#had two nightmares i think bc of stress before waking up this morning too like . what a weird omen .

[loverofallthingssmart]

hey guys. would u still love me if i told u the reason i knwo who kurt vonnegut is

[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. 

[manonblaqkbeak]

Midnight Cravings

so, i actually wrote most of this in july but never finished it and decided to fix it up for todays prompt bc i was feeling a lil lazy lol. and i think its one of my faves, especially the ending.

2.2k words

cw: none

enjoy!! :)

It was just past two in the morning and Aelin was wide awake. Not due to a mountain of paperwork, or a nightmare or one of her kids needing her. Aelin was wide awake because she was absolutely starving.

The type of starving it felt like she'd never eaten a day in her life. Like her stomach was going to eat itself.

Her stomach growled again, louder than before, and beside her, his voice muffled, Rowan asked, “Is that your stomach or the wind outside?”

“Shut up,” Aelin mumbled, as her stomach continued its song. Gods, why was she so hungry? She practically devoured the fruits in the fruit bowl just before bed, she had a healthy serving of dinner, and a large slice of chocolate torte for dessert.

But here she was, close to eating her damned pillow to sate her starvation.

Aelin glanced over towards her mate, his back to her, and she shuffled closer, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Rowan,” she started to say, but Rowan cut her off.

“I'm not going to the kitchens.”

She pouted, although he couldn't see her. “Please?” she knew that if she used her manners, then he would do just about anything.

But it didn't work. Not just yet. “There's some fruit in the bowl.”

“I ate them all.” He sighed heavily, knowing that he was losing this conversation. “Please? I am your mate, your wife, the mother of your children.”

Rowan snorted. “Really? I was starting to suspect that the three silver-haired children were Lorcan's.”

Her hunger nearly disappeared at the thought of that. “Don't be gross.” Reaching over, Aelin kissed the tip of his ear, smiling as he shuddered in pleasure as she nibbled on it. “Please?”

Rowan sighed heavily, knowing that he lost, and Aelin barely hid her smile. “I'll go,” he said. “But only if you join me.”

Her smile did disappear at that. “But the bed is so warm.”

“Exactly. If I have to leave it, so do you.”

“Fine,” she mumbled reluctantly, but quickly perked up, realising that she would be getting food. Rowan was a much better cook than her. Aelin used to have basic cooking skills, but with being Queen and then becoming a mother, she never cooked anymore and really had no need to; not with multiple cooks under the palace roof. She did try a few years ago as a treat for her family, but everything turned into a crisp and wasn't even suitable for the dogs in the kennels.

Scrambling out of bed, the Queen and King of Terrasen tied on their robes and put on their slippers. Aelin loved the sight of Rowan looking so domestic, it was ridiculous how much she loved it.

Since Isolde was only six months old and far too young to be left behind, Rowan put her in the wooden carrier to take with them into the kitchens, their movements silent as the grave as they transferred their youngest from her crib and into the crafty carrier—Isolde was the only one of their children that slept soundlessly through the night at such a young age, and loathed to be woken up. As Rowan did that, Aelin checked in on Alder in his room, their son a little over three years old, but he slept like a log and Aelin knew that he wouldn't wake up at any point when they were gone.

As they left their chambers, Aelin nearly ruined all their good work and almost woke up their other children when she bit out a curse at the sudden leg cramp that shot up her right calf. Rowan glanced at her, asking if she was okay, and after a moment she was, although she was left a little dazed at the suddenness of it all.

Aelin's legs had been cramping randomly of late, but she didn't notice anything of concern. If it continued, she would go to Magnolia and see if anything could be done about it. The last thing Aelin needed was to fall ill, she had far too many things to do with winter arriving in a few weeks. She did know that if anything was wrong with her, that she could rely on Rowan completely.

Aelin's stomach growled for the umpteenth time, the sound lasting for a good minute before it settled. Isolde fidgeted in her sleep, but did not wake.

“I think your stomach was just trying to talk to me.”

“It was,” Aelin agreed. “It said that we need to hurry the hell up or it's going to disintegrate.”

“We better do as it says then. It'd be cruel to subject Terrasen to a hungry Queen. No one should suffer as I do when you're starving.”

“You make me sound horrible.”

“You are,” he said, humour dancing in his dark eyes. “And not just when you're hungry.”

Aelin mumbled under her breath. Rowan decided to pretend not to hear her, even as he fought a smile.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the kitchens, Rowan placing Isolde onto the counter closest to them. Aelin rushed towards the bowls of fruit, grabbing an apple and a pear, eating the fruits simultaneously. She missed the small, private smile Rowan gave her as he went to the pantry, asking her what she was in the mood for, one eye on their child. But still, she slept and Rowan for a moment, wished that all of their children had been like that, but knew that there was no point in complaining when they all slept quietly now.

“Something filling,” was all Aelin could think of to say. But after a moment decided on an omelette, filled with bacon, mushrooms, onion, red bell-peppers and carrot. As she and Rowan prepped the ingredients—with Rowan wanting his own omelette—Aelin contemplated in silence, her brows furrowed as she chopped up the carrots.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” Rowan asked when he noticed his wife's expression.

“Just trying to remember the last time I was this hungry. I've been like this for at least a week and a half.”

“I've noticed. You haven't had this big of an appetite for a good number of years.”

She didn't comment on that, lost in her own world. “And my legs have been cramping lately too. I haven't injured myself. Have I been sleeping in strange positions?”

“No, you're sleeping just fine.”

Her frown deepened. “Maybe I'm just stressed for the winter preparations.”

“Possibly, I know that you worry a lot for the people during winter.” They both did, as the winters in Terrasen were brutal. Each year there was always a small number of people that passed due to the cold for a number of reasons. When those lists made their way in Aelin's hands, it always hit her hard, her guilt a palpable thing, even after Rowan would tell her that it was in no way her fault.

But that wasn't the reasons for her consuming hunger and leg cramps—Rowan had noticed the change in her scent weeks ago and when he noticed, he thought that Aelin would too. But she was completely oblivious and he didn't want to spoil the surprise, although it was getting harder each day not to say something.

However, he couldn't help but count back the weeks to the day of conception. He was fairly certain that it was when Aelin had been reading a particularly steamy novel on the window seat in their sitting room and jumped on him like they had never had sex before when he had come to ask if she was joining him in bed.

It would fit in with list of unusual places they have conceived their children. Elentiya had been in the library (either in the archives or in Aelin and Rowan's private nook, neither were sure), Norrin against an oak tree (which they discovered after they have calmed down that the Little Folk had watched the entire encounter, with Aelin becoming stuck between wanting to laugh or hide under a rock), Alder against one of the many palace chimneys, and Isolde in a linen closet.

Maybe one day they would conceive a child in their bed like most people did.

They got to cooking, with Rowan standing behind Aelin and guiding her with the wooden spoon and plating their midnight meal before it burned into a crisp. Isolde babbled in her sleep as the sounds of cooking reached her, but still slept. It wouldn't be long, however, until she woke up to be fed. Aelin placed their youngest by her feet as they sat down at the small dining table in the far corner of the kitchen where the workers took their breaks.

The smile on Aelin's face as she bit into the fluffy omelette was certainly worth being woken up in the middle of the night.

However, her fork stilled in mid-air when she was halfway done when realisation dawned on her.

Finally.

“I'm pregnant,” was all she said, her Ashryver eyes growing wide. Rowan didn't bother to hide his smile. This was why he didn't say anything. It was always worth it when she revealed those beautiful words to him. “Rowan, I'm pregnant. The last time I was this hungry was when I was pregnant with Alder and the leg cramps are from Norrin's pregnancy. And all the fruit I can't stop eating is just like when I was pregnant with Isolde. How haven't I noticed anything?”

“You've been busy,” Rowan said, reaching over to take her hands in his and kissed her fingers.

“You knew, didn't you?” Aelin asked, her eyes narrowed just slightly.

“I may have noticed.”

“You should have told me.”

“I like it better when you come to the realisation yourself,” he said simply.

Aelin shot out of her seat and sat on his lap, a pretty smile gracing her face as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers playing the the hair at the nape of his neck. Rowan wound his arms around her waist and kissed her on the cheeks, the tips of her nose, the corner of her lips and then her mouth.

Aelin hummed contentedly and kissed him back. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“We're insane.”

Rowan laughed deeply at the sudden statement. “What makes you say that?”

“We're having a fifth baby. Lorcan and Elide only have three and I always thought that they'd have at least a dozen, but they don't and we're about to have five. That's insane. We're insane.”

“We are, but I like that about us,” he said, kissing her again. Her face was open and soft, her eyes dancing with happiness, but he still found himself asking, “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course I am, buzzard. More than words can say.” Aelin kissed him to emphasise that fact, his hand reaching down onto her belly and was content to stay like that forever. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She always thought that she’d just have one child, maybe two, but to have five was something she never dreamed of.

Isolde finally decided to wake up and scream her displeasure at being hungry. Aelin was off him in an instant, cooing at their daughter as Aelin sat back in her seat and fed not just herself, but Isolde at the same time. His mate was spectacular at multitasking like that.

They couldn't wait to meet their fifth child.

X X X X X X

Rowan was surprised that his children hadn't kicked down the doors to the bedchamber with how excited they were. Even little Isolde was a ball of energy and she was by far their most quiet child. Rowan lead them to their mother, reminding them that they had to be quiet and gentle, because mama had just gone through a long process of bringing in their new sibling into the world.

They entered the bedchamber and Aelin greeted them with a tired but loving smile telling them to come meet their new sister, the kids went onto the bed, surrounding Aelin and the baby, happiness and wonderment in their eyes as they took in the little bundle of joy, her silver hair stark against her lightly tanned skin. She had opened her eyes briefly during her first feeding and Aelin had groaned playfully when she spotted that they were pine-green, muttering how of course I labour for a whole day to give birth to another you. But he knew that she didn't care if she was born with green hair and yellow eyes, Aelin loved her immensely.

“What's her name, mama?” Elentiya asked softly, carefully trailing a finger down her sisters cheek.

“Elowynn-Yrene.” Rowan would never forget the pure joy in Yrene's eyes when Aelin asked if the healer would give them her blessing to grace their child with her name, as a thank you for all the years of coming down and helping Aelin, for eradicating Erawan, and for being a great friend to both of them. It had taken them a few minutes to convince their friend, citing that the honour was far too much, but Yrene eventually said "yes".

“That's pretty,” Alder supplied, a wide smile on his face. Aelin kissed his temple and thanked him for his kind words.

Aelin moved her eyes from Alder to Rowan, smiling as her mate stood there, taking them in.

His family, their family. Never did he think he would be so blessed to have this.

His and Aelin's children; the most beautiful thing Rowan had ever seen.

Rowan went and joined his family on the bed, the smile on his face one of Aelin's favourites.

[forzalando]

goodbye kiss | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader word count: 1.2k warnings: mentions of anxiety (briefly), mentions of a head injury (briefly), cursing, mentions of food/eating a/n: this is a fluffy steve fic i've had finished for literally forever and i just never posted it bc i thought no one would read my marvel stuff hahahaha here it is. maybe there will be a part 2 to this....if anyone wants it :)

summary: Steve and Y/N are so clearly infatuated with one another, but oblivious as can be. One morning, Steve's shocking behavior may shift their relationship.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Steve and Bucky called out in sync as they barreled through the doorway of your shared home.

Every morning was practically the same; wake up at 5:00am because Bucky couldn’t be quiet if his life depended on it, start breakfast at 7:00am right as Steve and Bucky get back from their run (and pretend like you just woke up), shower at 7:40am, and start heading to the compound at 8:30am.

The consistency helped with Bucky’s anxiety, as well as your memory issues from a head injury you had sustained a while back on a mission.

Steve was just Steve, and he ran a ship tighter than his ass and his workout shirts that you knew for a fact ripped after their third or fourth wear.

The three of you worked and lived together, mostly in tandem, but occasionally something would happen that derailed the balanced home life you all strived for. It was usually minor; ‘accidentally’ eating someone’s leftovers, leaving dirty dishes in the sink, playing music too loud at night, etc.

But sometimes…sometimes it was the way Steve looked at you across the dinner table that made you nervous around him for days. Sometimes it was the way your fingers found their way into his sandy blonde hair after a stressful week. Once, about a month ago, it was because he walked into the bathroom not knowing you were taking a bath. And most recently, it was the casual comment made by Bucky about how he was sick and tired of you and Steve dancing around your feelings for one another like “the fuckers in the Russian Ballet”.

Eventually, the awkward period would fade away and things would return to their normal, harmonious ways, with Bucky grumbling all the while about your cowardice.

“What do you have for us today, doll?” Bucky called out as he exited his bedroom.

“I think I have a cold so you and Steve are getting scrambled eggs and toast because it requires minimal effort. Also, we’re now out of eggs. And bread.”

“I just bought three cartons and a loaf two days ago,” Bucky groaned as he slumped against the counter.

“You and your buddy Steven consume a carton each so either eat less or shop more. Take your pick, Barnes.”

He walked behind you and snatched the spatula from your hand, scooping some eggs into his mouth with a cheeky grin.

“I choose to shop more.”

You quickly grabbed the spatula back and shooed him away before he turned your pristine kitchen into a crumb filled nightmare.

“Steve,” you shouted indignantly, “breakfast is ready and I do not have time for your slow ass today.”

Bucky grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and immediately after, a loud crash echoed from across the house. Bucky shrugged his shoulders in response, pretending to be unaware of whatever could have caused Steve to wreak accidental havoc so early in the morning. It certainly was not his whispered comment, loud enough for only a super soldier’s ears, about how you surely had time for anything to do with Steve’s ass.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve huffed as he shuffled out of his room.

“What the hell happened in there?”

“I, uh, mis-stepped and tripped over my bed frame, no big deal.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and graciously stepped away from the stove, accepting Steve’s good morning hug and forehead kiss with a dopey smile.

A strangled gag interrupted your precious moment, and you shot daggers at Bucky while he shoveled his breakfast into his mouth like he was starved.

“Sorry, egg must have went down the wrong pipe. Continue your love fest.”

“It’s not a love fest, Buck,” Steve mumbled as a heated blush crept up his neck.

“Then how come I don’t get tender hugs and forehead kisses every morning?”

“Because you don’t cook me breakfast and Y/N is much more kissable.”

Steve froze while Bucky, the cheeky bastard, chuckled into his perfectly buttered toast. You quickly composed yourself and patted Steve reassuringly on the back, laughing along with Bucky.

“I wouldn’t want to kiss Bucky’s ugly mug either, Rogers.”

The rest of breakfast was silent; the sounds of clinking forks and satisfied sighs seemed like exploding C4 and gusts of wind in the cozy kitchen. After finishing your breakfast of hot tea with lemon and honey, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. Before, you felt that it was just a little cold, but the longer you were upright and moving around, the more sick you felt.

“We don’t have anything important planned today, do we?” You asked while hobbling towards the couch.

“Not that I know of, are you alright, doll?” Steve inquired, concern evident in his eyes.

“It’s probably just a head cold but will you tell Stark I’m calling in sick today? I don’t even have the energy to send him a text right now. Plus, I don’t want to deal with him telling me this wouldn’t happen if I took his prototype horse pill, super food vitamins.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve mumbled affectionately as he draped a blanket over your shivering frame.

In a matter of minutes, he and Bucky were headed out the door; Steve with his briefcase and Bucky with his reusable grocery bag he deemed secure enough for sensitive documents.

When the door shut, you closed your eyes, relishing in the quiet, empty space you would have to yourself for the next 9 hours, until a sharp ringtone pierced your eardrums and ignited a monstrous headache.

Steve’s phone buzzed upon the kitchen table and you groaned; his forgetfulness never ceased to amaze you. You dashed across the room, hoping and praying that he and Bucky hadn’t already driven away. After flinging open the door to your house, you crashed directly into what you knew to be Steve Rogers’s insanely muscular chest.

“I forgot my….” He trailed off, noticing that you had it in your hand while simultaneously taking note of the annoyed expression on your face.

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders, Steven. I feel incredibly overworked and under appreciated looking after you.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound momentarily easing the pounding headache behind your eyes.

“You’re definitely not under appreciated doll,” Steve murmured as he took his phone from your outstretched hand. “Don’t forget to take some cold medicine, it’s in the hall bathroom cabinet behind Bucky’s aftershave. I’ll bring home some soup and a movie.”

Before you could thank him, he dipped his head and captured your lips in a delicate kiss. However, all too soon, he backed away with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“Did you just…” you gasped.

“I’ll see you tonight, bye!” He shouted before taking off in a sprint and bounding down the front porch steps.

You watched him from the window as he awkwardly ran back to his car. Just before he opened the door, he turned around and locked eyes with you. You blew him a kiss, as dramatically as you could, and smiled as he laughed and ducked into the driver’s seat.

The sensation of vibrating pulled your attention away from Steve and you reached into your pocket for your phone, swiping across the new text message.

From: Bucky Barnes

I. Saw. Everything.

taglist: @gredmforge @vogueweasley @gcdricreads @nuttytani @kaye-lantern @barnesjamcs @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @fallingforyou123 @phoenixes-and-wizards @gloryekaterina @hannahmeyer1999 @beautyschoo1dropout @loonylovegood13 @saara-sanders @le-weasley-simp @peachypotter @omghufflepuff @weelittleweasley (if your url has a strikethrough, I was unable to tag you! please let me know if you would like to be added to my marvel taglist and thank you for reading!!)

[omoghouls]

I know Izzy’s terrible but I still want someone to be nice to him and take care of him after an accident. Maybe he gets into a bad stretch of bedwetting and is stressed and tired because he’s not sleeping well, and someone finally notices somethings wrong with him and figures out what’s happening.

Ybe s yes yesSSS his shriveled old heart needs someone to care for him, despite his protesting

Ofc I'm thinking of Stede, these two have their conflicts and honestly dont like eachother but, Izzy is still apart of the crew-

Perhaps when Stede comes back and stuff between him and Ed are resolved, Izzy is a fuking mess. Stede wasnt suppose to come back, he's ruining everything, blackbeard, /his/ captain was finally back, everything was returning back to normal!

And this is stressing Izzy out to no end bc/ he knows Stede isn't going to leave, he's going to change everything Izzy worked on fixing and, all these stresses result in Izzy waking up to soaked sheets👀

Ofc that means he's up at an ungodly hour of night, cleaning his sheets to hide the evidence of what he's done, after a few nights of this, Izzy is drained, he's tried and upset that he can't stop this.

And one night, he messes up- he wakes up to wet sheets once more after a particularly nasty nightmare. He's dragging his soiled sheets and feet to the clothing washing area

Being so tired and boxed visioned, he doesnt notice the other body and bumps right into Stede fucking Bonnet (idk why he's up, just wandering lol).

And in the dim light, Stede can see the wet sheets of Izzy and his face softened, it finally dawning on whose sheets have been hanging to dry every morning.

Stede doesnt take Izzy's protest as he gently guides him to the tub room, fetching warm water and having Izzy take a bath while Stede goes to fix up some new sheets for Izzy's bed.

Perhaps all the stress and lack of sleep finally gets to him and when Stede steps back into the washing room, he sees tears rolling down Izzy's face.

Stede quickly goes to Izzy's side, comforting and reassuring him it's okay, accidents happen, he even mentions how he and Ed have been concerned about Izzy for the last couple days- which just, fucks Izzy up even more, he grumbles about not needing anyones concern, especially not Stede's

And Stede is like "Well, tough, Isreal you are my crew member and I care for everyone of them and that absolutely includes you, we've had our..stabby spats but, you're apart of this crew nonetheless and I worry about you."

Izzy is too tired to protest and just, leans into the care, even letting Stede dress him in one of his nightgowns before being sent back to bed, and, Izzy sleeps thought the rest of the night with a most peaceful sleep he had had in a while♡

[uwumessenger]

random headcanons i have for each om! character teehee

hi it's been a while since ive posted some hcs bc uni has been kicking my a$$! luckily i only have a few papers to tidy up and im done. here r some hcs for each obey me character that ive accumulated over the past few months wink wonk

most are random but some constants you'll find are what i think they smell like, languages they can speak (other than their native (demon/angel) and eng/jp), and music tastes !

lucifer

i have a strong feeling that he showers twice a day: in the morning after waking up and at night before going to bed

his cologne is probably the type that will last in an elevator for like a week after he uses it once. i dont think this mf ever smells like anything other than his cologne

has a secret folder on his phone of semi-nudes and other scandalous pics from when he felt sexy at the time omg

aside from demon language/eng/jp he can speak french and knows latin

listens to classical stuff yea but he also listens to diavolos mixtapes (re: diavolo's section)

not a fan of sweets but will eat sweet things when craving

really bland sense of humor...borderline cringey 😭✋🏻

mammon

has gone to google images and searched for "inspirational quotes tumblr" "gold aesthetic tumblr" & "relatable crush post tumblr" then reposts it onto his socials or just taps thru them and giggles bc he relates

his cologne doesnt last as long as lucifers and probably smells common. he has to reapply a lot but it's a people pleasing smell. it's cheaper hence the constant reapplying

he probably does have an expensive bottle but is the type to totally overspray...eek

he is canonically a car guy 🥲 and probably tells the one in his room good morning & good night + kisses the hood every once in a while. has tons of car magazines

he doesnt really speak other languages but has attempted to learn spanish before

listens to whatever is on the radio. doesnt rly stan anyone but he eventually will listen to mc's playlist and mc's playlist ONLY

levi

lurks on mc's socials ALL THE TIMEEEE like he will rewatch ur stories and scroll thru ur feed and overanalyze ur tweets/rts or blog posts. if ur mc isnt the type to use sns much he still googles ur name all the damn time just to find any sites u might be on fjdjdjdjskks

probably streams on whatever youtube or twitch devildom site equivalent there is, but only has like 40 or so followers. which he is okay with!

until he sees someone else who gets more attention than him. then the envy starts kicking in bad. especially if they suck 🧍🏻‍♀️

classic gamer boy smell. you know, sweat, tears, must, and (sometimes) axe deodorant. lucifer has to do a scent check before he goes out to any event & lets him use his cologne. how sweet!

kpop stan!! more girl groups than anything and his ults are probably GIRLS GENERATION, wonder girls, twice, loona, & red velvet

cried when ioi disbanded and refused to leave his room. the only thing u could hear was downpour on loop at full blast

can also speak korean & communicate in echolocation like dolphins 😏

satan

listens to country music you cant change my mind

smells like whatever environment he is in. he doesnt really have a designated smell just throws some deodorant on and goes about his day.

he's sooooo bad at driving...gets road rage way too often so his license has been REVOKED

but hes totally a backseat driver. needs to be sedated on long trips

do not let him watch finding nemo when luke asks to watch it. it's not worth it. he will cause mass destruction.

if he was a human or lived long term in the human world he totally has the ability to be a doctor

is studying as many languages as possible, but he mostly knows latin & french & german etc etc. wants to learn all the dead languages out of curiousity

asmo

dont think this mf has ever held down a relationship. ever

he doesnt compromise much & is not willing to change his lifestyle to fit an s/o into it. you keep up with how he lives or it just isnt meant to be (but dont worry! he'll eventually learn...maybe,,,,)

has the hardest time out of everyone when it comes to breaking bad habits

his smell varies bc he uses a variety of perfumes (whatever is the most popular at the time) but he probably sticks to floral and fresh scents. he never uses generic people pleaser scents like mammon

listens to electropop, mainstream pop, & some alternative rock

as for languages he too knows french, spanish, italian, etc. in general, if it's a romance language he knows it!

opposite of lucifer in the sense where he loves sweets and will refrain from eating too many bitter things

i think we all know that asmo is the biggest rockstar of the group! he's probably been in a boy band at least once, but now he makes his own music

has tried to teach mammon how to sing once. ended up in a broken piano and bleeding ears...

beel

i feel like he is SO SHY

like unless ur close to him he will not start conversations or anything

i think he listens to r&b a lot ! and jazz 😎 maybe rock as well

smells like ur typical athlete with undertones of wet wipes. he carries them around bc he likes to clean his hands before he eats & is prepared for when theres no sink nearby

he can drive and he drives really well. no rough turns, parallel parks perfectly, and never has problems with merging

driving with beel is probably really soothing. left hand is steering the other is gripping ur thigh 😫

dont think hes really fluent in any other language but hes probably semi fluent in korean because levi wanted beel to help him out

definitely know how to order food in practically every language tho HAHAHA

belphie

he reminds me of randall from monsters inc

smells kinda musty IM SORRY but not the way levi does hes more like the kind of musty u feel or smell when it's a shitty morning

but that's only because hes so lazy, when he cleans up hes like satan

has definitely murdered multiple people before. mc is not the first 😐✋🏻

with that being said belphie has been put into prison at least twice when visiting the human world, the mf had such a strong hatred for humans theres no way he never got into trouble before

lucifer probably broke him out and they used the pen thingies from men in black to erase everyones memory of that 🙄

dont think he listens to anything other than music that'll put him to sleep. really likes lazy song by bruno mars but thinks that bruno mars put too much effort into the song. should have been one acapella verse and then finish

similar to beel hes only semi fluent in one language, probably french bc of lucifer. doesnt remember much but knows a couple of lullabies and bedtime stories

the sandman used to be his bff until they drifted. they do, however, like and comment on each other's sns posts.

diavolo

once he found out who nicki minaj was he became her #1 stan

def an ariana grande stan too 😌

choreographs dances when hes stressed...idk just seems like a diavolo thing to do

also makes rly bad soundcloud rap music sometimes. turns to poetry when hes feeling emo but only lucifer knows this. barbatos is suspicious of him but doesnt have enough evidence to confirm.

his dad is like hudson abadeer from adventure time aka marceline's dad? something must have influenced him to want to unite the 3 realms + he would need the approval to do so, so his dad must be more chill than all the others before him 🧍🏻‍♀️ IDK ok anyway

currently going through his hamilton phase bc of mc. whether mc's intent was to get him hooked onto it or just to explain it bc of something he saw online, he tells everyone that he found out abt it bc of mc!

this man cannot drive his skills are only second to jumin han

not too fond of many languages but knows the widely spoken ones like spanish, mandarin, etc. if it's taught in high school he knows it

smells like a las vegas casino. not sure why but i feel like he does. but there's also an interesting & nice smell to him if he embraces you. it's a smell you cant quite identify. but it smells nostalgic, it's mysterious, and it's tempting.

barbatos

very calm demeanor but underneath hes WILD hes probably done everything at least once oof

he just has a lot of control and stability over himself (must be nice!)

on a more angsty note i feel like he might have had his heartbroken sO BAD IDK he is hurting and maybe that's why hes so willing to obey diavolo and not abuse his time lord power thingies bc he learned his lesson the hard way

mans is so smart he knows every language you could switch languages mid conversation with him and he wouldnt be thrown off. he'd probably start speaking it too.

BUT HE SPEAKS VIET P E R F E C T L Y

listens to the same stuff as lucifer but also likes eminem. likes the movie 8 mile but criticized it heavily

have you ever been to a chinese herb shop? naturally, he smells like that. his room probably smells like it too. he doesnt really have a significant smell like some of the others

when he bakes he smells like whatever hes baking tho

one of the few out of everyone listed to have been able to travel to literally everywhere

solomon

was probably on kitchen nightmares once, but only to get feedback from chef gordon ramsay. then he used his magic to prevent the episode from airing...

was in an orchestra, one of the best times of his life. played the violin. asmo watched him in the audience once, but didnt approach him until well after that performance.

he CANNOT sing. he can, however, rap.

doesnt listen to music. he listens to podcasts! but every now and then he turns on background music, but prefers it to be instrumental stuff

never wears sunglasses. also does not have a driver's license. cannot drive a regular car. could maybe fly an airplane.

due to his immortality he has learned almost every language to exist, but finds himself speaking mandarin the most. knows most dialects too

similar smell to barbatos but u can also smell some sunscreen on him too. like, generic beach day suncreen

he has a lot of pact marks, so he once had the idea to match foundation to his skin. it took him two weeks but he eventually perfected a combination. yes he will help u find ur perfect shade if u ask him to

simeon

another country music man. has also made a tiktok or two to that one song that goes "he cant even bait a hook." they are private tho

angel country music exists and simeon invented it

if he visits the human world and wears more causal clothing he probably tucks his shirt into his pants

wears a speedo at the beach i tell u, speedo at the beach

he can speak german...i can feel it

uses his pointer finger to type and holds the phone like 2 inches away from his face so sometimes his nose will push a key hence all his typos

has no signature smell. he simply smells like your favorite scent all the time. if multiple people are around him at once, everyone smells a different smell. it's pretty rad

"what does he smell like to himself?" u may be asking. hmm...a church? 💀

luke

his first pet was a goldfish and a few months before the exchange program happened, he was given a koi pond!

secretly likes hanging out with levi sometimes just to play with henry. makes him miss his pet fish back home

so his favorite movie is probably finding nemo and he threw a fit when nemo touched the butt

luke is probably learning german bc of simeon, though he'd like to learn more of the dead languages just for fun

i dont think he listens to music often or has any preferences, he just listens to whatever is playing on the radio

but he finds himself listening to the music mc listens to

smells like freshly baked goods all the time. or fresh laundry. but like, not combined. just depends on the day

[satendou]

⟼  use your words

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  pairing: yaku morisuke/reader

⇢ au: college

⇢ summary: all you have to do is ask

⇥  masterlist

⇥  requests are open! | rules

⇢  warnings: established relationship, daddy kink, smut, praising, begging

⇢  word count: 3.4k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢  a/n: so this is my first delve into actual daddy kink and i still didn’t go as hard as i could have just bc of the tone i had in mind for the story. i’m honestly not sure how i feel about this one but maybe it’s better than i think. as usual thank you to @keijiskitten​ for reading this over for me. she has to put up with my aggressive refusal to use the word “that” or adverbs.

i’m so sorry, i forgot to put a read more. i’ll fix it when i get up tomorrow.

“God, it feels like it’s been ages since we’ve been able to relax, doesn’t it?” you asked Yaku as you stretched out over the arm of the couch. You groaned in relief when your spine popped, your toes curling with pleasure at the sweet stretch and the easing of pressure on your back. Honestly, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since the two of you had done anything as simple as watch TV together.

 You and Yaku were coming and going with work, classes, and practice so frequently that syncing up your schedules was a nightmare. It was a relief that you were living together, and that you could wake up in his arms every morning.

He hummed in response, scrolling through his phone. He could feel you squirming around with your calves across his thighs, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Pausing for a moment, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

Your shirt was riding up your stomach with your stretch, revealing a sliver of your bare skin, and the length of the soft shorts you wore meant they rode up as well. Suddenly, he was glad to be wearing sweatpants.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, clicking the like button on one of Bokuto’s pictures. It was a professional one, taken at a game, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he saw it on a promotional poster or something soon. “I’ve missed you, babe.”

You were a little disappointed by his lackluster interest in you and the movie that the two of you had picked out to watch. There had been offers to go out with some of the others, and you wondered if he would rather have done that than stayed in.

Before you really realized what you were doing, you were tugging your legs from his lap and trying to sit up, but his hand wrapped around your ankle, keeping you captive. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Your mouth went dry at the playful, dangerous tone of his voice, even though his eyes never left his phone screen. He probably hadn’t meant it the way your brain took it, but your mind went there anyway. It had been a week or more since the two of you had had sex, or even really done anything more than peck each other on the lips as you left in the morning or went to bed, so you couldn’t really be blamed.

Unfortunately, he still wasn’t paying you any attention, and you huffed petulantly. His grip was too strong for you to escape and you were forced to relax. When you did, he started rubbing your leg, from your ankle to the middle of your shin and back again. Biting your lip, you slid a little closer, wondering when in the hell you had gotten so shy about it.

Then again, he was all but ignoring you when it was supposed to be sort of a date night so, again, couldn’t be blamed.

He repressed a smirk when your chest pressed against his arm, arms wrapping around his and resting your chin on his shoulder, and continued to peruse his feed. He wasn’t even paying attention to what was on his screen at this point, only waiting to see what you would do. His hand paused on your thigh just above your knee.

A moment passed and you made no other move, your erratic heartbeat against his arm the only thing belying your true feelings. He started up small circles with his thumb, still just slowly scrolling. He knew what he’d done-- used that tone on you to purposely rile you up a little, but he hadn’t expected it to work so easily. It was hard not to laugh at you; you were just so easy to read.

It was silent for several minutes and he would have thought you weren’t going to push it any further, except that every time his hand slid even a centimeter up or down your bare thigh, he noticed that you would tense up. A little intake of air would reach his ears, and you would squirm against him just the slightest bit, making him bite his cheek in amusement.

The movie and his phone were both wholly uninteresting when Yaku had you to tease, squeezing your tender thighs and sliding so close to where you needed him, subtly trying to break you. It seemed like you were enjoying yourself if the way you squeezed his arm was any indication. At the very least, you seemed to know that he was teasing you, because there was no way you couldn’t feel his erection against your calf.

It took a lot longer than he thought it would for you to adjust, sliding your legs off of his and swinging over so you were straddling him. His hand landed on your knee as he glanced up at you, waiting. You were biting at your lip, fingers curled in the front of his shirt, crotch resting right above the tent in his sweats.

Quieter than he expected, you ask, “Hey, um, Mori?”

You sounded so shy that he didn’t tease, instead setting his phone down on the couch face down and giving you his full attention. He hadn’t realized just how insecure he had made you feel, even if you had known that he was just teasing, and a part of him felt a bit bad. “What is it, babe?”

You didn’t answer, instead leaning forward to hide your face in his neck. It put you right up against him, and he could feel the tension in your body when he wrapped his arms around you, revealing the stress you were feeling. It couldn’t be far off from what he was feeling; the separation and time away made him miss you terribly, and the only thing he ever looked forward to was coming home and crawling into bed with you.

“Could we, um, you know…” you said at last, speaking into his collar bone, and he suppressed a shiver at the ghost of your lips on his skin. If you really thought he was unaffected by you, or that he was more interested in his phone than he was in you, you were sorely mistaken.

But he wasn’t about to let up. You needed to voice what you wanted before he would give in.

“Hm? Could we…?” he prompted, petting your hair. Knowing you as well as he did, he could practically feel you slipping, your body trembling against his and it was taking all his restraint not to push you over the edge himself. Nuzzling your cheek, he kissed you, letting his other hand slide up and down your back, comforting you. When you still didn’t answer, he asked, “What is it? You’ll have to use your words, pretty girl.”

There’s a sharp intake of air and you pull back, cheeks bright red and a glimmer in your eye. It had been a good long while since he’d seen that look and it sent a thrill through him, of both happiness and arousal. There had been so much going on and no time to unwind and let yourselves have a moment that he was glad to see that need back. And glad to feel the need himself. It was torture wanting to be with you but being too tired to follow through.

Letting himself slip just a little, he captured your lips, lapping at your bottom lip and you let him in on a shaky breath, his tongue invading your mouth. His fingers slipped down to grip your ass, squeezing tight and you moaned quietly against his lips, breaking him from his trance. 

When he pulled back, your lips were shiny and wet, swollen and parted. You were almost panting while he remained unaffected, a coy smile playing at the corners of his lips.

When he wouldn’t let you kiss him again, you whined in the back of your throat, a word unintentionally spilling out and he knew he had you.

“Daddy.”

Fuck*, he thought, shivering with the surge of lust that pulsed through him. He loved the sound of your voice, soft and needy and whiny and begging him to do what only he could for you. It had been too long since he’d heard it, but he reigned himself in to play. It wouldn’t do if he broke so soon.

“What is it, princess? You still haven’t told daddy what you want,” he said, so soft and sweet as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He let his hands run up your thighs, right up to the hem of your shorts and his thumbs slid under, caressing the edge of your panties. Your hips jerked and his hold tightened while he tutted. “Uh, uh. You have to use your words to get what you want.”

“You’re so mean, daddy,” you whined. “I want you.”

He chuckled at that and you pouted, knowing he wasn't going to let it go at that. And you were right when he asked, “You want me to what? Tuck you into bed? Make you something to eat?”

“I want you to fuck me, please,” you begged, and he hummed in understanding, faking a surprised look.

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say so, pretty girl? Of course I'll do that for you. Let’s go to the bedroom, hm?” He posed it as a question, but you knew full well it wasn’t and he hoisted you up in his arms. 

You squealed playfully in his ear, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs around his hips, causing him to laugh with you. 

“You’re so strong, daddy,” you said, nuzzling under his jaw and he hummed in contentment. He could feel you leaving featherlight kisses there and then down his neck and back up, and smiled at your antics, his cock jumping in his sweats. He loved this side of you and as much as he loved it when you acted a brat, but he knew how bad you needed to just give into him tonight.

Kicking the bedroom door open, he sauntered over to the bed and dropped you onto it, listening to you scream in delight and start laughing as you bounced on the mattress. “Be a good girl and get undressed, alright, princess?”

You nodded and started removing your clothes, throwing them towards the clothes basket in the corner of the room. Sans bra, you were naked within seconds and you laid back on your elbows to watch Yaku undress. 

His muscles rippled and flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head, gripping the back of it and pulling it up. When he stood up straight again, he caught you staring and smiled. “What?”

You shrugged, turning a faint shade of pink as you averted your eyes. “You’re just so handsome. It’s hard to look at you.”

He laughed at that, a full laugh, and adoration welled up in him. You were too cute when you acted all shy like this, even if he could tell your words were sincere. Shucking his sweatpants, he knelt in between your legs, lifting one ankle up and kissing it. “You’re much prettier than I am, princess, you know that? The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. And so good for daddy, hm?”

He punctuated his words with kisses trailing up your inner calf and thigh, until he hooked it over his hip and leaned over to give you a gentle kiss. You responded eagerly, lips parting before he could ask and wrapping your tongue around his. He groaned when you curled your other leg over his other hip and pulled him in. His cock nestled perfectly against your slick folds, and you jumped at the sudden spark of pleasure and temptation.

You wanted him inside you and began to rock your hips, whimpering as the head of his cock caught on your clit. He pulled away from you and gave you an amused look, his lips quirking up at the corners.

You were so desperate and it had been so long since he’d gotten to touch you that he couldn’t even be mad as he let you hump against him and get your fill. Your pussy was a mess, leaking all over his cock and dripping down his balls and he breathed out shakily, bracing himself on his arms above you.

Your lips were parted, head tipped back as you rutted into him, nails digging into his biceps while he encouraged you.

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum all over daddy’s cock so he can fuck you. I know it’s been a while, but daddy’s gonna stretch that pretty pussy open so good for you, okay? Just need you to cum for him first,” he whispered, leading a path down your cheek and jaw with his lips, nipping at the column of your throat before lapping at the red mark. Your nipples were pretty pebbles and his mouth watered to wrap around one, but he contented himself to tweak them between his fingers, listening to the breathy moans and cries leaving your lips. He knew you were close, the way you were soaking his shaft and losing your rhythm told him so. “Do you need daddy to take over?”

You nodded pathetically, hips aching with the effort and a squeal ripped from you when his cockhead slid over your clit before lodging itself into your entrance, teasing your empty, needy hole before returning back up. 

“Daddy, please don’t tease,” you begged, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and Yaku chuckled, leaving your tender nipples to cup your cheek. “Wanna cum so you can fuck me, so you can feel good too.”

“Oh, I appreciate it, babydoll,” he said fondly, “Hurry up and cum then so I can make both of us feel good, okay? Wanna split your pretty pussy wide,” and you nodded, the coil winding tighter when he dipped the head of his cock inside of you again. 

Your hips jerked up of their own accord, but he was already pulling back even as he felt you start to cum, walls trying to suck him back in as he quickly returned to rub over your clit. You clung to him, waves of pleasure washing over you, your legs locked around his back until you were trembling with overstimulation.

“Feel better? Ready to take daddy’s cock now?” he asked, and you nodded even though you were still shaking, pussy drenched and clenching in anticipation. “Alright, on your stomach, pretty girl. It’s been a while, so daddy’s gonna treat you tonight.”

He backed off as you rolled over, squirming so that his cock, still wet with your essence, made a mess all over your ass. Settling his knees outside of yours, he slid himself between your cheeks, rocking back and forth while you whined, “Not there, daddy.”

“Well, you were rubbing this pretty ass all over it, I thought you were trying to tell me something,” he scolded playfully and stilled, planting his hands on either side of your head. “Tell me what you want then.”

“Want you in my pussy, daddy, please,” you said, shaking your ass again. He smacked it in response, and you gasped, your pussy clenching and dripping even more for it.

Pulling back, his hand gripped your hip as he guided his head to lodge in your drenched hole. A guttural groan slipped from his lips, arms shaking with the effort of bracing himself up and the feel of your wet cunt gripping his cock, sucking him in. “Shit, princess, your pussy’s so tight.”

You were babbling as he slowly filled you up, stretching you around his cock, praising and begging him in turns until his hips met yours. You could feel that prominent vein along the bottom dragging along your front wall, across that sweet spot that made your toes curled, your legs bending at the knees while you arched into the bed. 

Yaku could feel your heels touch his back but he was too focused on how tight your pussy was, squeezing so hard around him that he had to stop and reorient himself before he came then and there. That position always made you so tight that it was hard for him to fuck you, and he carefully pulled halfway out and thrust back in, feeling you tremble underneath him.

Legs closed like that, it made his cock feel enormous inside you, every vein and his cockhead dragging over your spongy walls, hitting every sensitive spot you didn’t know you had. It left you lightheaded, tears trailing down your eyes as he settled into a hard rhythm of fucking into you, his hips snapping against your ass. Your clit throbbed with neglect and you whined.

“Daddy, can I play with my clit, please*?” you begged, fingers twisting in the blanket in an effort to stop yourself from just doing it. You couldn’t be sure Yaku wouldn’t punish you for it and you really, really didn’t want to make him do that. “Mm, I’m so close, wanna cum, daddy.”

He grunted, feeling you spasm around him. He definitely wasn’t going to last long like that, not with how tight you were and how long it had been and how fucking needy you sounded as he fucked your tight little snatch. He couldn’t even say he was fucking it open because you were too fucking tight for that. “Of course, princess. Rub that pretty clit, wanna feel you milk my cock while I cum in this pretty pussy. You wanna make daddy feel good, right? Come on, pretty girl.”

You were whining at the praise, crying at the overwhelming pleasure of his throbbing cock kissing your cervix while you rubbed your clit in tight, fast circles. Your slick was covering your fingers, your movements slippery and jerky and it was impossible to time them to his hard thrusts. Your mind whited out and narrowed down to the drag of that vein over that spot and the feel of his tip pressing against the deepest part of you, but what finally, finally did it for you was the low snarl in your ear when you tightened around him.

“Fucking cum for me, babygirl. Now,” Yaku snarled into your ear, punctuating his words with a few last thrusts and you wailed as you came, eyes rolling back in your head. He didn’t stop even when your fingers curled into the blanket again and tears streamed down your cheeks, cumming deep inside you. His breath came in heavy pants when he finally stilled, still buried to the hilt inside you. He fell to his elbows beside your head, nuzzling against your shoulder and leaving wet kisses there and up your neck to your ear. “You alright, pretty girl?”

You nodded, eyes still closed and tear tracks still wet on your cheeks, and he kissed them away. The two of you remained like that for a few moments, too tired and comfortable to move, but eventually Yaku’s arms began to grow tired and he sat up. “I’m gonna pull out now, then we’ll run a bath and get cleaned up, ‘kay?”

Again, you nodded, and trembled when he pulled his soft cock from you. Even he shuddered, still sensitive from his orgasm, then helped you to sit up. When you went to stand, your legs wobbled and you laughed together, letting him lead you to the bathroom. While he ran the bath, you took care of yourself and then he helped you into the tub.

He settled in behind you, pulling you backwards until your back was against his chest, and you let your head loll back on his shoulder. He let his mouth wander, drifting over your shoulder, neck, and jaw and back down again, and you hummed in contentment, letting your fingers trail up and down his muscular thighs.

Finally, he settled just under your ear, his warm breath tickling a little before he finally sighed. “I love you, you know that?”

For a reason unbeknownst to you, tears pricked your eyes at his words. The way he said it sparked something inside you, and you wiped away the few that managed to escape, frowning. “I don’t know why I’m crying. But I love you too, Mori.”

He laughed, catching a tear on his finger before letting it trail down your cheek, but didn’t say anything more. Your eyes fluttered shut as he continued to sprinkle you with kisses, hands wandering wherever they pleased, and you smiled softly with adoration.

[amelialincoln]

Need You

Ever since she snapped at him last week, Link had been trying desperately to not be affected by Amelia’s nightmares. Since Meredith had been put on the vent, there wasn’t a single night that his girlfriend hadn’t woken up sweating and thrashing like a maniac, and to say that it was concerning Link was an understatement.

“Amelia,” he hissed, into the darkness, while shaking her awake. Amelia sat up so abruptly she almost pushed him off the bed.

“What?” Her voice was thick with sleepiness. “Oh...fuck, sorry.” She pushed her curtain bangs out of her face and glanced at their bedside table to check the time.

“I can make some tea?” He offered.

“I’m literally fine, just go back to bed,” she replied dismissively.

“You’re shaking.” His hand brushed her bare shoulder affectionately.

She shrugged him off, sighing and mumbling, “I’m just gonna get a glass of water,” before tugging on one of Link’s hoodies and quietly leaving their bedroom. She paused at Scout’s makeshift bedroom in the office to peek inside. Like always, their little boy was sleeping soundlessly in his crib. She brushed a finger against his pudgy cheek, lingering for a moment and debating whether to pick him up. If she felt in control of one thing right now it was Scout. Making up for the three others, his first couple of weeks had been almost effortless. He was a movement baby for sure but Amelia didn’t mind. She’d simply put him in the wrap they’d bought and carried him around most of the day.

“If you wake him up he’s going to be grump tomorrow.” Link’s calm voice made her jump, her heart still racing from the nightmare.

“I know,” she whispered back resentfully, “I was just making sure he was okay.”

“Was that what your dream was about?” He pressed. “He’s safe, Mia, we always have the monitor running.”

“I know.” She ran a stressed hand through her hair before pushing past him and into the hallway and quietly walking down the old, creaky set of stairs. The sound of Link’s clunky footsteps followed her apprehensively and he wrapped his arms around her as she filled a glass of water at the sink. It was then that she started to sob. Link had witnessed a couple of Amelia breakdowns before but this time it was different.

“Hey, look at me,” he ordered as her breathing started to rapidly quicken, “deep breaths.”

“Link.” Her voice was as fragile as a china doll.

“You’re okay,” he assured her, resting his chin on the crown of her head.

“I’m falling apart trying to parent these kids for two weeks. If she dies. What’s supposed to happen to them? They’ve already lost their dad, “she was palming her chest as if her heart was physically hurting, “Derek, he’s gone.”

“Amelia it’s--”

“Scout. As he gets older. He looks more and more like him every day. I compare pictures of him and my brother as a baby and it’s almost terrifying. Our son is beautiful and perfect but every time I look at him, in some weird and twisted way, it’s like I’m looking at my brother.” She pulled out of his grasp, leaning over the kitchen counter. Link watched her turn a shade of white before throwing up into the sink.

“Mia.” He was cupping her hair out of her face a second later while she heaved. “You’re okay, it’s okay.” He was trying to find a way to console her as she grieved someone he’d never even met.

“It’s too much,” she groaned. “How are we supposed to take care of four children and not completely fall apart.”

“She’s going to pull through.” Link rubbed her upper back in circular motions, momentarily being taken back to nine months ago.

“You don’t know that,” Amelia gagged. “Bailey hates me enough. If I have to tell him--”

“Amelia, you won’t,” Link interrupted firmly. “Obsessing over the worst case scenario is making you sick.”

“How can you not though?” She winced, spitting out the last of their takeout dinner.

“Because if I keep telling myself that everything’s going to go back to normal soon, it makes every day more bearable. Do you think I don’t wish I was in the OR right now? Or raising Scout in our apartment like we planned?” Amelia shrugged, weakly lowering herself down onto one of the stools at the island. “Of course I do. But if that’s all I focus on, I'll start to go insane.”

“Join the club,” she chuckled darkly. “And if we’re putting everything out on the table. I don’t trust Winston.”

“Babe, what?” Link sighed. “You’re obsessing over things because you're stressed.”

“No, I’m not.” She slammed her fists down on the counter. “She disappeared with a guy we barely know anything about and when he came he got all weird about Jackson.”

“Cause he’s Maggie’s ex.” Link tried not to act condescending. “You think I don’t feel uncomfortable when I work with Owen?” It was like he was watching his girlfriend fall apart before his eyes.

“I saw what I saw,” she argued. “I’m not making stuff up in my head.” She placed her forehead in her palms. Link was about to make a joke about Deluca when he realized that he was dead too. Everything really was starting to look a little too depressing. Link shook his head, trying to shake the underlying, familiar feeling that was beginning to creep up on him.

“Can we go lie on the couch? I don’t know how to help you in any other way but to just hold you.” Amelia nodded through slow rolling tears, with an expression on her face that broke Link’s heart into millions of tiny pieces. “Come on, babe,” he sighed, lifting her into his arms and laying her onto Meredith’s couch, cradling her tightly as hours passed.

Amelia’s phone buzzing in the pocket of her sweat shorts finally woke them in the early hours of the morning and the little gasp that followed pulled the rest of the sleepiness out of Link.

“It’s the hospital.” Her shaky hands threatened to drop the phone as the couple stared at it with hesitation. “Dr. Shepherd,” Amelia finally answered, trying to mask any emotion in her voice. “Hey, Bailey. Do you...okay...yeah they’ve been good...yep you can tell her that…” Amelia’s voice broke a bit. “...tell her that they’re doing fine and that they miss her. Oh, and don’t forget about Bailey’s tooth...yep, one of his molars. Make sure she knows that...and Zola’s math test...yeah, an A. Am I on speaker?” Amelia grinned as tears rolled down her face. Link hugged her tightly into his chest, needing no explanation. “Ellis finally tried broccoli...yeah of course it was Link that convinced her...yep and she makes him read her five books every night...takes like half an hour. Scout’s good...yeah eating better now...still bites my nipples though,” she laughed. “Bailey too? Of course he did...okay...yeah of course...get some rest...bye...love you.” She put her phone down and practically tackled Link with a hug. “She’s off the vent.”

“I figured.”

“Her levels are going up by the hour.” She wiped the fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “She’s talking about some beach, Lexie and all this nonsense but they aren’t too concerned about it. Oh my god, Link, she’s okay.”

“Told you so,” he teased, trying to hide his relief. “She needs to come take back Hayes before Jo gets too ahead of herself.” Amelia laughed, shaking her head.

“Well, someone’s gotta tell her, that man’s heart beats for Meredith Grey. If anyone is happier than me right now, it’s him.”

[][][]

bc what tf was that interview w krista about Jo and hayes possibly having a romantic spark. like yes krista, jo making rude remarks and comparing hayes dead wife to alex is a great flirting tactic. i love jo but absolutely not. hayes is here for mer and only mer.

[katsuukiwii]

Levi SFW Alphabet

WARNING: Too much cuteness, read at your own risk.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?): Levi is very awkward when it comes to romance, that’s just how he’s always been. His usual way is making you some tea, or doing paperwork with you while you hold hands. The most romantic he’ll get is him letting you sit in his lap while he does paperwork, or cuddling. Also he doesn’t know that you hate the way he drinks tea but you still take it bc you know it makes him happy.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?): He would be an awesome best friend, because he knows you understand him. It’s not often people get to realize that he’s not that bad! The friendship would probably start through either meeting in the underground, or through training. He’d give you one-on-one lessons, where he would eventually get to know you better.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?): He loves cuddling, but it’s usually more favorable to him when you two cuddle. That’s because he likes being the little spoon! He loves spooning, but usually he likes when he has both arms wrapped around your waist, yours draped on his shoulders while his head lays on your chest. But he also loves when he’s laying on his back with you laying on top of him on your stomach.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?): We all know he’s better at cleaning than Mr. Clean himself. He’s also a relatively good cook! He’d love to settle down with you, but it would DEFINETLY be after the titans are gone, and it would be in a safe area. He worries about you!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?): He’d be crushed, but he’d also be very glad. Of course, it would suck to break up with you. But he’d rather have broken up with you than have one of you dead. If he HAD to do this, he’d be very understanding of your feelings, and try not to hurt you too much.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?): He knows nothing good lasts forever, except for love. So he’d love to get married to you. He’s just fine with commitment, there’s nothing wrong there. He’d like to wait maybe two years before getting married so he knows you’re the one AND so he knows you love him back enough to get married!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?): Emotionally, he’s a closeted cinnamon roll. So he’s SUPER gentle emotionally. Physically though, he’s rather rough. He always killing these GIANT beasts and training so he gets scared when he’s trying to be careful with you. With him, tickle fights can feel like brutal scratching because of his calloused hands. You’ve walked in on him soaking his hands multiple times, so he can keep from hurting you. It’s cute.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?): He loves hugs! His favorite hugs are when his S/O hugs him from behind, wrapping their arms around his shoulders carefully, and pulling him close. He doesn’t hug you regularly, but he does every now and then! His hugs are always the ‘as if I’ll never see you again’ hugs. He pulls you close, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, maybe giving you a peck on the cheek.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?): It takes him a while to say this. He wants to, he really does, but every time he lets himself get close to somebody something tragic happens to them. Isabel, Farlan, Kuchel, Petra, Oluo, etc. He doesn’t WANT to love you but he knows he can’t help it. He’ll tell you after 6 months at LEAST!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?): Levi doesn’t get jealous, he knows you love him! but if he does get jealous, his face will be flushed a light pink out of frustration and embarrassment as he hugs you close, hiding his blush from anybody else around.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?): His kisses are short and sweet! But he ALWAYS lets you know how much he loves you in those kisses! Levi likes to kiss your cheeks, and nose! With him, he likes being kissed on his forehead and on his shoulder. It makes him feel safe!

L = Little ones (How are they around children?): He would be TERRIFIED to have babies. He definitely wants kids, but like I said earlier, he’s naturally very rough physically, he can’t help it! He’d also like to wait until after the titans are gone for this! He wants to ensure that nothing TOO horrible will happen, and that if something bad DOES happen, he can protect you all. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?): He’s usually awake before you, WAY before you. But mornings with Levi are probably the best part of the day for him, and for you! He loves when you’re the first thing he sees. He’s a sleep snuggler, so he usually wakes up with his arms wrapped around you tightly. If you really try, you can actually make him stay in with you! Every morning, he takes you into the bathroom where you both get a shower! He likes to hug you from behind while you wash the suds off your body, and you often see a content smile on his face! 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?): Just like the morning, you both get a shower before going to bed! Yes, 2 showers every day. Being in the corps makes you all sweaty and smelly, so it’s DEFINITELY worth the time! At night, you’re both obviously sleepy. Yes, Levi has insomnia but he usually goes to bed at a normal time because of how exhausting work is. You’ll both have a hot cup of tea before bed, then cuddle until you both fall asleep! 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?): Levi’s got a pretty fucked up past. He wouldn’t date anybody unless they knew his past! He wants to know that the person he’s dating will care about him, despite what happened in the past. He’ll reveal things slowly, giving you some details, but eventually he tells you the story! 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?): Levi, despite his usual attitude, can keep his cool easily. He’s very level-headed. Of course, he has his moments where he’s especially pissy, but he’s mostly able to handle it. He’s rarely mad at you, he calls you his medicine. Literally, that’s your petname! He calls you “medicine”  because only you can heal him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?): He’ll obviously forget SOME things, but he remembers most things about you. He’ll instantly try to figure out a plan for any celebration like your birthday, christmas, etc. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?): His favorite moment in your relationship was when he was crying over a nightmare. Yup. In the nightmare, he had talked to his mother, and despite the dream being extremely wholesome, he still cried because he missed her so much. As he was sobbing in your arms you started singing a song, one his mother sang to him when he was younger. He started to calm down while you stroked his nose carefully. Yes, he was a strong, courageous man, but he still needed special treatment every now and then. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?): He’s very protective! No shock there. How? Any way he can. He can protect you emotionally, mentally, and physically. With you, he likes to be protected mentally. A lot of shit happens in the Survey Corps, so just knowing you’re there to be his medicine calms him. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?): He puts a lot of effort into special events. It won’t be the BIGGEST thing, but he definitely tried his hardest, and just knowing that is enough! Like I said, once he learns something about you, he mentally plans out events.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?): Not really a terrible habit, but he’ll talk to himself a lot! Another bad habit I heard is drinking tea, so that’s obviously one. He’ll click his pen if he’s stressed and crack his knuckles as well. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?): He cares about his appearance! That’s obvious. He won’t go all-out for you, but hygiene is a big thing for him!The most formal he WANTS to get is slicking his hair back, but since he’s ‘Humanity's Strongest Soldier’ he’s often requested at formal events. Also one of the reasons he shaves his face. Yup, he’d like to grow a little stubble, but it’s annoying to maintain!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?): Levi has to spend a good amount of time away from you, since being in the corps keeps you busy! But like I said earlier, you’re his medicine, so without you he gets ‘sick’. By that I mean, he starts to feel lonely and gets lost in his thoughts. He’s obviously got PTSD, probably depression as well, so he needs you around! Short answer is yes, he feels incomplete without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.): He’s like your own personal puppy dog! If you ask something from him, he’ll do it if he’s got time! He stays awake until you get home where he’s instantly at the door, and he’s often trailing behind you to make sure you’re safe. If he WERE a dog, his tail would be wagging happily. It’s wholesome tbh!

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?): In general, he’s very picky with the food he eats. Sometimes he refuses to eat what’s in the mess hall because he thinks it’s gross. In a partner, he would prefer his polar opposite. So I don’t think he’d be into someone who's blunt, snarky, and monotone. He would prefer to have his own little ray of sunshine! He also wouldn’t like if his partner liked to keep everything in about themselves. More gross things in his mind would be if his S/O picked their nose or chewed their nails. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?): Levi doesn’t sleep much, but every morning, you’ll find a small spot on your shirt or the pillow. He drools in his sleep! You didn’t expect that from such a clean man! And earlier I also mentioned he’s a sleep snuggler!

[cherrytdatt]

Sadness Ritual pt. 2

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: ~6k (i really thought it would be shorter)

Summary: Tom wished he was the normal guy you wanted.

Warnings: one panic attack (nothing too graphic), angst, my bad language, and my bad writing.

A/N: Sadness Ritual pt 2 is here! I didn't wanna make a pt 2 but then i received this ask talking about a Tom pov and i thought it was the best idea ever, so i decided to try it. Now that i did it i kind of want a happier end for Tom and Y/N, so PLEASE let me know if you guys want a part 3 to end all this mess. OH! AND THIS IS ANGST AF!!!!!!

Request: SADNESS RITUAL WAS SO GOOD. But what if it was the other way around? What if Tom thinks the reader, a normal girl, would never choose him bc of his fame and how she always says she probably wouldn’t be able to handle it? Thanks in advance!❣️

***Playlist: “This is Lewis Capaldi” on Spotify.

Part 1

Tom looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair for the tenth time. "Fuck," he muttered, annoyed. "Fuck this shit!" he said, running his hand through his hair and messing it out even more. Tom was at his limit. He was forcing himself to go on a date just to try to feel something. Actually, he was on his third date with the same girl. He talked to her, he kissed her, they had sex, and nothing. Tom felt nothing. Well, he felt...regret, sadness, anxiety...not what he was looking for.

"Third date?" Harrison asked, leaning on the door, and looking at his friend's annoyed expression.

"Something like that," Tom said.

"This is getting serious?" he asked when Tom started trying to fix his hair again.

"It seems like," Tom said with a weak voice.

"Did you introduced her to any other friend?" Harrison was trying to make his friend talk. Something he didn't do for some time.

Tom glanced at Harrison, knowing what he was really trying to ask. "Not yet. She'll meet Tuwaine and Sam tonight," he said, looking at his reflection again.

"What about Y/N?" Harrison finally asked.

"What about her?" Tom was feeling more and more stressed.

"How long you think you can hide this from her?"

"I'M NOT..." he said, exasperated. "I'm not hiding anything," he defended himself. Harrison knew that Tom loved you, cause he told him months ago. Harrison also knew that you loved Tom, cause his girlfriend and your best friend, Anna, told him months ago. They tried not to force you two to face this mess, but Harrison was tired of seeing his friend struggling to get over a girl who loved him. However, every time he talked to Tom, the boy always said he was okay, and that there was nothing he could do, even if you liked him the same way, to make it work.

"Then what is it?" Harrison asked.

Tom took a deep breath, finally giving up on his hair. He was gonna wear a hat. "You wanna know something I want?" Tom asked rhetorically, leaning against the sink, and Harrison looked at him, hoping his friend would finally talk to him. "I want you to forget that I ever told you I like Y/N. I want you to go hang out with Anna and let me get over Y/N the best way I can," he walked to Harrison. “Please, do this for me," he patted his friend's shoulder and left the bathroom, going back to his bedroom. Harrison shook his head, sad for his friend.

~

The date was a nightmare. Tom didn't enjoy it at first, then he started drinking so he could start enjoying it. He got drunk, therefore he started talking and being clingy. In the end, his head was pounding, his heart was aching, and his guilt was more alive than ever. When he finally got home, all he wanted was to sleep and forget about the entire night. He laid in his bed, wishing for a short term amnesia. Why did he keep doing this? How long would he keep trying to like this girl and ignore what he felt for you? He looked at his cellphone that was by his side on the bed. He couldn't tell you. He tried. Almost a year ago.

"Look! I just found another pic!" you said animatedly, and already a little drunk, turning the phone so he can look at it. You laughed at his grumpy face in the picture.

"And that's why I hate LA," he said. "Only there these people follow me and take these pictures," he pointed at your phone.

You two had planned a movie night with Harrison and Anna, at least that was what you thought. What happened was that Tom asked Harrison to make something up and leave you and him alone, so he could finally talk to you about how he was feeling.

Tom starred at you while you scrolled trough stupid sites, looking for 'grumpy photos of Tom.' You always said you like to turn them into memes. "I don't know how you do this. I would die if someone took a picture of me and posted it online without my permission," you said. Tom always knew that you hated unexpected pictures. Actually, you hated pictures in general. Your Instagram feed had thirty pictures, all landscapes from places you traveled to. That was one of the reasons he rarely went out with you, and when you go out, he made sure that more people were around so people won't focus on taking pictures of you.

"You get used to it," he shrugged.

"I doubt that," you said absentmindedly, still scrolling. "Oh! Look at this one," you turned the screen so Tom could see. It was a picture of him, eating, and a girl he was out with, annoyed with something. "Best of luck for your next girlfriend, because this..." you pointed at the screen. "It's a lot to deal with," you laughed, not noticing the sad expression that appeared in his face. Tom just realized he couldn't tell you how he felt. Option one, you would turn him down, his heart would break and he would have to watch you live your life without him. Option two, you would like him back, but as soon as the world found out about your relationship, you would hate him for exposing you.

"You don't think I’m worth the effort?" he asked, his tone more serious than he wanted to. He was incapable to control his own voice.

"Sweetie, don't get me wrong. You're the best person I know, any girl would be lucky to date you. But this girl should be enjoying your company, and she's clearly not," you said. "And I'm sure that she's like that cause you were in a bad mood because of the paparazzi," you gave him a questioning look, making him smile.

"Let's just watch the movie," he changed the subject before you could notice his mood switch.

His heavy eyes opened slowly. The noises coming from the kitchen helped him to wake up completely. He searched for his phone. 10:32. He sat on the bed, holding his head. "Fuck!" he groaned. "Fucking stupid!" He got up, going to his bathroom. He needed a shower.

The shower and the smell of coffee was a relief. Tom put on a black jeans and headed to the kitchen. "'Morning," Anna said, seeing him enter the kitchen.

"Hey," Tom said, going to the coffeemaker and serving himself some coffee.

"Tough night?" Anna asked, spreading strawberry jelly in her toast.

"Drank too much," he said.

They both sat in silence, eating, and drinking the coffee. After breakfast, Tom went back to his room. He was in no mood to talk. He searched in his cabinet for some aspirin and something for his nausea. He laid in bed, turning his TV in some random golf game. But he wasn't really paying attention.

He unlocked his phone, going through his chats. His family chat was blowing up, just like his group chat with the boys. He clicked on your tab, looking at the meme you sent him the day before. He didn't answer cause he was on his way to the girl's house. He couldn't talk to you today. The memories were too fresh in his mind. He just stayed there, laid in bed, waiting for the pills to work. Things could be easier. They should be.

"So?" you asked, looking at him. You two were laid on your back on the floor of his living room.

"I'm thinking," he said, laughing.

"Jesus! It's just a color. Just pick one and I'll tell you if it'll look good or not," you rolled your eyes.

"Blue?" he said more like a question.

"What kind of blue?" you asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged, laughing. "How many there are?"

"At least tell me if it's light or dark," you tried.

"In the middle," he looked at you. You were starring at the skylight. The sun sparkling in your eyes, making them shine even more.

You laughed, shrinking your shoulders, he loved it when you do that. "So, they will give you a car, and you will pick a blue one? Not dark blue or light blue. A middle blue?" you asked turning to look at him.

"Exactly!" he said.

"You know what? Ask for a middle blue one. If you hate it, at least you didn't pay for it," you smiled.

"Good point," he said, and you heard the door opening. You sat, leaning on your arms.

"What are you two doing?" Harrison asked, stopping at the door with Anna by his side.

"Tom is getting a car, and we're trying to decide what color we want," you explained nonchalantly. Tom propped himself in his elbows, looking at the newly formed couple.

"How was your date?" you asked. You knew they would tell the truth no matter what. Your group of friends, that involved another four or five people, was this type of friend, that always tells the truth. If it was bad, they would say that they decided to stay friends, and everything would be okay. If it was good, good!

Anna bit her lower lip, holding a smile. "I think it was good," Harrison said, holding her by the waist, and looking down at her.

"Yeah...it was good," she looked at him.

"They are gonna get married, aren't they?" you whispered to Tom who laughed, shaking his head.

"Friends can do this?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Apparently, they can," you pointed at the couple that was in their own world. "I'm gonna be a shitty made of honor," you whined.

"I'm gonna be a great best man," Tom shrugged.

"We are going..." Harrisons said pointing to his room.

"Yeah, yeah. Go!" you cut him off, and they just left you two in the living room. "So, blue?" you asked, laying on the floor again.

"Blue!" Tom said.

He got the blue car, and you loved it for a while. But then it was so bright and so...blue. Tom started hating too. So much that, after a while, he just gave it to his mom and his brothers.

Tom looked at his phone again. 7:24. The day was getting darker and darker. A knock on his door woke him from his thoughts. He spent the whole day in bed between naps and self-hatred. "Hey, mate. How are you feeling?" Harrison asked getting into his room and closing the door behind him.

"Not great," Tom replied, propping himself up.

"Yeah...It'll get worst," Harrison warned, sitting in his bed. His face was a mix of worry and sadness.

"What happened?" Tom asked in a worried tone.

"Your date, yesterday, it's all over the internet," Harrison said, handing him his phone. A clear picture of him, holding the girl's hand. He didn't even remember doing this, but he was smiling, and the girl was too. He was fucked! He didn't tell almost anyone he was dating. His mom didn't know. You didn't know. Y/N! You crossed his mind. You would hate him for hiding something like this, and you didn't even know why he was hiding it.

"Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!" He said, getting up still looking at the pictures.

"It's okay, mate. I know it's not what you wanted, but it's okay. You're allowed to date," Harrison tried to calm him down.

Tom was freaking out, his breath was getting shorter, and his chest was hurting, his head was spinning. He fucked up big time.

"Tom?" Harrison called. He ran his hand through his hair. Why was this happening? And at that moment, he wished he wasn't famous. He wished he never did the Spider-Man movies. He wished he was a normal guy. That way these pictures would never exist and he would be the normal you want in your life. He needed to get out of his house. He handed Harrison his phone and left the room, putting on the first shirt and shoe he found.

"Where are you going?" Harrison followed him around the house.

"I'm going out," he said, getting his car keys.

"Tom..." Harrison called, but he was already out.

There was one place Tom could handle now. There was one person who would help him now. He drove the short way to their house. The familiar path. He stopped the car, getting out. He was still shaking, and for a split second, he thought that he shouldn't drive like that. He walked the little trail to the front door. Tom took a deep breath, the deepest he could at this moment, knocking on the door three times. His wait seemed longer than it really was. A noise inside warned him someone was home.

"Hey, mom," he said when the door finally opened.

"Hey, sweetie," his mom said, opening her arms to him. He hugged her like it was the last thing he was gonna do in his life. His eyes were burning, and he already could feel the tears emerging. "I'm sorry, baby," she said, caressing his head. His mom knew how much he hated being that exposed, she knew how much he was struggling the last months, and she had a feeling that the girl he liked wasn't the one in the pictures.

~

Tom played with the mug in front of him, trying to forget everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours. "Do you wanna talk about it?" his mom asked, looking at him.

Tom looked at her, and then again to his mug. "I...I just..." he was struggling. "How...did I let that happen?"

"It was not your fault, Tom. The pictures were not your fault. You are always careful, but these people are crazy. They stalk you, and never care about your privacy," his mom said.

"Yeah, but if I didn't have this job..." he started, but she cut him off.

"Don't say that! You love your job. A lot of great things come from your job. All the people you help, you just help because of your job. So don't regret having it. You just have to learn how to deal with this part of your job," she said.

"I know. But sometimes I just wished I was a normal guy, you know?" he cried.

"You are a normal guy. You clean the dishes, you argue with your brothers, you go out with your friends. These are all 'normal guy' stuff," she smiled.

"Yeah, but..."

"Look,” she looked at him expectantly, “Do you wanna tell me what's really bothering you?" she said and he looked at her.

"It's... it's Y/N," he finally said. His mom listened to the whole story. How he fell in love with you, but you kept saying that date him must be a nightmare because of the pictures and the stalk, even though he was the best person you ever met. He told her how he tried to tell you a few times about how he felt, but always gave up when you included the word 'normal' in your guy description after saying his life as crazy as hell. How after a few months he just gave up and tried to move on, dating other girls, and that was when this girl showed up. He told her he didn't have the courage to talk to you about the girl, because he rather tell you about how he loved you, instead.

"You may disagree with me, but I think she likes you too," his mom said afterward, earning a shocking and confused look from Tom. "First, I see you two together since you were twelve, and it's annoying how sometimes you ignore everyone else in the room but each other. Second, she says that but never refuses to go out with the boys and you, and this means that she hates the exposure, but she hates, even more, being apart from you. And I will end with the third one, even though I could go on forever. She would never say you are the best person in the world if she didn't think you are worth the effort," his mom said.

"I asked her if I wasn't worth," he said still not convinced.

"And what did she said?"

He tried to remember the night, which wasn't that difficult since he replayed your talk for days after it happened. "She was looking at some paparazzi pictures of me and a girl, saying how bad that girl’s life must be with all the exposure and I asked her if I wasn't worth it," he told her.

"And what did she said?"

"She said I was the best person in the world but the girl in the picture should be enjoying being with me, and she wasn't," he finished.

"Yes? And when is that the same thing that say you don’t worth the effort?" she asked with a smile in her face.

"It isn't?" he asked, a little hope appearing in his eyes.

"Of course not! She meant that the girl didn't like you enough to be happy there," she said. "If you want my opinion, I think she implied that you being 'the best person in the world', the girl was being an idiot for not enjoying your company," she finished.

"Do you really think this?" he asked.

"Why would I lie? By the way, I think you were scared of talking to her, and that's why you got everything wrong," she shrugged.

Maybe his mom was right. He was afraid to mess up your friendship and took him weeks to decide to talk to you. And when he finally decided, the first thing you said made him give up.

Tom went back to his house feeling a little better. Talk to his mom always helped. He still was regretting the night before, and still was afraid of talking to you, but now he didn't hate his job, and he had this hope that maybe you could love him back enough to handle all the bullshit in his life.

"Did you talked to Y/N?" Anna asked as soon as he got home.

"No," he started. But before he could say he was planning to, Anna cut him off.

"She doesn't answer my texts or call," she said, looking at him from the couch. "I think she's upset."

"Did you called her place?" he asked scrolling through his phone.

"No. I think you should go talk to her," Anna told him. She had an idea of why you weren't answering her, and only Tom could solve this.

"Y-yeah, sure. I'll..." he said, picking up his keys again and leaving.

~

'I talked to her. She's alive. But talk to her! You know what I mean!!!' Anna's text appeared on the screen of his phone, and he felt the air being pulled out of him.

He got into your building, breathing slowly, trying to calm himself. The time in the elevator looked like an eternity. When the door opened and your door came to his view, he thought he was going crazy for doing this. But now he was here, so he was gonna do it anyway. He walked to your door, and he could hear that annoying band you always listen to when you're sad. His heart broke, thinking about you being sad. He leaned his hands against your doorway, trying to calm himself the best he could. He knocked on your door three times. Not a change in the sound that was coming from inside. He looked at the floor seeing a shadow moving behind the door and that hurt him a little. You was hiding from him.

"I know you're in there. Let me in," he tried to sound as normal as he could. "I can see your shadow moving behind the door. Open up," he finished when you didn't answer. 

"I'm not feeling so good. I talk to you later. Or text you." you said, but he wasn't giving up that easy. He thought about what his mom said.

"Please. I know you're lying. Your second best friend told me you were upset," he said, exposing her lie.

"Yeah... well, I'm upset cause I'm feeling sick," now he knew you were lying, and your lazy voice was a sign that you were probably drunk.

"You can't lie to me. I'm hearing that awful band you listen to whenever you're sad... and by your voice, I can tell you are drinking wine. No one who is feeling sick drinks wine," he said, feeling a little happy with how much he knew about you.

"Please, Tom... just leave me alone. We can talk tomorrow," he felt the sadness on your voice. He took a deep breath leaning his hand against the door.

"No way. I'm your best friend. I'm here to take care of you and I'm not gonna leave until you let me in," he said concerned. "I'm gonna spend the entire night on the floor, and all your neighbors will talk about how you let a cute movie star spend the night on the floor, and you will be a villain, and they will hate you forever," he joked seating on the floor by your door. He had to talk to you today.

"You're so idiot," you said, so low that he almost didn't hear.

"But you love me," he said, with a hopeful smile. 'I hope,' he thought.

He heard you walking and the song stopped. He did it! You would let him in. "I know you gonna let me in cause you turned off that awful music," he laughed.

"I didn't turn it off, I just turned down," he heard you.

"Why do you listen to such depressive music..." he started. "...when you're sad?" he finished, relief running through his body when he saw you.

"Do you want me to listen to a Barney song?" you quipped with a smile. Even though it looked like a forced smile, he was happy he let him in.

"First of all, tell me why you are sad?" he asked, hugging you, hoping you would tell the truth.

"No specific reason," you lied and he felt your body tense in his arms.

"Why are you so difficult sometimes?" he asked, entering your apartment before you could lock him out.

"I'm not difficult," you protested.

"Sure," he sat on your couch, picking up the glass of wine you were drinking. He was feeling the courage ran out of his body. He needed alcohol. Even if it was that disgusting wine you drank on these occasions. "And this awful cheap wine," he complained, feeling the extremely bitter taste of the wine go down his throat.

"Are you here to criticize me? Cause I didn't ask you to come," you said and he felt the bitterness in your voice.

"I'm joking, okay?" he explained himself.

"Okay," you mumble, sitting by his side. His heart was going crazy inside his chest. "I thought you were out with friends today?" you started before he could say anything.

"Who told you that?" he asked confused, he had no plans of going out tonight.

"Anna," you said.

"Yeah... she was wrong," he said, thinking if Anna told you about him storming out of his house. He looked at the TV, trying to hide the sadness in his eyes when he thought about his panic attack.

"I thought so... since you were out yesterday," you said, and he felt his body froze. How did you know about him going out? He asked Harrison and Anna not to tell you anything.

"How do you know that?" he asked, not wanting to look at you. He was panicking.

"Anna," you said, and an idea crossed his mind. Did you saw the pictures? "Did you had fun?" you asked, cutting his thoughts.

Tom was feeling the panic building in his body. "It could've been better if you were there," he said, trying to hide how dry his throat felt.

"Well, if you had asked me, I could've been there," you said, and he felt his chest tightening. He hummed, incapable of saying any words. He was feeling his entire body hurt. He couldn't think straight.

You got up, going to the kitchen with the glass and the empty bottle. He took deep breaths, trying to stay calm. His body relaxed a little. "You can sleep on the couch if you want," you said, and his heart fell. You were running away from him.

"Can I sleep with you?" he asked before he could think something else. He just wanted to be close to you.

"Sure," you shrugged. "I'm gonna... brush my teeth," you left the room, and Tom could hear his heart beating loud and clear. You knew about the pictures. He saw your notebook close to where you were seated. He looked at the hallway where you disappeared a few seconds ago, and without thinking much about what he was doing, he opened the notebook. The first thing he saw broke his heart in a million pieces. It was him holding that girl's hand. So you saw the pictures, and that was why you were sad.

Wait! His mind started working again. If what was bothering you was the fact that he didn’t tell you about the girl, you would be mad, not sad. And you would scream at him, not hide from him. But you didn't scream. You were sad. That could mean his mom was right. You liked him. He felt his heart beating fast. A confident smile appearing on his face.

He closed the notebook again. A stingy feeling in his stomach when he focused on the picture again before closing. He got up, going to your bathroom. "Can I use the bathroom?" he asked, not hearing a noise from inside.

"Yeah. I'm almost done," you said, and he leaned on the doorway, not able to hide the smile in his face, thinking that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“What took you so long?” he asked with a smile, the feeling that his mom was right growing inside him.

“I-I’m going… to bed,” you said, and he nodded.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said, going into the bathroom. He was feeling almost normal again. Tom looked at his reflection. His hair was a mess, but he didn't care. You always said he looked good like that. He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush he left at your home a few months ago. Before he left the bedroom he looked at himself one more time, promising internally that, no matter what happened from that moment on, you two would end up together. Even if he had to take classes to learn how to be the normal guy you wanted.

He walked out of the bathroom, going to your bedroom. “Do you still have those sweatpants I gave you a couple months ago?” he thought about how you looked so good in his clothes, that he had to give them to you.

“Yeah, I think it’s somewhere in my closet,” you said. “Maybe… the second drawer,” you instructed, seeing he wasn't finding it.

He opened the drawer finding the sweatpants and the shirt. “Lucky me I gave you this,” he smiled, taking off his pants. You avoided his look. He decided to try again and ask you why you were sad. “So when are you gonna tell me why you’re sad?” he said, putting the sweatpants.

“Uh-hum… I just told you, no specific reason,” you lied again.

“You know I know you too well to believe in that, right?” he tried, taking his shirt off. He felt your eyes on him, and he bit his lips trying not to smile at your charmed expression. After a few seconds, he decided to cough to get your attention back. You looked at him, and he pressed his lips together, that smile still fighting to appear.

“I think it's that time of the month,” you finally said.

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes, knowing you were lying. He knew you had your period two weeks ago, cause he invited you to go to his house and you said no, cause you were on your period. He then sent you food and medicine. “Do you mind if I sleep shirtless?” he asked.

“No,” you said.

“Thanks,” he gave you a small smile, jumping on the bed. Tom felt the urge to hug you. He turned on his side, putting a hand on your waist, and leaning closer to you. You took a deep breath, and for a second he thought you were gonna say something. But instead, you turned your back to him. Tom felt his heart break a little. Those pictures really hurt you. He hurt you. “You know I would never hurt you on purpose,” he whispered. He was really sorry. He would give everything to go back in time, cancel that date and go talk to you, instead. Right now, if it was possible, he would take away all the sadness you were felling, and tell stupid stories until you laugh, that laugh that made you shrink your shoulders. Tom felt you relax in his arms, and your breath was calmer. He looked over your shoulder. You were sleeping. He hugged you tighter and kissed your neck.

~

Tom woke up with the noise of the door closing and the empty bed. He rubbed his eyes, sighing. He turned on the bed, looking for his phone. 3:07. He got up and left the room. The light on your kitchen was up, and he heard your muffled voice. “Who are you talking to?” he said, still a little confused from his sleep.

“Jesus!” you said, startled. “A warning would be good.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, feeling his dry throat. He picked the glass that was in your counter, filling it with water. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you said.

“No problem. Are you okay?” he asked, drinking the water. He was worried about you.

“Great,” you said, but your voice was sad. Tom was tired, his mind was weird and he felt his heart hurt. He couldn't handle this anymore.

“Can you stop lying to me?” he said, not being able to control his voice or the sudden urge to solve things.

“I-I’m not lying,” you lied and he noticed you couldn't even look at him.

“Are you serious?” he put the glass on the counter and tried to control his head.

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m good… everything is good… I’m sad because…” you started, and he felt stupid for thinking you would tell the truth. “I don’t know. Maybe PMS or whatever,” you blurted out.

He was just tired. He felt his eyes and his throat burning. “Okay,” he laughed dryly. “So, tell me something…” he needed to see the truth in your eyes. “Why were you looking at pictures of me with a girl that I went out yesterday?” his voice was low. You flinched, still avoiding his eyes. “Tell me, Y/N,” he got closer. “Why were you in your 'sadness ritual’ looking at those pics?” he didn't understand why you didn't tell him what was really in your head. All he wanted, was for you to tell the truth. “Do you have something to tell me?” he asked, leaning on the counter. “Anna thinks you do. And Haz too,” he said.

“Tom I…” you started. “I…” his heart was beating so fast. You cleared your throat, and Tom tried to keep himself calm. “I think you should go,” you finally said.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “W-what?” he asked, confused.

“I really think you should go,” you repeated. “I need to be by myself tonight. I’m really not feeling okay and I need some time,” you pushed him away.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he said, not hiding the hurt in his voice. You looked hurt too.

“Please…” you avoided his look.

“You know that this is not what you really want to say," he cried. He knew more than ever that you liked him. He didn't understand why you were doing this. "You know you’ll regret this. Don’t do this,” he pleaded, reaching for your arm but you pulled away. “Y/N.” he said.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” you raised your voice. “Really? What do you want me to say?” you were struggling not to cry. “Do you want me to tell you what I felt when I saw the pictures of you with a girl you invited out and didn’t tell me about, God knows why," you said with hurt in your voice. He hurt you, more than he could imagine. He clenched his jaw, feeling his body tensed up. "Do you want me to tell you why I felt so sad that I had to do my 'sadness ritual’ to keep myself from screaming at you or broking my computer?” your voice was bitter. His nails were hurting his palms. “You know what I have to tell you. You can pretend you don’t know, you can mess around all you want, but you know that you are not ready to hear what I have to say,” you rubbed your eyes, holding your tears. “What I don’t know is why are you doing this?” you asked sincerely. “Why are you here? It looks like you have a good thing," you said referring to the girl he went out. "Go enjoy it and… let me be, please.”

Tom was feeling his head pounding. He couldn't take it anymore. “You don’t see it, do you?” he finally said. His voice was low. He felt tears falling.

“What? What I don’t see?” you asked.

“I don’t wanna be with nobody else," he finally confessed. "I’m trying to tell you this for the last year and you keep ditching me," he thought about every time you said you hated his lifestyle. All the times you said you wanted a normal guy. "You don’t listen to me,” his voice was sad. “I love you. I want you. Please, don’t make me go,” he said, feeling that was his last chance.

“You can’t say that one day after you went on a date with another girl,” you were hurt, and he felt the guilt eating him alive.

“Please, Y/N. Don’t do this,” he reached for your arm, pulling you closer.

“I love you, but I need some time to think,” you said without looking at him, and he felt that was the worst that could happen.

[too-attached-to-fiction]

Voices In My Head | rk800 Connor

Masterlist here

Word count: 1008

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Requested by @hufflepuff-girl-1996​

Request: Hello there 😁 May I ask for a rk800 connor x plus size reader? Connor lives with reader and they are friends. He feels something. When they go to sleep Connor has in his standby modus something like a nightmare. A really bad nightmare about reader. He 'wakes up' crying and checks after reader. He realized what he feels for reader is way more than friendship. Reader wakes up and comforts him by pulling him to her in the bed and cuddles him. Her warmth and softness calms him. He confess and kiss 

A/N: I’m not great at writing plus size readers bc i’m afraid I’ll fuck it up so if you want to you can picture the reader as plus size but it won’t be actively mentioned in the story, sorry! Also i haven’t written anything for DBH in a fat minute so this was a pleasant surprise!

~~~

Even though deviants had proven they had emotions, you often found that hard to believe. For the most part, they were stoic or indifferent around you, so you never thought much of it. 

That is, until Connor moved in. 

Hank was an old family friend, asking for a favor. He needed to get Connor out of his hair for a little while and proposed that Connor sleep on your couch. 

“He er, doesn’t really sleep much, but I figure you have more stuff that interests him in your apartment than what I have. Plus, he’s designed to be closer in age to you than to my old ass.” Hank had reasoned, and you agreed. You were lonely, and having someone else in the apartment would probably help you as much as it would help Connor.

Connor had been living in your apartment for a long while before his first nightmare. Your neighbor, Amelia, who worked as a psychologist, had warned you that Connor might struggle with understanding emotions, considering how recently he’d deviated. For the most part, he was easy. He asked you questions, and you always tried to answer to the best of your abilities. 

“They’re technically humans, just not biologically.” Amelia had said after you told her about your new roommate. “Given what a lot of deviants go through, they often struggle with post traumatic stress disorder. I can’t imagine Connor is immune to it either, considering he works for the DPD.” She sighed. “Be prepared to be patient with him. He may look our age, but his mind is still trying to comprehend things. He doesn’t have our experience.” 

You and Connor fell into an easy routine. He told you when he was coming home late, when he needed to run off to investigate something, and where he was going to be if he was going out with Hank. For the most part, your life continued as normal. 

You were a light sleeper, and although the walls of your apartment weren’t exactly thin, you snapped awake when you heard Connor cry out. 

He’d insisted that he didn’t need a bed, but you and Hank had eventually gotten him to cave. Connor slept in the spare bedroom, and you’d even decorated it together. 

When Connor first moved in, Hank had mentioned how terrifying Cyberlife could be. He told you about Amanda, and how much of a toll deviancy had taken on him. You held onto that information tightly, knowing that it could be useful in the future. 

You practically leapt out of bed, flicking on a light and putting on a sweater. Quietly and carefully, you padded over to Connor’s room on the other end of the hall. 

“Connor?” You called out softly, knocking on his door. “Is everything okay?” You heard another cry and pushed your way in. 

Inside, Connor was thrashing on the bed, talking in his sleep. His LED was red, and his blanket was across the room. You couldn’t understand what he was saying, but you turned on the light on the bedside table, sitting on the bed. 

“Connor? Hey, it’s me. You’re having a bad dream, wake up.” You wanted to reach out to shake him awake, but you knew that could be lethal, considering his programming. 

He stiffened, sweat rolling down his face, until his eyes opened and he scanned the room wildly. 

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.” You said calmly, waiting for his eyes to properly identify you. 

“(Y/N).” He gasped out, pulling you into a tight hug. “You’re safe.” He whispered into your shoulder. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I saw you with her. She- she had you and was trying to k-ki-” He stuttered out, before he started breathing heavily. 

“Hey, bud, you gotta breathe. You’re gonna overheat.” You said, pulling out of the hug and holding his hands. “Can you do that for me? Follow my voice.” 

You guided him through the exercise, and when his breathing was normal, you wiped the sticky hair from his forehead. 

“You had a nightmare, Connor.” You explained. “Something bad happened but it was only your head, nothing happened in the real world.” 

“W-why? Why did I see it?” 

Carefully and calmly, you tried to explain what Amelia had warned you about. “When I woke you up, you went into a panic attack. You would’ve overworked your thirium pump if I hadn’t been around.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” 

“Amanda… she-” Synthetic tears rose in his eyes, and you backtracked immediately. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, Connor. You can say no.” 

“I don’t want to talk, then.” 

“Okay. What can I do to help?” 

“I-is it okay if I spend the night in your sleeping quarters?”

You rubbed your hand up and down his bicep, trying to soothe him. “Sure.” 

Five minutes later, the two of you slipped into your bed. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” Connor said quietly, and you smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek, using your thumb to stroke it lightly. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I just couldn’t keep watching her hurt you. When she did, it hurt me too.” He said, and you nodded, kissing him gently for a second before pulling away. 

“Why don’t we talk about it in the morning? We both need sleep.” You yawned, looking sleepily at him. 

“But what if you don’t feel the same then?” Connor asked as you moved your hand away from his cheek.

“I don’t think I’ll feel different.” You smiled. “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to get hurt right now.” You moved closer, kissing him again. This time it was a little longer, with Connor getting used to the sensation and faster heartbeat. “We’re safe.” 

“Closer.” He mumbled, tugging your shirt toward him. Carefully, you hooked a leg around his legs, your head going to lean against his chest, and your arms around his middle. 

“Better?” 

“Mhm.” He hummed. 

He slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

[lvllns]

otp tag!

oh holy shit this was a whole thing. i was tagged by @rosebarsoap​, @solasan​, @impossible-rat-babies​, and i’m sure others but my activity feed is a disaster i’m sorry if i missed u. thank y’all for the tags!!

pretty sure everyone has been tagged at this point? i can’t keep track anymore, my brain is mush. if you wanna do this, you’re tagged now!

DISAGREEMENTS. Who is more likely to raise their voice?: Neither of them. At most, they get a hard edge to their voice or speak in clipped tones. It's always about risks being taken.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?: NEITHER OF THEM. There is no way Sparrow or Mason would ever do that.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?: NOBODY LEAVES.

Who trashes the house?: Who the fuck? NEITHER OF THEM!

Do either of them get physical?: NO.

How often do they argue/disagree?: Very, very, very, rarely. It's always about, like, one of them just fuckin doing something and getting injured or being put in danger and the other panicking about it. Or the two of them ignoring the other one telling them to save somebody else and instead saving each other. LISTEN.

Who is the first to apologize?: They both do, like in the middle of whatever they're talking about. It's always like "I'm sorry but I'd do it again" and the other person just "I know and I love you but I think you shaved 5 years off my life."

SEX. Who is on top? Who is on bottom?: This changes every single time.

Any kinks?: Sparrow is with a vampire. You get one guess. A lot of it is Sparrow.......uh, learning things about themself as this goes so like. They discover they're into choking when Mason puts his hand on their neck one time. Ya know. Absolutely into praise as well.

Who has the strangest desires?: I don't know that either of them really want anything considered strange??? I mean, Sparrow wants him to bite them but I feel like Mason would be onboard so.

Who’s dominant in bed?: Mason probably more often than Sparrow, though it definitely flip flops depending. I feel like once Sparrow is more confident, they'd be more up for taking the lead.

Is head ever in the equation?: Of fucking course it is.

If so, who is better at performing it?: Mason for sure.

Ever had sex in public?: They fucked in a haunted house at a carnival.

Who moans the most?: They're both pretty quiet I think, each of them takes great pride in making the other get vocal. A lot of like, soft moans and grunts and whispers.

Who leaves the most marks?: Mason on Sparrow, bc his whack ass healing makes it impossible for Sparrow to leave marks on him, even though they try.

Who is the more experienced of the two?: Mason for sure. Sparrow hasn't........had a lot of experience.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?: They make love baby. Even when it gets rougher, it’s never really fucking. Well, okay, wait, maybe they fucked in the haunted house....that’s not exactly.....an environment conducive to love making.

How long do they usually last?: A...av....average? I don't know enough about sex for this section.

Rough or soft?: Soft most of the time.

Is protection used?: Like 99% of the time, yeah.

Does it ever get boring?: Lol no. Mason is Mason and Sparrow is always up for an adventure or a challenge.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?: THEY. FUCKED. IN. A. HAUNTED. HOUSE. AT. A. CARNIVAL.

Where did they not have sex?: I mean they probably wouldn't fuck, like, in a gas station bathroom?

FAMILY. Do they plan on having children/or have children?: This is so complicated and requires it's own post tbh. Currently, no kids and no plans for kids but it's.......yeah, it's just complicated.

If so, how many children do they want/have?: See above.

AFFECTION. Who likes to cuddle?: Oh they both do, Sparrow initiates it more though.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?: Fucking, both of them. Handsy mother fuckers.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?: BOTH OF THEM. Early in a relationship, Mason more often, but once Sparrow is comfortable? All bets are off, sorry. Don't go into the library ever.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?: There is no becoming uncomfortable, they both just pass out. Or Sparrow falls asleep and Mason is legally unable to move, it's like cat rules.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?: Mason will sit and braid Sparrow's hair while they read. Sparrow likes to just sit with Mason, like leaning on each other, watching a show or talking. Just, they really just like to exist together. Also, fucking off into the woods to go camping.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?: Literally anywhere, Sparrow is not picky and both of them are so tactile, who gives a shit.

SLEEPING. Who snores?: Neither of them.

If both do, who snores the loudest?: Listen.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?: Oh they share a bed for sure. If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?: Sparrow clings to Mason like an octopus.

What do they wear to bed?: Nothing, they both sleep naked.

Are either of them insomniacs?: Nah. Sparrow runs fine on like 4-6 hours of sleep though.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?: Nope.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?: Sparrow likes to wrap themself around Mason but sometimes they will just lay side by side and like, hold hands.

Who wakes up with bed hair?: They both do, Sparrow's is probably worse considering it's long and slightly wavy.

Who wakes up first?: Surprisingly, Sparrow! Only because Mason will fall asleep after they've been asleep for some time already so they wake up before he does.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?: Sparrow is too worried about crumbs in the bed bothering Mason to even think about eating in bed.

What is their favourite sleeping position?: Mason flat on his back, Sparrow with a leg slung over his hip, arm across his chest and their head smashed against whatever part of him is nearest.

Do they set an alarm each night?: Yeah.

Who has nightmares?: They both do, though I think Sparrow is the only one who remembers them after they wake. Mason, luckily, forgets his dreams.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?: Nope, laptops can though.

Who has ridiculous dreams?: Again, both. Again, Mason forgets them while Sparrow remembers.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?: MASON. He just spreads out and Sparrow tucks themself against him, it works fine really.

Who makes the bed?: Mason most often because Sparrow tends to get sidetracked and forget.

What time is bed time?: When Sparrow next passes out is up to the Gods. Mason just crashes whenever he finally feels tired.

Any routines/rituals before bed?: They'll watch an episode or two of a show. Sparrow will meditate. Mason often tries to break their focus.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?: Probably Mason? Sparrow is an annoying morning person.

WORK. Who is the busiest?: Oh they both are. Maybe Sparrow slightly more because of the whole, working for the PD and the Agency thing.

Who rakes in the highest income?: I feel like it ends up pretty even eventually?

Are any of them unemployed?: Nah.

Who takes the most sick days?: I guess Sparrow would, though it's very rare. Mason can't get sick, bastard.

What are their jobs?: Sparrow is a detective and agency liaison. Mason is a specialist agent for the Agency.

Who sucks up to their boss?: I don't think either of them do? Sparrow is polite with the Captain but he's nice enough. They definitely don't suck up to Adam or Rebecca or whomstever is in charge of them at the Agency.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?: Neither of them. Sparrow has Anxiety so they're always at least 10 minutes early.

Who stresses the most?: SPARROW.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?: Mason enjoys what he does for sure. Sparrow.......never wanted to be doing this. At all. They definitely aren't thrilled but they do like it, it's just......not what they wanted.

Are they financially stable?: Oh yeah.

HOME. Who does the washing?: Even trade off I think.

Who takes out the trash?: Sparrow.

Who does the ironing?: Neither of them lmao

Who does the cooking?: Sparrow! Mason likes to sit on the counter and talk while they cook.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?: Mason lmao

Who is messier?: Even split again. Sparrow will set something down, get sidetracked, and then that book stays on the counter for five days until Mason is like "Bird you forgot your book." It's less.....intentionally messy and more just....brain going sideways.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?: Neither of them.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?: BOTH OF THEM. There is a HAMPER and they both just throw their clothes on the ground like HEATHENS.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?: Fucking NEITHER OF THEM.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?: Nope, absolutely never happens. Sparrow's anxiety kicks in and overrides the ADHD and the keys are always in sight.

Who answers the telephone?: If it's not a work call for Sparrow, then Mason.

Who mows the lawn?: Currently, neither of them bc there is no lawn lmao.

Who does the vacuuming?: Sparrow.

Who does the groceries?: Both together because they like doing it together. Mason enjoys putting random shit in the cart and seeing if Sparrow notices.

Who takes the longest to shower?: dasjgnd they're both very quick about showers, so neither?

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?: Sparrow I guess. They're both very much like, there's no real routine. They just fiddle with their hair and go.

MISCELLANEOUS. Is money a problem?: Nah.

How many cars do they own?: Just Sparrow's ol' reliable right now.

What’s their song?: We Love Like Vampires by Sparks the Rescue. Me & You by Honne.

Do they live in the city or in the country?: Country for sure. Both of them like the quiet.

Do they own their home or do they rent?: Right now, Sparrow rents their apartment.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?: I think so, yeah. Sparrow wishes they weren't still in Wayhaven sometimes but it's fine.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?: Whatever needs to be done? There isn't like something specific they have to do if they're apart, they just go on with their day.

Where did they first meet?: Formally, Sparrow's office when Rebecca introduced the entire team.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?: Gods, both of them?

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?: Mason, I guess.

Any mental issues?: Sparrow is a whole Mess honestly, anxiety, ADHD, PTSD, etc. etc.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?: Both of them, bastards that they are.

Who’s terrified of bugs?: Eh, neither of them.

Who kills the spiders around the house?: NOBODY. Sparrow scoops them up and puts them outside.

Do they have any fears for their future?: The inevitable "Sparrow is going to die, Mason is an immortal vampire" obviously.

Their favourite place?: Somewhere in the woods together.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?: Mason, since, you know, he doesn't really enjoy eating food.

Who pays the bills?: They both do.

Who’s the tallest?: Mason by like 6 inches.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?: Mason, though Sparrow will too. He just does it more often.

Who wanders around in their underwear?: Oh they both do.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?: Sparrow, though it's rare they do.

What do they tease each other about?: Mason likes to good naturedly tease Sparrow about their bookish nature. Sparrow will squish his cheeks when he glares and grin at him.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?: MASON. Oh Gods, Sparrow is....listen, if they aren't dressed professionally for work or going out, they're a hot mess. I'm talking like bright green hoodie, neon yellow leggings, hot pink running shoes. Like a Lisa Frank folder exploded on a human being.

Who crushed first?: Mason. It took Sparrow a bit to be like "oh it's more than thinking his face is just nice, okay."

Any alcohol or substance related problems?: Nah, Sparrow doesn't drink.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?: Neither of them, considering the above and Mason's vampire biology.

Who swears the most?: Oh they both do. Sparrow looks sweet but they..........listen. They have the mouth of a sailor tbh. You get the two of them in a room together and let them talk and it's a mess of swearing.

[taehyungsgrowl]

SFW Alphabet for Nate

I think I did it wrong last time bc I was waiting for people to send me letters when I was just supposed to go down the list. But I’m a dummy so disregard half of what I say.

i hope you guys like them and thank you virgo anon for the input w these 🥺i love our baby 🥺

Here we go:

A- Activity (What is their favorite activity to do with you.)

-- i think he likes doing new things w you. and i know that sounds cliche BUT hear me out. duncan is a bit of a home body 🥺loves to be curled up w reader sharing kissies and cuddling. nate enjoys that too but i think trying new adventures w you is his favorite. i can see him being the type to like hiking dates!! (also lets not forget the tik tok videos you guys make together )

B- Beginnings (How do they act in the beginning of a relationship)

-- considering the beginning did start off as something kinda casual between him and reader, he kept it as such. but he’s such a natural charmer that even when he’s not trying, he just comes across as super sweet. they’d finish hooking up and he’d offer her to stay over or get them food (not bc he felt like he needed to but it’s just the kinda guy he is) i think he probably let his goofy side out right at the beginning as well. its what helped y/n open up to him and feel at ease w him 🥺

C- Communication (Are they good communicators? How do they normally talk about their problems or solve issues)

-- big sigh. nate? was the KING of communication!! hell! he was able to talk to duncan (who ISNT the best at communicating) when they weren’t even friends and helped him talk to dumb!reader. plus he’d always been open about his feelings. told y/n right away when he knew he was in love. (i only say he WAS bc he should have told y/n he was struggling before he ended up in the hospital 🥺)

D- Drunk (What are they like when they’re drunk)

-- koala bear cuddly drunk!! not just between him and reader! but he will love on anyone! (omg.. you know dunc was a little 😳when drunk!bro!nate started hugging him... hiding his face in duncs neck... telling he smells good... telling him how much he loves him... bros 👯‍♂️)

E- Emergency (How are they in emergency situations? You get hurt, they get hurt, someone is dying etc..)

— oh god. nate is the type to keep cool and collected in an emergency - even if he were the one having an emergency 🥺 like if reader would’ve been w him during his car accident, she would have been worried sick over him and he’d just be like, “hey, look at me. i’m okay, yeah? a lot stronger than i look, babe.” even if it hurt like hell because he doesn’t wanna worry her. if you were in an emergency or got hurt, he’d go into sexy doctor mode. “tell me where it hurts.” squeezing your hand to reassure you, “i got you.” also kissies where it hurts 🥺 and he’s such a good listener too wow we have no choice but to simp.

F- Free Spot (I’ll give you any headcanon I come up with)

-- i’m just gonna share one head canon that virgo anon tossed at me that really made me 🥺 baby nate 🥺 and how when he was younger he was always a nice boy 🥺 but wasnt the popular or “hot” one until he grew into himself in college 🥺 when he got maxie and it helped him manage his stress enough to be able to make connections 🥺y’all when she said that it made me heart 🥺 my sweet boy

G- Gifts (What kind of gifts do they give? What kind of gifts do they get?)

-- i think his gifts are rarely “over the top” but !! they’re simple and personalized!!! like a lil necklace w his initials / name 🥺or maybe he has someone make a picture of you two into an animation? like have someone draw you guys (do u know what im talking about?) as far as gifts for him, he enjoys like “interactive gifts” like sending him on a lil scavenger hunt (nate loves setting them up for you too 🥺) but if you set one up for HIM? god! he’d love you!

H- Hugs (How do they show affection/cuddle)

-- nate loves! loves! to give forehead kissies (not just because he’s tall fjhsjh) and being hugged (or picked up) in his strong arms!! loves it!! he loves being the big spoon 🥺i love him. 

I- Irritation (What is something that irritates them? How do they show their irritation?)

-- that reader continues to choose duncan over him fkjsvsfkv he wears his heart on his sleeve so i think when nate is upset or irritated... you know. 

J- Jackpot (How would they spend their winnings if they won the lottery?)

-- does nate have more $ than the shepherds? debatable. but he isn’t as... flashy w his money as duncan is. he’s a little more down to earth if that makes sense. BUT thats besides the point. he’d probably donate a lot to a charity of his choice than take you on a little get away. maybe a cross country road trip 🥺 or off to an island getaway. he’s flexible. 

K- Kryptonite (What is their ultimate weakness?)

-- virgo anon made me 🥺when we were talking about this bc nate would do anything for the people he loves and 🥺that gets him hurt. especially when he feels like those people dont love him in the way he does them 🥺

L- Laughter (What makes them laugh?)

-- clown!! nate is the guy that always keeps you laughing 🥺and most times he cant even contain his own laughter omg i will cry im in love with one man

M- Morning ( How do they wake up in the morning? Are they a morning person or a morning grouch?)

-- he’s a morning person 🥺 likes to start off his morning with a run and protein shake SMH fitness KING. 

N- Needy (When do they feel particularly needy? How do they show it?)

-- he’s so used to being the one who’s needed 🥺 it takes him a while to be comfy being vulnerable and needy. idk if there’s anything in particular that sets him off to be like this - but i’d like to think it happens at random. like youre on the couch and he just nuzzles his face on your tummy for you to pet his hair. he demonstrates it by wanting to be close to you 🥺

O- Oasis (Where is their happy place? Where would they go if they didn’t have anything holding them back?)

-- i think he’d be the kinda guy that enjoys the sun (not just bc he looks hot, shirtless on a beach) but yes. somewhere nice and sunny where he could have maxie w him 🥺if he could stay on the beach where he started falling for dumb!reader (with her) for ever he would 🥺

P- Pain (How do they handle pain? How do they handle when you are in pain?)

-- emotional or physical? jfgksjdgsdk but no i think if he’s well regulated, he can handle pain well - it’s when he’s not that it’s a problem (w emotional pain) he stops taking care of himself the way he should and really spirals into his head a lot you know 🥺i think he can handle others being in pain better than himself bc he loves a lot and its easier to focus his attention on trying to fix things for them (like we said his biggest weakness is doing too much for those he loves)

Q- Quote (What’s a quote that fits them and your relationship)

-- “loving is easy” fjskfsf not to be too corny but 🥺being w nate was easy... always on the same page.. and made her feel good. 🥺

R- Reunion (How do they celebrate seeing you after a long time of being apart)

-- lots!!! of kissies!! picking you up!! holding you close!!! physical touch is pretty high on his love language list i think 🥺(i think quality time or acts of service might be his top two though) 

S- Stress (What stresses them out? How do deal with stress and how do they relieve it?)

-- i generally think duncan is more of a control freak than nate, but i do think to some extent, they’re similar that when things feel out of their control, it really stresses them out. i think it manifests at different times. i think for duncan its more trivial things whereas w nate, if he feels like he could be doing something to “fix” something and he cant do anything it freaks him out. hes a healer, you know. i think working out is a big stress reliever for him 🥺my strong baby!! that and goofing off w reader 🥺

T- Terror (What are they afraid of?)

-- this kinda ties into his weakness (and could be amplified by his younger years) but he’s afraid of not really being enough for those he loves. especially if he was teased as a kid 🥺maybe thats why in a lot of his nightmares the theme of abandonment appears a lot 🥺i made myself SAD 🥺

U- Unique (What is a quirk that is unique to them?)

-- i asked virgo anon for help on this one 🥺and i love her so much 🥺 nate tugs on his hair when he’s nervous 🥺 he gets a lil annoyed after he buzzes it off and doesnt have much to pull on 🥺he likes to hold hands when spooning. loves to sing along to disney movies (but lets be honest, he’s the real prince KING)

V- Violence (Do they fight a lot? Are they a good fighter? What is their fighting style?)

-- well... idk if it’s fair to say he fights a lot because he tries not to resort to that - especially grad school nate. mostly because he knows he’s good at fighting. omfg... boxer!nate.... may have all my rights. and he doesn’t really wanna hurt anyone. BUT if needed!!! he will throw down. (ex. when dunc wouldnt let y/n leave the house. and then attacked him!! nate had to stand his ground 😌

W- Wow (What do you do that really surprises them? What do you do that they really like?)

-- idk i think nate was probably really surprised when reader gave him that second chance at friendship in the bathroom 🥺didnt think she would. on a lighter note, surprising him w fresh cooked meals always make him 🥺because... he’s trying but hasnt mastered the cooking thing yet.

X- (Explicit headcanon. For all you degenerates)

-- he’s uhh packing 😳and it hits all the right spots, you know 😳omfg and lets not forget the dickscussion we had about his head game being stronger than duncans 😌

Y- Yucky (Is there something that grosses them out so badly that they can’t deal with it?)

-- i wasnt sure what really grossed out medical professionals (if anything djsfs) but we kinda head canon for him to be into family / pediatric medicine so anything w LOTS of blood loss probably freaks him out 

Z- ZZZ’s (What are their sleeping habits? Both with and without you)

-- my baby. nate has really bad night terrors especially on bad(tm) days. it usually helps to have someone w him to be able to keep him calm when he wakes up 🥺if its not y/n you can bet maxie will be there for tons of kissies. he’s a sleep talker 🥺and when sleeping w you he loves being big spoon 🥺and when he’s alone, he kinda sleeps curled up and w a lot of pillows. comfort KING

[okaybutlikeimagine]

What the heck!! This isn't a music prompt but I neeeeeeed more billy and will being brothers after that last prompt!!!!

No worries at all about it not being a music prompt!!!! The vast majority of this blog is just regualr old prompts so you’re totally good! I was doing the music thing bc it’s fun! (and i’m gonna write this right now bc it feels kind of therapeutic for me right now)(gotta love escaping your own family issues by writing about the family fluff of fictional characters hahaaa!!!)(anyway)

-For anyone wondering, the post mentioned is Here!-

I’d also like to admit that Will and Billy being brothers is my absolute weakness. I love these two so damn much and I’ve written about them a few times bc I cry over them (  x   x   x   x  )

But I can NEVER GET ENOUGh♥

So i’m gonna start off by saying that Will and Billy wake up early. Not necessarily early birds bc they’re not actually fully awake, they’re stumbly and rubbing sleep from their eyes, but they both get up early bc these boys are dealing with some massive amounts of PTSD. Will was tormented for 2 whole seasons. Billy has been tormented his whole life and is now in a new home that’s still so strange to him. And if we’re acknowledging what happened in S3, then he was tormented by that crazy monster as well. These boys are feeling a type of pain that’s very hard for people to fully understand and it’s fresh for them.

Anyway, our boys have a hard time sleeping for too long. They’re fitful and restless and so they’re always up before everyone else, stumbling into the kitchen in search of breakfast.

The first time it happens, they’re both surprised. They’re living in the same house now bc Hop and Joyce are married and Billy is in the kitchen, yawning and scratching his head and looking for some bread when he hears little feet padding their way into the kitchen. They stop.

He thinks it’s El.

“Whatcha doin’ up Short stu-” Billy says around a yawn, turning around and seeing it’s not El, it’s Will. “Oh.”

Will looks a little surprised to see Billy up too.

“What’s up, pipsqueak? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Billy asks, putting the loaf of bread on the counter.

Will scrunches his nose up. “I couldn’t sleep anymore… you?”

Billy pulls a face. “Yeah, neither could I.”

Will walks over and sits at the table. Billy offers to make him some toast. Will nods.

And so they spend mornings together! Billy sitting on the counter and Will at the table. Some mornings they just sit in the quiet and listen to the birds, enjoying each other’s presence without having to fill the space up with talking. But sometimes they talk about little things that don’t require too much brain power in the morning, like the weather and their favorite jam and whether or not they like the crust on their bread (“I don’t know how you can eat the crusts, they’re disgusting.” “C’mon, pipsqueak, they’re not that bad. Plus why would I take the time to cut them off?”)

One morning Will watches Billy make his coffee with interest.

“Want a cup?” Billy asks.

“Uh… I don’t drink coffee. Mom said it might stunt my growth.”

Billy laughs. “I don’t think a sip will hurt you if you want one.” He holds his mug out.

Will takes the cup gingerly, and immediately gags after he takes a sip. Billy laughs at the face Will pulls.

“C’mon, really? That’s like, as sweet as you can make it without it becoming actual cream.”

“I think I’d rather have the cream…” Will says, nose scrunched up tight. Billy laughs.

“Alright, milk it is.”

And they do this every morning. Sometimes Joyce joins them and cooks them up a bigger breakfast than just toast or cereal. Sometimes Billy makes her sit down so that she can relax and he can make them all breakfast. Sometimes Jim is up for work and puts on a record for them all to listen to. Sometimes he accidentally switches their names because he’s so tired, calling them Willy and Bill.

But their favorite mornings are the mornings they get to spend just sitting around being quiet, chewing toast or cereal, sipping coffee or milk, and just… existing next to each other. Sharing rare, hushed moments where neither of them have to worry about interdimensional monsters or abusive fathers. Where there’s no stress or danger, just moments of calm, quiet peacefulness. Moments to spend in safety.

It’s really not much. It’s only for about an hour or so. But it means the absolute world to both of them, being able to just exist next to someone who gets it. Who knows what horrors exist in their nightmares and who is able to be an anchor after those nightmares chase them out of sleep. Billy is able to get some of that with Steve, Will with Jonathan, but there’s something different about being with someone else who had to face being thrown into possession. Felt the evil everywhere.

It’s not much at all, but it’s just about everything to both of them most mornings.

[syfynjvall]

OTP ASK GAME - farah & juliette

tagged by @havennly thank u!! i’m gonna tag @agentnatesewell @bryceslahela @agentfreckles @serafinedupont @agentnats if youve done it already i apologize ksks

(long post warning)

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

juliette, but it’s honestly never anything serious. more often than not its just bc she gets very competitive during game nights

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

neither, even kidding about it kinda hurts each others souls

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

neither

Who trashes the house?

i cant see either of them doing it

Do either of them get physical?

never in a million years

How often do they argue/disagree?

not often, and when they do its mostly about petty things like leaving empty containers in the fridge

Who is the first to apologize?

both are good about it

SEX.

who is on top? Who is on bottom?

hmmm they switch

any kinks?

welllll jules put on her old cheerleading uniform from college as a joke once and farah was into it. theyre both into roleplay

who has the strangest desires?

jules

who’s dominant in bed?

it’s a pretty even split

is head ever in the equation?

yes

if so, who is better at performing it?

probably farah

ever had sex in public?

once. under the bleachers at the football field. pretty cliché

who moans the most?

uhh both

who leaves the most marks?

farah

who is the more experienced of the two?

definitely jules. she had a LOT of fun in college

do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

make love. it’s very special for both of them bc they know they’re gonna last

how long do they usually last?

it depends but both of them can usually go pretty long

rough or soft?

typically soft, but rough if theyre in the mood

is protection used?

no

does it ever get boring?

no

where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

dont know? maybe in an empty room in the agency? idk lol

FAMILY.

do they plan on having children/or have children?

oh yeah definitely

if so, how many children do they want/have?

juliette loved the look on farahs face the first time they talked about it and she said she wanted ten kids. it was a joke obv but they probably end up having three or four. jules always wanted siblings growing up and she was sad she never got that wish so she doesnt want her own kids to be lonely like she was

AFFECTION.

who likes to cuddle?

both of them are huge cuddle bugs and they get cozy almost everywhere

who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

juliette

who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

both

how long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

their cuddles can last a while but farah probably wiggles away first

what is their favourite non-sexual activity?

they love girls night out and its even more fun when tina joins them. put the three of them together and its basically nonstop chaos, but so fun

where is their favourite place to cuddle?

predictable, but the bed. jules is one of those extravagant mattress people so her bed is basically a giant pillow and its very comfortable

SLEEPING.

who snores?

both

if both do, who snores the loudest?

jules, and you better believe farah teases her relentlessly

do they share a bed or sleep separately?

jules WAS a very picky sleeper until she got together with farah, now she gets pouty if they dont share a bed

if they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

they cozy up, but juliette is a blanket hog so she usually ends up with most of the covers

what do they wear to bed?

jules usually just wears a top, farah wears pajama sets

are either of them insomniacs?

no

can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

not before everything that went down in book one, but since murphy, yeah. jules has a hard time falling asleep now

do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

definitely cuddly sleepers

who wakes up with bed hair?

both

who wakes up first?

farah. she’s usually the one to rouse juliette when she’s about to be late

who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

neither of them can cook so... neither lol

what is their favourite sleeping position?

farah loves being the little spoon and jules loves making her feel safe so

do they set an alarm each night?

jules does but she hits snooze at least six times a morning

who has nightmares?

juliette, and farah has no problem soothing her back to sleep when she wakes up

can a television be found in their bedroom?

yes. they’re both obsessed with trashy shows

who has ridiculous dreams?

farah!

who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

again, juliette is an unfortunate bed hog

who makes the bed?

farah. juliette is cute but she’s not always that tidy

what time is bed time?

whenever jules feels like it, and farah will follow her lead

any routines/rituals before bed?

other than the typical going to bed things, no

who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

farah probably

WORK.

who is the busiest?

both are pretty busy but since juliette has two jobs i guess she is a little bit more

who rakes in the highest income?

juliette probably?

are any of them unemployed?

UB gets paid right? so neither then? lol

who takes the most sick days?

juliette. her “bend the rules” stat is at 88%

what are their jobs?

detective and agent

who sucks up to their boss?

definitely not jules. farah might a LITTLE bit since rebecca is juliette’s mom but i think we know how that turns out lmao

who is more likely to turn up late to work?

despite juliette’s aversion for rule following she’s usually pretty puntcual at least, so im gonna say farah

who stresses the most?

im gonna say neither

do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

farah loves hers for the most part, jules feels like hers is more of a chore but she does love interacting with people.

are they financially stable?

yes

HOME.

who does the washing?

farah. once again juliette isnt super messy per se, but she is a bit cluttered

who takes out the trash?

both

who does the ironing?

jules is pretty good about that

who does the cooking?

neither. they both try but they’re both disasters so they order out mostly (more than they should)

who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

it’s about equal because again, they’re disasters

who is messier?

juliette

who leaves the toilet roll empty?

farah

who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

neither

[redacted] you are not going to miss this question.

who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

both

who answers the telephone?

juliette

who mows the lawn?

they dont have a lawn

who does the vacuuming?

probably jules

who does the groceries?

when they remember to do it, they like to go together

who takes the longest to shower?

jules

[redacted] you are not going to miss this question.

MISCELLANEOUS.

is money a problem?

no but farah does love buying stuff

how many cars do they own?

just one

what’s their song?

it changes but rn lucky by jason mraz fits them so well

do they live in the city or in the country?

juliette LOVES city life and farah thinks it would be fun too so they plan to move to the city one day

do they own their home or do they rent?

rented for now, for juliette anyway

do they enjoy their surroundings?

jules has a nostalgic fondness for wayhaven but again, really she’s itching to live in the city. farah likes it too but it’s a little too mellow for her liking sometimes

what do they do when they’re away from each other?

oh my god, theyre both clingy babies so they’ll be pouty and sad and constantly just text each other

where did they first meet?

juliette’s office

who spends the most money when out shopping?

probably farah

who’s more likely to flash their assets?

jules, but farah will too

any mental issues?

juliette definitely has ptsd after book one, and then its worsened after the trappers (she saved farah so she had to see sanja die)

who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

they both do lol

who’s terrified of bugs?

im thinking farah

who kills the spiders around the house?

juliette

do they have any fears for their future?

they’re both afraid of losing each other, mostly. juliette also worries a bit that maybe farah will get sick of her because she’s a “lot,” she was always told by past bfs/gfs that she was a handful or too wild or whatever so she worries she might scare farah off but when she voices that thought farah is very quick to very seriously assure her thats not going to happen

their favourite place?

the bar, also the forest to stargaze or picnic

who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

jules, but it’s definitely at a restaurant lol

who pays the bills?

definitely juliette

who’s the tallest?

jules is 5’9, farah is 5′4

who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

farah

who wanders around in their underwear?

jules

who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

both!! theyre both so goofy about it

what do they tease each other about?

pretty much everything, they’re bantering almost constantly

who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

neither of them are exactly fashion experts, so

who crushed first?

juliette

any alcohol or substance related problems?

no, jules enjoys drinking but she knows her limits

who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

jules

who swears the most?

both

[amelialincoln]

Really been loving your fics, we needed more Amelink writers! Thought I'd ask for one if that's alright? So I'd love to see Link proposing to Amelia in a really rushed and imperfect way after he spent the week talking to people like Meredith, Jo, Owen, Webber, etc about hiw they got engaged. He tries to plan something perfect but messes it up somehow and Amelia obviously just laughs and says yes, idk I just wanna see stressed Link, hope this is enough to go off :)

We Find Love

“How did Derek propose?” Link found himself blurting out. Meredith peered over at him. He could see the confusion in her face, despite the surgical mask covering most of it.

“Are you thinking of proposing?” She asked turning back to her sutures.

“Maybe...yes. I think so,” he waved his instrument filled hands awkwardly, obviously flustered.

“Derek proposed in an elevator,” she put simply.

“Why an elevator?” Link asked.

Meredith shrugged. “It was just kind of a special place for us,” he tell she was smiling from her eyes. “It seems so silly now but honestly I was so in love with him that he could’ve done anything. It was perfect.”

“I know me and Amelia haven’t been together for that long, just with the baby on its way...not that that’s a reason. I just—”

“You don’t need to justify yourself,” Meredith interrupted. “When you know, you know.”

“Exactly,” Hayes’ chimed in. Link looked up to the peds surgeon, who he wasn’t aware was following the conversation.

Link placed his lab coat and scrubs in his locker before turning to leave the attending’s lounge.

“Hey,” Owen greeted him as he entered the room.

“Hi,” Link responded.

“You waiting for Amelia?” He asked as he went to open his own locker. Link nodded. “I just saw her get pulled into a surgery. Might be awhile.”

“Oh,” Link responded, as if on cue his phone buzzed with a message from her. “Great.”

Owen chuckled. “The life of two surgeons in a relationship.”

“Hey, how did you propose?” He asked. Owen raised his eyebrows, not expecting the question.

“Uh, which time?” He answered awkwardly. Link shrugged, hoping he hadn’t hit a sensitive spot. “Well my first proposal I just proposed to Cristina on the couch in our living room. It just seemed right and she wasn’t really into the romantic stuff,” he chuckled as if recalling an old memory. “Uh, with Amelia, well she actually proposed to me.” Link shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not aware of this story. “We’d both had past relationships and didn’t really want anything big. With Teddy, it was an on call room. I guess I’m not really the romantic type.” He shrugged. Link recalled Amelia’s story about their honeymoon troubles and believed it. “Are you thinking of proposing?”

“I guess so.” Link grinned.

“Well you’ll be the forth guy to propose to her.” Link tried to hide his surprise. “Weren’t aware of that one? She’s a handle that’s for sure and definitely a runner. That’s why she came to Seattle in the first place.” Owen clapped a hand on Link’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

“What’s up, you look stressed.” Jo slid into the cafeteria seat beside him. “What you got there?” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of it. “Atticus Lincoln, is that a ring box?”

“Jo, shut up,” he shushed her frantically.

“Wow, Shepherd did a number on you. It’s like we’re back in high school,” Jo teased, shoving a spoonful of jello into her mouth. “Yeah, I know it’s nasty. I forgot my lunch,” she explained, replying to his confused look. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answered defensively, not exactly sure why he was being defensive. “I’ve been trying to get advice.”

“Well it’s not like this is you or Amelia’s first marriage. She probably isn’t expecting anything.”

“I know,” he sighed. “What did Alex do?”

Jo grinned. “He’d set up this whole little romantic dinner and I was going to break up with him.”

“What?” Link exclaimed.

“Yeah, I was all about ultimatums back then. Me or Meredith, all that shit. Anyways, it was sweet and small and perfect.”

“So you didn’t break up with him?”

“No, I figured that once I was his wife he’d have to choose me over Meredith.” She shrugged. “Turns out I like her more than I was expecting to. If you want to talk to the big romantic people you could talk to Jackson. Maybe not the best way but he called of April’s whole wedding to confess his love to her. Arizona proposed to Callie and then they got in a car accident. Less romantic, more catastrophic.

“Who are—”

“And then Teddy proposed to her first husband because he was her patient and didn’t have good health insurance.”

“What?”

“Crazy times happened at this hospital before you came around,” Jo patted his arm. “Look, I know you want to do something nice but she’ll love anything you end up doing.” And with that she headed out of the cafeteria, jello cup in hand.

The next night Link raced to Meredith’s, knowing that Amelia’s shift ended only an hour after his. Maggie had told him to set up at Meredith’s and that he could tell Amelia that they were having a girls night to throw her off. Link was pretty sure Amelia didn’t need ‘throwing off’ but he agreed knowing that Maggie most likely wanted to see Amelia’s reaction.

“What do you mean you aren’t already married, aren’t you having a baby?” Zola asked as Link was frantically setting the table for two. “Mom says that you get married first and then the baby comes after.”

“Well in most cases.” Link answered, glancing over at her. “Hey, Zola stop picking at those flowers.” Referring to the bouquet he’d bought on their way home.

“Sorry,” Zola shrugged. “You’re just making her dinner? What else?”

“I don’t know,” Link mumbled guiltily. “What do you think I should do?”

“I dunno,” Zola answered. “That’s your job.”

“Right,” Link sighed as he tossed the salad and placed the bowl on the table. Suddenly, he heard the front door open. “Do I kneel now?” He asked Zola.

“How am I supposed to know, do I look married to you?” Zola replied. Link decided to kneel, his heart thumping in his chest. His shaky hands reached into his pocket.

“False alarm,” Zola giggled as Meredith entered the room.

“Oh wow,” Meredith laughed. “I’m so flattered.” She mocked fanning her face.

“Shut up,” Link grumbled. “I’ve been trying to get this right all week and I can’t figure out anything to do justice to how much she means to me. I wanted to plan out this big romantic gesture but that just seems dumb and I don’t want to wait any longer. I would marry her right now if I could. I’ve been carrying around this stupid ring all week trying to find a time to give it to her that seemed right but I’m so worried that I’ll screw it up that I back out every time. Like how do I ask her to marry me and sum up all the million things I love about her into such a short amount of time?” He ran a pathetically shaky hand through his hair.

“That’ll do,” Amelia’s soft voice enters the room, her hands circling the swollen bump that recently formed on her abdomen.

“I was about to tell you,” Meredith grinned.

“Are you kidding me?” Link balled his hands in frustration. Meredith grabbed Zola by the hand, the little girl’s eyes wide as if she were watching a special on tv, and dragged her out of the room to give the couple some space. “Amelia, I wanted—”

“Link, this is perfect.” Her eyes scanned the room, softy lit by a couple of candles on the table. A bottle of sparkling water was sitting in a small bath of ice and she smiled as she saw that he’d made all her favourite pregnancy cravings. A sharp aroma drifted through the room and Link seemed to noticed it too.

“I burnt the chicken,” he nodded in disappointment, not even bothering to run to the kitchen in an attempt to salvage it. “This is a nightmare.”

“This is not a nightmare.” Amelia shook her head, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You are absolutely perfect in every way, Atticus Lincoln.” He tried to conceal the blush that was overwhelming his cheeks, feeling like an idiot. “Now do you have a question to ask me or...” she bit her lip with a smile.

“Oh. Yeah!” He knelt down on one knee and glanced up into her deep blue eyes before removing the lid to the little velvet box in her hand. “Amelia Shepherd, from the moment I met you I haven’t spent a day without the thought of you entering my mind. You amaze and inspire me to be a better person and a better surgeon.” He paused as he saw tears begin to build at the edges of her eyes. “You make me so excited to be a father. I mean very scared...but also very excited and I would love to spend the rest of my life raising this child, and maybe other children,” he tried to hide his excitement, “with you. I wan’t to wake up beside you every morning and fall sleep with you in my arms every night. Amelia, will you marry me?”

“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “And I would reply with the same answer if you’d asked me on our car ride to work or in the middle of surgery.”

“Would that have been better?”

“No, you loser,” she rolled her eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Now come here and give your fiancée some kisses.”

“Do you say that to all of us?” He teased as he fulfilled her request.

sorry this is super shitty but I feel the need to write any prompt im given haha (that makes it sound like i dont like writing prompts but i do!!!) plz keep sending them bc they keep me motivated<3 and thx sm for all the support on my recent fics.