You turned towards him, head fuzzy, stomach buzzing, and he turned to you. 

Your eyes locked grey staring into y/e/c as y/e/c stared into grey. You blinked twice, attempting to make a decision. All you could think about was how empty you felt. How much you wanted to feel something. Sirius could do that. He could make you feel something. Something. 

Your lips connected with his sloppily, your nose bumping his, as you dropped your smoke, hands connecting with his hair as he fought for dominance in your mouth. You didn't taste anything but fire whiskey and cigarettes, nothing different than what you tasted of. His tongue explored your mouth as Sirius pulled you onto his lap. You felt his hands roam your body enjoying they pressure they held on your hips as his lips passed down your neck. Seconds before your memory fade to black, you remembered thinking how much different Sirius' hands felt on your skin than anyone else. 

You woke to a familiar sight. Well by familiar you mean unfamiliar, but unfamiliar had become familiar to you. You could feel a warm arm wrapped around your bare waist, your head pounding behind your eyes as a bare chest pressed to your back. 

You could also hear whispers. They were hushed and quick, you could only make out a few words.

"How did he-" a pause of mumbles 

"That's so-" more incoherent words, "I mean what about the…" the murmurs sunk to low for your ears to pick up. 

You opened your eyes slowly opened, you turned to see three boys who you recognized immediately staring at you. They all flushed realizing you were awake but before they could speak you brought your finger to your mouth. 

"Be quiet." You hissed dangerously, wincing at the sudden stab behind your head. 

They all nodded slowly, wide eyes trading for confused ones. You slowly slipped from the bed, doing everything in your power to not wake the boy sleeping next to you. 

You let out a sigh of relief hearing Sirius snore quietly, something you found yourself thinking was adorable. You turned to see the three boys staring at you in awe, shot them a smirk as you gathered your clothes sliding on your panties and bra. You could feel their eyes follow you around the room, honestly you didn't mind in the slightest. 

You turned after grabbing your jeans they were all bright red, James smirking as the other two refused to meet your eye. You felt your lips twitch into a wolfish grin. 

"Enjoy it while you can boys, this will be the last time you see it." 

James let out a hearty laugh as Peter looked away Remus blushing amazingly red. 

"Except you." You pointed at the werewolf "You might see this again." You winked as he sputtered for words.

You slid on your t-shirt snatching your jacket from the ground. "Hopefully I'll see some of you again very soon." you winked, eyes locked with Remus as he grew impossibly warmer. 

You then walked promptly from the dorm room, earning a few glances, but you didn't care, you walked swiftly to your own common room, muttering the password and entering. A few first years looked up before whispering to each other. You rolled your eyes heading to your dorm. You were greeted by a pissed off pair of deep brown eyes adorned in yellow robes.

"You said you would study with me this morning!" Harper scrolled you. 

"I can still study!" You fought back, calling on to your bed.

"Please." Your friend scoffed, "Your hung over and what ever boy you got back from fucking is going to wake up and look for you." 

You laughed, "Please." 

"They always look for you because your too pussy to tell them you only wanted to get laid."

"Trust me this guy is not going to look for me." You assured her as you stood rummaging through your things for something to dull the pain in your head. 

"They always look." Harper said with a roll of her eyes.

"This guy won't." You promised tossing back some advils you found.

"Is he dead?" She asked sarcastically. 

"No." 

"Then he'll look for you." She stated matter of factly. 

"Look its Sirius Black he's not going to look for anyone." You sighed, and for some reason this realization brought you nothing but pain. The idea of him not caring hurt. But you weren't sure why. It's not like you cared. 

"You slept with Black?" Harper gasped.

"Yes" you rolled your eyes, "Half the school has done it, it's not that big of an accomplishment." 

Harper let out a magnificent laugh, "That's true. Now come on, if you can study, let's study." 

It was in your firm belief that Sirius would not look for you, talk to you or even mention you, but boy did you wish he would. As you walked down to the library you found your self craning your neck to catch a glimpse of his glossy black hair or his dashing grin. But you saw no such thing, he didn't care. You reminded yourself, and neither do you.

You had run into the younger Black brother though. He had greeted you and Harper politely despite the Hufflepuffs half-blood status. He had even carried the books you had been struggling with for you. He walked you to the library sharing a small conversation before heading to breakfast.

"Are you gonna choose him?" Harper asked, "He gives off like a mysterious, proper sorta vibe."

You darkened slightly at the memory of choosing your betrothed, making Harper regret her decision on topics of decisions, mumbling an apology. 

You waved her off, "I don't know." Your awnser was honest, you had no fucking clue. 

"Well, I think Black is a pretty good choice, he's nice, he's polite, not to mention really hot." She shrugged attempting to lighten the mood. 

"Yeah he is." You hummed thinking of a different Black. 

Harper didn't miss the distance your eyes held. Something was up with you. Not just the shit with your family but something else. 

But before she could ask a booming voice called out your name. 

Both girls turned to meet eyes with four boys. Two hanging back slightly as the other two headed straight towards your table. 

"They always look." Harper mumbled beside you, but you couldn't hear her over the rushing in your ears. Your heart began to speed as the pair of grey eyes you had looked for this morning shined brightly at you. 

"Yes, Black?" You asked casually as if you didn't feel like suddenly throwing up. 

"Left quite early this morning." He sneered playfully plopping into the chair next to you. 

"Well your snoring woke me." You lied turning back to your work attempting to ignore the pressure his stare held on you. 

"Also gave the boys quite a show." He shrugged, "Didn't know you were into Remus." 

You ignored Harpers confused glance and Remus' flushing face behind you. 

"Please." You scoffed, "We all know I'm flirty by nature." 

Sirius felt his heart squeezed, he really didn't mean anything to you. Who cares you didn't mean anything to him. "I guess we do." He huffed feeling suddenly overwhelmly sad. He glanced up at you, your y/h/c hair framing your soft face, y/e/c eyes glinting your pretty pink lips pulled to a lopsided grin. God how he wanted to feel them against his skin again. 

"Is there a reason for your visit?" You asked impatiently, not liking the queasy feeling that his presence gave you. 

"Oh, umm y-yes." Siriua stumbled on his words. "I have your jacket." He shoved the leather jacket he was holding at you. "I think you have mine." 

You flushed, "Oh, sorry, it's in my room. I can go get it I'd you-" 

"Its fine." Sirius assured you, placing his hand on your shoulder. The touch felt electric, like a spark that will set off a bomb. Sirius eyes roamed you landing on the dark marks he left on the open skin on your neck. You bathed in crimson when you noticed where his eyes lingered. 

"Sirius!" James voice brought him back to reality. The boy removed his hand from your shoulder and snapped his eyes back to your own. 

"I'm, I'm sorry." He stuttered scratching the back of his neck. 

"It's fine." You smiled weakly. 

"So um I'll, I'll just go." He tumbled banging his knee as he stood, he swore as James let out a barking laugh. 

"Wait what about your jacket?" Harper called after him.

"Just bring it to me whenever." He spoke hurriedly, he needed to get out of there. 

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding when he exited the room. 

Harper looked at your eyebrows raised.

"What?" You asked attempting to turn your attention back to your essay. 

"You're blushing." She pointed out, "You never blush." 

"I am not blushing." You huffed angrily even though you could feel your face glow. 

"Yeah sure." Harper drawled eyeing you skeptically.

"I'm not!" You exclaimed.

"Totally." She said narrowing her eyes. 

"Stop saying it like that!" You shouted.

"Like what." 

You let out a frustrated whimper grabbing your things and heading for the doors. "I was not blushing!" You added quickly before retreating to your common room, cheeks still burning. 

The next week was weird, it was like someone had flipped a switch to make you like everyone else. 

Suddenly you became awkward and clumsy, you blushed and stuttered when you were nervous. It was all so strange and awkward and it was all because of him. 

Sirius Blafk had done something to you. You didn't know what it was and you did not care for it in the slightest. Every Time you saw him you hated the way you looked. You suddenly began to wonder if your makeup was too dark or if your hair was too messy. When you passed him in the hall, you felt your throat close and your stomach do flips. 

In charms you couldn't focus anymore. He was alway right across from you laughing with his friends and playing pranks on Snape. You were now constantly biting your long nails, something you had never done before, you had begun to find your mind wandering subjects you didn't want it to. It was if you had lost all control of your thoughts. And you had. 

Sirius found himself in a similar situation. Suddenly your image planted itself into his brain and your voice rang in your ears. He saw you everywhere. The more he tried to get you away from him, the closer you became. He had become moody, everything would make him feel something, every little thing made him fight with an emotion, he wasn't accustomed to so much ... feeling. It was like someone had turned into a fourteen year old girl. It was terrible. To make things worse you were always with someone else, something that made him feel unexplainable fury. Every Time he saw you giggle with Avery or smile at Diggory his heart would clench, pausing slightly before he continued on, his mood soured. To make things worse Regulus never seemed to leave your side. He was carrying your books to class, sitting with you at meals, studying with you in the library. Why did Regulus get to do all that? Why did his little brother get to bathe in the light of your smile so often? That wasn't fair.

The rest of the marauders had noticed the long haired boys sudden mood changes. They had first though he had just had a bad day, but when a day stretched to a week, they had grown concerned. Remus was of course the first to identify the cause, with James lost in emerald eyes, and Peter busy being about as observant as a brick wall, it was pretty much his obligation to do so. He noticed the way Sirius's eyes lingered on you, how he soaked in your form as you passed in the corridor. He saw how Sirius would glare at boys you spoke to, specifically his little brother who seemed to be near you at all times. It didn't take the young werewolf long to put two and two together. Upon his new discovery, he began to pay more and more attention to you. 

He noticed how you avoided Sirius at all costs, he saw the way you blushed when Sirius laughed around you. He also caught you staring across the charms room at the long haired boy when he wasn't paying attention. Everything you did confused him. Because while Sirius seemed head over heels, you either hated him or loved him. It was hard to tell. 

But it wasn't for Harper. She knew you were in love with the older Black brother the second he walked into that library. You didn't even have to do anything. You simply looked at him and she could tell. It was like some alarm going off in her head, telling her what was up. When Harpet first realized this, she attempted to tell herself that she was wrong, it was silly, you didn't 'love'. But then she watched as you blushed and watched and avoided, and she knew you were deep in it. Harper was terrified to bring it up with you. She knew that in a way you already knew, but if she brought it up, made you truly realize, things could get ugly. 

But she couldn't wait any longer. You had to see what was in front of you or you would only get hurt. 

So now the burnet Hufflepuff, paced nervously in your dorm waiting for you to come in. She had a plan in her head, but it still didn't change the fact that she was a nervous wreck. 

Most people would constantly tease their friend if they believed them to be in love, but with you love wasn't an option, you had obligations, not feelings. In fact, you didn't even believe in love. You treated it like some superstition. It wasn't real to you. Not like she could blame you, you were going to be forced to marry some guy you definitely didn't want to at age 17, your parents the same way, and their parents and their parents and their parents. It was a never ending cycle of loveless life. 

Harpers frantic thoughts were interrupted by a loud thump. The girl turned to see you ditching your bag on the floor and huffing to your bed. You fell on to your mattress blankets ripping slightly like someone had tossed a pebble into a smooth lake.

"You okay?" Harper asked cautiously. 

You sat up meeting the pair of green eye scanning you in concern. "Marleen is such a bitch." You stated beginning to pick at your nails. 

"Can't disagree with that." Harper chuckled, "What she do now?" 

"She said I was Sirius 'sloppy seconds' which makes literatly 0 sense. And now she's pinning after him again." You seethed angrily.

"You're in love with him aren't you?" 

Harper's plan just crashed through the window. 

"What?!" You exclaimed."In love? With who? Black!? Never!" 

"Y/n/n, it's not a bad thing to be in love." Harper spoke calmly attempting to soothe your fury. 

"I'm not in love! Love is bullshit!" You had how risen from the bed, your hand clenched into fists beside you.

"Y/n I see the way you look at him I'm not blind! You love him! You get all flustered and weird around him, and I know you know what's going on, you just are too scared to admit it." 

"I'm not scared of shit. I know who I am and what I feel and I'm going to tell you this one time. I. Don't. Love." 

"Everyone loves y/n!" Harper heaved, her eyes desperate for you to understand. How could you not see what was in front of you. But she knew you were blinded by fear. Fear of what most craved. 

"What the hell would you know about love?!" Your voice echoed off the stone walls of the small room, reminding Harper of a jail cell. 

"Clearly more than you!" She huffed back anger sewn delicately into each word she spoke. 

"You will never know more than me you worthless HALFBLOOD!" You spat the last word of your damaging sentence as if it were a bitter taste you were attempting to ride your tongue of. 

Harpera eyes flashed with fear. Not fear of some asshole who you had to kick the shot out of, not of Malfoy, not of one of one of the  boys who had suddenly become aggressive in there chase after you. But fear oif you. She was afraid of you.

The fear left her eyes and was replaced by fury and disgust in a second. Harper walk straight to you practically shaking with rage and she slapped you across your face. You gasped head turning from the impact of her hand. When you turned back she was already practically out of the door. You felt tears slip from your eyes and you shrunk to the floor clutching your cheek. 

It wasn't the pain that hurt. Well it was but it wasn't the pain from the slap. It was the pain that the look in Harpers eyes sent through you. It was the pain from the momentarily fear that ripped through her. It was the pain of you realizing you had just lost your only true friend. 

Your body shook with sobs, the force of your tears making breaths hard to gather. Suddenly the door to your dormitory burst open. 

"Holy shit y/n/n."

You could hardly hear the voice over the echo of your own sobs. But soon a pair of arms wrapped slowly around you lifting you slowly from the floor. You buried your face into the cloak of the boy who now held you in his arms. You took a sharp breath of alcohol and smoke, with an undertone of chocolate.

(Well fuck I hit the word limit. Click THIS for Ending.)

Taglist

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @songforhema

#sirius black imagines #sirius black x oc #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #sirius black x remus lupin #regulus black imagines #regulus black x reader #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin x oc #remus lupin x reader #sirius balck x you #marauders imagines #marauders au #marauders era #marauders roleplay #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #remus x sirius #remus #draco imagines #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco x oc #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley imagines

[buck-nialled]

Teenage Dream - N. Horan Imagine

bc why work on my werewolf!shawn fic when I can procrastinate and write a 3.5k word Niall imagine instead? btw this was inspired by the video of Niall and Lewis singing the song “teenage dream”. If you haven’t seen it I would highly recommend watching below eargasms are a guarantee okey ready here we go:

     Touring with Niall was…to put it in one word…tricky. Feeling all of the world going beneath your feet could make someone feel as though they were flying. From potholes to speed bumps to road bumps, the only thing about flying forty miles an hour across the continents that you loathed was the bruises that littered your body in the oddest of places; the side of your left foot that was stubbed against the leg of the couch, a red-angry right hip after being jostled into the counter, a small nick on your cheek that the damn paparazzi and their nice-ass cameras tried utilizing as—the one and only piece—of evidence that Niall was abusing you. If only they knew that he was the one who’d helped you ice it after your run-in with the door frame upon entering back into the bus from one of Niall’s longest shows. The crowd was so wild and hyped up that Niall fed on their adrenaline and gifted them with two encores, with Lewis and Fletcher joining him on stage. Still, he was there for you when he could be. Even at midnight, icing your cheek and holding back snickers at your small whines and pleas to kiss the wound better.

You could add the “helping when he could part” to the small list of loathing too, but that was selfish to even think about. You have admitted to yourself multiple times on the bus, day and night, alone on the beds or couches or even to yourself as you drowned out to a movie with the comforting arm draped around your waist and one of his hands tied to yours, that Niall was more distant on this tour than his last.

He did grow confidence, you knew. But that was far from a bad thing, and surely not the root of his dismissive behavior. His first album came out, he was a little rocky being by himself in his process for the first time. He did not need approval from three or four other people or even nineteen thousand of them. Now that his second solo album was out, he was like a mom with your fourth child. He knew more about the in and outs of interviews. How to pose just right, alone in front of a camera. Before, he was all too vulnerable. But now, he felt as though he could lasso the world around his finger by playing a few strums of his guitar.

You were proud of him, so very much that you made sure to remind him every night. Sometimes it was a long spiel which left both of you red and other times the only words that came out were slurred gibberish and moan-language that became muffled into one another’s sweaty shoulders.

But these past few weeks have felt different. You’ve missed that small thing—whatever it was—a spark, a flicker? Okay, now that was totally unintentional but you got your point across—something was missing. And you were missing it badly, like a child with your favorite blanket or snack your parents’ always stuffed away in your lunchbox that made getting through the first day of kindergarten a little easier. Where was that comfort? Where has it gone?

Well, little did you know you weren’t the only one feeling this way. In fact, Niall felt it too, and had he known you had been feeling it just as much, he would have argued he felt it ten-fold. But his lips stayed together, and his eyes continued observing your face. The curvatures of your nose he always adored kissing the button off, the way your eyelashes seemed to fall perfectly, high on your cheeks he seemed to always keep dry and if not that than wet with tears of joy. “Only joy, always joy,” he remembers you telling him once after you began absolutely sobbing upon his first single, alone, being shared over the radio.

Your eyelids slowly fluttered and cracked open, and what lies beneath them--God, he could go on for hours about those beauties. The small flecks and twinges that orbit your pupils, he swears your mind is a whole solar system he only knows a few planets of and man, how lucky he is to know it will take light years to explore them, and even more lucky to know that it will probably be longer than that. A small part of him hopes it’s actually an infinity.

“You know stranger, it’s rude to stare without me knowing your name…” you turns your body to face the completely opposite direction before sitting yourself up. Your bare upper half was splayed for Niall’s viewing before an even more captivating one eclipsed it: the familiar cloth of his tee-shirt he had planned on wearing to bed the night prior. But if he was being honest with himself, he did not mind this view much either.

“Well then allow me to introduce m’self,” His glorious morning voice crackled through the air like an old speaker, and it made your body nearly quiver in its wake. His forearm, not super-model muscular was still nimble when it needed to be snaked around the girl’s clothed torso and tugged your back right where he needed your to be and where you wanted to be. A squeal was elicited from the playful snare of his arm as you were plunged back to his bare chest. “I happen to be the love of your life.” He jokes with the bare of his teeth. The same ones that probably left a multitude of marks along your body. Places that nobody but the both of you could see but still…how could you be upset with this man gazing down at you as though you were the speculated eighth wonder of his world? He was the “love of your life”, after all.

“Well, then Karma must have finally noticed me.” You quip in reply. Niall quirks one of his brows at this statement and only tugs you closer as he begins speaking in that deep, sexy, melodic tone his voice has that just seems to captivate you. “No, actually I think—I think it might’ve been me that noticed you.” He leaned his head down farther down towards yours until your noses bumped against one another’s. He kissed the tip of your pert one which cued it to crinkle up, and him to only laugh aloud.

And you could feel it again. He could too. The spark, the flicker. Your soft hand lifted from the comforter beneath the two and traveled upward to graze the side of his stubbled jaw. He noticed you admired him too, in the moments he was awake because God knows if he was not sleeping beside your today and the two and a half years prior, you would’ve rolled over onto the cold sheets and dreamt until the afternoon about a hot cup of coffee instead of actually being woken by the aroma of the blend filling your home. Whether your home was on the road, or in a hotel overseas, far from your hometown. You knew one thing about your home upon falling in love with the man before you; he wasjust that for you. He was your home. You loved him.

Love. The word felt so foreign though it seemed like just last night they were whispering it into one another’s ears. It seemed like more often they were calling each other mindless pet names like “petal” or “Ni” or “princess” or “babe.” God, babe? You two were really back to the “babe” level now? You couldn’t stand even a second more of that thought. And now at this point, it seemed like the words were just crawling out of your throat, begging to be said.

“I—“ and right before they could, of course, Karma seemed to come to pay you a visit. But this time it bit you in the ass when the door to the room slid open and into the wall beside it, revealing Lewis there, fully dressed. “Hey, mate. Sorry to interrupt, but we’re stopped here for about an hour and there’s a lil’ diner joint just outside if either of you is up for breakfast.” He glanced between you and Niall, still half-naked and still between the sheets and still with the same thought on your mind of how you’re supposed to remind him how much you freaking love him with Lewis standing in front of you probably thinking of what kind of eggs he’s gonna order.

“Sure mate, just give us a minute to get ready.” Lewis nods and presses a button beside the doorframe again, and letting the sliding door eliminate him from your view. Niall turned to you, about to speak up, but you didn’t let him.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Without further hesitation, you lifted yourself off of his chest and off of the bed, before gathering a change of clothes and towel from the small closet in the back room. You departed from him and ventured into the small bathroom located right outside. Upon the door clicking shut, you leaned your head against the cool wood of it. Despite the tears of frustration yearning to escape your eyes, you let a downtrodden sigh fall past your lips instead. Your sex life was amazing, as always. You still felt an intimacy with him personally. Nothing had changed. So why are you feeling as though everything has?

You shook your head as though you were hoping your doubts would fall out of your ears. It did not work, obviously, so your next plan of attack was to fill good things inside of it. Good moments with Niall when both of you were younger and still hopelessly in that puppy dog-honeymoon phase of love where all the both of you wanted to know was one another. Yeah, that just only made you sadder. You resorted to your phone and its shuffle method, instead of while you were twisting the shower knob to just the right temperature. Your favorite musicians and their songs quietly flowed through your ears, their poetic words reverberating throughout your cranium. But when the opening notes of flicker echoed against the tile of the shower, your hand flew to your phone in an instant and pressed “skip.” You really hoped Niall was too caught up in his own thoughts to hear a different tune interrupt his own. You knew it would hurt him if he did hear it. But you also knew that you would come out of the shower with water still running down your face, had you let the song resume.

You let yourself stand beneath the steaming water and let it cascade down your body as a lighter tone filled your ears. It was an old song, and man did it bring back some old memories.

Niall, on his first solo tour with you in the passenger seat as the two of you, drove to the airport. It was eight am and the sun peeking through the windshield and screaming for your attention with its hot blindness would have made you groan. But with the heart-shaped sunglasses taking over almost a quarter of your face and Niall beside you with one of his hands on the wheel, the other taking purchase on your thigh and your stomach ready to combust with all of the joy it contained for the man sat next to you, it was impossible to feel any sadness at times like that. The radio host had just finished playing his song, which Niall did not hesitate to give you a live version of between the windows of his convertible, and was now clueing the next one coming up. “An oldie but a goodie,” hinted the upbeat voice emitting from the car’s speakers, before the familiar notes flooded your senses once again. And for the next three minutes, you serenaded Niall with the biggest smile on your face, and a similar one overcame his features as you did so.

Now every time that song comes on, no matter where or with who, it was just a habit to sing it aloud. Hell, you remember singing it just the other day as Lewis strummed the chords on his guitar. Niall was sat next to you just admiring your profile the whole time. He mumbled something afterward that you were not really paying attention to, but it must have been a good thing since his lips locked with yours not too soon after.

“I know you get me, so I let my walls come down…down….” You begin singing, while that spark begins building in you again. You covered the song with a slowed-down, more heart-felt version than the original. And between the tiles with that same feeling imbibing your chest and the images of you and Niall in the car that morning playing like a slideshow in your mind, it felt right. “You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream the way you turn me on…….don’t ever look back, don’t ever look-“ A distinct chime left your phone and intercepted the current song. It was a snippet of the Stranger Things theme, a ninety-nine cent identifier for when Niall texted you and made your heart pick up its pace each time your ears picked it up from the other room. But this one gave you a different feeling. Like your heart was being clutched into a tight fist that would not let up and left you, in return, gasping for fresh air.

You stopped the shower after a few more minutes and flipped the phone back up to face yourself. You read the text slowly and carefully as if trying to decode the clearly innocuous message on the screen.

🍀❤️

left with Lewis to breakfast place. no need to rush getting ready, we got plenty of time

But now you could not help but dress as rapidly as possible. Because, as coy as guys are when talking about their love life. You had an itching feeling Niall and Lewis had plenty of time with you “taking your time” to talk about you.

Niall set his phone on the table face-up with a sigh. Lewis did not let that go past his ears and perked up a little at his friend’s somber expression. “What’s up, mate?” Niall chewed his lip, debating on using his good friend as a  temporary therapist while on the road. Lewis did not deserve to have all of Niall’s woes put atop of his shoulders. “Come on, tell me what’s going on, Nialler.”

“Something just isn’t right…” He admits, stirring his fork about on the plate, but never taking a pick at any of the options that were dispersed on it.

“Well, what is it? I’m sure if the eggs or bacon is bad we can ask for a new batch—“

“No, no not with the food. It’s Y/N…We’ve just been distant, lately.”

“Is that so. I could’ve sworn last night you two were going at it like rabbits.” Lewis remarks, taking a sip of his clear plastic glass of orange juice.

“No, not in that way,” Niall grumbled. “Just…I’ve felt like we have not given each other enough personal affection. Like, I can’t remember the last time we told each other ‘I love you.’”

“I can.” Lewis snickers, which earned him a considerate slap to his shoulder.

“I mean not in bed, ya piece of shit.” Lewis hums during another hearty sip of his OJ. “That’s easy.” He mumbles “It was uh…the other night, yeah? We were all shit-faced and she was singing that Katy Perry song. How’s it go…you make me something, something—“

“Teenage Dream. Yeah, that’s right…I did tell her I loved her after that. And…”

“Yeah, you two spit-swapped in front of me, probably led to some other stuff I really don’t want to think about…” Lewis says as he shovels a forkful of food into his mouth and starts munching.

“I have an idea. How about—“ the bell above the door jingled as another patron: just his luck. It was you, about to walk in on his genius idea.

“How about, what?” Lewis shrugged through his mouthful of hash browns and toast as you only neared closer, unsure of what conversation you had stumbled into.

“How about…” Niall sat up and grabbed your hands, sitting you down on his side of the booth, “I go order for you.”

“Okay…” you agree through a nervous laugh, a little unsure. It was not what would be on your plate, Niall knew you well enough by this point to know your breakfast preferences. It was how…quick he was to attend to you and leave Lewis completely neglected in what looked like an important conversation.

“Is he okay?” You ask while furrowing your brows, as he was up ordering at the counter.

“Don’t ask me. You’re the one with him.” Lewis says, having Y/N’s eyes divert to her hands and a sigh leaves her lips. “Hey.” Lewis reaches his hand over to cover yours as a sense of comfort. “I’m only kidding ya, love. He’s doing fine. Just jitters from bein’ on the road every day are all.” You nod at him, his words easing you slightly.

Once breakfast ended, the rest of the day usually consisted of Niall and his two opening acts running around from backstage, to soundcheck, to their designated meet and greet areas, and so on. What you did in the meantime was all up to you. At first, you would sit through their soundcheck and just follow them around as if you were a lost puppy. It then occurred to you one day that you were traveling across the freaking world and all of the sightseeing you could be doing made you feel like you were taking these experiences for granted. But with the loss of sleep lately, all you really needed today was a nap. And that was exactly what you did in preparation for tonight’s concert.

“Okay, what was your idea?” Lewis asked Niall after finally ending their soundcheck. Niall could not decipher if the day was passing by slow or fast, but he was just nervous about how Y/N would react to his idea. That is if he had time to talk to Lewis about it.

“The song, Teenage Dream. You know the chords right?” He asks as both men make their way to the dressing rooms prior to their meet and greet.

“I mean, yeah kind of. Not totally—“

“Teach me the song. And then we’ll sing it tonight. Have her in the front row...” Niall’s voice drifts off, awaiting Lewis’s approval.

“Mate, that’s a brilliant idea. But we already had soundcheck, a meet and greet. Will we have time?”

“We’ll make some. Somehow.” He looked at Lewis with a look of confidence, while Lewis still seemed unsure. “We will.”

And they did. Admittedly, the bathroom was a strange place to meet up and play guitars, harmonizing to a Katy Perry song. But the acoustics were amazing and in half an hour, Niall was stood in front of thousands, Lewis beside him, now ready to serenade the love of his life.

“We practiced this in the bathroom and had no soundcheck. So, God knows what happens in these next three minutes.” A light chuckle breaks through his lips as he speaks, and the audience does not hesitate to laugh along with him. Both Niall and Lewis count down together before the soft strumming of their guitars fills the entire stadium. You were nestled in the front row of the entire show and let your eyebrows furrow at the notes the two began to play. You knew Niall’s setlist for this tour front-to-back by now, but for some reason, you could not recall this opening being played.

Your thoughts were tuned down the moment his voice echoed through the stadium.

“You think I’m pretty without any makeup on….”

And just like that, your mind was flooded with all of the good memories. Every happy moment you seemed to have with this beautiful man singing in front of you. He was the love of your life, indeed. When he and Lewis begin harmonizing, that was when the emotional effects start to kick in. Your eyes developed a shield of gloss without your consent and a familiar feeling embraced you like an old friend who could not stop reminding you how much they have missed you. That spark, that feeling that you have been missing just as much. The one that you will never let go of again, it was back.

During the bridge of the song, you connected eyes with Niall and very dramatically mouthed “I love you” in order for him to make out each syllable. He let a smile overcome his face and a rush of adrenaline took hold of his body just as quick. While strumming the final notes, his eyes never left yours.

“I know you get me so I let my walls come down…down.”

addicted to Niall? i can’t blame you, but i can help! click HERE for more!

#niallhoran #niall james horan #njh #one direction #harry styles #zaynmalik #louis tomlinson #liampayne #fanfic #fanfiction #fangirl #imagine #oneshot #niall horan imagine #song inspired #music #writing #lewis capaldi

[t100ficrecsblog]

an interview with @ravenreyes-0g (she/hers)

what are you working on right now? I'm working on both my Bellarke fic for BLM and a personal fantasy story that I've written and rewritten from the beginning to about 5000000 times because my ideas keep changing. My Bellarke fic is a modern day COVID AU that is also the longest I've ever done so it's been taking a minute to finish! :) 

what’s something you’d like to write one day? A YA either historical fiction or realistic fiction LGBTQ+ romance. I have  a ton of ideas for plots, but I haven’t quite gotten the chance to sit down and try to plot them out. For historical fiction, I’m very interested in the 1900-1950s era, especially the Roaring 20s and WWI/II so I’d most likely set it there! I’m all in for the angsty romance, but I'd definitely want to end it on a happy note (unlike my current fantasy work) and I’m really looking forward to getting the chance to write a character driven story that doesn’t focus so much on heavy plot elements - something I can’t do as much in a fantasy setting!

what is the fanwork you’re most proud of? This one is actually pretty hard considering how my writing style has developed since I started writing fanfics. But if I had to choose, I’d probably say my FirstPrince (Alex/Henry from Red, White, and Royal Blue) fic on Ao3 called To Love Another Is to Cherish Life Itself. The title is a bit dramatic but basically it is an angsty/fluffy one-shot that I wrote really late one night and did minimal edits to before posting. It definitely feels like the most in character and honest fic I’ve ever done, and it broke my heart to write about some of the darker stuff, but in the end I’m pretty proud of it! 

why did you first start writing fic? Well, I’ve been writing fanfics since I was probably 10 or 11 years old (I had PJO phase that spanned close to a decade and I’m still not totally over it 😂) but I started publishing work on Wattpad literally the night I turned 13. That was actually my first Bellarke/the 100 fic! It started out as my predictions for season 5 and then evolved into a fix-it fic for everything I didn’t like about the season. I’ve abandoned it for almost two years, but I’m slowly coming back to it so...slow updates y’all :)

what frustrates you most about fic writing? Everything! Just kidding - I love fic writing! But if I had to choose, probably two main things tho. 1) Creating a plot for a long term fic - I’m sooooo bad at it because I always feel like I’m writing too much in line with the actual show/book/movie and it feels like copying. 2) Making sure that I stay honest to the character I’m writing about. I have a huge tendency to write my fics (ESPECIALLY my one-shots) from the POV of the character who was not the main character in the original thing (like my POV for my RWRB fic is Henry, the love interest of Alex/other main character). This means that the only look inside their head that we’ve gotten has been through the eyes of the main character - which can obviously be biased. I try to stay as honest as I can to my interpretation of the character drawn directly from the text - but sometimes that means that I can’t include scenes that I want to because it feels off/out of character and that’s always disappointing. (also dialogue is just...something I really need to work on)

what are your top five songs right now? Ahhh see it changes on my day/mood but right now it’s probably

1. The Last Great American Dynasty - Taylor Swift 2. The Garden - Dua Lipa 3. Mirrorball - Taylor Swift 4. Icarus - Emma Blackery 5. Betty - Taylor Swift 

(taylor really blessed us with folklore...I’m in love)

what are your inspirations? Ahhh - there are many. First and foremost, The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak. It’s my favorite book for so many reasons, but it teaches me so much about writing and character development. Also Liesel and Rudy melt my heart every time. I also love all the songs listed above for inspiration, and I listen to I Get To Love You by Ruelle (it’s the Malec wedding song for any Shadowhuners fans out there!) whenever I write a really emotionally intense romantic scene. If you’re looking for amazing fic recs, I highly recommend all of HMS-Chill’s works (multi fandoms), clarkesbell, and DracoWillHearAboutThis on Ao3. Though not all of them write Bellarke/the 100, if you are in any of their fic fandoms, I highly recommend checking them out because they are fantastic writers!

what first attracted you to Bellarke? what attracts you now? Honestly? #1 - their development. I love enemies to lovers with my whole heart, but I honestly didn’t see Bellarke as romantic until the 2x05 hug where I was just hit with a wave of OMG THEY BELONG TOGETHER!!! Seriously, though, the fact that they go from enemies, to grudging allies, to co-leaders, to partners, to friends, to best friends, to soulmates just makes my heart go !!!! - Also they have insane chemistry, and that certainly doesn’t hurt. What attracts me to them now is much the same, but also how much they care about each other. They’d go to the ends of the earth to save one another, and it just blows me away how powerful their screen time is, even when their scenes together have become so rare. I also don’t thinkI’m ever getting over 6x10. I swear my heart actually stopped beating when I watched it live the first time. 

BESIDES Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? Ha! Umm, I actually really like Murven, both platonically and romantically. Their journey might not be as well developed as Bellarke’s but it is still a powerful one hinging on love and forgiveness. I love how Lindsey/Richard play off of each other on screen - it’s such a joy to watch! I’ve also loved the Octavia/Indra dynamic, but it’s kinda been tabled in recent seasons which is sad :(

why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm? Two reasons - 1) I wanted to do everything I could for BLM and it was so amazing that I could do that, and write works for my favorite show! 2) I was super curious about the prompts people would send in. My work right now is a modern day AU COVID fic where Bellamy and Clarke have to share a room together in an overcrowded hospital until one day Clarke disappears. It’s so different than what I usually write - bc I almost always write canon compliant/in universe fics - so it’s a nice challenge!

what’s your writing process like? Honestly it depends. For long/multi-chapter fics I try to plan out as much of it as I can, characters, plot, important moments, etc - even though I am not very good at planning. But for one-shots I tend to go off of emotion or feelings. Usually when I write one-shots, it’s because a particular line or moment in a book/movie/show really spoke out to me, and spurred this idea in my head. I always start with the line I want to get to at the heart of the fic and then write around it from there. I am definitely much more of a panster than a planner- which is why one-shots work much better for me!

what are some things you’d like to recommend? 1. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Also, All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven, The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee, Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo, Red White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuinston, The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz. 2. Musicals! They can be amazing inspiration - my favorites are Les Mis, Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, Six, Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, Hadestown, Anastasia, Island Song, Newsies, & Tuck Everlasting! 3. TV Shows besides The 100 - Anne with an E, Shadowhunters (just pretend you haven’t read the books), French SKAM, Love Victor, HSMTMTS, Merlin, Lucifer, I think I’m just listing fandoms at this point 😂

Also, almost any Taylor Swift, Troye Sivan, Conan Gray, Dua Lipa, Emma Blackery or Harry Styles songs are amazing!

My handle is the same for everything - Twitter, Tumblr, Ao3, Wattpad (if anyone still uses that anymore), etc (RavenReyes0G). I also run a book review blog on Instagram which is @betweenthepagesandtea, so feel free to check that out too! Request a fic written by her via @bellarkefic-for-blm!

#bellarkefic4blm #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarkefics for blm interview

[master-sass-blast]

Tricks, Tricks, Tricks!

I hate doing intros when I’m tired bc it feels like it takes forever.

Summary: You and Wade set up a haunted house for the kids at Xavier’s --and prank Scott Summers, of course.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: G. Just ignore the swear words. Pls.

Set before “Questions and Answers” but after “THIS IS HALLOWEEN.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo

It’s not every day that you and Wade stumble onto a legitimately, objectively good idea.

Granted, you guys have tons of great ideas. The fallback of nearly all of them, however, is that they usually involve some sort of destruction and-slash-or generally deviant behavior.

Which, in yours and Wade’s opinions, makes the entire shebang that much more fun, but dealing with the “post brilliant idea clean-up” and the temporary social fallout among your peers –depending on who you target and piss off—isn’t quite as fun.

However.

It’s Halloween season. And the teachers at Xavier’s tend to do some sort of Halloween-y thing for the students there because a lot of places that host seasonal events –surprise, surprise—won’t admit mutants.

Plus, Piotr loves Halloween, which means the two of you have a “non-deviant” spokesperson to advocate for your plan.

And, the cherry on top of it all, is that Scott has been an absolute asshat as of late, meaning that he needs to get the shit pranked out of him to whack his massive ego back down to a more manageable size.

You and Wade grin at each other as you look up various “how to make a haunted house” tutorials. This is gonna be awesome.

 ***

 Convincing Piotr to back your idea is easy.

First, you convince him without Wade around. You’ve learned that Piotr doesn’t necessarily mind if you and Wade come up with ideas, but that Wade’s manner of “selling them” completely frustrates your darling boyfriend and puts him off even the most benign suggestions.

Second, you present the idea as something fun and seasonal for the students at Xavier’s; Piotr, essentially, is a massive mother hen that loves nothing more than making his “kids” happy, which means that he’s on board for just about anything that involves doing special stuff for the students.

Third, you’re his girlfriend and he thinks you’re cute, which means all you have to really do is bat your eyelashes at him and say please.

(And, granted, you’d had other tricks up your sleeve if he’d hesitated, but sometimes life just lets you knock one out of the park. It’s a great feeling.)

***

 With Piotr’s seal of approval, you wind up selling the idea to the rest of the X-Men with no problem –and, since Jean’s out of town visiting family, she’s not here to rat you out to Scott, either.

Granted, Xavier still could, but you’re starting to think he’s less of a “lawful good” and more of a “neutral” or “chaotic good” type than he lets on. There’s been plenty of times he could’ve sold you or Wade out on any of your pranks, but he usually keeps his mouth shut.

Ah, well. Best not to question the freebies life sends your way.

Better yet, you and Wade already have a list of ideas and necessary supplies, thanks to your “haunted house research binge” that you two did earlier. Granted, Piotr outright naysays half of the suggestions due to them being too expensive, too destructive to the building, or too gross –Wade—but all in all it’s a success.

Hell yeah.

 ***

 The official set up goes as such: on the designated “haunted house day,” you, Wade, and a few volunteers get to spend the morning and part of the afternoon setting up the haunted house in a sectioned off part of the mansion –except it’s for the elementary aged students, so it’s technically “Haunted House Lite,” but that’s fine. Then, at four in the afternoon, the elementary aged students will get to walk through, enjoy some G-rated spooks, and get little bags of candy at the end to enjoy.

Lovely. Wonderful. Wholesome.

And then the fun comes in.

Because, beknownst to Piotr only because he caught you and Wade conspiring with everyone else, you and Wade managed to get all the middle school and high school students in the room and fill them in on your idea to scare the everliving shit out of one Scott Summers.

And, because teenagers are basically little shits that run on caffeine and entropy, they’re all super down to watch Scott get pranked.

So, once the little students have had their seasonal fun and have been ushered off for dinner with everyone else, you and Wade and your volunteers have five paltry hours to beef up your haunted house with some higher grade spooks and also set up your prank for Scott.

Granted, it’s not a lot of time to work with, but the two of you have worked with less before.

 ***

 The prank itself, compared to yours and Wade’s usual fare, is… unremarkable, actually.

“Go figure,” Wade grumbles under his breath while he wrestles with one of the several smoke machines he’d purchased for the prank. “Captain Vanilla-Save-For-the-Pole-Up-His-Ass doesn’t watch horror movies. Leave it to a fucking jumpscare. Fucking stupid. He’s literally the single most boring person to exist!”

“Hey, at least it makes it easy for us,” you reason as you work on dying a bunch of cheesecloth with a massive mixing bowl of tea. “Why go through the extra effort for a dill-hole like him?”

“Fair enough. Hey, I think I got this working!” Wade tries turning on the smoke machine, then pulls a scowl when it makes an alarming grinding noise, turns it back off with a disgusted huff, and turns in his chair to shout down the hall. “Nathan! Get your ass in here and talk to your cousin! This fucking thing won’t work!”

You snort and shake your head.

(Nathan does, in fact, get the smoke machine to work, but only because he bothers to read the instructions first.

Wade calls bullshit anyway.)

 ***

 The day of is nothing short of busy.

The two of you –and your volunteers—set up shop in one of the unfinished wings meant to be proper classrooms. You’ve got the entryway, the flight of stairs going up to the second floor, the hallway, and a few of the rooms of the rooms to set up your little “house of horrors” in (along with the back stair case that leads back down to the main hallway on the first floor, but that’s only for an easy exit for everyone).

The main order of business is such: put up the most labor intensive props –curtains to black out the windows, a curtain to block off the first floor hallway from view, spiderwebs, anything hanging from the ceiling or the walls that isn’t going to be switched out—first so that the bulk of the work is done for the day, since you won’t have much time between the littler students and the older students (and, most importantly, Scott).

The smoke machines get put in next, along with any special lights –including some cool black lights you and Wade had gotten their hands on, which go next to a mirror at the end of the walkthrough so the students can see what their costumes look like under the effects of the lights.

After that is the rest of the props, which are all switch out stuff. The younger students get some relatively innocuous skeletons, some cartoonish looking zombies, a couple mummies, and a bunch of pumpkins, black cats, and otherwise tame Halloween fare. The older students get much gnarlier, gorier stuff, including a demonic clown statue that actually gives you the creeps.

You grin as Wade sings “Spooky Scary Skeletons” –the dubstep remix, no less—while the two of you fill up goody bags for the students. This is going to be great.

***

 Piotr stops by after lunch with a bag of costumes –yours and his—and some extra supplies Wade had asked for.

You kiss his cheek as he hands off the bag of decorations to Wade. “Hey, babe. Had a good day?”

He nods. “Students are very excited to go through haunted house. Especially younger ones.”

“Well, here’s hoping we can give them some good, old-fashioned, spooky fun,” you say with a grin. “Ready to get changed and transform into creatures of the night?”

He does a scarily perfect Dracula laugh and winks at you. “But of course, moya lyubov’.”

Your costumes –for today and also for this year’s Halloween—are Dracula and the bride of Dracula. Piotr made nearly all of it, save for his shirt and slacks (and your two’s shoes, obviously), and between the costumes, the makeup, and some fake fangs, the two of you actually look the part.

(And Piotr sounds the part, what with his Russian accent and all. It’s almost like he was born for the role of Dracula.)

The two of you get to set up in one of the rooms with two doors, which also boasts a cauldron with a smoke machine in it, a bunch of fake spiderwebs, a couple of fake coffins, and some skeletons hanging on the walls. You get dressed, do each other’s make up, and then Piotr helps you put on your fangs before doing his own.

“So, tell me how to do a good Russian accent,” you say, lisping slightly around your fangs. “I gotta match what you’re selling.”

“I think you do just fine,” Piotr replies as he puts a glob of denture cream into one of his fangs and sticks it to his upper canine tooth. “Just try to avoid cheesy mobster accent, and you will do great.”

“Are we gonna do the whole ‘I want to suck your blood’ thing?” you ask. “I think we probably should.”

“If you want to.”

“Okay. I’m gonna practice, you tell me how I sound.” You clear your throat, get into your mental zone, then let out an accented, ominous, “I want to suck your blood!”

Piotr chuckles as he tests the fang’s hold on his tooth. “Very nice, myshka.”

You preen, then practice a few more times at varying pitches and speeds. Then, once you’re certain Piotr’s adjusted to your fooling around, you lean in and murmur, “I want to suck your dick.”

Piotr sputters, cheeks flushing –even under the pale make up you’d put on him—and looks around for anyone that might’ve overheard you. Once he’s certain that no one heard you –especially Wade—he exhales and shakes his head. “Later.”

You giggle and kiss his cheek.

***

 Right at four, the elementary aged students are ushered into the haunted house.

You can hear them from the room where you and Piotr are set up, giggling and gasping as Ellie and Yukio –who had volunteered to walk the younger students through—escort them along.

“Alright, before we enter this room, we all need to practice our brave faces,” Yukio says outside the door furthest away from you and Piotr. “Because in this room are Dracula and his wife!”

There’s some gasps and “oohs” from the kids, along with a couple expected “Dracula isn’t real”s.

“Don’t get too close,” Ellie says warningly. “Or else they might try to suck your blood!”

You grin at Piotr as the kids gasp again –he grins back and winks at you—then put on your “game face” as Ellie opens the door so the kids can enter the room.

It’s hard to keep a straight face, though, in the presence of the elementary students. It’s easy to tell that they’re really enjoying the mini haunted house, what with how they’re bouncing and grinning, and that combined with their adorable costumes –skeletons, princesses, pirates, pumpkins, there’s even one of the kids dressed as Iron Man—makes the entire thing downright heart-melting.

The kids all gasp, giggle, and whisper amongst themselves as they approach you and Piotr, flocking together like a bunch of baby birds—

And then one of the kids in the back shouts, “That’s not Dracula! That’s Mr. Piotr!”

Ellie, Yukio, and you all snort, while Piotr just winks at the kid in question.

“What do we have here, my love?” you ask, slipping into your “vampire accent” as you make a show of looking over all the kids, which prompts another slew of gasps and giggles from them. “It seems someone has brought us a bunch of tiny treats to eat!”

Piotr “hmms” as he stands, looming over the students in his long, flowing black cloak. “So it does, moya Koroleva. I must say, I am feeling peckish. Perhaps we should have afternoon snack.”

“Oh no!” Yukio exclaims. “Do you guys think they should be able to do that?”

“No!” the group of students all shout at once (which, admittedly, is a little rough on the ears).

“Well, I think we can do whatever we want,” you retort, looking over at Piotr to make sure the two of you time everything properly. “And…”

“We want to suck your blood!” you and Piotr declare while simultaneously fake-lunging at the group of students.

The students shriek, then run out the other door at Ellie and Yukio’s encouragement.

You and Piotr “pursue” the students –which is less of an actual pursuit and more just angling yourselves in their direction—until the last of the kids “escape” into the hall, then stop and grin at each other.

“I think that went well,” you say –quietly, so as not to disrupt the students’ experience.

“I agree.” Piotr holds out his arm to you. “Shall we, moya Koroleva?”

You giggle and place your hand on his arm. “Absolutely, my love.”

The two of you head out the door at the far end of the room –the door the students had originally entered in—and into the hall. Fortunately, there are a couple curtains blocking the rest of the hall from view, meaning that there’s no risk of anyone seeing the two of you sneaking through the hallway and down the stairs to the main floor.

Piotr ducks into one of the storage closets by the staircase and pulls out a box with various goody-bags stashed in it. “These looks very nice, moya lyubov’.”

“Thank you. I tried to make sure everyone got one of everything –oh, wait a second.” You reach into the closet and pull out a bag you’d stashed separately from everyone else’s. “This one’s Timothy’s. I wanted to make sure it didn’t get mixed up and he get peanuts by accident.”

“Good thinking.” Piotr sets the main box of treats on a nearby table, then turns back to you and kisses the top of your head. “How are you feeling, dorogoy?”

“I’m feeling good; I’m really looking forward to the big prank tonight!” The corner of your mouth turns up when he makes a “hmmm” of disapproval. “I take it you’re not a fan?”

“I just… I am concerned about how you and Wade target Scott,” Piotr says diplomatically. “The two of you seem to ignore everyone else.”

“Well, there’s not really a need to prank everyone else,” you reason. “And it’s not like we prank Scott all the time, either.”

“I would just worry about team dynamics.”

“He already fucks that up by being an asshole, honey,” you argue, careful to keep your voice down so the kids don’t hear you swearing. “Scott’s a total dick! He’s objectively horrible to Wade; he’s also a jerk to Russell. Like, massively.”

Piotr sighs. “I… I do not think pranking helps the situation.”

“Look, sometimes when people refuse to listen to polite conversation, you have to smack them around a little to keep them from letting their asshole behavior ooze all over everyone.” You grin. “Wade and I are just the smacking team.”

Piotr glances towards the door where the back staircase opens onto the main floor; there’s sounds of little voices and footsteps, meaning the kids are almost done. “Just… be considerate. That is all I ask.”

“Already done, baby,” you reassure him. “It’s a super basic jumpscare prank. Nothing about him, nothing about being a mutant, all Halloween themed. I made sure Wade didn’t get too crazy or destructive this time around.”

Piotr relaxes a little at that and kisses your temple—

And then the door opens, and the group of students rush into the main hallway.

“I told you it was them!” one of the students shouts, prompting everyone else to laugh.

“It was,” you admit, foregoing the vampire accent. “Did you guys like the haunted house?”

“Yeah!” the group choruses at once.

You and Piotr both grin, then work on handing out bags of candy to the students –and make sure that Timothy gets his special bag, no allergy episodes today, no sir—

And it’s good. Life is good.

 ***

 Once the younger students exit for dinner, everything switches to a mad scramble to flip the space for the second walkthrough.

Granted, it doesn’t sound like much, until you realize that it involves taking down basically all the props and putting new ones in.

It’s sweaty work, and by the time you’re done you have to reapply all your vampire make-up –because you and Piotr are still doing the vampire bit. And then—

And then.

Once the older teams exit the “vampire room,” you’ll sneak out the “entry” door and down the hall, then hover over the door everyone exits out into the main floor hall at the end of the walkthrough, and when they do, you’ll drop down next to Scott and scare the everliving shit out of him.

Simple. Stress-free. Borderline stupid.

It’s gonna be great.

 ***

 The second walkthrough is just as much of a success as the first one. The older students aren’t as giggly or excitable as the younger group, but it’s still easy to tell they’re enjoying the haunted house –at least, if the occasional screams and comments about “how cool” everything looks is anything to go by.

Better yet is that Scott is jumping and gasping at, like, everything. He’s so easily scared that you won’t even have to try when you drop down next to him. He’s so easily scared that the prank almost isn’t fun.

Keyword being: almost.

You and Piotr do your vampire schtick again –which, unlike what you did for the elementary students, this round involves the two of you lunging out of dark corners and acting, objectively, much scarier—and when the older teens and Scott run out, you grin, give Piotr a kiss, then dart out the other door.

It takes basically zero time to get positioned over the door everyone exits out of. You tuck yourself up into the corner where the walls and ceiling meet, then resign yourself to being bored while the older students finish their haunted house walkthrough.

Scott, predictably, is the first one out of the door. He looks annoyed by the entire situation, and is trying to brush fake cobwebs off his shirt.

Perfect.

You wait until there are a couple of students in the hall as well –you can’t have the prank go unwitnessed—then count down from five before dropping down next to Scott while screaming “Trick or treat!” at the top of your lungs.

He jumps five feet into the air and shrieks like a teenage girl in a horror movie, and the students laugh.

Mission: accomplished.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #note: the author is not a scott summers fan #it's fine if you are #i'm just #no #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

[5sos-seavey]

Addicted - Blake Richardson

Blake Richardson Blurb

Request: from @blissfulblake - WATCHING TRASHY TV LIKE LOVE ISLAND OR BACHELOR WITH BLAKE AND GETTING SO INVESTED

Warning(s): some swearing

Tags: @kvd963, @peachybeachyqueeny, @bessonbear, @0totally-tubular0, @katie-avery, @tigerreece, @jonahmaraisstuff, @blissfulblake, @danielseaveyismyworld

A/N: since I know the the bachelorette just ended and I watched the last few episodes lol, I’m gonna change it to that, and I’m gonna make it the USA love island bc I also watched that too bc ya girl is trash lmao

SPOILERS FOR THE BACHELORETTE AND LOVE ISLAND USA IF ANYONE CARES OR HASNT WATCHED YET LOL

You were in the kitchen making more popcorn for you tv night with Blake thinking you’d have enough time during the commercial but then you hear Blake yelling, “Y/N get in here! The first guy is in the car on his way to Hannah!” The bachelorette was first on the list to watch since you both knew there’d be spoilers in an hour so you had to watch it live since it was the finale, “I’m coming,” you shouted back running to the living room.” You got to the couch and sat next to Blake just as the black SUV was pulling up to Chris, the host. “I swear to god if Tyler C. comes out of the car I will lose my shit,” you say knowing that the first person to arrive was always the one that was going to be sent home. And just as you said that, Tyler C. came out of the car and both you and Blake list it, “how could she choose Jed?! Tyler C. is clearly the better option!” “Right! Like no girl wants a guy like that! Doesn’t she know that he had a girlfriend coming into the show!” “Well if she didn’t at the point, she’s gonna find out and we’re gonna see the aftermath,” Blake said.

“Tyler C. had that whole speech and Hannah just didn’t choose him wow. And watch, this bitch Jed is gonna come on with his freaking guitar like a dumbass and still get chosen wow,” Blake spoke out of frustration which made you kinda laugh. You still never got over how he got so into watching these shows with you. And once the commercial break ended, out came Jed, and what do you know, with a goddamn guitar, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME,” Blake shouted so clearly annoyed and disgusted by this man, “if Hannah doesn’t find out all of this slim ball’s secrets, I’m gonna go to her house and tell her myself! Oh my god, please mute this, I can’t listen to him sing to her and watch this proposal, I’m going to throw up!” At this point you’re hysterically laughing at Blake’s reactions and commentary, “this is no laughing matter! This is the rest of Hannah’s life,” he says to you, now laughing as well.

Once you finished The Bachelorette, you moved into Love Island, and you had a few episodes to watch since they’re on every night and you both don’t have time to sit and watch it every night. “Kyra has to pick Cashel and not Eric, she’s gonna regret it if she does, she so clearly is falling for him, she’s just being scared,” you tell Blake. “True, but, I like Eric and I think he fits Kyra’s personality well.” You gasp jokingly, “how could you say that?! Whatever, as long as Elizabeth and Zac, and Alexandra and Dylan stay together, which they will, everything will be fine. One of them is gonna win anyways. Sent everyone else home,” you say getting louder at the end when you speak to the tv. Now Blake is the one laughing at your dedication to this show, “and you thought I was bad watching The Bachlorette.” “Oh shut up,” you say lighting hitting his arm, laughing.

Blake wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him as you watch the next episode of Love Island and he leans his head on your shoulder. “Are you tired,” you ask him. He yawns, “hmm no.” You stifle a laugh, “you can lay across my lap if you wanna get more comfy,” you tell him. And almost immediately his head is laying in your lap. “If you start you fall asleep, you should go upstairs soon though, Blake,” you whisper softly to him. He takes a moment to reply, being that he’s tired, “not without you.” This makes you smile, and you run your hand through his hair and lean down to kiss his forehead, “I love you sleepy.” “Love you too,” Blake says quietly as he cuddles into your lap more, slowly falling asleep.

#blake richardson #blake richardson imagine #blake richardson imagines #blake richardson blurb #blake richardson x reader #new hope club #new hope club imagine #new hope club imagines #new hope club blurb #nhc #nhc imagine #nhc imagines #nhc blurb #sams work

[simplygojo]

killer queen - chapter five

Series summary : Y/n, a native to London England, gets asked by the legend himself, Freddie Mercury, to help manage the band. Obviously she accepts, and it ends up being the best decision she’s ever made. Quickly she becomes close with each member of band, Roger Taylor specifically…

Chapter Summary : Finally, it’s time for Queen’s first tour where things get heated between you and Roger.

Word Count : 3.2k

Pairings : Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings : Swearing,

a/n - I made the gif for this FREDDIE bc he isn't trying to hide his teeth when he’s smiling here and it makes my heart melt! ALSO if you aren’t on this tag list and want to be added onto it then pls send me a message or ask! Love you all!

           About a week after Queen’s performance on the BBC, the five of you were getting ready to go on tour in America. You had already flown over from the UK, which felt like the longest flight in the world due to the fact that Roger invited three girls onto the plane as well. Once you landed Reid instructed you to go get some rest in the hotel, and explains that the man with the plan was Paul Prenter. Paul seemed nice, almost too nice as he spoke to the five of you with his Irish accent.

          You instructed the boys to meet you at 11:00 am on the day after your flight with their bags packed, knowing that if you hadn’t done so, they would be late. You, Brian, Freddie, and John were waiting in your hotel room with your suitcase, Freddie had about 3 full sized suitcases with him. The four of you sat there impatiently as John tapped his foot on the ground. You glanced at the clock and then to the door. “Bloody hell, why is he late.” You muttered to yourself. As if on cue, Roger walks in through the door with one of the girls from the plane under his arm. They’re both laughing, giggling, and both obviously drunk. You stood up and looked at him. “Really Rog?” You asked him, as you looked at the girl and then back at him. “This is Crystal.” He said, the girl glared at him. “Cheryl!” Roger walked away from her nonchalantly and nodded. “Oh that’s right.” He said as he sat down on the couch. You walked up to the girl. “Hey sorry, but you can’t be here right now. Would you mind leaving?” You asked her politely. She nodded and looked at you with a soft smile. “Roger said he’ll call me.” You nodded and shut the door behind her. “He won’t.” You whispered to yourself before walking over to the boys. “Brian, Fred, John, can you guys go pack the bus with everyone’s bags?” You asked them. They all nodded and rushed out of the room, they did not want to be near you when you went off on Roger.

          Roger spread his arms out over the backrest of the couch as he watched you walk towards him with a smirk on his face. You walked towards him, arms crossed over your chest as you glared down at him. “You’ve got to be joking, Rog.” You said as you stood in front of him. He shrugged. “Hey! I like women, a lot.” He said with a dry laugh. You continued to stare at him, why the hell was he like this? “No doing this while we’re on tour.” You said, pointing a finger at him. He just looked you up and down before tilting his head to the side. “Well...I’ll need to get my fix from someone…” He said as his eyes trailed over your body once more. You hated drunk Roger, absolutely hated him for the things that he could make you feel. You pushed those thoughts aside and rolled your eyes. “Your disgusting.” You muttered as you went to walk away, but stopped when Roger stood up. You slowly turned on your heels back to face him. “Can I help you?” You asked as you looked into his eyes. He smirked again before snagging a finger through your belt loop on your jeans and gently yanked you forward. You gasped from surprise as he did so, and put your arms in between the two of you. Roger’s face was only inches apart, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips, his hand resting on your hip with his index finger through your belt loop. You kept a hard look on your face as you tilted your head to the side. Before you could speak Roger began, “When are we going to act on this unspoken attraction between us, y/n?” He said, you scoffed at what he said, but deep down you knew exactly what he was talking about. “There is no unspoken attraction, Taylor.” You said as you struggled to get out of his grasp. “You know there bloody well is!” He shouted as you finally escaped his arms and took a couple steps back. “If there was, I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, because you always have so many bloody hookers around!” You shouted back. He rolled his eyes and took a swig if his beer. “That’s just an excuse, y/n!” He shouted even louder than before, taking another sip of his beer. You shook your head and let out a dry laugh, ‘How dare he raise his voice at you.’ You thought to yourself as you marched back up to him, grabbed the beer out of his hands and threw it on the ground, smashing the bottle. You did not break the eye contact that you and Roger held the whole time. You were absolutely fuming. “Get on the bloody tour bus, or I’ll make you.” You said, eyes fiery, as you pointed to the door. Roger looked at you, not necessarily with fear, but as if he was surprised you would talk back to him. If he was being honest, he was impressed, but he now knew what happened when you really pissed y/n y/l/n off. He put his hands up in defence as he walked towards the door. Once he was finally out the door you let out a shaky breath and looked at the smashed beer bottle. “Fuck.” You breathed before walking out the door and onto the tour bus.

           You walked onto the bus and didn’t say a word to anyone. You walked straight to the back of the bus and sat down on one of the couches. The bus jolted forward as it started to move, and now you were off. After about an hour of driving you decided to go sit with your friends as they were laughing about something. “What’s so funny?” You asked them as you sat down beside Brain. Freddie looked to John, and then to you. “I proposed to Mary before we left.” He said with a huge smile on his face. You absolutely adored when Freddie would smile and not try to hide his teeth. You smiled wide. “Fred! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” You said as you reached across the table to hold Freddie’s hand. After you asked some questions and the five of you celebrated, you felt the bus stop suddenly and heard the doors open. “Who the hell?” Brian muttered as he watched Paul walk onto the bus. You sighed and rolled your eyes at the sight of him. You got the feeling that there was something off about that guy, but you couldn’t tell what. “Hi Paul, darling!” Freddie said as he got up to free him. “I thought it would be better if I came along for the ride.” He said, with a toothy grin. “Great.” Roger said sarcastically as he looked towards you and stuck a finger in his mouth, pretending to gag. You put a hand over your mouth as you let out a small giggle. Brian rolled his eyes, but smiled a bit. For the rest of the ride through the Midwest USA the now six of you put together the whole show that the boys were going to be performing. Roger came up with the idea to put beer on his floor tom to create this amazing rock and roll effect. The boys performed show after show, each and every time was more spectacular than the time before.

         About midway through the tour after one of the shows Freddie decided he was going to use a payphone outback to call Mary. John and Brian told you that they were going to head to the hotel room early, which just left you and Roger waiting backstage for Freddie. “It was a really good show.” You said to Roger as you leaned up against the wall. Roger nodded and stood in front of you. “It’s incredible, playing in front of all these people.” He said. “They all love you, they can’t get enough.” You added, laughing a bit as you looked up at him. “I’m really glad you came with us y/n.” You smiled sweetly at him. “I’m really glad I came too.” You said. “Hey, um…” Roger trailed off as he looked down at you. “Yes…?” You said, urging him to finish what he was going to say. “I know that before, you said that you didn’t feel there was an unspoken attraction.” He said putting one hand on the wall behind you. “But, I know you feel something for me.” he told you, taking a small step forward so your faces were merely inches apart. “Well, if there is an unspoken attraction.” You said, looking down at the ground and then up at Roger. “Then maybe you should do something about it.” Your voice turned into a soft whisper when you spoke. Roger’s eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. “Maybe I will.” he said as he put his hand on your cheek and went to lean in. You closed your eyes, you knew that there was an unspoken thing between the two of you and couldn’t wait to just get it out in the open. Just before your lips made contact, you heard Paul walk into the room. “Have you two seen Freddie?” He asked, glancing around the room. Both you and Roger opened your eyes at the same time and shot glares at Paul. “Well have ya?” He asked again, not caring at all that he just ruined the moment. Roger let out a frustrated sigh as he pushed himself away from you and walked up to Paul. “He’s outside.” Roger said through gritted teeth. Paul gave him a disgustingly fake smile and put his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Thanks pal!” He said before walking away. Roger pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back over to you. “I hate him.” He said, causing you to let out a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure we all hate him except Fred.” You told him. Just then , Freddie and Paul walked back into the room. “Alright, lets go get some rest. Tomorrow is another big show.” Freddie said as he motioned for the two of you to follow him back to the hotel.

          Since that moment backstage had happened, you and Roger had gotten closer than ever before. You were both ten times as flirty with each other. Sometimes you would even sit on his lap while you and the boys were talking about what they were going to do at a show. The two of you acted as if you were a couple always together, always hugging or flirting, his hand resting on the small of your back, your hand always within his. However, the two of you had yet to kiss, because if you kissed, the unspoken thing would then be spoken about. It was now the day of the last show of the tour, tomorrow you were all headed home. That night before the show you were wishing the boys good luck before they went on stage. You could hear the crowd chanting and screaming for the band to go on. “Alright boys, last show of the tour.” You told them. Paul nodded, “Yep! Then when we get back you boys can start recording another album.” He added, almost stating Freddie down. “Fred, why don’t you come here for a minute? I gotta speak to you.” Paul said again as he walked a couple meters away from the rest of the group. You rolled your eyes at Paul. “You guys are going to do amazing, knock ‘me dead.” You told them. “We always do.” John said with a wink before walking over to grab his guitar along with Brian. Roger looked at you and gave you a sly smile. “You know y/n, one of these days I might just have to write you a song.” He said jokingly. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. “Hey no goofing off! You’re about to go on.” You told him as you passed him his drumsticks. Just then you heard Brian call Roger and Freddie over, they were seconds away from going on stage. “Good luck boys!” You called as you walked away to go watch the show. Roger walked up to Brian and John and smiled wide. “I like her.” he told them. “I’m gonna ask her out after the show.” He said as he twirled his drumsticks. “Way to go Rog.” John said just before they were called on stage.

          Once you finally made your way down to the bottom of the stage you began to nod your head to the music smiling up at your friends as they played. Last week John had to tell you to stop making faces at him because he would lose focus and start giggling. You still looked at him though, because his smile was amazing. Over the course of the tour you had become so close with these four boys that you really felt like a family, you finally felt like you belonged somewhere. Lost in your train of thought you almost didn’t notice a stranger tapping on your shoulder. You looked over at him and smiled. “Oh! Sorry I almost didn’t see you. Can I help you?” You asked him as you turned to face the man. “Hey, I just saw a beautiful girl standing over here without a date, am I wrong?” He asked raising an eyebrow. You didn’t say anything for a second and thought about Roger. You thought at one point you may have had feelings for him, but if you did it was just a school girl crush. Plus, he could get any girl he wanted, he wouldn’t want you. After thinking all this to yourself you looked back up to the man and smiled again. “You’re not wrong. How about we get a drink?” You suggested, the man smiled and offered his hand, which you took, to lead you through the crowd to the bar. The two of you talked for the whole concert, he was funny and was constantly making you throw your head back in laughter. You were being a little flirty towards him, and he did the same. As the two of you were talking he let his hand rest on your hip, which you allowed. While Roger was playing, he looked through the crowd to find you, and when his eyes finally landed on you he felt his heart sink. Another man was making you laugh and had his hands on you, and you looked happy. He hated watching so much, yet he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. Even though you were breaking his heart, you still looked so beautiful doing so. His eyes began to tear up, but he quickly pushed his feelings down and tried his hardest to focus on the show. He thought he could have any girl he wanted, but why couldn’t he have you?

          After the show was over you and the strange man met up with the band backstage.  John pat Roger’s back and gave him a smile. “So mate, are you going to ask y/n out now?” He asked and Roger shook him off. “No, she doesn’t like me like that Deaky.” He said a frown evident on his face. As if on cue, you walked into the room, your hand intertwined with the man you were at the bar with. “Hey guys! This is Scott Hannigan!” You said as you gently pulled him forward. Scott smiled and gave the band a small wave. “Hello! I’m a huge fan of you guys. Great show by the way.” He said, obviously attempting to contain his excitement. The boys waved to him and gave Scott a quick smile. “Pleasure to meet you.” Brian said as he stuck out his hand. “He’s from London too, so I invited him on the plane ride back with us. If that’s okay with you guys?” You asked as you turned to look at Scott and then back at the boys. Freddie, Brian, and John all began to shake their heads no but Roger interrupted them. “Yeah, I don’t see a problem with it.” He said as he walked from the back of the group to the front to face you. “If you like him, then I don’t see the harm in it.” He said as he smiled down at you contently. “But if you hurt her-” Roger looked up at Scott and he laughed, “Yeah, yeah, you’ll beat me up.” He said with a bit of a chuckle. Roger let out a dry laugh and took a step closer to him. “No, if you hurt her, it will be announced on a stage in front of thousands of people, that Scott Hannigan is a total dick.” He said, Brian stepped forward and nodded. “And then we’ll do the whole, beating you up, thing.” He said. Freddie laughed and lit himself a cigarette. “Have a great evening darling!” He said before leaving backstage. John smiled at you and then looked at Scott. “Good thing you were here talking to her, or I might have lost focus again.” He said which made you laugh a bit. After the boys left you turned to Scott. “Look, it’s been a long day and I was thinking of getting some rest tonight.” You said as you put your hands together and looked up at him. He laughed and put his hands on your arms. “Go get some rest, I can meet you at the airport tomorrow?” He suggested which made you smile. “Sounds like a plan.” You said. He smiled and moved his hands to the side of your face. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, which you gladly kissed back for. You pushed away the feeling in your gut, telling you that you were kissing the wrong guy, and wrapped your hands around his neck. The two of you continued to kiss for a moment until he pulled away and looked into your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.” He said as he placed a final soft kiss on your lips before walking out the door with a neon red exit sign above it. You smiled wide and hummed to yourself as you headed up to your hotel room. After getting changed and taking off your makeup you were about to crawl into bed when you heard a knock at your door. You groaned, but walked over to go answer it. You unlocked the door and opened it, and much to your surprise, the man standing at your door was Roger Taylor. “Y/n, I need to tell you something.” He blurted out, his words slurred which was evidence that he was drunk again. “Bloody hell Taylor, what is it?” You asked him crossing your arms over you chest. “Can I come in?” He asked, and that’s when you knew Roger was serious.

a/n - PLS message me about the ending!

Series Taglist : @triggeredpossum  @june-uk  @toger-raylor @antoouu @ironicsecretfae @harrysniallpolish @s-e-l-e-c-t-i-v-e-listener @creativedogs @wvnhedas @rockyroadthepastryarchy @sweetdayme4427 @pietrorunsforme @coltonthekanima @anna1523 @fandomshit6000 @shutup-sorry @a-crowd-of-newsies @a-crowd-of-newsies @butterfliesflewaway @mydogisthebest @ultrunning @unicorntrooper @digicharr @howmanymoregalileos

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #bohemian rhapsody #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #Queen #killer queen #softlyhardy #bohemian rapsody movie

[peterporkerpeter]

Code Red P.VII [Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader]

SUMMARY: When the Avengers are given the mission to acquire a deadly weapon in the possession of a suspicious professor, Y/N must attend a gala in order to charm the professor’s quite dangerous son. Her date to the gala? None other than her crush: Peter Parker himself. That’s bound to make for an interesting evening

CONTAINS: mention of sexual harrassment (for like only a hot sec), blood, swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, peter parker crying oof

WC: 4.000 

A/N: i’m so proud of this chapter, it is my favorite one yet and i really hope that you guys like this one. i was listening to some good tunes when i was writing and it got me really in the zone lol. this chapter is extra long bc i was feeling like a generous bitch so i hope yall like it. im literally screaming. hope you have a great day/night! :) Also, some people have mentioned that the tag list isn’t working for them! I’m so sorry about that, and if i’m being honest i have no idea how to fix it lol

| ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | EIGHT |

Y/N SLAMMED HER DOOR shut, violently throwing her heels onto the mattress. There were several things she needed to do, the first being to find a new, fresh pair of clothes to change into. Breathing heavily, Y/N shimmied out of her red dress, now stained with dark crimson splotches. She ferreted through her closet, ignoring the bursts of pain from her worn wrists.

She settled on a comfortable cream sweater and a pair of gray sweat pants, feeling better already. She rolled up the sleeves and headed for the bathroom, where she dunked her head down towards the sink, flipping on the faucet. It took a century and a half to get majority of the makeup off her face without irritating her fresh wounds too badly, the water turning a mixture of red, black, and brown.

Y/N patted her face dry, relieved that her skin could finally breathe. The cuts still stung like a bitch, but she couldn't care less. She was home in her room, clothed in something comfortable and no longer in imminent danger for the rest of the night. It was a breath of fresh air to her, not just her skin.

She tried not to think about the way she had treated her team earlier. She knew she was acting mean and impulsive, but the words kept spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. She just couldn't bare standing in that living room after brushing close with death a handful of times. And her head—God, her head. It would not stop pounding, like someone was driving an ice pick straight into her skull.

The mere thought of Axel's face caused a tremor to spike in her heart. She glanced in the mirror, eyeing the injuries he'd given her as some sick present. The coldness in his eyes still left her afraid. She felt like an idiot, too. She knew something was off, but she still insisted with continuing with the mission regardless of her countering intuition. In some twisted way, she felt like part of it was her own fault. Maybe that's why she acted out—because she was ashamed.

She felt a chill run down her spine, Axel's ghosting touch still grazing along her leg, his hot breath nipping at her ear. It felt like he was on top of her, smothering he beneath him until she couldn't breath. She felt like she was drowning. She didn't want to think of what else a sadistic asshole like him was capable of. She just hoped her team would deal with him.

Warm tears poured down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands, wishing she could just stop thinking for a minute.

Y/N swallowed, shaking her head. She sniffled, then started to tend to her wounds.

THE TEAM ARRIVED HOME fourty-five later, completely drained and exhausted from the demanding evening. It didn't take long for Fury to send in a clean up crew and detain Axel. His father still remained in the wind, but there was no knowing if he was going to be charged for anything or not—at least not by S.H.I.E.L.D. considering the weapon was nowhere to be found. Peter had managed to create a pretty accurate cover story for the gem, not wanting Y/N to get punished for dealing with it on her own accord. He trusted that she knew what she was doing, and he would ask her about it later, just not when she was so vulnerable and upset.

Everyone was concerned for Y/N. She hadn't sent a message or any word at all regarding whether or not she was doing all right. Then again, they didn't really expect to hear from her. They knew she was in a quite sensitive state of mind, and they understood. They've all been where she is at some point in their lives. Pain was inevitable. Only time could tell when Y/N would finally realize that.

"Can we not come in tomorrow?" Clint grumbled rhetorically.

"Is Y/N asleep?" Wanda asked. "Someone needs to make sure she's patched up after the beating she took. And we need to make sure those wrists aren't infected."

"I got it," Peter muttered.

"The other guy looked worse," Natasha grinned sheepishly. "That broken coffee table in there? She slammed him down on top of it with her hands tied. She is a badass, and she'll get through this."

"She shouldn't have to," Tony murmured. His guilty conscience continued to give him a difficult time throughout the night. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight—not with where his thoughts were. Not with the image of her wrists rubbed raw and bleeding engraved in his mind like a tattoo.

Tony turned towards Peter, whose eyes were beginning to droop. The poor kid looked utterly broken down, but he pushed through. All he wanted to do was see Y/N. The older man clasped a hand on his trainee's shoulder. "You did good today, kiddo. Honestly, the teens saved the whole day with this one. You both kicked some major ass. Props to you."

Peter shrugged, fingers tightening around the bag of Chick-Fil-A absentmindedly dangling from his grip. "Doesn't matter. Thanks, but . . . it doesn't matter. I-I don't know why she was so upset with you guys, if anything when I got there she just seemed sad—"

"And that's a normal response to a traumatizing situation," Natasha shook her head. "It's expected to lash out, especially out of shame or embarrassment. And she's still just a kid, Peter. She didn't have her powers, just what she knew from what we taught her. She was scared."

"She will come around tomorrow," Steve added. "Let her rest. Let her eat. It's best to leave her be. Someone will go in and check out her—"

"I can," Peter interjected. "She'll talk to me."

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to reveal the living room of the main floor. The kitchen was untouched, the cold granite countertops wiped clean the precise way they were before the team dispatched. Darkness embodied the room, silence enveloping the homey premises. Peter noticed the familiar outline of a girl standing outside on the balcony, her elbows resting upon the cement wall, eyes looking out amongst the humming city illuminated below.

"There she is," Wanda smiled fondly.

Peter's eyes softened, sparkling faintly in the darkness. A familiar warmth ignited within his chest, his lips parting slightly, curving up to form the faintest smile. It was soft like stardust. He was awestricken and intrigued and nervous. He noticed she was wearing a casual sweater and sweatpants, and she looked just as beautiful as she did earlier in her long, silk gown.

Y/N was nonchalantly manipulating a glowing line of orange tinted energy, watching cathartically as the color twisted to follow the smooth, fluid movements of her fingertips. She seemed at ease for the first time this evening since her and Peter shared their dance; he would give anything just to have her that close to him again.

He could still vaguely feel her lips pressed against his. He remembered the warmth that had curled around him like a cozy blanket afterward. The brokenness in her eyes when he last saw her hurt him more than he anticipated it would. He never wanted to see her like that again—bleeding, crying, fighting for her life. Never. He would do anything to protect her, even if that meant his own demise in the process.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, exhausted eyes falling upon the crowd of people pouring in from the elevator. Her team looked entirely worn out from the intense mission, their bodies hunched and feet dragging wherever they wandered. Clint caught her gaze, the smallest of smiles creeping onto his face. He raised his hand into the air, offering the girl a wave. Y/N waved back with pursed lips and glittering eyes, then turned back around to face the open.

It was always a miraculous sight—the city. In the morning it was buzzing with light and intensity. Sunlight bored down on the cracked streets, cars lulling through frustrating traffic, people honking at their neighbors. The hues were of red and gray variety, shades of beige and powder blue adorning the graffitied walls and painted freight trains. Time was consistent during the day. It was never ending. It went on forever, and so did the people living within it. They got up at the same time every morning and hustled to work, took their lunch break at the bodega or crammed in their office, then went home and repeated the same damn routine all over again the very next day.

And then there was the nighttime, when blackness ascended over the city, and the tangerine sun slipped beneath the horizon. At night the city came alive. It was unpredictable and adventurous. You never knew what the city would do when the lights went out in the sky. Overbearing neon shades illuminated the large, glowing signs of theaters and cinemas, hotels and twenty-four hour diners. The streets were clearer, still littered with cars full of tired adults, hoping to get home to their beds for a few hours of sleep before they had to awake early the following morning.

Y/N could see herself in the city at nighttime, waltzing into unprecedented territories with nothing but a high adrenaline and a desire to see beyond vibrancy of its core.

But it was the transition from day to night that really got her—the part of the day when the stars were hardly out and the sun still managed to remain a glowing orb of glistening orange light in the sky. The stars were distant, like they were gently dusted across a canvas of baby blue, powdered on by a paintbrush like a Monet. There was so much going on in this hour, but the transition made so much sense to her. The more she watched and scrutinized the switch, the more she understood how much night and day were alike. As quickly as time moved during this period, it slowed. Time stopped here. Right on the skyline, the moment always stretching out to form a thousand more.

"Hey," Peter's voice broke her from the impenetrable wall of thoughts towering in her head. "I uh, I brought you food."

Y/N turned to face her friend, ignited eyes falling onto the bag of Chick-Fil-A dangling by his leg. A soft chuckle emitted from her scratchy throat.

"Thanks," the girl whispered. She grabbed the bag from his hands and set it on the nearby table. "How's the team?"

"Worried about you," Peter replied honestly. "And I am too."

"I'm just trying to not think about it at the moment. I've been trying to clear my mind," Y/N sighed. "I kicked that guy's ass, didn't I? Stupid Axel fucking Klein. Lucky you came when you did. I would've managed to kill him someway."

Peter shook his head. "No, you wouldn't have."

She cocked her head, furrowing her brows. "Yeah, you're right, I wouldn't have. But I wish I could. I wish I could kill him." A pause followed. The tension between them was thick—thicker than it ever had been before. She could taste it on her tongue. "So, what? The team send you out here because they know I'm a softy for you?"

Peter shrugged. "I-I volunteered. Tony bought the food, but I . . . I wanted to see you. I needed to."

Y/N stared into his eyes for a moment. They were soft and gentle, glistening like fragments of crystals. He somehow reminded her of the soft strum of an acoustic guitar. She found herself reaching forward for him, wanting to touch him during a circumstance that wasn't as vile and as graphic as the last. She wanted to touch him when she wasn't just about to immerse herself into a dangerous mission. She wanted to touch him when they were alone together with the unpredictable, haphazard rosy aura of the city during night.

"Peter," she whispered. She loved his name so much. She loved saying it. She loved hearing it. She loved hearing Peter.

Her hand caressed his jaw, the pad of her thumb gently grazing across the irritated cut on his cheekbone like the leaf of a swaying plant. She heard him release a shallow breath, his eyes flickering between the fragile placement of her hand and the bandages looped tightly around her damaged wrists.

"I thought I was going to die tonight," Y/N drew her hand away, feeling colder. Peter felt the same way. Peter always felt the same way. "I thought I was going to die in the hands of that . . . psychopath. You should've see the look on his face when he caught me in the car with his hands all over me. He looked so smug, so—"

"His hands were what?" Peter interrupted, anger flaring in his stomach. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, red pooling in his eyes. He hated the guy. He hated him with every fiber in his body, and he wished he'd done a lot more to him than punch him a mere few times. No, he should've throttled him. He should've made him suffer longer, just the same way he did to Y/N. He should've—

"Peter," Y/N could sense his rage. She reached out to touch his hand, hoping to soothe the whirlwind of impulsive thoughts plaguing his mind. "He didn't do anything else. Not anything like you're thinking. He just had to get close so he could sedate me."

"I'm sorry. I-I wish I could've done more, Y/N, I—"

Peter's heart was racing. It was driving him insane, he had to tell her that he loved her. He couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't keep holding off for the right time—there was never a right time in the world to tell someone that you loved them, at least not in his world. In his world, death followed like a shadow with every risky move you made. In his world, witches were real and there was a living, breathing one standing right in front of him. There was never a right time for anything when he was Spider-Man, and there was never a right time for anything when he was Peter Parker because time always seemed to fade more quickly than it came.

Was now a right time to tell her? On the balcony of a tower overlooking the prospering, stagnant city below, right after her run in with death at the hands of some lunatic? He didn't want to take advantage of her, and he didn't want to scare her away. He would have to wait another day. He'd have to wait for the sun come up, then go back down again. Another day, another time, until finally it was the right time. Until finally he no longer had to wait.

"Peter, what are you thinking?" Y/N questioned.

"I-I—" the words were fading from his tongue. It was never the right time. "I don't . . . know."

Y/N tilted her head, perplexed by Peter's odd behavior. It wasn't like the boy didn't normally act odd, but now he was acting strange. He wasn't looking at her like a crippled, wounded animal or a damsel in distress desperate for a strong rescuer. He was just looking. His eyes were glazing over, but she didn't know with what. Was he sad? Angry? Frustrated with her? Tears leaked from his melancholy brown irises, slipping down his flushed cheeks. They glimmered like scattered fragments of moonlights.

"Peter, what's wrong?" she asked, her tone urgent and thick with worry. Her hands quickly moved to grab his arms, grounding him, letting him know she was there with him—as she would always be.

She waited patiently for him to respond, his sniffles filling the air. Peter didn't know why he was crying; he felt like complete idiot for doing so, but he just couldn't stop himself. The tears kept falling, streaming down his skin until they dropped from the bottom of his chin onto the ground. All he had to do was just feel her touching him, and suddenly he was an emotional kid. He wasn't Spider-Man or an Avenger. He was just Peter Parker. And Peter Parker had lost so much that the mere thought of losing someone else so important to him—he couldn't bare it. Not on top of the countless years of repressed pain and emotional baggage still anchored deep within his roots. Then to come too close to losing Y/N tonight . . . It was all too much to handle.

"Hey, Pete. You're okay. We're okay," Y/N's voice was soft like silk. Her hands ran soothingly up and down the length of his arms, almost as if she was warming him up after a long snowy day. "Talk to me, Pete."

"I-I just—I almost lost you tonight," he professed, and the words began to tumble out at the same rate as his tears. "And when I saw you in there, I just couldn't stop thinking . . . about what I would do if you . . . I just couldn't stop thinking. And-and thinking and thinking. And then I knew right then and there that I would never let myself lose you ever because I need you, Y/N. I need you more than anything."

Y/N's face melted, her eyes shimmering at his trembling words. They fell so seamlessly from his lips. Her stomach churned, empathy burning bright within her core. She felt the same way. She felt the same way about Peter Parker as he did her, and she felt the same way yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. She always felt the same way. She always would.

"I need you too, Peter," Y/N assured him strongly.

She grabbed his face, pulling him down so she could press her lips firmly against his damp cheeks. She peppered them along his skin, electrifying him with every touch, anchoring him further and further towards the ground, onto the winding road leading towards the glamorous city buoyant with tranquil life. She held him tight, and she would never let him go. Not now, not ever.

"No, Y/N! You don't get it!" he sobbed, pulling away. "You don't understand why I need you!"

"Then just tell me! Peter, tell me. Why do you need me?" Y/N cried.

"I-I'm in love with you," he proclaimed, standing in a pool of his tears. "I'm in love with you, and I almost couldn't save you."

Y/N was rendered utterly and profoundly speechless by Peter Parker.

The nighttime is unpredictable.

"W-what happens when I can't save you anymore?" he whispered, like if he spoke those words they would magically come true. Almost like a spell.

Her forehead wrinkled, desperation contorted onto her features. She didn't really care about what the city would feel like during the nighttime anymore, not when the transition of day to night was still fresh in her bones. Not when Peter Parker was telling her he was in love with her. He wasn't infatuated. He was in love. And that felt like time wrapped up in a perfect little bow.

Y/N placed her palm against his chest, feeling the rapid pace of his beating heart. She ran her hand up the back of his neck, Peter's eyes shining with her every liquid-like movement. He let his lids drop, wet lashes gluing together. She closed her eyes, gently pushing his neck down for his lips to meet hers. Time stops here. Her lips ghosted over his, her breaths quick and hot. Falling in love with Peter felt so painless, but suddenly she felt like she was on fire. Everything felt too real, too raw. Love seemed to operate quite frequently in the gray area of life.

"But you did. You can't think about the 'what-if's, Peter. There's always going to be 'what-if's." She whispered against his mouth.

Y/N closed the gap between their lips, the kiss soft and slow, her breath hitching dead in her throat. She couldn't grasp a hold on any of her thoughts as Peter gently reciprocated the kiss. She no longer felt any pain. She should've told Peter she loved him long before tonight. She should've told him she loved him before they left for the mission. She should've, but it just didn't feel like the right time. When did it ever feel like the right time? Time was more unpredictable than the city.

The kiss grew deeper, Peter's hand trailing up her body to hold her face delicately his calloused palm. He could feel her hands shaking like leaves on the back of his neck, her pants growing hasty as their lips entwined and tangled together. He could taste her so clearly now—something minty and reminiscent of cherries. It soon became his favorite flavor.

She pulled away, eyes still closed. She savored the moment for all of its worth. "Peter . . ." swift drawls of breath, "I love you too."

Relief and happiness fell from his lips in the form of unearthly laughter. A smile brighter than any sun or any hue covered both their faces before their lips collided once again. Peter's hands gently stroked down the length of her hair, taming the frizzy strands and smoothening the tousled pieces. Fits of laughter were muffled by the showering of intimate, fervent kisses. Peter basked blissfully in her ethereal beauty and slipped into a state of tranquility, knowing for certain that he did save Y/N, and she was here in front of him. Now. And it was the right time. He dropped his hands to her waist, allowing her to caress his angular jaw, her thumbs pressing affectionately into his cheekbones. The tears once wet on his face dried beneath the gasps of hot breath, and everything in the world seemed to succumb to the tenderness of their love for each other.

And even the city, as rambunctious as it was during the day, and as somberly alive as it was in the dead of night, seemed to sink into the earth, leaving time behind. Because when there was no time, there was no need to wait for the right moment. Not when the right moment could be every single one in a thousand.

Clint found himself walking across the living room at such a prime time. Somehow, he was always the one to walk in on Peter and Y/N, but this time, he did not interfere. He merely looked for a moment with a smile tugging at his lips, then proceeded towards the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee.

Tony soon joined him, hoping to find some leftover pizza crammed in the refrigerator. After all, he was going to be up all night—might as well not work on an empty stomach.

At first, he walked straight past the window, eyes casually glazing over the two figures passionately kissing on the balcony behind the sliding glass doors. As soon as the man hit the fridge, he had to backtrack, mentally rewinding what he actually saw. He relapsed his steps, Clint nonchalantly sipping on his mug, checking to see if the sugar-cream ratio sufficed.

"What?" That was the only word Tony could seem to coherently speak for the moment. He tilted his head to the side, pinching his eyes shut before reopening them again. Definitely not dreaming. "A-are they—?"

"Yep," Clint replied, pleased with his hot drink. He walked around the counter to join Tony staring at the balcony from the island.

"On the—?"

"Yep."

"Should I—?"

"Nope."

"Gross."

MASTERLIST.

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