#+imagine having to make it all into a full show ala Working Boys

[baekuras]

nevermind i was wrong with my expectations on how much I'd enjoy Nightmare time (aka short theatre over zoom)-this fucking slaps

[eldritcheden]

so it's totally past my bedtime but I've been watching NCIS again lately and need to go on a ramble so here goes

...not the full rewatch like back to series one and JAG and Kate and such, just from Netflix's catalogue on so like season 10 or something onwards

it was my number 1 obsession in my tweens and early teens but up until now I had seen little to none of the post Ziva era

here's a collection of thoughts:

I used to ship Tiva soooo hard - like I used to use 'Tiva' in usernames! and now I watch them and am just like euuuhhhh idk I feel like Ziva deserves better. In all honesty a lot of my ships (particularly when I was younger) are basically just a reflection of whatever the piece of media 'wanted' me to ship. like it was all just pattern recognition and the autism y'know.

having said that, and while we're on ships. I enjoyed the ride Ellick (apparently that's their ship name?) took me on. honestly as an extension of Ellie's arc in particular. Like there's that episode when she's dating Qasim but the team doesn't know yet and they talk about her compatibility with Reeves vs Torres, and the thing is like they were totally right Ellie and Torres totally weren't compatible at that point in Ellie's character arc. When she joins she's like the most stable 'normal' member of the team, she's maybe even a little naive, she's happily married to a fellow intellectual business-y soft-boy type. Then there's Qasim, still a fellow intellectual still a soft-boy type but much more of a romantic idealistic(?) soul. And throughout her tenure Ellie becomes more and more 'NCIS'- she gets more reckless and badass etc etc etc until the point where she kinda meets nick at his level for their compatibility. Like his character is comparatively relatively unchanged in that time, like he's settled a little bit really it's Ellie that 'matches his freak'. But her arc wasn't finished- she had to keep going and left him behind in her wake. and I dont think i really latched on until Ellie left but Torres is really one of My Guys at this point - like Elliot Spencer of Leverage flavoured guy. Y'know on the outside a bit of a broody (slightly sassy) lone-wolf badass type, super strong protective drive, vulnerable inside and don't believe they're worthy of love... Love that flavour of guy.

Okay that was a long one but I'm not really done with this topic but just think about the potential this holds for the future. I don't know why the actress left the show and that will effect how likely she'd ever be to come back but ugghhhh just imagine.

They run into Ellie on an op. She's undercover and 'working with' the bad guys. To protect both her cover and Torres she shoots him ala Gibbs and McGee in 1mm. THE ANGST. His little heart broken eyes. the tension the conflict. Nom Nom Nom Nom Nom delicious. She becomes one of their reoccurring 'villains' maybe her pic is even up on the most wanted wall. Maybe there's tie-ins with the Tony and Ziva series? Cause like I've seen that speculation and it kinda makes sense but again I need the drama of her being 'in opposition' to our mains. and anyway I need the friends to lovers to enemies to lovers /enemy lovers pipeline for them. The tension they could deliver, both dramatic and sexual, unprecedented. Sign me up.

I'm rambling, this isn't even general thoughts lol it's all Ellick with an honourable mention to Tiva.

Quick actually general thoughts:

They keep setting mcgee up as future director, and have been for a couple of seasons, I wonder if thats gonna come to fruition any time soon

12 yo me really did have a moment when Ziva came back.

Having said that I'm really not a cast purist. (I probably was at 12 tho lol) Like I don't mind people leaving and being replaced, that happens in long running shows and I feel like so far it's gone relatively well. Even Gibbs leaving- like he was iconic but they managed to make his departure seem refreshing rather than.. 'emptying'.. if that makes sense.

I guess I was surprised to find out that LA was cancelled, just cause it was the most solid spinoff they'd had but honestly I hadn't seen that in years either so who knows how it was actually doing.

I think 12 yo me is very excited for the Tony and Ziva spinoff. I just can't quite hear her over current me's excited projecting about future ellie possibilities- there's so much meat on that bone.

Ok. I really don't even know what I'm talking about at this point. Good. Night.

Edit: I remembered another thought. I was honestly low-key surprised that Knight and Jimmy became a thing cause I feel like at first they were kinda setting knights character up to be a lesbian- the way she clocked Marcy, and I feel like there was at least one other moment that I can't think of off the top of my head. I guess she could still be bi, but idk, I feel like I definately clocked a few hints early on that she wasn't into dudes? She and jimmy were a cute plotline though so I'm not gonna knock it

[cilil]

I have thought long and hard about the gift-giving...

I have 2....

A gift TO Navë FROM Námo. It can be sweet, it can be suggestive, it can be hilariously ambiguous lol

A gift TO Ilmarë FROM Nári. That one should definitely be outrageous and flirty.

And I send you hugs and buckets full of love from myself.

I am so looking forward to what you'll come up with for all of these...Tag me, please <3

♡ To: Navë ♡ From: Námo

𝓐 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽

The holidays were approaching. 

And the only reasons why Navëquen was aware of it were his impeccably maintained calendar and the fact that he had been practically evicted from his office with orders to take some time off. He would have been fine with yet another normal day, but alas, Námo had insisted. 

With a small frown and a couple of files hidden underneath his robes, Navëquen returned to his chambers. If he worked through these before any holiday celebrations took place that he might have to attend, there was a chance that any delays caused by Námo's Maiar sitting idle for a while wouldn't be too noticeable; though the prospect of drawing or journaling was getting more and more tempting as well. 

Navëquen's musings were interrupted when he spotted a gift on his bed, wrapped in emerald green paper and adorned with a silver bow. For a moment he wondered how someone had managed to forget their things in his usually empty room, until it occurred to him that it might be a holiday gift for him – a suspicion that was soon confirmed by further investigations. 

His name had been written on the gift with silver ink, and he would recognize that handwriting anywhere. 

Sitting down on his bed, Navëquen dropped everything he had been holding and took the gift in his hands instead. It was from Námo. His lord, his idol, his esteemed mentor and secretly beloved Vala had thought of him. 

It was with utmost care that he unwrapped the gift, gently pulling the bow apart and folding the paper. They would be carefully stashed away later. 

Námo had given him a book, an empty sketchbook to be exact. Navëquen examined the pages, letting his fingers glide across the paper's texture. He could already imagine how his pencil would sound on it, like a quiet melody that was part of his music. 

What a lovely gift. And with that, the rest of his evening was decided as well. 

He was going to draw Námo.

♡ To: Ilmarë ♡ From: Nári Warnings: References to sex, Nári can't behave herself

𝓐𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓽

"Hey there, little starlight." 

The greeting was accompanied by a sharp whistle, and Ilmarë turned around to find herself face to face with a certain Balrog grinning down at her. 

"What do you want?" she asked cautiously. 

"I got a gift for you. Why, is that a crime nowadays?" Nári winked at her, and Ilmarë got the distinct feeling that she wouldn't care even if it was. 

"That is very nice of you," she began, "but I feel like I should let you know that I have nothing to give you in return because... well, I wasn't exactly expecting to be exchanging gifts with a servant of darkness." 

"That's alright. You can make it up to me in other ways." 

Ilmarë chose to ignore the lascivious smirk and tail wag that followed her statement and accepted a small oval object wrapped half-burned paper. It turned out to be some kind of stone, though when she touched it, it felt as if something was vibrating inside. 

"What is this?" she asked. 

Nári leaned down to get to her eye level. "Do you really have no idea what to do with vibrating things, little starlight?" 

"I... am not sure what you are alluding to?" 

The Balrog shook her horned head, causing sparks to be sent flying in all directions. "Oh dear. No one told me you're as oblivious as Gotty's silly little bird boy. Really, I need to let Melkor know his family sucks." 

"Please don't insult the king and queen in my presence," Ilmarë said icily. 

"Fine, fine. I mean, we could do something more fun instead, for example I could show you what to do with your gift." 

Experienced or not, the way Nári smirked at her was enough for Ilmarë to tell where this was going.

"If this is a... sex thing, I am grateful that you are so concerned about my... wellbeing, but I don't think we are at a point where I want to engage in anything with you," she said firmly. 

"Very well, little starlight. I know Maiar like you are often shy, and for the time being you can just think of me instead." Nári turned to leave, looking over her shoulder one more time as she summoned her fire in preparation for the way home. "And yes, it is a "sex thing"." 

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot @wandererindreams

[multifandom1writer]

Obey me! Replaced mc au brainrot part 2?!

Tbh when I posted that I didn't think anyone would like it less request for a part two but I was pleasantly surprised! So here you go!

Warning once again tho.

Mc= Noah

Part 1 :

Reminders ?!: @gayboychase @entolomaeden @bk-4-trash-fire

God I have never felt so free.

Ever since I moved into Purgatory Hall my life has changed so much and all for the better.

I could wear whatever I pleased, I wasn't in charge of anyone, I had my own room and the cliff once again just became a safe place to relax.

Simeon and Luke helped through my suicidal tendencies

Solomon helping me how he could, since he's also receiving help from Simeon and Luke

My scars were on show once again and I have never felt more comfortable

Honestly if I knew that moving to purgatory hall would have so many advantages I would have done so ages ago!

I have been so busy with my new life the demon brothers have never even crossed my mind.

The only time it did was when I noticed their pact marks had started to glow more frequently and time to time they burned a little.

I honestly didn't give it much thought, hence I didn't really care anymore.

My magic level went up drastically, it was amazing how much I could learn in the span of a month.

Solomon was honestly a great teacher, at the moment I was practicing a teleportation spell, it was rather hard but I'm getting the hang of it slowly

The small spark of magic slowly spread and spread until it turned into a full portal.

I smiled at it and Solomon spoke

-"Bravo Noah, you never cease to amaze me."- He spoke as he went and stood beside me.

-"Now imagine any place you want to go, go ahead there's no limitations."- He spoke softly while smiling at me kindly

I thought of the room beside this one, Luke's room.

I thought of the formal bed with the fancy design in the walls and the smell of pastries and small materials used for his famous cakes splattered around his room in random places.

The portal turned a soft blue and Solomon gave me the go ahead to go through.

I slowly walked through and closed my eyes as I slowly felt a bit sick from the feeling of the portal.

However when I stopped walking the soft smell of sweet invaded my senses as I opened my eyes and looked around, the room I was just thinking of earlier now being around me in real life.

-"Did you just teleport here?!"- Spoke an excited voice behind me.

There stood Luke who was working at his desk with some complicated homework he was bound to ask Simeon to help him with later on.

A smile playing at his lips as he watched me with sparks in his eyes

I laughed and said yes as he ran to me and hugged me.

He congratulated me and dragged me back to Solomon telling him my achievement while he chuckled at the eagerness of the boy.

Luke exclaimed and said -"let's throw a party to celebrate Noah! This is a huge step in magic you should be very proud of yourself!"- he said with a big smile adorning his face, my heart melted at the sight and I crouched down to look at him better.

-"we can throw the biggest party if you want to luke, you and Simeon get to bake all the treats!"- I said at the boy, he laughed and wrapped his hands around my neck as he gave me a big hug, which I returned.

And so we all spent the day, having fun and learning even more magic, giggling and making cookies, even Solomon tried! (Even though Simeon and Luke protested a lot against it). I ended up having to eat them, I'm pretty sure I have food poisoning now.

But there's the little things, these little deatils they do for me, when I learn a new spell they cleberate and don't care if it's the simplest and easiest of spells.

Their simply proud of me for doing it!

Are you sure about that?

Ah...but alas not everything in life can be perfect.

Since I relapsed my mind has fallen into a very depressive state, hence the residents of Purgatory hall refuse to leave me alone to make sure I don't do anything stupid or harmful.

There's a voice, it's a mix of all the demon brothers voices mixed into one, it's disturbing and has kept me wide awake at night multiple times.

It feeds and feasts on my insecurities and thoughts, how I look on the mirror, what I'm wearing, how I speak, my actitude, my personality.

Slowly breaking me down until I'm nothing.

You flatter me.

The fact it itself has grown a personality in my head does not help.

Each day, my hatred only grows and grows, even with the demon brothers out of my life hearing this damn voice doesn't let me move on.

Talking about them....it's been exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, 6 days, and 8 minutes since I left...

I know because Beel has been texting me everytime it changes, not every minute but every day, every week, every month.

He doesn't say anything else and he doesn't have any malicious intent I'm sure of it.

He's simply waiting for me to come back home...

Home..

Home

home

home..

What is home? Is is the people or the place? The feelings or the memories?

Is the house of lamentation even my home now? Even after I left, especially when the people that hunt my nightmares reside in that house.

Purgatory hall sounds more like home now, but I can't be to sure, how do I know their not waiting to replace me just like them?

What would happen if-?

No! No Noah! Don't let yourself think like that!

For now, I may have a house, but I'm not so sure about a home.

I sigh and look at the sunset Infront of me.

My black and purple bike behind me reflecting on the light of the red moon.

The days in the Devildom altered between a red moon and a black moon

Black being night and red being day.

I sighed and look down, this time no cigarette in sight.

I simply stared at the bandages covering my arm and sighed, noticing they had come lose.

I slowly tightened them again, thinking of everything that has happen over the last few months.

The tension has been unbelievable.

Do you know how hard it is, to be expected to go to class and act normal, as if one of your teachers is not only THE Lucifer but also the demon who revealed to the whole house of lamentation your self harm tendencies?

To be buying something for yourself or others and seeing Mammon running around buying carelessly but immideatly freezes the moment he sets eyes on you? Simply sulking over to the register staying deadly quiet, not saying anything or even looking in my direction.

To be playing a video game and be met with the same username I used to stay up all night playing games with immideatly leave once he notices I'm in the game with him?

And that's only three of the brothers! It has been so weird, being out with thirteen for makeup and seeing Asmo, to be picking out a book in a libary and seeing Satan on the other side grabbing the same book, making akward eye contact, one ending in putting the book back and walking away.

To be eating at a restaurant and see Beel's broken face on the other side of the room, watching me enjoy the foods and laughs I used to share with him not that long ago, to see belphie just stare at me through class instead of sleeping, burning holes through my skull.

It's been so hard trying to forget them, and I haven't even been thinking about them until now so what am I doing?!

I sigh and snuggle up to the warm sheets, checking my D.D.D and scrolling through Devilgram only to see new photos of the brothers with Angelica.

It hurt, even if I didn't want it to, knowing that one day not that long ago that was me.

That not long ago, I was the one reading with Satan and Lucifer.

That I was the one to help Mammon with his physics homework.

That I was the one that would help belphegor sleep.

That I was the one they cared about!

...

....

It hurts doesn't it?

To be replaced and thrown like nothing..

Maybe because you are.

Your just a human! Your nothing!

Angelica replaced you in a bat of an eye and they didn't even care.

Poor you, they only cared once the poor exchange student was crying and burning their arms to feel something!

How sad, you almost ruined their reputation so they had to get you under control thats all!

They don't care, they never cared, and they never will care.

Your worthless, just kill yourself already, nobody would care.

Their to busy with the shiny new girl to care.

....

...ouch.

I woke up the next morning, groaning and rubbing my eyes, I still felt tired and exhausted, and I could tell there were eyebags under my eyes.

But after what the voice said, I think it's finally time to do it.

I need to confront them about what happened.

Normally I'd be getting ready for school but thankfully it's Sunday and none of the demon brothers have plans on Sunday since it's their 'rest day'.

I slowly put on my leather jacket and turned on my motorcycle, the engine roaring to life, the purple stripes along it's metal body coming to life and shining a bright neon.

I took off into the street and looked around.

It wasn't a long drive so I didn't really need to take my bike but I didn't want to walk in the middle of the day on the side of the street, probably crying my eyes out.

So as I parked my bike infront of the house and put the lock on, making sure to hide it so no one would take it, I made my way infront of the house and knocked, holding my helmet between my hands and looking around whistling and looking anywhere but the front door, anxious about who would answer the door.

I looked around at its old structure and stopped whistling, my shoulders relaxing as I looked at the cracks and light emitting from it.

It's crazy to think I once felt like this place was my forever home.

I got to engrossed in my thoughts and didnt notice the front door opening.

I heard a creak sound and looked infront of me, then looked down a bit to meet the eyes of a surprised Satan.

We both just stared at eachother, me tensing up and getting nervous as I looked down at him, being tall had its moments, right now it was not one of them.

Why did I have to be taller than Lucifer?!

His bottom lip quivered and my brain immediately went to panic mode, I was about to ask what's wrong when I felt his arms around me and his soft murmurs.

-"you're back...oh my lord you are actually back..."- his voice came out as soft and quivering, something I would of never imagined of hearing from Satan.

I simply hugged him back as well as I could and waited for him to calm down before I asked if I could come in

He moved away and wiped his tears, letting me into the house of lamentation, admiring the halls that once seemed so familiar.

-"would you mind calling the rest of your family?..I think it's about time we all talked.."- I spoke softly and walked into the living room, afraid my normal actitude would piss him off or make him give me the cold shoulder.

He spoke rapidly and said yes, exiting the room as he left to look for his brothers

I looked around at the space and remembered all the memories I made in here with everyone.

I looked at the seemingly never ending fire and sighed as I remembered how safe I used to feel in this place.

I drifted off in my thoughts and before I knew it I heard Satan's voice on the other side of the door, not turning to face them as I continued staring at the ember fire.

The door creaked open and I finally turned around to look at their gaze.

I smiled and they all stared shocked at me, some with tears in their eyes.

-"Hi.."- I softly spoke and waved.

This was going to be long.

As I sat around with the brothers, I was drinking some tea Lucifer made for me, they were in akward silence while I was just happily drinking.

Lucifers tea was always a delicacy for anyone no matter the situation.

I took the last sip of my tea and sighed, some brothers tensed up as they saw I was finally gonna talk.

-"I think it's time we talked things through...about..what happened, I'm not really sure where to start so someone go ahead and ask anything, let's just really try to talk and get everything out of the way...okay?"- I softly murmured at them, smiling warmly.

Suddenly Lucifer came and kneeled beside me, reaching out his palm.

-"Can....Can I see?"- he spoke carefully as he didn't look up and meet my eyes, he talked carefully and warmly as if any louder would ruin the atmosphere in the room.

I gave him my arm and he slowly took off the bandages, relived to see how the burns were all healing well.

He looked up and smiled at me, I smiled back at him.

Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.

It was worse than I thought.

It all started off really nice! They were all understanding and kind!

They were totally different! It was so nice for them to actually listen and apologize to what I've been through all this time!

But then they just had to do it!

They had to mention tHE FUCKING NEW GIRL.

'oh Angelica feels bad and guilty, you should apologize to eachother!' SHE CAN KISS MY BLOODY ASS AS AN APOLOGY THEN!

Why should I be apologizing?! Im the one hurting, not her!

Oh I'm fucking sorry I don't feel sorry for making a girl cry after I burned myself multiple times and relapsed terribly!

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!

It's fucking ridiculous, just thinking about it gets me mad.

I thought they would be able to understand but they don't!

They still thinking she's the victim after all this time! I gave chance after chance after chance.

And this is what happens when I try to make things right! I get spit right in my face by them!

I become a laughing stock! This is all too much, the voice is growing and I'm not sure I can handle it.

I need a place where I can cool off for a while and forget about this conversation and situation I just had.

I went to the cliff and looked lostly at the view, and then..

I looked down.

It was very deep and long.

Definitely death.

One jump is all it would take. Spoke the voice.

What?

I'm saying, one jump, and all this can be left in the past, doesn't that sound lovley?

Don't try to fool me with your words right now! It's not the time!

Any of my thoughts are your thoughts too, whatever I want, you want.

And that cliff right there, looks rather lovley wouldn't you say?

I slowly looked over at the edge and leaned closer, closer and closer.

Till I was one step away when-

-"Do you really want to die?"- Luke's soft voice cut through the silence, he said, walking closer to me, for a second it all sounded unreal because no one has ever asked me such a hurtful question in my whole life.

-"You can't do that, I can't let you do that!"-

-"You can't leave me here alone again!"- his voice shutters and breaks

-"you need to stay!"- he says, raising his hand to cover up his face.

-"I'm sorry.."- I spoke after a few seconds. His face all scrunched up and hurting is wounding me do deeply, against my will, I run back to the other side of the fence and away from the edge closer to him.

Hoping he understands my words.

-"I'm sorry..I'm sorry..I'm sorry..I'm sorry!"-

I cried out, yet I pause, and then, it all clicks in my head.

This boy, this angel of a person, I have finally understood that..

They needed me as much as I needed them! Even after hurting and thinking of myself as not worthy I have finally understood...

That these wonderful people I've met and bonded with, we all deeply care about about the other to lose eachother.

They wouldn't replace me or forget me, because I have truly made an impact, in their life's!

No matter who comes along, we'll always be by each others side, and that thought alone...brings me so much peace..I hug the boy tighter and pull away, wiping his tears away.

-"I think it's time to go home.."- he brings me back in for a hug and we just stay like that for awhile.

My conflicts with the demon brothers are far from over, and their sure to hear about this later, but for now, I'd like to live in the moment.

And ignore everything and everyone around me.

Maybe I don't have to matter in the brothers life's, just mattering in

Solomon's

Simeon's

Luke's

Thirteens

Raphael

And

Mephistopheles

Life's is all that matters, and I'm never letting that go, no matter what.

Sometimes you need to let go of the past, so you can start living in the present.

And I think it's time to let go.

[bergeronprocess]

10/7/24

Thinking a little bit about why magical girl anime holds such appeal for me.

I’m a millennial, which is to say that I’m somewhat of an oldhead in the world of Western anime fans. I got into anime through Sailor Moon way back in the day. I can’t clearly recall the first time I ever watched the show, but whenever it happened, I was hooked right away. Part of the appeal for me back then was the exact same as it is for me now: I love the empowering idea of girls being the ones to save the boys, save the day, save the world, save the universe. Oftentimes it’s a group of girls working together even with their very different personalities and abilities and I love that sort of thing too, that unity of purpose. I also enjoyed picking out a favorite from the team - it’s Sailor Mercury and it always has been for me, though Jupiter has grown on me too. 

I also love the aesthetics, the bright colors, the inventive magic, the theme songs and, but of course, the transformations. Sometimes I find myself getting a bit emotional when I watch a transformation sequence. I might even tear up or cry a little bit, but I’m not sad. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m happy! I’m moved! Maybe there’s just something about the magic of it all - an everyday girl (or boy, shout out to Cure Wing) becoming someone magnificent and spectacular through the use of a special stick or brooch or cell phone or what have you. Maybe part of it is the imaginative feeling that, hey, maybe this could happen to me too. Maybe I just have to find the right object. Maybe I just need to stumble across a talking cat. I have a cat, but alas, she lacks the ability to speak English and thus to be able to instruct me on the mission I must now undertake.

I’m eating pretty good this season because there are, by my completely unscientific count, three currently airing magical girl shows. Wonderful Precure continues its yearlong run and, even though it isn’t going to top my list of favorite Precure seasons I’ve watched, it’s got its nice moments. (I do wish they’d go ahead and make Satoru and Daifuku into Precures though. Yes, I’ve heard about what happens in the movie and no, that is not good enough.) Acro Trip is a ton of fun and has some interesting rules about how Berry Blossom can and cannot use her magic. Magilumiere takes a cool “what if adults were magical girls and used a combo of magic and technology” angle and shows adults transforming - instead of reverting to their teenage selves and then transforming as in Power of Hope -Precure Full Bloom-. The plot reason for that reversion made perfect sense, but it was a bit of a letdown at first!

There’s also The Stories of Girls Who Couldn’t Become Magicians, with its fun pastel palette, but that’s about witches, not magical girls. (I’m somehow picking up a “What if Utena, but candy-colored and much less traumatic” vibe from it, too, which may make some modicum of sense because it’s a JC Staff production just as Utena was.)

These are the kinds of shows that tend to appeal to me most. I don’t often go for the Big Shows of the Season, the ones that all the critics are excited for or the Shonen Jump adaptations. All of the cookie-cutter isekai “what if I was just a normal dude in this world but the most overpowered guy ever in a fantasy world and every girl was all over me” shows bore me - the only interest I hold in them is to see how the critics are going to skewer them. No matter how many years pass since my first viewing of Sailor Moon, though, magical girl shows continue to hold my interest and I am so glad for that!

[d-trashbandicoot]

The last 4 years : a retrospection (part 1)

I guess looking back it wasn’t the running away that saved me, it was the time living the easiest way available. All these years growing up imagining the way the real world would be. Unaware that my mind was skewed, biased, against me. There was a simple reason for the way I felt. In between; the bouts of youthful despair, in fear of there being nothing to live for in the future, and the moments of overzealous joy, where the world was so bright and full of hope.

Perhaps it was this reason one would always return to Star Trek TNG and Avatar TLA, in the darkest of times. To remember that fleeting feeling of hope. To grasp at the last threads of love and humanity.

In my bipolar support group the other day I brought up the idea that if there was ever a magical cure all of a sudden for bipolar, I didn’t think I would take it. I’ve ridden this bull this long and boy when the adrenaline hits, sure life is sweet. Granted at the lowest it is normal to question whether one's ride will end violently this time under the hooves of the bull.

The topic shifted onwards and we ended up on the truth that this illness, in part, cranks the emotional feelings and reactions up to eleven. Our emotions hit us so strongly, we often feel more than our "healthy" peers. And whilst the downs may be horrific the ups are emotions many could only access with by intoxication.

Alas, it is my circumstance of being a middle class Nepo-baby that has not only kept me out of institutions but dragged me along to get where I am today.

That paragraph makes me sick. But I guess that's where my illness festers these days. The only valid target of the darkness. Capitalism and its proprietors. Those who put profit above life.

At this point I have repeated the last 4 years to so many as a quick snapshot of movement. I have also written plenty on the past around the time of my diagnosis. But I never really looked at the 3 years of healing that I did. At the time it did not feel like healing, but hindsight also makes for pleasant surprises. At the time it was about survival, just finding a way out from that godforsaken tax haven.

But it gave me what I needed. Stability, schedule and money. All I had to do was go to work each day, keep my head down, get through the day and then I'm home. On the couch with the family smoking weed whilst watching Tv. Except half the time it would be football. That made it very easy to let the THC work its way and process my past, present and future. In the presence of my own family I have spoken thousands of words to myself. My change was happening right in front of them, in my mind, and then never even knew. After all, it's not something a mother should hear of her own child. At least not till I could say I truly know myself. Not till I knew where I began and where the affliction ended.

Now, many times these introspections were triggered by the theme of the film or show we were watching, or the news. The news was the worst. And for the latter year'n'half I had to work in an office with bloomberg or some other 24/7 financial news channel.

I would say this was also spurred on by the DMT I brewed and drank back at Uni. The cannabis had started to bring up the elements of the trip and each night I was filled with I get it now moment. At least that is how it feels now after another year and 5 months of moping around the mainland.

Realistically it wasn't every night, no...

surely it couldn't have been...

Whatever it was, it worked and kept me going. When the family dog died I felt the weighted reason to stay, on that island, go. A deciding factor, the thing that tipped the scale was removed and now the scales swung to the other side. So I decided to leave..

Consciously, this time. Mulled it over for some time, although my mind was set. I went to Bristol for a weekend and told my parents when I got back, that this is my plan. We talked, they had reservations and it felt like a battle. In the end I felt as if I had offended them, betrayed them in a certain way. More so my father, I think my mother understood. Her prime concern was for my welfare, his was more focused on financial stability. After 2 more months I left.

[mbb-project-entity]

Chapter 56

"So whar do you do Mrs Le-Cren?"

“It’s Ms. Sommers,” she said.

“Oh, I’m sorry Mrs. Sommers, it’s just that you have that ring and you're Rileys mom—”

“Ms Sommers,” she corrected, anger flaring up at what she believed to be discrimination, “and Ms. is far more professional, my apologies but this is not the old days of sexism anymore doctor, women are equal to men now. It's what spurns me in my job. For now, I'm a flight attendant, but not for long.."

She tossed a laminated card to Kyubi who examined it. “Congratulations,” Kyubi murmurred, handing the private pilot’s license back to her. She gave him a cat-ate-the-canary grin and placed it back in her wallet before placing it on the table. “Thanks. I’m a quarter way through the commercial training too. In four years, I’ll be the one in the drivers seat in those 777s.”

“How commendably ambitious of you, Ms. Sommers. An aspiring airline captain! And while holding down your current job too. And I imagine being a stewardess must be fairly stressful—”

“STEWARDESS?!? I AM A FLIGHT ATTENDANT!” Pepper was uncharcisteristically livid. “It takes lots of training to do what I do—”

“Oh please!” Kyubi was exasperated with this one already! “Stewardesses are nothing more than waitresses in the sky. Let’s be honest Ms. Sommers!” “Let’s start with you. Without a doubt, I want you to go by Mrs Le-Cren. Keep listening, Mrs Le-Cren.

Let’s talk jobs now.” She went to the table and picked up the laminated private pilot’s license back out of her purse. “I can’t believe they let women be pilots! Now I know your plan. You’re thirty-eight and gone as far as you can go as a stewie so you want to be a captain. Well,” she pulled out a pair of scissors and cut the license in two, “no more. I don’t want some flighty gal like you piloting an aircraft! So from now on, you’re petrified of the cockpit! No more lessons and no more flying! A stewie you are and a stewie you’ll remain!” Her brown eyes burned hatefully into Kyubi's. Though her lips couldn’t communicate what she thought of this, the eyes surely did. While they still could.

“Now about your stewie job. You’ve got a big misconception about what it is you do. Alas, it is a misconception shared by many in your silly and superfluous profession—if I may call it that. You think as a ‘flight attendant’ that you provide a real service, when you clearly do not. It is time to redress this problem. Therefore I think you will begin the return to the wonderful tradition so popular with male passengers not so long ago of the pretty, vapid stewardess. I never ever want you to refer to what you or your peers do as being a ‘flight attendant.’ From now on you think of yourself as a stewardess or ‘stewie.’”

She was so furious her jaws had locked up in muscle spasms. How gratifying!

“Furthermore, you’ll be the kind of stewie that lights up otherwise boring business trips for men. Your appearance for instance. You’ll work on it—allow your hair to grow to full regulation length and curl it regularly. Make yourself up more and wear your uniform a bit tight to give your passengers lots of leg and cleavage. Your blue skirt should be tight enough to show off very visible panty lines and I think you’ll wear darker brassieres underneath your white uniform blouse to titillate the travelers. In other words, think of yourself as an ornament, something that begs for notice from the men aboard.

Conduct on board should be focused on males—boys from eighteen on up. Ignore the women and treat them rudely if you have to at all. You’re not there for them—stewies are eyecandy for men. With that in mind, I want you to personify the “Coffee, tea or me?” kind of stewie. You’re obviously single and on the make for a husband and I want you to flirt with each male passenger you serve that is traveling alone.

Your fingers will ‘accidentally’ graze arms and legs when serving drinks. You’ll smile, wink and swing your hips for them. Furthermore, you’ll pick out one special passenger—that you’ll concentrate on. You’ll be extra sweet, extra doting on him and his needs. You’ll try to get him to talk to you, get him to share personal information. As you do, you’ll make it clear that being a stewie is awfully lonely at times. Before you land, you’ll hand him a slip of paper with your name and the name of the hotel you’re staying at. It won’t make any difference if he’s wearing a wedding ring or not. ‘Stewies’ are notorious homewreckers. If he calls you, you’ll sleep with him.”

Pepper had never slept with anyone on such flimsy basis. The idea was inconceivable to her before. Or rather it had been inconceivable. Why couldn’t she move or open her mouth?

“And let’s not forget the captain, shall we? It wouldn’t be nice to ignore the boss of the plane! You’ll make it clear that while on his plane, you’re ready to serve his needs too!”

But she hated those supercilious macho morons! The way they always lorded it over the flight att- stewies… Now she was thinking the way Kyubi told her too! Pepper pressed her heel into the carpet, the only protest she could make!

“I’m still worried that there will be some that will still give you the benfit of the doubt, some other stewies who will think the passengers and captain are hitting on you unfairly. So to make sure, let’s do this.” Kyubi passed a business card over to the immobilized woman. Suddenly she had the ability to move. As if guided by an invisible hand, she picked up the card. It was for a tattoo shop in town.

“Are you right or left handed?” Kyubi asked.

“Right.” “Fine. On the wrist-side facing out of your right hand I’d like you to get a tattoo. Nothing dramatic in and of itself, I assure you! Just three words in red, so that s you serve your male passengers they’ll be able to read it easily.”

Pepper could speak now! “What will the tattoo say?” Wait, she shouldn’t act as if she was actually going to have the thing done! As soon as she left, she’d ignore this whole visit!

“Mile High Club.” Kyubi was pleased with this inspiration. Pepper's expression of disgust told her she’d chosen the right approach to humiliating her.

“Now every male—and the other stewies—will know you’re that kind of girl! One last thing and I’ll let you go. I want another tattoo—you’ll get both done as soon as you leave my office naturally. At the tattoo parlor you’ll need to borrow a razor first and shave yourself nice and clean down there—you know where I mean.”

Pepper would do as Kyubi said. She knew she would. There was no question in her mind that she’d obey every command Kyubi gave her.

“Then you’ll ask him to inscribe in red ink in a circle above your pussy the words ‘Fly Me!’—the final confirmation that your passengers will need to know you’re a fly-girl slut-stewie when they fuck you in your hotel room!”

[trashcankharla128]

What fun! Also as I see it a lot of these issues have some origin in the whole 'Hermione as a self-insert/ avatar/ wish fulfillment' thing; which isn't bad at all in and of itself, but comes with it's pitfalls. Please know I am NOT saying any of these reasons mean the authors are 'bad' for doing it.

Draco always causing the break up / being overly apologetic: Agree! BOTH characters are canonically prideful, think they know best, and can be a bit spiteful. I think this stems from the "Reformed Draco" thing where people have him over-correct. IMO this is either pure self-insert wish fulfillment OR people feeling that Draco is soooo in the hole for years of overt prejudice & bullying he would've needed to do a full character 180 to ever work out with Hermione.

More than 1 conflict about the same thing: Agree! It could be done well if it's a 'characters are showing realistic growth & change' thing ex: backsliding, but very irritating when it's not addressed as such.

AGREE

AGREE

AGREE

Hermione limited parent grief: Agree. I think this might come from people not having experience with loss of parents/ a symptom of the ever present 'orphan MC' trope. If I try to picture what my life would be without my parents I come up blank. It seems like it might be one of those things that's too big to conceptualize until it actually happens.

Molly vs Narcissa as matriarch: Disagree (partially). I want to differentiate between matriarch & mother figure here. I think this tends to happen because Narcissa is canonically blood prejudiced & not just in a 'woe is me I'm a poor powerless woman caught up in my family's/ husband's actions.' Even in fics that paint her as doing self-reflection & reconnecting with Andromeda etc., I have a VERY hard time imagining a case where Hermione sees her as any kind of mother figure. I DO see her as expecting to be recognized as some kind of authority figure, aka matriarch. For Molly, even though Harry is the one who reported Molly's semi-adoption of him, that action establishes precedent for her as an 'adopter of orphans' which Hermione has become with the loss of her parents. I don't know that Hermione would latch on in the same way especially has Molly is likely quite different from her own mother, but I can 100% see Molly making 'mother figure' overtures.

Ron & Harry being too opinionated: Agree with the 'should' of it all, but alas there is precedent & as far as characterization goes it seems pretty in line. The boys tend to think alike & therefore are frequently SHOCKED and DISMAYED when Hermione does things they would never consider. This might be a Narrator Harry problem, but it often feels like the boys think of Hermione as 'just another dude' with different set dressing. I like to think that as they grow up they get a bit better about this, especially Harry via his relationship with Ginny.

Hermione's lack of outside friends: Agree! Especially as she gets into jobs and fields where she might find more people like her, and crucially gets some distance from the boys.

Bad breakups with exes: AGREE! Plus there's canonical precedent with Lavender, Cho, Viktor, etc. Plus It doesn't make practical sense. The wizarding world is small & insular. There are major class divides, but within these classes no one is burning bridges like that. You have to interact with them forever & everyone is only 1-3 Kevin Bacons away from each other. I think people tend to make Draco have bad breakups with Daphne/ Pansy as part of the "Reformed Draco" over-correction thing.

Hermione's lack of style: Agree! Plus canonical precedent. Hermione went through a lot of effort to look good for the Yule Ball, she shrinks her teeth & is shown to be upset by insults to her appearance (hair, teeth, etc.). I think this is an offshoot of Hermione as self-insert.

Brightest Witch of her Age: Wow! This has become so fanon I straight up forgot it was canon. But yes, definitely Agree!! I feel like the minister of magic thing might partially come from a lack of described & applicable background characters to fill the role?

"Unemployed" Draco: Alas, this is actually a thing. RICH rich people's money makes money for them & they often aren't directly involved in the process. The banks/ money managers basically handle all their investing for them. Thus with infinite income that requires no effort, people either fuck around & do what they want or pick up a career for fun. The only reason this might not be the case is if the govt. seized the Malfoy assets. However, the Malfoys were brought up on criminal charges unrelated to their wealth. Even if their assets were seized briefly during some kind of investigation, they would need to be returned. The assets might be temporarily inaccessible if everything was in Lucius's name & he was refusing to share/ disowned Draco or something like that.

Hermione virgin: Agree! Plus canonical precedent.

Obsessed Draco: Semi-agree. This is sort of situational for me. On the one hand, it often does seem very wish fulfillment-esque. However, in stories where Draco has full on left his old life, family, prior connections etc. behind it generally makes sense. Ya boy needs a life raft. In other cases it might be an offshoot of the 'excessive reforming' thing where people are thinking Draco would NEED to be obsessed with her in order to leave his prejudice behind.

Luna made fun of: Agree! Her friends should not be making fun of her! Affectionate comments on her oddity is acceptable, but mocking is a no-go & OOC for all characters I can think of that have a personal relationship with her. One potential exception coming to mind is Ron, but that's because (as I recall) he doesn't really have a personal relationship with her. They're more acquaintances/ friend-of-a-friend than anything. Of course, even with that said I can 100% see Ron saying something mocking about Luna to one of her friends, then turning around and aggressively defending her honor if someone OUTSIDE their extended friend group said something.

Can we talk about fic pet peeves?

I want to make it clear that this is not about a specific fic or author, but just some things I've seen in this fandom over the years. I've been reading Dramione for almost 15 years now and there are so many things that authors include that have become a pet peeve of mine.

This is not just exclusive to Dramione though, I have dabbled in other HP pairs before (e.g., Hansy, Theomione) and other fandoms (Gossip Girl, Elementary), and I have seen the same things there. I also have definitely come across some of these in published romance novels.

But this is a Dramione blog, so I will talk about them in context to this pairing.

Men being the cause of the breakup. So many times it's always Draco who messes up or says something horrible or doesn't "do enough". He is the one who has to repent and beg for forgiveness. Very rarely do you see a fic where Hermione is the one who is wrong and needs to apologize. And even when she does, it's always Draco who cuts her off and spins it around and makes him the bad guy who caused Hermione to be that way, and she doesn't actually have to work hard for forgiveness. Just a simple "I'm sorry" and he then says "no no, it's me....".

Having more than one conflict in a fic. Halfway through a story, the pair will have a major fight, which causes them to part. You then have a few chapters of them reflecting and then talking and making up. Then towards the last quarter of the fic, something comes up again and the characters react in the same way as before. You would think that they would have learned from the previous argument and not jump to conclusions and actually communicate. It feels like we are taking one step forward and 5 steps back. Why was this necessary? Why show your characters acting this way and show that they did not grow as people?

Focusing on so many other characters. I get that ensemble fics are a thing, but you need to say that in the beginning. You cannot just tag Draco and Hermione as the pairing, and then 5 chapters in, half the page is Harry and Ginny dialogue with no mention of the main pair. Let people know these things.

Speaking of other pairs, you need to tell your readers if you are gonna include scenes of Draco or Hermione having sex with other people. You need to tag these side pairings and say that we will read explicit scenes with Ron or Astoria or someone. We came for Draco and Hermione smut, not Ron or Pansy or Astoria or Viktor.

Since we are on the topic of tags. TAG ALL YOUR WARNINGS! So many times authors don't tag Rape/Non-Con!! Tag pregnancy difficulties, tag character deaths, tag the non-Dramione endings, tag violence, tag blood and gore, and tag any and all kink. Just tag things, it doesn't spoil the fic for people. Letting people know about things that may trigger them is not spoiling, it's human decency to let us know what your fic will entail.

Hermione's parents not being in the fic. Now I know Hermione sent her parents away before the war, but so many times you read about her not going back for them, not being able to retrieve their memory, then not wanting to be part of her life because of what she did. I understand it if this is a part of the fic, Hermione essentially grieving the loss of her parents. But what I have noticed is that most times author just have a throwaway line that her parents are not in her life, and it seems like it's not a big deal. Like oh well Hermione's mother is non-existent, but hey she has Molly now! Hermione's parents are not important in the HP canon, and it seems like authors feel the same, which is sad.

Molly being the matriarch of the trio. In canon, she kind of is because the stories are from Harry's perspective and he encounters the Weasleys and ingrains himself with their family, but she is always portrayed this way in fanfiction as well. As I mentioned in the previous comment, Hermione's mother isn't there so authors make Molly the mother figure for her, which is fine but authors make their relationship closer than what canon implies. But Draco also has a mother and most times we see Molly in the story more than Narcissa. I would assume that Narcissa would be the matriarch of that fic rather than Molly in a Dramione.

Harry and Ron being too involved in Hermione's life. Again this is fine, but it does get annoying to see fic after fic of them butting too much into her life and getting angry when she makes her own decisions. Friends should not try to control you, but guide and offer advice and be there if you fail.

Hermione not having friends outside of Harry and the Weasleys. I would assume that as they got older and got into the real world, they would meet new people and make new friends, not only stick to the same people they knew since they were 11. The Wizarding World is small, but we do have so many other characters in canon that you can use, it's okay to have Hermione become best friends with Padma, Luna, or Dean. You can have Draco even becoming bffs with Neville. He too is always stuck with Blaise or Theo and Pansy. Sometimes he doesn't have any friends and the fic only shows Hermione's friends.

If a fic starts off with Draco and Hermione having a relationship with another person, the breakup is always a bad one. People in real life have amicable breakups with their partners, it doesn't always have screaming and yelling and hatred. Most times this is used as a catalyst for the drama in a fic, but I would like to read a fic where Ron stays friends with Hermione and listens to her when she is talking about Draco, him offering advice or teasing her about a crush. It would be nice to see Astoria and Draco doing the same. And I say this as a huge "Ron Weasley Bashing" fan.

Hermione not knowing about fashion and makeup and having to rely on Ginny for help to get read for a date. Nowhere in canon does it claim that Hermione is like this, so how is this a common trope? I think this feeds into the "Hermione is not like other girls trope".

Hermione being the Brightest Witch of Her Age. In canon this is not a real thing, it is not an honorific that was bestowed on her by some sort of higher authority. It was something Harry and Remus said, it was their opinion. So having multiple people in a fic say this as though it is a proper title given to her annoys me honestly. Because when this happens, the fic always tends to have her being the only one who can solve the problem. So many people came before her and weren't able to do this particular thing, but Hermione somehow accomplished it without much help, with just a few books and at the ripe age of 24! These types of fics tend to have their characters fresh out of Hogwarts, so they are young but are able to become Heads of Departments! Can you imagine the 30/40-something-year-old who has been working for over 10/15 years in the ministry thinking it's only a matter of time before they get promoted to senior status, then suddenly this 20-year-old who just finished school walks in and gets the highest position without any experience or further education? I'd riot!

Draco not having a job. Many times fics have Hermione working hard in her career, but Draco is "in the family business" or "does investments". What does this mean???

Hermione being a virgin while Draco is the sex god. This trope feels sexist.

Hermione not doing anything muggle. This is similar to Harry in canon. It feels like Hermione forgot where she came from, and she doesn't care to go into the muggle world, or take Draco there.

Draco being obsessed with Hermione. Sometimes fics make his whole life revolve around her.

Luna being seen as weird. After all she has done and all she has shown to people that she is a smart, brave, very important friend to the trio, we still have scenes where Hermione and her friends make fun of Luna and her creatures. That is just rude.

This is all I can think of at the moment. I know this is a lot, but I kind of stopped reading fics for a while and as I managed Dramioneasks during this time, I would see new fics and just add them to my bookmarks. So I am now catching up on those fics and I feel like I am reading the same stuff over and over. Same tropes, same themes, same personalities, which is not a bad thing but it does give rise to pet peeves and thinking about older fics and how things haven't really changed over the last 15 years or so of my dramione life.

Again this is not from one fic or one author, but multiple fics and authors I have read over the years. Some of the fics I think are 5 stars have these pet peeves in them.

Do you guys agree with these? Do you have more to add? Leave them in the comments or send us a message. I would love to discuss and rant with you!

-Lisa

[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. 

[subtle-edge-of-rot]

This could also translate to teasing them on your end next time though 👀

It's all in good fun, as much as it's mean to tease you it works you up so good in the moment. Overstimulated and not above fucking yourself on their dicks to get what you need when they're edging you.

With Bo, the way you could tease him to hell and back when he's in his subby mood. You'll take his face for a ride, fingers running sweetly through his hair until you stop him abruptly, knowing that he aches to drink your climax and denying him will make him whine for you. You'll get him all worked up, hard and leaking for you while you're railing his ass with the strap. You have your chest flush against his back, nails scratching at his hips when yours suddenly stop. He'll groan, his face already buried in the pillow but you're really going to play this game when he's so close? Literally on the cusp.

Bo'll beg you, so pent up that he feels like he'll explode if he doesn't cum--you even bound his hands so that he really can't cum without you. If he begs nice enough and apologizes for not helping you in the laundry room you'll give him the relief he asks for..before fucking him into overstimulation, having him drool and listen to the way his voice cracks when he calls you mama or your preferred variant.

Alternatively, with Vincent. He knows exactly how to work you but your weakness to his touch doesn't always let him have the upper hand. You'll be sweet to him and get him worked up, several times over without finishing him. You'll go a couple days without letting him finish, as opposed to your multiple session days leading up to it. He'll feel like he's going through the effects of withdrawal, every time he sees you naked or scantily clad around the house it'll make him hard. You'll moan his name in your sleep next to him but he can't do anything about it, knowing you're getting payback for him teasing you.

He won't be above pulling out all the stops, asking you verbally for a session and promising in his raspy voice to breed you. He knows your weaknesses, taunting you a little back to try and tempt you and your dedication to his punishment. He'll walk around with no shirt and low riding sweats to show off his happy trail that you love, put his hair up in a bun--praising you when you're edging him. He'll try and get you to give in until he ultimately apologizes one way or another, desperate to be inside you since that's his favorite place to be. When you do let him put it in it makes him feel like he'll overheat, feeling the squeeze he missed so much and hearing all the sounds he can pull from you. He'll possibly cum prematurely, looking a little surprised at how easy you can pull it out of him after not getting him to completion for a mere few days. He'll take you all night to make up for every time you denied him.

All the while, sweet Lester gets dotted on, frequent treats and special praises about how good of a boy he is while he's railing you in his truck between visits to the twins. You'll pepper him with kisses and attention, so many sexts and sessions.

-💙

I was waiting for this ask to come through lol I was so eager to see what you were gonna say next lol

Rororororoor I’m barking like a dog again don’t mind me. I love a subby Bo, a teased Vincent, and a sweet Lester.

Seriously tho, subby Bo is my favorite. It makes me feral. Just imagining him under me and begging to the point of tears for relief? Chef’s kiss. It would be really hard not to ruin his orgasm and get him to cry for real. But alas, he was a good boy and apologized. I guess he can enjoy a full release. Multiple even—until he can’t anymore and he’s begging me to stop. 😌

As for Vincent…the fact that he’s so patient with you is everything. He’s accepting of the payback, he knows he had it coming. I love that even though he’s desperate to get back inside of you, he’s allowing you to edge him and rile him up…but he’ll still tease you back with all the things he knows drive you crazy. He would definitely blow his load way too soon when you allowed him entrance again, surprising even himself. You have such an intoxicating hold on him. He’ll stuff you nice and full that whole night.

Meanwhile Lester is getting it because he was a good and nice boy. He gets to enjoy you solely for a few days and he’s in absolute heaven—pussy drunk and eager to please. He’ll definitely brag about it too, proudly displaying all the hickies on his neck and scratch marks down his back. Imagine the smug look on his face when his brothers look at him enviously

[kingkatsuki]

Big, huge, pure beefy muscle 6’8 Sugardaddy ProHero!Kirishima;

Most would think with his amazing personality and world winning charming smile that he can get any woman he wants, I mean there’s a group of 4-5 girls that follow him around on patrol just to catch a glimpse of that smile and Greek god body, but alas, hero work took up a lot of his time so relationships were the furthest thing from his mind but he still liked to spoil. He’s the number 4 pro hero just rolling in dough[that cute smile almost on every build broad in the city] so he of course he has a sugar baby or a few but you are his favorite so far.

The cute whine that leave your lips when he leave in the morning after thoroughly blowing your back out, how needy and clingy you were to him always drove him crazy with lust and always ends up with him making you cum a few times just to keep you sedated for a few hours.

The way your eyes shine up at him when he pulls out his card to buy you a sexy little red dress that you promised just to wear for him;

A deep groan leaves his lips as his large hands grip and squeeze the round flesh of your ass while you moan and whimper, grinding your bare pussy against muscular thigh leaving a wet stain as you beg and plead for him to fuck you.

“Fuck-easy there babygirl. You’re making such a messy right now.”

You can only whine more, lips pouting as your hands grip the front of his shirt, eyes slightly narrowing and Kirishima can only chuckle, the sound making your body buzz with excitement. Loving how pouty and bratty you when you don’t get your way.

“Aww don’t baby ‘m trynna be nice here and keep your pretty little dress together.”

“Rip it off daddy I don’t care. Just please, please, please-!”

Now how can he say no to his favorite baby when you’re begging so nicely?

Even though he has a strict rule with all his babies not to come to the agency but you made yourself the expectation;

Kirishima had just gotten back in patrol, trying and failing to finish any paperwork because absolutely nothing gets done when you’re working with Kaminari. So the two head set down there work for later and decided to go grab a bite to eat. Kirishima was just about to text you when he heard Kaminari whistle lowly, drawing the redheads attention to the floor below and there you were, dressed in a skirt that was a little too short and those red ‘fuck me’ heels he got you the week before. He can tell by the look on your face that you were a little lost, a cute pout that draws his eyes to your lips but quickly snapped to the guy who was trying to come to your aid, then another, and then another until there a group of guys surrounding you.

At first you were pretty much like, “Ew, as if!” But spotting Red Riot himself looking as if he was seconds away from jumping down the railing. Imagining him stomping over and grabbing and tossing these boys aside like they weighed before snatching you up and tossing you over his shoulders like a rag doll to fuck you into a coma. Lucky for you, you knew how to get what you want. So you made sure Kiri eyes were on you as you “accidentally” dropped your clutch, a surprised “oops” leaves your lips as you watch the boys around you practically fall over themselves trying grab it for you but you honestly could careless when Red Riot is stalking towards you with a scowl on his face.

Now he’s got you in a full Nelson, legs spread wide in front of the big glass window of his office as punishment . The sounds your pussy makes when he bottoms out, tip kissing your womb as the the smell of sex and his cologne[Ruby Riot by GUCCI out now!] fogs your mind when he goes harder;

“See princess, I was gonna’ take you somewhere nice for dinner but you just had to be a brat”

“Breaking the rules, you really think you’re the one in charge here?”

“Dropping that two.thousands.dollars bag on the floor like it was nothing? That wasn’t very nice now was it?”

“Just gonna’ have to punish you until you show me that you can be a good girl, understand?”

After he’s finished with you, your hair is in disarray, makeup once perfect now smudged and smeared. Kirishima sends you on your way with a quick kiss and a smack on the ass, watching with amusement as you try not to limp but that dopey smile and euphoric look gives it all away.

You were his and it was time others knew that.

- annnnyywwaaayyyssss, one of these days, I will stop simping so hard for Kirishima and today is not one of those days! *clink**clink*🥂🥂



Okay you basically gifted me a whole ass feast in my inbox and I am lapping it up.

First of all, can we talk about Kirishima getting a perfume campaign for Gucci? Imagining him in one of those all black dress shirts which cling to his muscles. Smirking at the camera as he gives the perfect come to bed eyes. Every time you see the ad on TV, social media or on those huge animated billboards in Musutafu you’re ready to drop your panties at the sheer sight of it. And he smells even more divine.

The ful nelson in front of his office window where anyone could see you, especially when there’s another high rise building across the way. Dynamight glaring out his window until he sees you almost pressed up against Kirishima’s. Your tits bouncing with each pronounced thrust as he feels himself getting hard at the sight of you.

This was so good👌🏻

[bonefries]

I rate Sigma Overwatch’s sprays from 0-10

alright lets go, just going in the order that these files come in this folder

1000/10: Because I get to see him sitting and even though he’s thinking hard about something he’s throwing a bouncy ball to help him focus. Also his hair is particularly white here and I think thats very sexy old man of him.

50/10: Catbox, Catboy, its all the same theory. Sigma likes catboys, not up for debate. We know why. 

3/10: Just not fond of it. I know the sprays and their rendering gets super obscured but this one just got absolutely decimated I guess. Just being real with yall. 

10/10: Like the shading colors, he’s smirking. Rock vaguely looks like a heart. Love that for him. 

6/10: I just don’t like how the hat was drawn. I don’t think it needed to be there or could’ve been shaped better. Other than that decent spray. Wish he was happier looking though. 

9/10: I have this spray as a sticker and its just very cute fsr. Its simple and the color is exquisite and nice on the eyes. 

100000000000/10: There is something mysteriously and eerily sexy about this spray and it’s one of my favorites.  

2/10: Just because he is my husband doesn’t mean I’m not going to be an honest man. I Highly Dislike this spray because I think the art style is unappealing af. It’s just a personal preference, I hate all of the sprays that come in this style.  i didnt realize how long this post was going to be so im doing the rest under the cut to spare everyone else’s life: 

9/10: Solid rating with no goofing. While I take up some issues with some of the expressions in his other sprays showing pain, there is something about the composition of this one that I absolutely love. Its very aesthetic for me, speaks to his character, and the colors are beautiful. Wish his eyes were his usual periwinkle though which is why this isn’t receiving a perfect score. 

5/10: Not really sure what it is about this one that I’m not so fond of. I can appreciate the colors and his profile. But other than that theres something visually here that I don’t find appealing. Not sure what it is.

8/10: Decent rating, its nothing crazy. Since reference and has nice colors but thats about all my critique for this one.

11/10: Lovely hand, lovely gesture. Wanna squish the bean pads. Nice colors. 

6/10: This one is actually one of my favorites despite the rating not being solid. Only because while I love the colors and the concept, the idea of it makes me sad. The idea that it reflects Sieb’s trauma makes me sad, despite it being a rational depiction of such. 

50000000/10: love little christmas charm sieb, hope he gets a skin of this outfit some day. Hes so cute. Happy smiles thats all I want. I could kiss him.

3/10: CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF I’M NOT ACTUALLY SUPER ABOUT THIS SPRAY. WHY? Because I’m being nitpicky and I want him receptors on the sides to be THE TEAL THAT THEY ARE. Not GREEN. 

5/10: I feel like halfway rating with this one is fair. I like to imagine that thats Sieb’s hand writing and that makes me happy. But this spray is hard to look at for long periods of time because this kind of text squish is hurtful on my eyes. 

9/10: I actually hate this skin but fsr the spray makes it incredibly sexy. It actually got sexier the second time (this time) that I looked at it. Good for him.

6/10: Reasons for this rating, while I love the pose and intimidation this spray is posing, I also get sad to see Sieb’s strained expressions. I think his powers do have limits and they do effect him depending. And seeing all this big ass heavy equipment on him gives me conflicted feelings. He has a lot to carry, and he’s just lucky he has gravity powers to help. (I mean this metaphorically and literally.)

7/10: I love the art and concept on this one. He’s just so grumpy looking is all. My poor boy. 

9/10: He’s 7 ft tall and it shows and I am here for it. 

9/10: Remember when I said I was conflicted about seeing all that equiptment on him? Well its true, but I’m just going full thirst on this spray to say look at how fucking massive this man is. I want him to grab me with those hands and pitch me like a baseball. 

4/10: The pained expression in this along with the concept of it (as well as connection once again to his trauma) unsettles me and makes me feel the brain hurting juice. Nothing further.

1000000000000000000/10: This is one of my favorite sprays because its just casual work setting and gives me more insight on his lab uniform. His hair here also gets me barking like a rabid chihuahua. 

10/10: This gets a solid rating for A) Lab Coat Outfit and B) Seeing him again with the help of an object to stim while he thinks. (The squeeze ball) 

10/10: I cant not give halloween Sieb a solid score. I think this is adorable, but I don’t believe it’s Sieb as a kid. I think it’s just a child dressed up like him with no attachment to lore or anything. But its still very cute. 

100/10: I love the pixel sprays so much, simple and cute. 

6/10: I’m really not too crazy about the pose for the dragon spray. I feel like they could’ve done something a little more dynamic especially given he has gravity powers. But alas. 

9/10: This spray is on the same level as the apple head spray from earlier on in the post. Congrats if you’ve made it this far btw. But I love the soft expression on the left being challenged with the frightened/frustrated one on the right. 

0/10: I am not fond of this spray because of how much pain he appears to be in along with the implications all the junk flying around him has. Upsets me. 

50/10: I don’t care about the fish onions I just care about looking at my husbands huge ass arms and seeing him enjoy a smelly fish treat. Its what he deserves. Also what that mouth do. 

10/10: Solid perfect score because I have strong emotions about Van Gogh. And I think the interest between Siebren and Van Gogh, especially as two men who were/are fighting with mental illness speaks volumes about Sieb’s character. This spray makes me feel something in my chest that I can’t whole heartedly explain, but it isn’t a bad thing. 

10/10: Another perfect score, because I think this spray is a good mixture of Sieb’s character between the musical elements and his scientific work. He’s also smiling which is rare to find in his sprays.  

544386238043723507435742634387236804307403857435748035474803548744307384385740385748037408357438570480bark bark barK BARK /10: sexiest image in the entire game of overwatch nobody @ me i dont take constructive criticism 

[cherrycheridarling]

'someday maybe' | t.h.

tom holland x singer!reader

warnings: one swear? fluff and angst? kisses

summary: you're so close to finishing your second album when your manager pushes the deadline, your ex tom helps you write the final track.

{listen to someday by michael bublè and meghan trainor (if you want)}

wc: 2.1k

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey,"

"Yes, yes. I know. You are not being a very helpful manager right now, Noelle." you spoke to your phone as you paced around the living room, "Okay. I'll get working on it. Bye." you huffed and threw your phone against the couch.

Your album was due to be released in two months and you needed one more song to tie it all together. Your manager, Noelle, was pushing you to finish the song so she could start the promo of the album.

You were incredibly grateful for your career, but the pressure weighed down on you everyday. Never ending.

With a final groan you picked up your acoustic guitar and sat on the couch. Picking at the strings, trying to find a melody. You hit record on your voice memo app before strumming away.

"Someday maybe when we're old and grey, we can be in love once more. 'Till then I won't give my love away. Darling, I'm forever only yours." you sang softly.

You and Tom had a joyous relationship. A love that only ever existed in movies and fairytales. The type of love story that gets told for generations and onwards. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Your breakup was calm, serene and clean. A mutual agreement as if your whole relationship had been a business deal. There were no loose ends or jealous passive aggressive remarks made. Just maturity and respect for one another.

Your pinky still held the promise ring he gave you. A token of appreciation. A reassurance that he'd always be there for you. And he lived up to his word.

Tom walked in and sat across from you, startling you, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Whatcha writing?"

"Need a final song for the album. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I just get better inspiration here, with all the memories, you know?" you timidly looked back down at the guitar.

Tom nodded, "No need to apologize. We gave you a spare key for a reason."

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling the words from your lips, "That was when we were together."

You could hear the awkward silence start to fill the room before he spoke again, "Still our best friend, Y/L/N."

The pain that crossed your features was instant. Being addressed by your last name felt like a stab to the gut. Especially by Tom.

You nodded before playing again, "Can I help you write it?" Tom asked as he sat next to you.

"Dancer, gymnast, actor and now songwriter. How many hidden talents have you got, Holland?" you teased making him laugh.

He shrugged with a smile, "It's kind of like writing a poem, right?"

You pondered on his analogy before slowly nodding, "Yeah, it kind of is. Give it a go."

You began playing the melody and he listened intently for a few moments before singing, "I love seeing you happy. I miss seeing that smile. It's been such a long time. A– Nope. Nope. Nuh-uh. I can't do it." he shook his head aggressively with a loud laugh as you stopped playing.

"No!" you quickly protested, "That was amazing! Don't leave me hanging, c'mon." you nudged him with your shoulder before strumming again.

"Alright, alright." he ran his hands down his face, "And although I don't have you, I know now that I need to?" he paused and gave you a skeptical look before you nodded again, "Somehow make you mine. Mmm."

"Oh, okay. He's giving ad-libs and all. Get it." you nodded as he laughed.

You were so engrossed on Tom actually writing a song with you that you didn't focus on the lyrics he was singing.

"And I won't lie, it's hard seeing you with him 'cause I know he can't hold you like I can." his mood seemed to drop by a thousand as the words left his lips.

"When can we meet this boyfriend of yours?" Harrison flicked your forehead from across the booth.

You, Harrison, Tom and Tuwaine were all sat in the local pub. Pints of beer in front of each of you as loud music and chatting filled your ears.

You shrugged, "He's picking me up, so possibly tonight."

Tuwaine's eyes lit up, "Fina-fucking-lly. I swear you've kept him hidden for years."

"We've only been together for three months, T." you laughed lightly with the group of boys.

And they met him. It wasn't the smoothest of introductions, but an introduction nonetheless.

"Boys, this is Kai. Kai this is Tom, Harrison and Tuwaine." you gestured to the parties as they all shook hands and gave polite greetings.

"So," Harrison started, "What do you do for a living, Kai?"

Kai cleared his throat, "I'm a Senior Resident at Kingston Hospital. Working towards being Head of Pediatrics."

Tuwaine and Harrison both nodded, impressed by his profession. Tom's face remained expressionless as he stared at Kai with cold eyes.

"Do you have any siblings, Kai? Any psycho ex-girlfriends? Any wacky cousins?" Tuwaine joked making everyone laugh. "'Cause Y/N has a lot of wacky cousins."

"We could be in love once more,"

"Hey!" you gasped with a laugh.

Kai pulled you closer to him as he laughed, "No, no wacky cousins or psycho exes, but I do have an older sister and a younger brother."

This game of ask and answer continued on for a few more minutes. Tom didn't say a word, just sipped his beer and burned holes into Kai with his eyes. If looks could kill, Kai would be six feet under.

Kai was a sweetheart, but you two ended ages ago. His work got too much for him and your job had you touring and travelling every second.

You picked up after him with the chorus before diving into your own verse, "I remember that love song. I sang every word wrong, but you didn't mind, no, no."

"I love the things you do. It's how you do the things you love. Well it's not a love song, not a love song. I love the way you get me, but correct me if I'm wrong. This is not a love song, not a love song!" Tom belted the 'Austin & Ally' song from the top of his lungs.

"Your turn!" he pointed the pretend mic in your direction.

You laughed, not knowing any of the lyrics, but still wanting to participate, "I love that you not a licket! And you own a watch and chicken! We got a car!" you sang with full confidence, making Tom burst with laughter.

"Yes! Sing it, darling!" he cheered you on, "Absolutely butchering the lyrics, but sing it!"

"Being stuck inside a car. If it's not a doe, don't kiss it! I can't hear a missing, when there's a shoe inside the ceiling! If you really need to fart, you can lunch on a pig farm! Love song! Love song!" you couldn't even hear the song in the background, your voice overpowering it.

Tom was hunched over from laughing before he came back up and planted a soft kiss on your lips, "You are one hundred percent ridiculous and I love it."

You brought yourself back to reality and sang again, "And I'll admit that I miss you, but only if you do. 'Cause you know that I'm shy. And I can't lie, it's hard seeing you with her. 'Cause I know she can't love you like I can."

Tom's eyes met yours as the words fell from your gentle lips. His mouth was slightly agape as you continued to strum.

"You are absolute rubbish. Imagine coming in eighth. Embarassing." you laughed as you crushed Harrison in a game of Mario Kart.

He shoved you with his shoulder, "You're such a try ha—"

"—It's always the same, Tom! How can I trust you? You follow gorgeous models on Instagram and expect me to trust you?" Nadia's voice cut Harrison's words off.

You looked at him with wide eyes, his expression matching yours.

"Those women that I follow have been my friends for ages. Who I follow on a stupid app shouldn't effect how much you trust me."

You paused the game, cutting off the theme song, "How long have they been fighting like this?"

Harrison sighed, a long groan following, "A few weeks. I think it started when she saw that he liked your Instagram picture?"

You stammered, "M-my post? She got mad about my post?"

Harrison nodded before opening his mouth to speak, but Nadia cut him off again, "And she practically lives here! How do you think it makes me feel seeing my boyfriend play house with a superstar?!"

"Aw, a superstar? I'm flattered." you joked making Harrison stifle a laugh.

"I've been friends with Y/N since we were in nappies!"

"I can't be with you if you're going to be friends with her."

Your laughter abruptly died at her words. Harrison stiffened beside you.

"Y-you can't be serious. You can't make me choose between you and her."

"Why? Because you're gonna choose her?" you could hear her voice crack.

"I-" Tom couldn't make out a sentence for a few moments, "Yeah. I'm gonna choose her."

Your heart fell from it's place, stopping at your feet. Harrison brought a hand to his mouth, "H-he chose you. He chose you!" he whisper shouted before you shushed him.

"Of course. I don't know why I expected anything different. I think I'll be going now." Nadia's footsteps approached the living room.

You and Harrison scrambled to look as if you weren't eavesdropping on their argument/breakup.

Tom followed close behind her, "I'm sorry. I really am."

She nodded, hand on the doorknob, "I know. Goodbye." she stepped out of the house, slamming the front door shut in the process.

Tom let out a breath of relief before turning to you and Harrison who were staring at the Mario Kart home screen with the infamous tune playing.

"You guys are terrible actors."

"'Till then I won't give my love away,"

"I'm forever only yours." the both of you finished the song in unison.

There was a moment of silence before you reached over and ended the voice recording.

"T-that was really good. You can change what I wrote, I know it isn't as good as anything you would've written, but I tried. And it was actually pretty fun and I never knew how difficult songwriting was un—"

"—Kiss me." you cut Tom's rambling off.

His eyes grew wide, "W-wha—"

"—Kiss me, Holland."

He swallowed, a small smile stretching on his lips, "Thank God."

And with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Interlocking like missing puzzle pieces. Moving in sync like waves in the ocean. Soft and sweet, but filled with passion. You could feel his smile against your lips causing you to grin.

His hand came up to pull your face closer into his. Caressing your jaw, fingertips playing with the hairs on the back of your neck. His other hand holding your hip in a tight grip. Pressing the pads of his digits into your flesh, scared that you might slip through his fingers again.

One of your hands was pressed flat against his chest. Steadying yourself, the heat of the kiss threatening to throw you off of your axis. Your other hand tangled itself into Tom's curls. Pulling and tugging lightly causing small groans to fall from Tom's lips. Your fingernails scratching his scalp. Pulling him impossibly closer to you.

"I want my ten pounds." Harrison's voice snapped you and Tom out of your make out session.

Him and Tuwaine stood in the doorway, shit eating grins on their faces.

Tuwaine laughed before placing a ten pound note in Harrison's palm, "You guys couldn't have waited until next month to get back together?"

"You two were betting on us?" Tom laughed at his mates who nodded.

You shook your head with a smile, "Absolute idiots, all of you."

Harrison let out a happy sigh and pocketed the money, "Today was a good day. Had a sick ass shoot. Got ten pounds. And my best friends are finally together again." he waltzed into the kitchen with Tuwaine, leaving you and Tom alone again.

Tom's shy expression met your gleeful one before he spoke, "Someday came a lot sooner than expected, huh?" he chuckled.

You nodded with a laugh, "It certainly did and I am not complaining."

He sent you a wide grin before cupping your face and connecting your lips to his again.

"Darling, I'm forever only yours."

[midnightmoonkiss]

Bunny Lingerie.

Bunny! Pro Hero! Midoriya Izuku X Fem! Bunny! Reader

Summary: The day of love prompts you to wear something new. Works out well enough!

WARNINGS!: Nsfw, Dom!Deku, mentions of breeding (’cuz bunny sex), squirting, doggy style, overstimulation

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Happy Valentines Day! I rewrote this twice lmao. >.<

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

You’re both bunny-human hybrids (bunny ears, tails, noses(?), mindset)

You live together

It’s Valentines Day

Tag List: @coupsieddori @desia2 @brithedemonspawn

If you’d like to be added or removed please lmk!

Inhaling deeply, you gave yourself a final lookover in the full-body mirror standing tall in your shared bedroom.

You were nervous, anxious, so much so your ears were pressed flat against your head, body trembling, goosebumps forming on your skin.

This was the first time you’ve ever worn lingerie.

Sure, you couldn't deny that.. It made you feel pretty, but it also made you feel.. so terribly exposed. Your tummy and legs were completely bare!

It was a simple red baby-doll styled two piece, a thong with a shiny red bow in front. You looked like one of those fancy valentines day heart chocolate boxes with a fake bow tying it together.

An open invitation to be unwrapped and devoured without care.

The mere thought made you shiver in delight, bunny tail wagging likr a dog. It was exciting.

But you were still nervous.

How would he react upon seeing you?

Would he like it?

You hoped he would, considering this was the cutest piece in the store that fit your personality well enough. Besides, he liked cute things.

He always did. You knew he was up to no good whenever he’d whisper about how cute you were, once bright green eyes darkened to a lustful jade. Lust always made him look even more handsome.

But alas. Valentines Day hasn't been this nerve wracking since the first one you celebrated together over two years ago.

The day was about love, and you completely showered each other in it today.

Waking up to a delicious breakfast, a box of chocolates and roses, a cute date, hand in hand as you walked down the snow covered sidewalk, little kisses on the cheeks and bashful smiles when others awed at the two of you.

You just got home from dinner nearly a half hour ago, it was pure luck that Izuku, your generous boyfriend, decided he was going to go out to the store real quick for some snacks and a movie so you two could have a movie marathon to end the day with.

He liked to snuggle, to cover you in his scent so other horny rabbits would stay away.

Little did he know, you had other not-so innocent plans first.

The bed was sprinkled in rose petals, white lights turned off so your LED lights could wrap the room in a soft red glow. Dim, not dark. 

Scentless red tea-light candles were scattered around the bedroom, and you were the centerpiece.

It’s not as if you hadnt had sex with him before, you were both bunnies after all- it was inevitable, it’s just… this was new territory. But you wanted to make this day special, or as special as you could.

He’s been so good to you, how could you not want to do this for him? You just.. prayed he liked it.

The sound of the heavy front door opening and closing, paired with his familiar voice and scent flooding the apartment, made you jump.

“(Y/N)? I’m home..!”

Shuttered breath, you shuffled backwards to the bed.

What was the pose you practiced again?

Your heart was racing with every loud step he took closer to the shut bedroom door.

“Sweetie?” He called out, the sound of shuffling bags muffled by the oak bedroom door.

Despite how nervous you were, you still bit your lip in excitement.

How would he react?

Scooting your ass further up the bed, you adjusted yourself so that you were sitting on your knees, legs spread apart to show off that red bow. Leaning forward ever so slightly, you rested your hands in front of you.

All that was left to do was wait.

Ears still pressed backwards from nerves, you had a hard time not wiggling in your position.

Until finally, the door creaked open slowly.

You couldn't help but pout upon seeing him, hoping he’d like it.

Though you nearly laughed when his ears shot up suddenly from surprise, slapping so loudly against the top of the door frame you feared he hurt himself.

“Fuck..” He whispered under his breath upon seeing you sitting on the bed, waiting for him. Before you could even ask him if he was alright, the door was already shut and he was in front of you.

“Baby..” His breathing was irregular, nose twitching as his cold fingers traced up your exposed thighs, taking in the outfit you wore for him.

You shivered under his touch, tail wiggling. “Do you.. like it?” You were still shy, despite his obvious enjoyment.

“I love it honey... fuck.. You look so hot, (Y/N)..” He stuttered, caught up in his head as his cheeks flushed, highlighting his freckles and sharp jaw.

The praise made you whine, head turning away as your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. Your cheeks were burning, the feeling of his eyes drinking you only making your panties wet.

“Aht, aht, aht,” He chided, “Don’t look away from me baby,” Large, scarred hand cupped your warm cheek, turning your face back towards him. His knee pressed against the bed with a squeak as he leaned down to capture your lips in a reassuringly sweet kiss.

You quickly melted into it, nervousness washing away as your tongues danced passionately together, the taste of chocolate making you suck lewdly on his tongue. His deep moan made you smile against him. Large hands smoothed down your body, gripping your ass cheeks and pulling you deeper into a kiss, moan escaping you involuntarily.

He fiddled around with the outfit as your lips continuously met, feeling you up and brushing against your exposed sensitive places.

“Izuku..” You whispered as you broke apart for a second to breath.

You could hear his own tail wagging as it brushed noisily against his shorts, you could feel how turned on he was as his harded crotch brushed against your thigh.

The fact that he desired you as much as you wanted him to made you float to cloud nine.

“Gah!” You cried out as you were suddenly pushed back against the bed, legs slipping out from under you as you stared up at his large frame towering over your much smaller body.

His unruly curly green curls framed his handsome face as red lights kissed his scarred, freckled skin, mixing with the yellow of the candles scattered around the room. The look in his eyes made you writher beneath him, it was as if you were a piece of meat he was going to eat.

Despite those long ears that scream rabbit, he always made you feel like a wolf's prey in bed. Defenseless.

You clit throbbed as you stared helplessly up at him, smirk on his lips while he took his shirt off, revealing the rippling muscles beneath that you just wanted to lick.

“Oh bunny,” he purred, let’s have some fun.”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, body burning with desire as he stared down your vulnerable body, wide, innocent (E/C) eyes meeting his hungry gaze.

Adjusting his position, he put all his weight on his legs, rough palms feeling your warm body up again.

You were just so beautiful in his eyes, and in this lighting? You were like a succubus that he got to have all to himself.

He wanted nothing more than to taste you, his patience was always what destroyed you.

Hands on top your breasts that were squished down by gravity, his thumbs circled around your nipples, pulling at the sensitive flesh through the red fabric, watching in delight as your back arched ever so slightly to press further into his familiar touch.

Your smaller hands fell atop his own, the size different making him lick his lips.

You truly were so cute. Especially with that face you were making from him just playing with your perky buds.

Eyebrows pinched and eyes shut, soaking in the moment.

Yeah, he was going to drown you in his love tonight.

Watching you fall apart, scream his name, the look on your angelic face as you came hard just for him - it was so addicting. And for you to wear this sexy piece of fabric, leaving parts of yourself to his overactive imagination and highlighting others that made him mad with desire? It made his cock throb in his shorts, close to drooling at just how perfect you looked. All for him, no less.

Yes. You were his. His perfect little bunny.

When his hands moved from your breasts, you peaked an eye open, watching as he climbed off the bed and sat down on his knees.

“Wh-? Izu-? - aH!” A shrill shriek tore from your throat as his hands grabbed your spread legs and yanked your lower half towards him, flimsy piece of red fabric doing next to nothing to hide how utterly turned on you were.

“So wet for me..” He whispered to himself, thumbpad running across your clothed slit.

“I-Izu! D-Don’t say such things..”

He always seemed to nose that filter of his whenever he was turned on, that sweet boy being replaced by a true beast.

“Mmm? Why not?” 

Hand gripping your thigh, he lifted your leg just to press little kisses dangerously close to your clothed self, teasing you as his hot breath fanned over you.

Izuku’s green gaze was sharp yet teasing as he stared up at your flushed self, your own hands gripping the pure white sheets to ground yourself. 

“I-I…”

You gulped, ears flopping down as embarrassment burned your soul, “I don’t- Nnn!”

Your head flung back against the soft mattress when his tongue pressed down hard against the area where he just knew your pretty little clit was, circling around it through the fabric you soon found annoying and wished he would just tear off with his teeth.

He shoved your legs down against the mattress when you bucked against his face, muscules bulging, spreading your legs even further apart and completely exposing yourself to him, thong doing barely anything to cover you.

You sweet scent flooded his senses, all he could smell was you and god he loved it.

“Now, now, darling. You just lay there and look pretty for me, okay?” He shot you a cheeky smile, one he always wore on television. It highlighted the single dimple on his right cheek, and made him seem all the more dangerous.

A wolf in a rabbits clothing if anything.

You couldn't control your own wagging tail peeking out below your ass, your excitement on display for him.

How cute.

“You know,” He began, laughing to himself, “It’s like I’m opening a box of chocolates,” toying with the ribbon on the front of the thong before moving the fabric to the side so your bare pussy was on display.

“I bet you taste just as sweet.”

You didn't even have time to be embarrassed before his tongue licked you up.

“A-AaAh!!” You grip on the sheets tightened, head pressing further back into the bed as he devoured you like a bloodthirsty animal. He was one, in a way.

His hot tongue was firm, just what you needed.

Every time he got close to your throbbing clit, he’d move back down, licking up the juices he found so delicious.

“M-mm! Izuku..! H-haaAh!”

To say you were turned on was an understatement, you were practically a faucet.

There was something so alluring about being completely and utterly dominated by someone you loved so much, you wanted more.

Your hips twitched with every move his tongue made, grip on your thighs firm as he held you in place.

The vibrations from his own moans sent shockwaves down your body, and the second his sweet lips finally wrapped around your begging clit your back arched completely off the bed.

The sensation was so sweet, you couldn't help but grab onto his large green ears as he licked around and sucked on your little bundle of nerves.

A growl tore from his throat, pulling your body impossibly closer to him, pussy pressed against his face, aggressively licking you up like a melting ice cream in the sweetest way possible.

His thick fingers were plunging into your clenching hole before you even knew it, curling against that spongy spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back in your head and squirting on his lower face.

This only made him eat you out more enthusiastically, you were so damn hot to him.

Your fuzzy tail tickled his hand as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, a squelching noise filling the room alongside wet clicks and pornographic moans.

Your cries of blissful pleasure bouncing around the room dark had him drooling as he watched in a trance as your body shook from his own doing. Your clit rested against the tip of his tongue, throbbing, as he watched you, getting lost in your sound and from how wet you were as his fingers fucked in and out of you.

You were so tight.

So good.

He wanted to fuck you right now. 

Wanted to bury his large cock deep inside you.

You looked so sexy...so, so sexy in this outfit.. It was so cute and innocent.. So perfect for someone as cute as you.. And yet he wanted to ravage you like a feral beast, he wanted your breasts to bounce out of the flimsy bra as his hips slammed into yours. He wanted you.

Today was a day about love, and he wanted to love you sweetly, but his hormones were raging inside of him, and you calling out his name for more, tugging on his sensitive ears that had his hips bucking into this air.. It didn’t help.

He could feel himself slipping, animalistic nature taking over his senses.

He wanted to fuck you so good you couldnt think straight, fill you to the brim with his hot cum until your belly bulged.

That constant need to mate that male rabbits had… he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have it too, despite trying his best to put on an innocent face outside of the bedroom. He was a gentleman, but a horny one right now who wanted his girlfriends sweet pussy wrapped around his aching cock.

His body worked on autopilot, bringing you to a quick orgasm and then shoving your body up the bed.

You cried out in surprise, nerves on fire after just cumming, vision blurry with pleasureful tears.

He practically tore off his shorts and underwear, beautiful looking cock springing free and dripping with a copious amound of precum.

“I want you, all of you..” He groaned, pawing at your body as he flipped it over, your knees pressing into the soft mattress as he spread your lower lips from behind.

“Baby, please..” His head dropped down to the crook of your neck, soft ears brushing against your cheek as he left wet, open mouth kisses along your nape and neck, nibbling against sensitive skin and sucking a quick hickey. “Let me have you..”

His hot cock rubbed against your dripping cunt as he grinded against you, his tip kissing at your puffy clit.

“Please, Izuku.. Please fuck mM-mMMH! Haa!”

Tears poured down your cheeks as he slammed into you, bottoming out immediately and barely giving you a minute to adjust before pulling out and slamming back into you.

Not that your delirious self gave a shit.

He felt so good.

So fucking big.

He filled you up so good, dick pressing against all the right places deep inside you.

You could feel your own liquids dripping down your thighs, ears lax and tail straining as you sink into the feeling of being fucked raw.

“Shit!” He grunts, grip on your hips so tight as he plowed into you that you swore there would be bruises there tomorrow. His thick cock slams in and out of you, mixing up your insides and drawing you closer and closer to yet another soul shattering, mind numbing orgasm.

“M-mmore! Z-zu!! H-aAAH! AH!” 

The loud slap of wet skin against echos around the room, the bed creaking with every powerful movement he made, mattress moving along with the two of you only adding to the intense feeling deep inside you.

“Gonna make you f-feel so good.. Hnnn!” His words slurred, mind swirling with animalistic desires. All he could think about was filling you to the brim with his seed and making you cum all over him and the bed.

His hips snapped into you at an inhuman pace, like a bunny, ears standing at full attention as his eyes focused on the way your pussy sucked his cock back in with each thrust.

Snapping, he shoved your upper body down into the sheets, holding you in place as green sparks licked at his skin.

Multiple colors collided in the room as his quirk pumped into his veins, fucking you so good and so quickly that you came immediately with a shrill cry of pleasure, vision going black as stars bursts in your vision, the sensation of pissing yourself making you clench around him as you squirted all over the bedsheets below.

“H-HaAH! DEKU!” Your body jerked uncontrollably as you cried out his hero name that made him moan. He continued to fuck you like a sex-crazed rabbit in a rut, practically breeding you as you body buzzed with pleasure.

“You take me so well..! (Y-Y/N)..! You’re so fucking tight!” The praise slipped past his spit slick lips before his mouth was snapped shut, snarling as you walls hugged him like a warm, soul sucking vice, pulling you possessively closer to his muscular body.

His cock slammed relentlessly into you, upper body soon coming to press down on your own so he could slip a hand between your spread legs, rubbing circles around your puffy clit. The sensation made your head spin, accidentally causing you to squirt all over his hand like a filthy slut.

“C-Cumming!” He moaned, body freezing as his cock twitched violently inside your clenching pussy.

His cum truly did fill you to the brim, the sensation of hot ropes coating the inside of your walls nothing short of addictive. You swore you could cream just from the feeling.

His loud moans made you squeeze even tighter around him. “F-fuck me, fuck me!” You sobbed, wanting more and more. All that he could give and then some.

You didnt care how sore you’d be tomorrow, all you could think about was having him fuck you through the night, bringing you to the brink of insanity in this silky red lingerie.

Truly, you were rabbits. Both already ready for round two.

Sure, Izuku was a bunny, but he sure as hell didn’t act like it with how he sinks his teeth into your skin, marking you up possessively. Nor did he submit like one.

By the end of the night, you both were passed out on the bed, cuddling, covered in each others cum and hearts full of love as your body leaked his white seed.

Yeah, you should buy more lingerie.

[miss-smutty]

Forbidden

Chapter 1

A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵

Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 1.5 K

Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, age gap

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts

Chapter 2

I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.

I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.

I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt. 

"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.

"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.

It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.

"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.

"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.

"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.

"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.

"What part of Australia are you from?"

"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America." 

"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though." 

"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?

"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.

I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.

"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.

"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

********

I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.

Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd

gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.

"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.

"What're you talking about?" 

"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."

"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.

"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.

I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.

"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me." 

"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.

"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."

"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?" 

"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine." 

"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.

"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."

"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."

"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.

There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

[chaozsilhouette]

Turbulent Beginnings

This forms the opening act to Macaque’s story, showing just how different his and Wukong’s early lives were and why he took Wukong’s disappearance so hard.

The idea Macaque was born from the wind was inspired by @animemoonprincess. And yes, I am a shameless fan of Macaque originally having white fur. The angst is just too perfect.

Brace yourselves, this isn’t going to be pretty. I am essentially shoving our boy through an emotional meat grinder.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On a remote island, a day’s travel from China’s eastern shore, a massive hurricane raged as it had since the beginning of this world. The surrounding storms fed into it as its winds carved stone. No life had dared blossom on its soil out of fear of a painful demise. The merciless storm drank deeply of the waters of the sea, draining all aspects of potential and life before casting it aside. Not even curious spirits were spared.

Various deities had wondered why such a storm existed or why the Jade Emperor allowed such a dangerous presence to continue unchecked. Most believed that since the hurricane was stationary and prove no threat to the established order of the world, it was not important.

One day the hurricane vanished. As though it had never existed. Or rather that it had been transformed into something else.

It was the night of a new moon and with the hurricane gone, the island experienced its first cloudless sky. The only one to witness the momentous occasion was a monkie with pure white fur and six ears. Minding his manners, the nameless monkie bowed to the four winds in greeting.

The newborn proceeded to spend his days searching the island for something. Some clue as to the reason behind his birth. He could hear strange voices and words he didn’t understand yet at the same time could. He knew he wasn’t the only creature alive, so why was he alone?

For food, he walked his way through a cave system towards the sea, where he enjoyed the fish that were drawn in through the whirlpools and the mussels that clung to the sharp rocks. He grew to savor the taste of life, even though there was a part of him that craved something different.

Almost forty years passed before he mustered the courage to leave everything he knew to seek out those voices. He gathered all the driftwood and rope that had drifted onshore over the decades, fashioned it into a makeshift raft, and sailed towards the closest source of voices.

His voyage was actually pretty boring once he cleared the whirlpools.

The only exciting part about it was when that strange fish tried to sink his raft. It was bigger than any fish he’d previously seen with a mouth to match. Didn’t mean it survived past the first blow. Taking a bite Macaque wasn’t sure if he liked this fish. The muscles were tough and the flesh was rough on his tongue. He didn’t particularly like the taste. But there was enough to feed him for a full day.

In the end, he chose to eat a third of the fish’s muscles along with its heart before tossing back into the water.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Docking on dry land was an experience that would haunt him for years.

At first, he was filled with wonder at the sight of buildings and new creatures riding rafts far bigger than his.

When he stepped onto shore the whispers began.

The creatures, who he later learned were called humans, were pointing out his ears. They acknowledged his obvious intelligence. He heard them grip wooden instruments tightly. It was as if they expected him to do something.

No one made a move against him. No one approached him, but he could tell he wasn’t wanted. Everywhere he turned he saw eyes that cursed his every existence.

He didn’t stay in that village for long. In his mind, satisfying his curiosity wasn’t worth being stared at as though he was the source of all evil.

Demon.

That is what they called him. Was that what he was?

He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He aimlessly wandered the countryside for far too long.

The first act of kindness he received was from a couple who could not have children of their own. He stumbled upon them by accident, but instead of the normal fearful expressions he’d come to expect they greeted him with genuine smiles and an offer to join them for dinner.

They took him in and treated him like family. He became the son they always wanted. They taught him how to properly speak and how to walk comfortably on two limbs. They blessed him with a name.

They were kind and nurturing. In another world, they may have been called bodhisattvas. But sadly, due to them being ordinary mortals, his time with them only lasted four decades.

He buried them with love but grew resentful of his weak emotions.

He learned what it was like to have someone welcome him home after a long day. He learned to savor the taste of a mother’s home-cooked meal. He enjoyed having a father figure who was willing to teach him old military tactics. He experienced friendly competitions to see who could paint the most accurate portrait of a flower they saw earlier that day. It was everything he never knew he craved and then it was gone. Leaving him with an empty home and a broken heart.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Nearly fifty years later he joined a band of traveling performers.

Their natural oddities allowed them to see who he really was and welcome him into their party. With their compassion, he was granted the opportunity to heal. He learned that despite the group’s large size, very few of them had any direct blood relations. What made them special was how they created their own family and turned what many called strange into something beautiful. Out of respect, he delved into the world of entertainment, found he had a natural talent for it.

When he took the stage people assumed he was in costume, but that didn’t matter. The applause of the audience was a gift he cherished. The sheer passion this family expressed through every second in life warmed his heart beyond words. They were just what he needed to bring him out of his depression.

Alas, it was not meant to stay.

One night their camp was ambushed by a group of demons. They were nothing special, hardly worth mentioning. But for him, back then, it was a fight he never imagined. He could easily handle human bandits, so could his family, but never had he traded blows with a small army of his fellow demons. With the rising of the sun, Macaque stared at the cruelly bright sky covered in blood. All around him bodies lay scattered, life essence soaking into the ground. Despite being tasked with fighting off nearly five dozen demonic opponents he managed to survive with barely a scratch, but he was alone. Again.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tried to change things by sticking to his fellow demons. At least they lived longer.

Somehow that ended up with him becoming the apprentice to a demon healer for almost a century. She was a cold-hearted bitch with a heart of gold. Meticulous in her work, masterful in deduction, and short-tempered with the foolish. She gave everything to her practice and expected the same from him. It was bitter work, but he found it fulfilling. The knowledge that he now possessed the ability to restore others to peak condition settled some unknown part of his soul.

Of course, they would have visitors who wished to take advantage of her skills or steal the medicine. Between the two of them, they protected their clinic, but they weren’t always together. While she may try to hide it, she wasn’t the strongest demon out there. Apparently, the entire reason she got into medicine was to uncover why she was so weak. Centuries of research turned up nothing, but it did make her incredibly skilled at using poisons with her knives to compensate.

One day after he returned from gathering ingredients, he pulled back the door to find the shop in disarray, five unknown bodies slowly dying of extensive blood poisoning, and his master bleeding out from her severed arms. She always said she had no intention of entering Naraka alone.

Guess she kept her word.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The cycle repeated itself over centuries. He would experience a brief window of happiness only for it to be savagely stolen from him, leaving him to mourn and curse his weak heart.

The small glimmers of kindness humanity showed him only made him curse their race even harder when he couldn’t walk into a village without being harassed. The humans who had proven stronger were sadly a rare breed. He was rare to encounter one a century and often they perished at the hands of their kind rather than by demons.

There were times when the ignorance had gotten so bad he’d taken to traveling with a constant glamour, disguising himself as an average human. Whenever he was in the presence of other demons, he allowed his true form to manifest, however, he made it look like he only had a single pair of ears. Standing out was the easiest way to wind up in a complicated situation he had no interest in trying to defuse.

That’s not to say his time was wasted.

Quite the contrary, he had learned much during his travels. He could hardly be compared to the happy young monkie, who was ignorant of the dangers and hardships this world held. In a sad attempt to fill the void, Macaque sought out wisdom and strength. He located masters of both the mystic and martial arts. He may have had to lie about his age, he was becoming quite the accomplished liar, but the results were more than worth it. With every stop, he found himself growing more certain of his strength and his identity.

Eventually, he discovered a strange monastery hidden in a cave in the face of a mountain.

He had never seen anything like it during his travels. But what truly drew his attention was the feeling the temple exuded, every stone exuded a strange aurora. Something powerful dwelled within, powerful yet there was an undeniably human quality to it all.

Hiding beneath his usual glamor, Macaque approached the temple with the desire to discover exactly what was being taught. Before he knew what was happening, he was speaking to the immortal sage who was running the joint. Master Subhuti welcomed him to his home and offered some tea. The disguised monkie was bombarded by dozens of questions, all of which he attempted to answer as though he was a normal human.

The master welcomed him as his newest disciple and showed him his new home. Later he learned the master could see through his disguise and sensed his potential. Apparently, the old immortal believed that the monkie would do well to learn his disciplines and he was fascinated by the monkie’s natural talent.Said something about how with proper guidance only the Buddha would be able to peer past his façade.

The monkie even received a new name to celebrate his rebirth. From that day forward he was Liu’Er Mihou, or the Six-Eared Macaque. He liked it. While he cherished the name his first family gifted him, he felt this was a good sign. A tribute to show that he was a changed monkie.

Regardless, he refused to drop his glamor. He had seen too many demons be cast out and attacked for getting sloppy. The other students were not thrilled about the newcomer showing them up and he wasn’t willing to give them a true reason to despise him. He learned quickly, more so than any other human disciple, but that put him at odds with those who were still struggling after years of training.

Macaque distanced himself from the others. They weren’t that interesting anyway. He didn’t care that they talked about him behind his back or were fully aware he could hear them. He couldn’t risk getting close so soon. He was determined to break the cycle. He didn’t care about immortality. He didn’t care about obtaining power. All he wanted was to end the pain. So far things had been working out in his favor.

Then heshowed up…

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

That trice damned monkie with peach-colored fur and markings like a golden mask. He was so naïve about the world. He treated everything as though it was some exciting game. His upbeat energy made Macaque sick. Some twisted part of him wanted to snap his neck just to end it, but a small part was fascinated by it. The other monkie reminded him of a time he had almost forgotten.

The Monkey King, or Sun Wukong, didn’t bother hiding his true appearance. Truthfully, Macaque wasn’t sure he knew how or that he should. He didn’t seem to notice how other students would keep their distance or how they kept their conversations as brief as possible without crossing the threshold into being considered rude.

He was so earnest and happy, it was painful. The new monkie pestered everyone about everything, it was like dealing with a newborn, but it seemed Macaque was his favorite to bother. The worst part was how he stared at Macaque as though he could peer past his glamour. Although Macaque wasn’t sure if that was truly possible. The Master could, but he dedicated centuries to refine his skills. Wait. How old was this annoyance? Perhaps he could smell he wasn’t like the other disciples.

Either way, he knew it was just a matter of time until the truth got out. He just didn’t expect it to be when he was changing.

Each student was offered a meager room for privacy. They were all the same size and offered little to no space for any customization, but the walls were enchanted to cut out sound whenever the doors were closed.

Behind those flimsy walls was the only time Macaque allowed his glamor to drop. While he valued being cautious, even he couldn’t keep up the glamour indefinitely, much less when he was asleep.

It was in that small space of safety that he discovered he wasn’t alone.

He had just allowed himself to relax when a smiling face covered in peach fuzz was shoved into his own.

“I knew it! You’re like me.” Sun Wukong happily exclaimed, stars practically dancing in his eyes.

“Shut up.” Macaque clamped his hand over the other’s mouth. Checking to ensure no one else was present and the door was shut, he faced the intruder. “Have you told anyone?” He hissed, while berating himself for failing to check the ceiling. You always look up when scanning a room, he knew that.

“Nope. Why are you hiding? You’re beautiful.” The cheerful demon spoke as though they were old friends. His golden eyes took in every hair of his fellow monkie’s true appearance.

“I’m a demon. And there is nothing beautiful about me.” Macaque growled.

“Yes, there is.” Wukong insisted. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you hiding? The Master let me in, I wager he knows about you, so why?”

Sighing, Macaque massaged the bridge of his nose. “I have been hurt enough times to know keeping a low profile is optimal in survival. It is better to keep one’s head down than risk getting called out.” From observation, he knew the newer student wouldn’t leave until he received answers, so the best option was to just give him what he wanted and pray he knew enough to leave.

“That’s no fun.” Wukong stuck his tongue out in distaste. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. We were born this way.” He jumped high into the air only to catch himself on his tail with a cheeky grin. “So, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Cute speech. But my answer is no. Now leave.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that attitude right up.” Thankfully Wukong left, but not before sending a smile laced with mischief his way. “See you tomorrow.”

Macaque prayed to every deity that would be the end of it. But even he knew it was a futile attempt.

“Do you have a tribe?” Wukong asked, hanging by his tail from Macaque’s favorite tree.

A startled Macaque blinked at the random question. “A what?”

“A tribe. A family. A place to call home?” Wukong asked smoothly even if he wasn’t familiar with the term family until recently he knew it was important.

“Not anymore.” Glaring Macaque returned his focus to his meal.

“Aw.” Wukong knew that look. He had seen plenty of monkeys wear that arura after watching other tribe members die. “Then you should come with me!”

“What?”

“Yeah. You can join my tribe. There are dozens of us back home. Plenty of food and water, you’ll constantly be surrounded by others like us.”

“Other demons?”

“No.” Wukong smiled as though he told a funny joke. “Other monkeys.”

“There is no reason for me to join you.” Macaque stated, wishing he could finish his lunch in peace.

But Wukong wasn’t letting him go that easily. “And there’s no reason for you to refuse.” He stated, ignoring any and all social cues or common sense for respecting personal space.

It went on like that for years. Every day Macaque would awake to find gold eyes staring at him, waiting for his answer to change. Breaks were spent dodging the hyperactive monkie as he tried to eat alone. Training sessions soon found him sparring with the same partner.

The monkie was stubborn no doubt and Macaque feared his actions were slowly breaking down his walls. The pale furred monkie missed having a connection. He adored being able to talk to others, but whenever he opened up he only got hurt.

But maybe, maybe this time could be different…

Wukong was training to obtain immortality. He had already proven to be stronger and more clever than anyone he’d known. The simian showed that he wanted to know him better. He constantly tried to touch his fur, something he called grooming, which felt pretty nice.

Maybe…maybe this time he could truly have a home.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

A streak of light accompanied by a sharp whistle pierced the night sky. For a brief moment, it vanished before exploding in a beautiful display of color and light.

On the monastery’s rooftop, Wukong backflipped in joy at the sight, his golden eyes wide. “Happy New Year!” The monkie cried. In the village below, he could make out dozens of voices echoing the greeting.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw them, fireworks were a sight he always adored. “This has got to be mankind’s greatest invention!” The flowers of fire were simply too beautiful. So unique. Nothing on Flower Fruit Mountain compared to such beauty, it made him thankful he decided to leave.

From the corner of his eye, Wukong noticed that his companion was clutched his ears wincing with every detonation. “You okay, bud?”

“I’m fine. Just loud.” Macaque said. He was truly questioning his sanity by joining Wukong on the roof. Normally he barricaded himself in his room, but his friend was so thrilled about sharing their first New Year together he couldn’t say no.

“Oh.” Somehow the new set of fireworks didn’t look that attractive. “We can go inside if you want.” They were beautiful, but nothing was worth feeling helpless as his friend curled up in pain.

“I’ll be fine. I’m adjusting to the volume. No different than punches that break the sound barrier, right?” Macaque tried flashing a confident grin to varying success.

Wukong suspected that Macaque was lying, but learned enough to know further prying would just cause the other monkie to simply shut out the world. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“You made a persuasive argument.” Anyone who could harass him for nearly five years straight proved their determination.

Wukong playfully stuck his tongue out. “Hehe…Seriously though, I’m happy you chose to be part of my tribe. No one should be alone.”

“Then why have I been for so long.”

“I doubt even Master knows. But you won’t be able to say that anymore.” Wukong wrapped his arms around his best friend. Pulling him close, Wukong faced the fireworks, unconsciously grooming Macaque as he savored every pop of color.

Beneath those gentle digits, Macaque steadied himself against the soothing heartbeat of the one he slowly learned to trust. As the display continued, the pale monkie learned to appreciate the human’s creations. Turns out they weren’t so bad so long as you have the right company.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

“I’m sorry. You’re what?!” Macaque’s response was perfectly justified. There was no way he just heard what he thought he heard.

Wukong flashed a blinding grin. “I’m heading to the Celestial realm. I’ve been given a position in Celestial Bureaucracy.” Not seeing any problems whatsoever.

“Why?” Just why? From everything he heard about those stuck-up deities, they would never hand over a position to anyone without requiring the completion of an impossible task, much less to a demon. Least of all a demon who has done nothing but terrorize others and unleash chaos whenever he went.

“Don’t know. But I got to go right now.” Wukong shrugged as he finished packing. The Gold Star of Venus was waiting just outside the waterfall.

“But what about Flower Fruit Mountain? What about your subjects? What am I supposed to do? How long are you going to be gone?” Macaque fired off a rapid stream of questions. Panic was beginning to take hold.

Wukong, however, was as calm and confident as ever. “Stop worrying so much. Look I’ll be back as soon as I can. Until then you’re in charge.” He finished as though it was obvious.

“Me!” A white tail nearly burst into twice its normal size in shock. “But I have no idea how to run a Court!”

“Neither do I. Not in the traditional sense at least. Look just keep an eye on things. Protect the monkeys from hunters and malicious demons. Sometimes one of the allied demon kings will ask for some help. It’s nothing you haven’t helped me with before. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things until I get back.”

Seeing his companion and good friend growing even more lost, Wukong closed the distance and took his face in both hands. “This is a good thing. If I can make this work, none of us will ever have to worry about being hunted or not having enough food ever again.”

In a snap, Macaque grabbed the king’s arms. “What if I don’t care about any of that? What if I just want you to stay?”

For the first time in their conversation, Wukong’s cocky attitude vanished replaced with a loving smile. Gently prying Macaque’s claws off his shirt, Wukong placed his cheek on a palm as he kissed the knuckles of another. “I can’t. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. This isn’t goodbye. I’ll keep in touch. The time will fly. We’ll make this work. Trust me.”

“Alright, Wukong. I trust you.” Macaque said, ignoring every fiber of his being that screamed this would end poorly.

“If things go wrong, remember I’m just a telepathic call away.” Summoning his cloud, Wukong back flipped onto it with his bag. “Monkey King, out!”

One sonic boom later and he was gone, along with a good chunk of the cave walls.

“Hpmh. That’s my idiot.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

How did this happen? How did this happen?!

One moment they were fighting for their lives against the army of the Celestial Realm and the next Macaque bore witness to Wukong being carted away in a diamond snare.

Now as he stared at the charred remains of what once was a growing village of monkeys, Macaque felt something within him change.

For almost two months he had burned in celestial fires. The sounds of the dead and dying rang out, making his namesake almost bleed. He choked on the ashes of the mortal monkeys. The air had a strangely sweet and bitter taste to it.

Macaque lost count of all the times he charged back into the fires to save as many heartbeats as he could. He wasn’t sure but he suspected he blacked out more than once. With every heartbeat that stilled before he could reach them, a part of him followed them into Yama’s realm.

Finally, the fires had died down. They didn’t have anything left to burn.

All around him he saw the pitiful leftovers of what was once a thriving community. He had treated the survivors the best he could, but he lost his medical equipment in the blaze. The only ones he didn’t have to worry about were the monkeys Wukong made immortal, but he did what he could to ease the pain.

But still, he wondered why…why were they staring at him as though they were confused?

Maybe he was overthinking everything. He just worked through 49 days without any sleep. Everything was stable for now. The best course of action was to wash off the ash and get some much-deserved rest.

There was nothing the Celestial Realm could do to Wukong that he couldn’t handle. Besides Macaque didn’t even know how to get there even if he was at full strength. Wukong couldn’t die so it was only a matter of time before someone tripped up allowing him to return home.

He just had to be patient.

Stepping into the clear river, Macaque’s jaw almost dropped as the water around him immediately turned gray. He didn’t realize he was that filthy.

He started scrubbing himself, ducking under the water to ensure he didn’t miss a spot. He had to move a few times due to the sheer amount of shoot and ash that clung to him. The entire cleaning process took a full hour before the water ran clear.

Stepping out, Macaque felt more refreshed than he ever remembered. Shaking to remove as much access water as possible, all the towels were soot so he had to make do, he paused by the waterside to see how much fur he lost. But what he saw met none of his expectations.

Instead of fur that invoked images of the moon, he was cloaked in the color of the darkest ink.

“What happened to me?”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Five hundred years.

Five hundred years he searched, for any trace of the legendary Five-Fingered Moutain Buddha used to trap Sun Wukong only to find nothing. Macaque scoured far and wide. Neither the winds nor the shadows could lead him towards his friend.

He picked fights with countless demons who claimed to witness the great Monkey King brought low. It barely took two punches before they broke down crying how it had been nothing but a lie, how they only repeated rumors.

He bargained for any information he could find, but all accounts claimed the mountain didn’t exist. Many refused to answer him on principle of not interfering with the Celestial Realm’s issues. Their last mistake. Others took Wukoong’s punishment as a sign to amass as much power as possible out of fear that they would be targeted next.

Macaque had witnessed the formation of more alliances and territory grabs in the past century than had been recorded in the last thousand years. Demons were becoming more power-hungry and suspicious, which meant even more trouble for the humans. Things were becoming so chaotic, Macaque had to wonder if it was planned.

But he couldn’t dwell on that.

He hadn’t visited Flower Fruit Moutain in years. His clones kept guard, but slowly he was losing the drive to keep replenishing them. The only reason he called that mountain home was because of Wukong. It wasn’t home without him.

But he had to keep looking. Had to keep trying. He would find his friend.

Somehow.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tricked himself into thinking this would be different. That he would no longer be alone. That finally he had found a family he could keep.

He was an idiot!

The truth was he was no different than anyone else. The world was Sun Wukong’s toy chest and Macaque was merely a shiny new trinket to bat around until he grew bored. Seeing him with that group, knowing that he chose them over their past, was too much.

He was sick of being left behind. He had been left alone so many times. What made him think he couldn’t be replaced?

He could have attacked, ripped their precious monk to pieces, he could have...should have...but he was tired.

Returning to Flower Fruit Mountain was a chore, but one he swore he would never complete again. The monkeys questioned his return, asking where their king was and if he’d return soon. Macaque ignored them all. He simply walked to the part of the manor he and Wukong had shared for years, where he had been waiting for his return.

Staring at all the knickknacks and souvenirs they had collected from their adventures, Macaque made up his mind. Grabbing a large sturdy bag, he swiftly packed his essentials. In another, he packed non-perishable goods and water containers.

Stepping out, a flash of something peach-colored caught his eye. Spinning around, hope burning a hole in his chest but his dreams once more were proved false. It was just the special peach tree Wukong had planted from the leftover pit he had saved from his time in the Celestial Realm. Apparently, it had reached maturity and was proudly bearing the first fruit Macaque had seen despite having been planted nearly half a millennia ago.

Macaque wasn’t sure why it was so special, Wukong just winked and said it was a surprise for when they could share a fresh one. Feeling something wet on his arm, Macaque looked down to see his hand stretched towards the tree and the memories he held. Feeling his cheeks, he realized he was crying, which was strange as he didn’t think he had any tears left.

Spurred by longing and spite, Macaque plucked six peaches from the tree and stuffed them into his bag. It wasn’t like Wukong was going to miss them. And he needed the food.