#i hate it when a character is suddenly mentioning like Frozen

[greyeyedmonster-18]

(decided today that one of my favorite things about ten reasons is the absence of time in it.

like theres the understanding its a Modern AU given that they text and there is one football reference in there to a more current player but that is...the extent of it.

theres almost no contemporary references in the fic that give the reader an idea of what year it even is, or time period. 2000s? late 90s? 2010s? 2020's? WHO KNOWS!

and i think thats very taylor swift/1989 of me.)

[deathbxnny]

Hello! I am a simple man who wants simple angst. Can I request a HSR men (Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt Yang, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Blade) x s/o who got fatally wounded trying to protect the HSR man? Thank you in advance and have a good morning/noon/day/evening/night!

-----♡

A/N: Hello! I have a limit of four characters per request, so I just picked four for this one and hope that's okay! Thank you for the request as well!<33

Featured characters: Welt, Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan

Content: Reader dies, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of fatal injury, mentions of blood/wounds, established relationship, just pain really, dark themes(?)

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Blade

Blade didn't understand why you did this for him and was at first unbelievably angry. He was immortal, he didn't need your help. He didn't need you to protect him. He was supposed to protect you. And yet... you still threw yourself infront of him to take the fatal blow.

He berates you in anger, until his words turn into desperate, heartbreaking pleas. He doesn't want to lose you. You taught him so much. You taught him how to love and be a human again. He wasn't just a weapon anymore, he was your lover now. So you can't die now. If you did, then he'll be alone again. Nothing more than a weapon once more.

But it was no use, as you gave him a weak smile and a promise to see him again in another life, before your eyes looked right through him, the spark in them, than he loved so much, gone. He stays silent for a moment, his arms and clothes drenched in your blood, before he gently lays you down and stands up.

He'll avenge you. And he'll make sure, that it will be in the most brutal way possible. If the world wants him to be a cruel weapon, then so be it.

-----♡

》Welt Yang

Welt has lost many people in his life. So many, that he has lost count of them. And yet by far, your death must've been the worst one. He deluded himself into thinking, that he could finally live a carefree life with the people he loved and yet, the world once more proved him wrong.

He protected people for as long as he could remember. And yet, for once, he was the one protected from sure death. All thanks to you, but at what cost? He's in shock, unsure of what to do or say, but you beat him to it with a last sweet smile, promising that you'll see him again. Whether in this world or the next, you knew he'd find you again.

He finally succumbs to the darkness in his heart then, yet still holds onto the small hope of finding you once more in a different world and therefore leaves the Express wordlessly in search for you. He needs to find you again.

Welt doesn't care how long it takes, he'll find you no matter what. And this time, he'll make sure you stay with him until the end of time itself, just like you should've from the start.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

A split second of him letting his guard down, was all it took for Jing Yuan to lose you forever. The guilt was tearing through his heart and ripping out his soul. He felt like he was dying, even if he was unable to. Why did you cover him? He would've been fine. You knew, he would've been fine.

And yet, your love and loyalty for him made your body move faster than your mind, which ended you in his arms, lifeless. He couldn't even say goodbye. The world didn't allow him even this one luxury. For once, the great general of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights was speechless and frozen in horror.

Then he suddenly came to his senses and began shaking you, desperately pleading for you to wake up. But your eyes were open. It was just that you were looking right through him, that made things just worse. He felt like he was dying. He finally knew how it felt like and he hated it.

He eventually accepts his and your fate, promising you, that he'd wait on your return forever. He doesn't care for how long either. And until you return, he'll make sure to avenge you.

-----♡

》Dan Heng

The world seemed to slow down, when you threw yourself infront of him to take the fatal blow. He caught you, stumbling back in horror with you, until you laid in his arms, bleeding to death. And then, you just weakly asked him, if he was okay. He just stared, speechless, as his past came to haunt him full-force.

Once more, someone had died because of him. He didn't need you to save him, he would've been perfectly fine. You knew that, so what was the point? Why did you make him have to lose you? Just when he was finally thinking he could have a good life with you?

You try telling him that it was okay. That it was your choice. That you will one day be back for him in another life. But you just... die mid sentence, a weak proclamation of love on your bloody lips. Dan Heng sits there in deafening silence for what feels like an eternity, before he just slowly hugs you close to him and buries his face into your hair wordlessly.

His life went back to being colorless then, any hope he had for the future diminishing instantly. Perhaps, he really deserved all of this for the sins he has committed.

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was okay! I for some reason feel like I'm not good at writing angst, but I did my best! Thank you again for the request!<33

[beksdec7201]

So I was looking at frozen 2 memes and ended up in a rabbit hole on an account whose main thing is that they hate the ending of the second movie and think Anna and Elsa should’ve been together forever, and I’ve got a lot to say about that…

Just because Elsa and Anna got closer in Frozen Fever and Olaf’s Frozen Adventure, it doesn’t mean that Elsa has suddenly pulled a 180 and wants to spend all her time with her sister. If anything, she’s more focused on making up for the previous 13 years with the kingdom as a whole, not just Anna.

This isn’t even mentioning the fact that it’s unrealistic and unhealthy to expect them to spend all their time together. Kristoff might be patient, but I doubt he’s that patient.

Elsa even mentions in Into the Unknown that she feels like she doesn’t belong in Arendelle. When she found a place she did belong, of course she took it. She didn’t think she was a very good Queen anyway, so why would she even attempt to rule a country and protect the Enchanted Forest at the same time.

From a realism standpoint, which seems to be their main attack on the ending, what Elsa did still makes sense if you think about it. The idea of her leaving her sister isn’t a new one, she’s always been prone to isolating herself. And even then, it’s not like she’s left Anna completely to her own devices.

People leave their homes and families all the time, but when a fictional character does it, it’s unrealistic? I actually liked the ending, because I identified with Elsa even more. I was in my first year of college and moved to the mountains like she did and felt at home there in a way I never did where I grew up. I bet if Elsa went back to live in Arendelle after finding her place in Ahtohallan, she’d be utterly miserable. I know I feel that way sometimes now that I’m living with my parents again.

[jackiequick]

Jason Underwood being a better dad than Howard Stark for 9 minutes straight | Marvel Fic

Pairings: Tony x Pepper, JJ x Liz, Liane x Ethan

Summary: What happened when a man frozen in time suddenly is in charge of raising the heroes of tomorrow? In other words, Jason trying to keep everyone in check and doing well.

Characters mentioned: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Howard Stark, Rei Stark, Ava Stark, The Avengers, Young Avengers and etc

Fandoms: Marvel Comics—> Iron Man 1-3, The Avengers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Age Of Ultron

A/N: I blame Glen giving rom-com energy! I hate him (affectionately). His favorite song is Unwritten hehehe

Sequel to this fanfic!

———

————

Tony sat down at his lab downtown with his eyes shot, the lights made him more than pale as he lay inside his car and faced the wall. He has been drinking since this afternoon. His tears filled his eyes as he looked to his side to find his uncle walking around to open the side of the car.

He was surprised to see him here, last he checked he was with Coulson on a small assignment.

“Tony..” He muttered, resting his head against his hand, “Come on buddy.”

“I can’t stand..I’m tired, JJ..” He replied, squeezing his eyes shut and leaned forward into his touch for a spilt second.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

Tony was silent as an arm was looped around his side, lifting him up and out of the car, standing over to leave the lab and head upstairs. Jason kept an eye on him asking if he was alright in which his nephew just nodded. He lay him down on the couch with a soft blanket across his body wrapped tightly to keep him warm.

A moment later, he returned with a small glass of water and some fruit. Orange slices to be consumed by Tony within a matter of minutes. He watched him as he sat, allowing his nephew to rest his head on his shoulder and even saw the crossword puzzle on his neck start to erase with time.

“..I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately…” Tony admitted with a small sigh biting down on another orange slice.

Jason hushed his voice for a moment before humming, “It’s okay..you just got overwhelmed, you need a break, step back and regroup..”

“I’m boyfriend of the year..are Pepper and I even dating?”

“I would like to say you are..you will figure out, just no more running off for a while. Please.”

The brunette only nodded, as his uncle found something on the TV for him to watch. He even wondered if he should provide him a vitamin C infusion, JARVIS recommended it. All that matter was to keep him away for the drinks for a while and not have him stray away from help.

He has a good idea where to start.

~~~

Jason carried a 2 year old Rei in his arms, resting the small brunette on his hip walking around the mansion trying to get him to stop crying.

It was early in the evening. His mother was gone for a week, his father was stuck at work with Pepper and JARVIS was no help.

Rei was whimpering, having just returned from the backyard not wanting anyone to know he got hurt. Jason of course figured out the problem and cleaned up the small mess on his knee. Now he rested his head on his godfather’s shoulder as his hand cuffed the fabric of the sweater.

Him and Tony were the same in this aspect, getting hurt by something and wanting to deal with it by themselves. Yes, it showed independence but still, it was alarmingly obvious it wasn’t the best move.

“Aw penguin..” He said softly, gently resting his head against his own, “Rei, it’s gonna be alright..you’re fine now.”

“It hurts..” He mumbled into his shoulder, as soft tears rose to his eyes.

“I know that it hurts, but you took medicine for it and now you’re going to feel much better I promise.”

“I’m dumb, papa..”

Jason was pacing around the room at this point and paused but kept a hand rubbing circles across his small back. He hated hearing his kids talking about themselves that way.

“Hey, hey, you’re not dumb..you’re Rei Stark, you’re one of the smartest boys I know. You fell cause you’re running so hard, that’s all. It can happen to anyone, even me.” Jason explained.

“You fell?” He questioned removing his head the shoulder he was resting on to face him properly.

“Yeah I fell a lot. I still fall and trip over things, if you only knew how much times I almost died tripping over your father’s toys.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, really. It hurt a lot, but I got up again. Just like you did.”

At that Rei softly smiled and nodded, feeling a bit better about not feeling so bad for falling down earlier. He was a strong kid but rather sensitive about things whether he admits it or not.

——

———-

“Pops, I think I like guys too now.” Rei blunted said entering the living room of Avengers Tower.

Jason was on the couch reading A Streetcar Named Desire when he heard his godson say those words. He took him a long moment to lock in what he said then smiled. JJ remembered Rei checking out some cute reporter two weeks ago but didn’t say anything to not embarrass him.

He already figured out that he might’ve felt that way but waited for him to come to his own conclusions about it.

Rei waited for a response, he was kinda shitting his pants wondering what the heck he was going to say to him.

A few seconds later Jason spoke, “I know. And I’m happy for you.”

“Wait what?” Rei asked as his eyes silently widened, “Dad freaked out!”

“Your father is just being dramatic, thinking you weren’t going to ever date until your mid twenties. Don’t worry about him. How do you feel?”

“I feel okay, I guess. How are you not freaking out?”

“Kiddo your grandfather and father aren’t straight eariler. I was just wondering to see if you were gonna being home a boy or girl someday, I’ll love you all the same. You know that.”

“B-but..I was ready for some lecture or something.”

“I’m not Cap, kiddo.”

“Wait grandpa wasn’t…that’s impossible he married grandma and dad never said..”

“Your grandfather has always been into blondes. Hence why he liked me, Cap, my sister and your grandmother.”

“Oh shit, grandpa was bi..and so is dad? Just to be clear, you’re cool with all of this, right?”

“Yeah, you’re my kid. As long as you don’t date some ignorant jerk or bitter bitch we’re fine.”

Rei nodded thinking it went better than he thought. Of course he wasn’t going to bring anyone to his house who insulted him or made him feel guilty, he wasn’t stupid.

————

——————

Tony and Jason were in the middle of the kitchen together sharing some slices of pizza. A small mission went as planned, the heroes were all celebrating at home with them.

It was quiet. A little too quiet for his liking.

“Where’s our son?” Yelled a voice that belonged to his wife.

And there it is.

Despite not being officially confirmed as married to a legal counsel, in their hearts they are.

Liz came in with her arms crossed stealing a slice of pizza from the box muttering that she was hungry. Tony locked eyes with his uncle then looked at his aunt with a smile.

“Whatever it is, blame the kids!” Tony exclaimed taking another bite.

“You stole my blueprints from the basement without telling me.” Liz said looking between her nephews and husband.

“How is that a bad thing?”

“Because they are mine. Some of them were…made for the military during the war.”

“I was just going to reinforce them into better positions and transport your idea into something useful for the modern day.”

Jason joined into the conversation as he added, “Honey, you did make some explosive points when you created those fine numbers back in the day.”

Liz jokingly glared, “Who’s side are you on?”

“I’m afraid to say which one.”

“Good answer.”

Tony sighed, “In my defense, I was just curious! It’s not like I going to have something blow up in my head…this time at least.”

“I swear you’re more like your father every day..” She muttered softly smiling, as she pinched the bridge of her nose, “Next time, you come to me with an idea. We’re a family for a reason, you have my brain!”

The three of them talked it over coming to a good compromise. But a part of Jason couldn’t wonder how Liz would react if Louis, Tony’s brother who lived in another city within the United States, stole one of her blueprints too. It was always evident that the Stark boys tend to be the most curious boys alive, it resulted in those sets of brother destroying one of his favorite cars.

They always tend to take a small comment and trickle it down to a roar, as one small idea would turn into something great for humanity or an opportunity gone wrong. That’s how Ultron was created…

———

————-

“Alright. Relax your shoulders a bit, tighten the grip on the handle and have your fingers line up the tip of the arrow.” He instructed with a smile.

“Like this?” She asked, holding up her bow and arrow at an angle.

She could’ve learned from Clint but he was busy on a date with his wife and her mom was babysitting. She already knew how to use a gun, but extra protection in skills was always a plus.

She picked out a specific arrow she wanted to use and took care of the bow she was handed. She questioned if Jason even knew how to work this kind of equipment.

His response, “I never said I didn’t know how to use a gun. And never said I didn’t know how to shoot an arrow either.”

“Fair point. When did you learn to shoot with a bow and arrow?” She wondered with a smile.

“I was on a mission in Tokyo, to chase down some idiot who stole a type of drug. As I was running through the streets, s arrow came flying from a rooftop to straight into the guys leg. Then I met the guy who shot him.”

“What wad his name?”

“Karl Yune. He was a good archer, he taught me a thing or two about this.”

“Sounds like a nice man.”

“Yeah, his older cousin worked as a geneticist in Korea.”

“…they are not related to Ji-Hoon, they are?”

Jason just winked telling her return to training as she grinned softly to herself. The two of them went onto 2 rounds, as he showed her how to start feeling comfortable with holding such equipment. Rochelle wasn’t that bad at the game, shooting the wall full of targets as best as she could.

“Good. Now you’re ready for take on your real teacher.” He said with a chuckle, lowering his bow.

She raised an eyebrow confused by his wording, “What..”

As if on cue, walked in a tan skinned woman with long brown hair and tattoos. She held a grin greeting Jason with a tight hug before turning around to meet Rochelle.

“Lydia Barton.” She said holding out her hand to shake.

The redhead smiled shaking her hand and said, “Rochelle, but you probably already know who I am.”

Jason smirked telling them to be careful and have fun, that he’ll be back to check up on them later. Both girls just grinned leading into a casual but intriguing discussion on their favorite things, before training.

Something told him that they would be good friends.

———-

———————

“Give it back! It’s mine you little twerp!”

“It was mine first! I saw the last batch of cookies before your ass ever thought about them.”

“Oh really mature using curse words at me!”

“What do you care? You’re failing grammar anyway!”

“HEY! That’s enough.” In called Jason’s voice as he swung into the room snatching the cookie out of Ava’s hand and placing against it lips instead, “If you were are gonna fight over a damn cookie, then neither of you deserve to eat it.”

Rei crossed his eyes like the 9 year old he was and scoffed, “It was mine!”

“Oh pleaseeee, you said you didn’t want any cookies in the first place anyway!” Ava barked back.

“I could’ve wanted it for later, ever think of that!”

“You’re such a smartass sometimes…no wonder you don’t—”

Jason glared at both kids, “Ava, don’t even finish that sentence. And Rei, if you wanted it so badly why didn’t you tell her? You two could’ve broken the cookie in half instead of making a mess out of it.”

Both young Starks looked away from their godfather, feeling guilty and embarrassed for causing such a scene in the kitchen. Yet there was an instant anger behind their eyes, as Rei and Ava glared at each other. It was normal for siblings to fight over plenty of things but theses two would argue over everything, not making up afterwards either.

Their godfather sighed softly as he watched both of them in silence waiting for an answer that ever came.

Then he spoke, “You know something? There is something I want both of you to understand. Listen good, when I say that you two only have each other. Friends will come and go, they won’t always stay despite your best efforts. But as siblings, that’s a unit that you created for the moment your brought into this family.”

Ava muttered, “But he’s a little smartass, he thinks he’s always right..”

“Cause I am..” Rei added hearing his big sister.

Jason gave them a certain look as he continued, “You two are young, so you don’t get it right now. But there will come a time when you need each other but because you were both so harsh and pigheaded with another, you’re gonna feel alone. You’ll hate each other..despite a little part of you that still loves them..you don’t want to accept that. Then you won’t even want to imagine what happens next to your relationship.”

At those words, the siblings looked at one another then glanced down at the floor, that heavyweight anger started to creep away from their systems. Ava started to feel sorry for her actions as Rei began to feel upset about staring a riot. They knew he was right but didn’t want to admit it. There was another moment of silence in the room, only the small sound of Jason’s biting down on the cookie that didn’t matter to them anymore. The sibling exchange small gestures of apologies toward one another, even apologizing to their godfather as well.

Ava asked, “Did you ever get into fights with your siblings?”

Rei added, “You and auntie Peg look like you could have fought a lot.”

“Well…” Jason replied with a half smile and shrugged, “..yes, me and aunt Peg fought a lot, but we always tried to make up for our mistakes. But I had another sister before her…her name was Dot, she was smart and cunning, she wasn’t ever around to help me…when she was, she treated me like crap, so we always fought..”

“Did you ever forgive her?” Ava asked out of curiosity, hoping for a good answer.

“Uh..we did forgive each other every once in a while..I tried to forgive her, but she never had the courage to forgive me. She was my big sister, I loved her, but she wasn’t really someone I would call to help me if I was in trouble, she would leave me out to dry..”

Rei nodded, “So that’s why you and auntie Peg are good friends..she was like a sister..so you want me and Ava to be like that too?”

“Exactly. You want both of you to look out for each other, make sure you’re alright and not hurt. Not leave the other in the dust.” Jason responded with a smile.

—————

———————

Cue scenes of Jason playing with his first godchild, Ava Stark, in her bedroom pretending to be Pop Stars. Ava was singing along to Christina Aguilera, Gwen Stefani and Avril Lavigne with a toy guitar in her hands.

Jason was sitting on the floor waving lights around and dressed in a funny hat, pretending to be her producer for a music video. He loved seeing his goddaughter shine acting out magic video footage in her bedroom as he filmed her. At first he didn’t want to be recorded on any cameras but after some encouragement from Tony and the others, she tried it out.

“I'll spread my wings, and I'll learn how to fly. I'll do what it takes 'til I touch the sky. And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change.” She sung into her microphone as she played the guitar.

“And break away!” Jason sung along to the lyrics.

--------

One of the things of having a little girl in the house, songs get repeated every so often you remember the lyrics yourself. Poor man still has Under The Sea stuck in his head from last weekend.

It’s one of those things that carries over every generation of children he gets to know is the music taste, he may not always appreciate or enjoy the music but it does tend to become an enjoyable ear worm for him. If it’s AC/DC album from Tony to Selena Gomez’s Who Say from Rochelle, they tend to get stuck in his head!

He tries to not let everyone in on his own playlist of songs but sometimes it will slip out…

Jason just finished a small meeting with the industry and answering questions from SHIELD investors, who just annoyed him the whole time, and decided to make himself a grilled cheese sandwich. He yelled out if anyone else wanted one but received no answer, so he shrugged, then popped in his ear buds cuing in his playlist. He had a bunch of songs.

“Starring at the blank page before you, open up the dirty window. Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find…” He sang out to the lyrics slapping both sides of bread onto the frying pan.

That was when Ethan stumbled into the kitchen saying, “JJ you saying some..”.

He paused noticing that the blonde wasn’t listening and singing instead as Liane bumped into him, she exclaimed to her boyfriend something important but Ethan told her to hush as he pointed out the scene in front of them.

Liane was confused for a moment then squeaked seeing Jason singing out loud as he danced in place, it wasn’t something she saw coming but was more than surprised to see the man was in his element. She smirked to herself wondering what other songs he knew.

A couple of days later, the pair were coming back from their trip to the movie theater as that very song was playing on the radio. The two walked in singing it loud enough to hear along with a group of Taylor Swift songs. Before they knew some of the young avengers were humming the damn tune.

The tall blonde walked past hearing his serenity song being sung, raising an eyebrow at everyone’s actions wondering who else knew about this. Oh god he wasn’t gonna be able to live that one down anytime soon.

———

—————

One of the biggest things people always assume is that he was the best parent ever, due to the young avengers always wanting to hang around his chill vibes and warm atmosphere he created.

But the truth is that he wasn’t a freaking super-dad or anything. He grew up with a somewhat rusty alcoholic father and a mother who was always traveling around with her kids, leaving him to pick up the pieces himself when they weren’t at home bricking about something. In response he tried to convince the world he was going to be fine no matter what happened, he even believed it himself.

Jason even promised to make the best he can when he gets the opportunity to be a father himself, in this case an uncle, someone who was there for his kids. He might not know everything or even be skilled at certain aspects of life, but he tries. So when Tony was born he decided he would stick around, live closer to Howard and Maria, but it also meant he would be away for work and signing papers for different aliases. Still, he did it, even though he might not want to talk about it with many.

He keeps himself, cool, calm and composed in collected fashion. Yes, he has his flaws such as drinking, having a temper and smoking (it was for a short period of time, he quit in the early 70s), Jason was still there for Tony. Same thing goes for his godchildren, which is a privilege and gift to watch them grow and learn now, he still has those moments where he ends up not getting enough rest due to taking care of them.

So to Natasha, Tony, Bruce and the other parents he seems like the only well informed and intelligent one when it comes to parenting, it’s only was all due to respect, patience and watching how the ball rolls. He used to put so much pressure on being the awesome uncle and whatnot, then he realized that all you need to do is be there for your kids.

They don’t ask of much, only for you to spend time with them even if you’re far away and need to do a phone call with that. Same thing goes for any relationship romance or platonic, as long they know you’re there for them, that’s what matters.

Like the saying goes, ‘No one is freaking perfect’. He’s still learning how to raise theses guys!

————-

——————

Nicknames. He doesn’t have nicknames for everyone, only if the person is comfortable with them, of course. But that never stops Jason from making up silly nicknames for the kids, usually they come out naturally without even trying.

Tony has had a few nicknames such as Butterball or Meatball when he was a baby, he was a round cubby little guy. Over the years it was Bambino, Bubba, Tones, Bunny and etc.

Rei was always Bubba, Sonny or Penguin, on occasion he would throw out the Papo (which is what him and his grandmother Maria use to call his father when he was younger)

Liane, he absolutely calls Princess or Your Majesty, when she's being a bit bratty

Rochelle tends to be, Li'l Red

For Cassie, he calls her Goldie cause her hair shines bright like gold in the sun

Melissa gets classic nicknames but he will throw out Peaches or Ladybug

Lydia, due to knowing her skills he will call her Sparrow sometime or just Ly

And the list goes on!

~~~~~~~

There has been moments where Jason has took a leap of faith to save his kids. Such as in 2013, when Stark Mansion was attacked and the whole place falling apart he remembered Pepper and Liz's screams as Ava was about to fall off the cliff of their home.

Tony and Rei were busy fighting and trying to get everyone to out of the house safely. But Tony's suit wasn't working correctly either. Jason swooped in, sliding down the rubble and dust coughing as he catches Ava before she can fall.

"Baby look at me! It's okay, I got you.." He said rescuing her, as she clung to him tightly.

The two of them climbed back up the rubble and into the destroyed mansion as Ava went to help the others. The drones just kept on firing and tearing apart the house. Suddenly water took over dunking Jason, Tony, Liz and Rei all down into the ocean as Pepper and the other kids stayed above water.

To say Jason has taken a lot of hits for Tony and the kids was an understatement. For example, that same Christmas in 2013, there a fight on the streets where they landed in after almost drowning, as two crazy bitches was about to attack Rei. Jason choked one of women out as he was stabbed in the side.

The crazy burning women gave Jason some flirty eyes as she did so. He was not pleased. Liz was pissed off having finished fighting some guy to protect Tony.

But she thankfully swoops in wracking the women in a pole as she yelled, "Hands off, bitch!"

~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

He did have good moment as well, that didn't involve a fight (yet), such as 2015 during a Stark party New York City. The Avengers, young and old just finished a battle, as a party was being made to celebrate.

Jason has been in and out of Stark parties over the years, sometimes he stayed the whole night and or times he went home early. This night felt like a good one, he had his girl with him, his friends were partying and the kids were enjoying themselves.

They all deserve a win.

Hell he even danced a bit, drank a beer with Thor and played pool with Sam. He saw Steve walking away for a moment to text some girl, not declaring on who it is he was messaging, despite Nat and the other teasing him.

Nat even muttered, "Oh I'll find out."

It felt good. He rolled his eyes at Tony's jokes and laughed at others. Soon enough, the party died down as everyone rested around the living room area sharing smiles as they all chatted.

Rick has Rochelle and Luna resting on each of his shoulder, Bruce was chatting with Natasha, Maria Hill was wearing Steve's jacket as she chatted with Liz and Liane was playing with a set of cards with Lydia beating her.

Steve and Thor were sharing another bottle of beer, Tony was grab one for himself and Cole was playing Janga with Rochelle. Everyone was there. Beside it held Thor's precious hammer.

"Come man, it's trick!" Clint exclaimed swirling his drumsticks.

"Dude, I tried lifting it once in New Mexico, it's glued to whatever ground it's on!" Jason added pointing to the hammer.

"Whoever shall be worthy shall have the power! Whatever man, it's a trick."

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

Thor smirked chuckling allowing Clint to take a swing at it. Everyone looked around amused of the honest challenge as Clint stood up smug looping his hand around the handle trying to pick it up. But failed dryly chuckling as he joked.

"Smell the silent judgement." Tony remark.

"Please, Stark, by all means." Clint said returning back to his seat next to his blonde friend.

"Oh this gonna be good.." Liz muttered hearing Liane snort at her comment.

Some of the young heroes wiggled their eyebrows, cracking a few jokes and engaging in conversations as they all watched.

Tony stood up muttering how it was all physic and how he planned to use rule Asgard as Bruce rolled his eyes, watching his friend trying but failed. He even returned with an Iron Man arm to help and lift it. Poor Rhodey was pulled into it too.

"Are you even pulling?" Tony exclaimed.

"Just represent. Pull!" Rhodey told him.

"Alright let's go."

Still nothing. Soon enough, almost everyone tried. Rochelle and Cassie gave it a try, as their eyes flashes trying to find the strength to do it. Rei scoffed as him and Rick round came, believing putting both their heads together they can do it.

Bruce pretended to turn like the Hulk as he pulled, causing a roar of chuckles and laugher from the gang. Nat smiled finding it cute shaking her head. Ethan and Ji-Hoon picked up the pace, but failed.

Liane and Cole teamed up to pick the hammer from it's place on the table. Hell, some of the teammates tried to use magic but instead moved the table and items surrounding it.

Liz and Lydia joined forces, taking the team up route. Tony joked how he tried it already but failed. It went on and on for a while, passing drinks and snacks watching the show of friends take their turn at Thor's challenge.

Then it was Cap's turn.

Steve took a swing of beer before getting up with a smile. His eyes narrowed rolling up his sleeves taking a deep breathe, looping his hands around the handle and pulled.

The Hammer Nudge.

It made a small squeaking noise, some eyes turned gasping to themselves and other didn't even catch wind of it quick enough to catch the moment. Thor's eyes widen as his stress level turned up a little thinking it was dreaming. Steve pulled again, as the hammer stayed in place.

Steve raised his hands in air declaring defeat with a small smile. Thor was chuckling as he said, "Ha! Nothing."

Luna and Natasha didn't even bothering knowing it won't work, despite Bruce and Rick nudging them on. They were smart in a way to watch and laugh the whole go on. Not everyone went, some decided to try again after getting some food in their system.

But again nothing.

"All difference to the man who wouldn't be king. It's rigged." Tony proclaimed searching for another beer.

"You bet your ass." Clint added in agreement.

Maria smirked, "Steve, he said a bad language work."

Steve sighed and looked at Tony as he said, "You tell everyone about that?"

Tony ignored his comment and joked, "The handles imprinted right? Like a security code? Whoever is carrying Thor's fingerprint is, the literal translation."

"If so, then Thor's son or daughter should be able to lift it right?" Rochelle questioned which sparked a whole other conversations among themselves.

One of them wondered who exactly can lift and what would it take to do so.

Thor stood up from the couch, putting his drink down as everyone looked at him.

"Yes, yes, that's a very interesting theory. But got a simpler one." Thor said bending down then lifting his hammer with such ease, "You're all not worthy."

Everyone chuckle, commenting on his words and either rolled their eyes at his answer. Some of them shook their heads, exchanging looks with one another.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahh that's what I got for now!💘 I hope you enjoyed getting to know a little more about Uncle JJ and his group of mishaps he calls children.

Please let me know what you think down below in the comments, any suggests or ideas and etc. ✨ You are more than welcome to write stories involving JJ if you want as well (pls tag me in them!👀)

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @rooster-84 @djs8891 @sofia-falcon @starkleila @cherrysft @mandylove1000 @yetanotherwells @topgun-imagines @hardballoonlove @buckysteveloki-me @sherloquestea @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs @savemewattpad and etc

[shinjisdone]

The many (Ph)Faces of Yandere Thorfinn (S1)

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets

*INHALES DEEPLY*

OOOOKayy, I once mentioned that I find Yandere! Thorfinn so tricky to write cause he got so many phases through his arc and is a deep character. Its so HARD for me to pinpoint him anywhere CAUSE THERE IS NO WAY TO PUT HIM INTO ARCHTYPES OR CATEGORY

I MUST WRITE HIM IN CHARACTER, I MUST!

Because - just like Shrek - my boy is an onion. He's got layers.

S1!Thorfinn:

This guy is a mess. He keeps his thoughts to himself but wears his heart on his sleeve yet unfortunately, it is all the negative emotions he shows.

He has not a single problem spouting out insults and demeaning words. Looking down on people who dont think like him.

Yet that is the only time he really talks to others. Only when he spits in their face becaus he truly does not make an effort to care for others.

To be fair the "others" are vikings, a coward prince and the murderer of his father.

Still, he does not care for titles or social cues and behavior. If he doesn't like you, he is actually quiet UNTIL you provoke an answer from him. Other than that, he does not share what he is REALLY thinking.

So, lovesickness from Yandere!S1! Thorfinn??? Not likely.

Lovesickness imo is straight up floating in dreamland. Fully accepting your feelings and basking in them. But Thorfinn being like that??? Nope.

The only times he'd feel even the slightest indications of love is when he is really, really, close to you - emotionally and physically.

If you are already close, some fluttering of your eyelashes and angelic smiles won't make him swoon (he'd think you're weird) but after carefully forming a bond...and interacting with him with the intention of care might.

*slams fist on a table* Thorfinn won't blink if you get close, put a hand on him or even gently tend to his wounds. He'd do the same because injuries need to be treated in a careful, gentle manner in order for them to heal. and not die It just makes SENSE.

But doing so and then ending the treatment with a brush of your thumb over the back of his hand, GENUINELY looking worried and telling him to be careful because you care- *GASP* it's gonna do something.

It's the sincerity. This utmost genuine display of...care. Someone WANTING him to be okay. WANTING him to...still live.

Suddenly he's left sweating and hot, his heart thumping against his chest it hurts. What is this?

He startles and backs off. The feeling is foreign and he kind of grows to hate it. Usually Thorfinn contains a calm and cool head (when he isnt blinded by his emotions) but this...state truly renders him frozen.

He might slowly accept these feelings...but acceptance for him means letting go of the irritation when he feels them. When he comes to the point where he finally hugs you out of his own will, he will still feel these heartthrobs but...will not protest.

The typical 'lovesickness' doesn't really exist in Thorfinn. Never will he gush and praise you but hold you close as his unreadable gaze never seems to shift from you. Thorfinn wears his heart on his sleeve but never reveals his inner thoughts.

Clingy and stalker??? Also kinda no? How is he supposed to stalk you when you eat, sleep and travel on the same ship?

Clingy though...well, perhaps. Not in a 'Don't part from me' way but more like a 'I GOTTA MAKE SURE U DONT DIE'

And unfortunately, anyone who isn't him is an enemy in his eyes.

He's not gonna...put an arm around you or show anyone that you 'belong' to him but he's more like a shadow or dog just...behind you. And looking angry at anything that isn't you >:(

Obsessive and possesive is also tricky because S1!Thorfinn would never, ever - in a million gajillion centuries - ever admit he is in love. HE WOULD NEVER REALIZE HE HAS FEELINGS FOR YOU NEVER

Bro is so stupid. So boyish and stubborn and emotional but so dense and his head as thick as lumber that he'd legit not realize his feelings. If he ever would, he'd refuse to believe it :(

Love??? Romance??? Whats that????

He would think about you...and wants to keep you safe...

You are all he really has, after all. But it still isn't anything near obsessive or possesive. He's kinda...refusing these feelings in a way.

He is very overprotective though 👍 yet that has little to do with delusion (which he also lacks) but more about paranoia in a way? He grew up alongside his father's murderer and the war he wages and there is you, right in the middle. His overprotectiveness makes sense in the environment you both are in.

But he does put it up a notch. Goes a full 200% with his overprotectinveness that literally ANYONE is a danger. If they are meek enough he just scares them away by literally standing behind you like a shadow (as if he was tall enough to overshadow anyone) and glares at them as if one wrong inhale will mean their death.

Anyone who touches you, invited or not, gets to meet his daggers :)

It could have been the most pleasant interaction you had but he dont care :) they gonna die

Manipulation? HA

Bro only has two things in his brain: Askeladd and you.

Though he might be insistent on some things. How you are weak and he is strong, how you shouldn't trust that person and going alone in there is going to get you killed!

But none of these words are carefully picked to sway you - like the thick-headed idiot that he is, Thorfinn believes wholeheartedly all he says.

The young man is always honest. He may not share much but when he does it is always the truth in his eyes.

Sadism? HMMMMM

Maybe...but then, only the tiniest bit.

Everyone is his enemy. Yet he doesn't really bear any hatred for those that are not Askeladd.

Perhaps he will be more cruel to those that cause you harm. Prolonging their pain until he kills them. Though I think that kind of behavior of him would be 70% rage and 30% sadism.

There's a chance he might mock them as he slices their flesh slowly open.

It first starts off with threats - how dare they do this to you and how they better not ever get near you again. Never think of you, never speak your name or even breath the same air as you!

He's talking as if they are still capable of doing anything to you. Their legs have already been sliced so deep they cannot walk and Thorfinn's dagger is going in deeper and deeper as they beg for their life.

You'd think he'd be delusional there. Perhaps he is a bit...

But then it's like he snapped back to reality.

"But this is as far as you're going to go."

He slaughters them afterwards. While he does enjoy throwing out insults and threats before killing them, the fatal blow is done with utmost ire.

I can kinda imagine him as self-indulgent kinda?

Boy is uncaring and cold, very reserved. He wouldn't want to be- worhsipped or anything (its kinda embarrassing and weird?) but to have you dote on him?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm maybe it aint so bad teehee

Especially when he is tired or injured. Any kind of physical doting as he relaxes is really heehee nice

Might get soft but just a bit. He still doesn't say much but will definitely indulge in your care.

Will be a bit grumpy if you suddenly stop and purposefully lean his entire weight on you to stop you from leaving.

IF YOU LEAVE FOR ANOTHER PERSON TO LOOK AFTER/TALK TO OMG HE WILL ACTUALLY GLARE AT YOU

Thorfinn doesn't like it. To him it makes no sense why you'd need to be there for someone else when all that matters is you two. You have each other and no one else and this is how it's supposed to be.

Ok, now that I think about it, very hostile towards anyone that isn't you. Like...he actually INDULGES in the idea of only you two being here. In the world, all alone. No one else but you two.

He isn't delusional and actually BELIEVES you two to be sole survivors of everything you've gone through with the world being your playground...but the image is nice.

So no, he will not let you be with anyone else >:(

Will be more hostile to the third party then you but will also tell you to stay away from that troublemaker. Ew, look at them they aren't Thorfinn.

Kinda impulsive though. Yes, definitely. Anything that has him snap in a uhhhh violent way will be very impulsive and very bad for everyone unfortunately part of this.

It could be Askeladd, it could be a danger to you, it could be the mocking of his father - Thorfinn is easy to piss off and while his very first reaction is violence, the actions that he chooses to do right after may vary depending on the thing that made him snap.

You were hurt? Absolutely merciless as he destroys that person, no matter if bandmate or not.

Someone insulted you? They get their jaw broken with one fist.

Ok BUT - BUT BUT BUT ---- LISTEN, LISTEN!

A romantic gesture thrown at you from someone else? Uh oh.

Thorfinn doesn't really know how to react to that. He usually is more familiar with fighting and mocking. So seeing someone get close with a non-threatening intention is...different.

He knows one thing for sure though. It angers him.

Rendered frozen for a minute before he goes beserk of course.

Someone suddenly drawing you close? Hugging you? dshfpvnsdinsfbje what is the MEANING OF THIS!! WILL ABSOLUTELY GO BETWEEN YOU AND HOLD UP HIS DAGGER AT THEM

Giving you the most innocent of gifts such as flowers?

??? Whuat, what is this supposed to be???

Will take the flower from you and examine it, as if he could find anything wrong with it. DUde, its a flower.

Will clutch it tight in his hands, destroying the petals before throwing it on the ground. Such a...useless thing.

Definitely confused by all these gestures and is more perplexed by this tightening grip he feels in his heart. It...hurts and he is vexed...but thinking about it also...painful and vexing. So he doesn't.

Thorfinn doesn't reflect on his emotions and instead just acts upon them.

So YEAH LOVESICK? NO

STALKER, OBSESSIVE, POSSESSIVE, MANIPULATION THE WHOLE SPIEL OF A YANDERE???? NOPE THATS NOT REALLY THORFINN, YA KNOW?

oh BUT OVERPROTECTIVE, SELF-INDULGENT, IMPULSIVE, QUIET AND LONGING WITH A HINT OF SADISM???? I THINK SO!

omg and now think about both sad man arc thorfinn AND peaceful ponytal thorfinn;;; im sweating this guy is gonna give me a stroke of how hard i have to think about his yandere tendencies

like what are you mister???? I-i need to know

legit literally thinking about him and all the chaos he would unleash. but also....he is not your typical yandere. he gets so special over time, shedding his layers of the onion he is

[windwheeler-aster]

please, let me just take care of you

summary: your busy-bee of a partner suddenly gets sick, but is a little stubborn to accept your doting and care giving right away

masterlist

pairings (separate): mona, sucrose, and albedo x reader

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them), is in a relationship with the characters mentioned, and reader is not traveler

word count: 578 words~ per section (2 mins each~)

genre: romance, reverse hurt/comfort

format: one shot

warnings: descriptions of characters being sick (no vomit or anything) and characters (mona) being anxious to get back to work

a/n: currently twirling my hair and kicking my feet while thinking about taking care of my s/o whilst there sick💖 hope you enjoy this💖

Mona feels unproductive while she’s stuck in bed with a cold. She always does whenever she’s sick, but especially now. 

Because right now, you’re bustling around in her poor excuse of a kitchen, making her a soup. Ever since she described her symptoms to you this morning, you’ve taken on the role as Mona’s personal nurse. You waited on her beck and call, serving her fresh, warm meals that surely cost you something. And you’re ever so sweet to her, giving her sweet smiles and making light conversation with Mona so her sick brain isn’t overwhelmed. 

And she hates it. 

Not because she hates you, but more so that she hates that she is being forced to rest. Rent’s due sometime soon, and she barely has enough for it. She knows Goth’s patience is wearing thin, and she can’t afford any other place in Mondstadt as of now. Mona needs to work, making mora through the many side jobs she’s picked up from the Adventurer’s Guild. She absolutely cannot be resting right now, you don’t understand—

“Mona, you better be back in bed when I turn around,” you called from the kitchen, your voice carrying to the front entrance, where Mona was now frozen in place. “I just made some chicken noodle soup for you, so you better be resting like I asked you to.”

She faltered, but relented and went back to bed. “You don’t have to do that, dear.”

You brought her soup with a smile. “I want to, though.”

Mona looked at you, her lips thinning out into a tight frown. “Why?”

“Because I love you?”

“Oh. Well,” her cheeks had turned a pretty pink now, “you don’t need to do this for me, dear. I’ve gotten by just fine before, I really don’t need to rest or stay in bed all day. So, please, just let me—”

“No.”

“No, dear, you don’t understand. I need to complete the—”

You shook your head again. “Mona, what you ‘need’ is to rest so you can be better later. I’m just trying to make sure my girlfriend is taken care of, alright?” you sighed and looked at her once more. “Please don’t be mad at me. I know that you need some mora, and I’ve told you multiple times—”

“You aren’t paying my rent,” Mona snapped, her tone more angry than she meant it to.

“I basically live here.”

“...No comment.”

You chuckled, which made Mona smile reluctantly.

“Alright, babe. Whatever you say,” you tell her. “How about I run a few errands for you? Just so you don’t get overwhelmed by tasks when you’re feeling good enough to do side jobs. Is that alright?”

Mona looked at you, analysing your features. No hidden intent, no mischievous smile. Just her cute partner, being as sincere as you can be in this moment. Nothing to indicate that you’ll hold this above her in the future. 

As if they ever would, she snapped at herself as she met your loving gaze.

She sighed. “Alright. But you better come back in one piece, my dear. It would be a shame if I had no one to take care of me.”

You kissed her temple, causing Mona to blush quite hard. “Of course, Mona.”

She was in shock for a moment, silently screaming and clutching her head in her hands at the loving action. Mona blames it on her illness for making her so flustered. As if she didn’t react like that every time you touched her, no matter how long you two had been together.

She heard the door open and snapped up, quick to yell her adorations to you in her signature fashion.

“I love you!” she stammered out, blushing a deep red when she heard the sounds of Mondstadt driftting in. “Be back soon, please.”

“Anything for you, babe!” you shout back, blowing her a kiss that sent her under the covers, flustered beyond belief. “Rest up, my star!”

And as the door shut behind you, Mona clutched her head under the blankets as her face grew impossibly warm. 

If it’s not this stupid sickness that’ll kill me, it’ll be them, she thinks.

Time management has never been one of Sucrose’s strengths.

Like sand in an hourglass, time slipped by her quickly. Sucrose didn’t mind though, as she found her work enjoyable. She got lost in conducting experiments and writing lab reports, passion and coffee being the only things that fuel her to work. 

But whilst in the middle of her work, Sucrose often forgets to take care of herself. She began to favor coffee over sleeping, staying extra late at the lab so she could complete some “last minute” work before she went home. The lunches you packed for her were left forgotten in her office until the next day, the smell being so pungent she could smell it the moment she enters the room. And don’t even try to ask Sucrose when was the last time she drank water, because she doesn’t know the answer herself.

With these working conditions Sucrose put herself through, it was only inevitable for her to get sick. 

You had to drag her back into bed when she tried to go to work, stuffed up nose and weary eyed. She was insistent that she was fine, despite the snot that threatened to dribble out of her nose. But after a convincing offer of some well deserved rest and relaxation, Sucrose reluctantly agreed.

“M’fine,” she grumbled, squinting up at you in bed. “Don’t worry about me.”

You felt her forehead and chewed your lip in worry. “You’re hot.”

Sucrose pulled the covers up to her head, whining beneath the covers. “Don’t tease me when I’m sick!” You saw her pretty amber eyes and smirked. “Stop that!”

“Oh, you know I didn’t mean it that way,” you frowned. But then you perked up and grinned, “but I will say, you do look really—“

“Ah! That’s enough out of you,” Sucrose interjected, furrowing her brows.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you cooed. You bent down and hugged her through the covers. “I’m just speaking the truth, y’know?”

“Argh, cut it out! My brain’s all mushy gushy already,” she complained. “Don’t need you to make me all mushy and gushy, too.”

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll go easy on ya, deal?”

Sucrose let the covers down to her chin and nodded. Her face was flushed pink. She shuddered underneath the covers and bundled up more, making your heart tighten. Poor thing, is all you can think as you caress her cheek.

Sucrose nuzzled into your hand, her eyelashes fluttering close. “Mm, honey?”

“Yes?”

“You’re… you’re not mad at me, right?”

You frowned. “Mad at you? Angel, what for?”

Sucrose looked away from you and mumbled, “For not taking care of myself. I know you have better things to do—”

“—than take care of my sick girlfriend? Nonsense.” You leaned down and gave her temple a quick peck. “Don’t fret your pretty little head over that, angel. Now, get some sleep for me, okay?”

Sucrose nodded slowly, turning over to sleep on her preferred side. “Okay. I’ll try.”

You smiled and got up to leave, already planning some sort of dish that could help Sucrose feel better.

“Wait!”

You turned around and looked at her. Sucrose had sat up in bed quickly, still clutching onto the covers of your shared bed. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for doing all this,” she said. “And… and I love you, a lot.”

Your heart sped up quickly, urging you to run over to her and kiss her all over her cute face. But instead, you take a deep breath and lean on the door’s frame for a moment. 

“I love you a lot, too, Sucrose. Now, get some rest.”

Time and time again, Albedo tried to reassure you that he couldn’t get sick. He’s made out of limestone, for goodness sake! There is no way he could possibly be ill, Dragonspine’s freezing weather conditions be damned. So, really, there is absolutely no reason to worry your pretty little head over your boyfriend.

Until there is, in the form of Albedo greeting you with a pair of rosy cheeks and a sniffy nose after spending a week in Dragonspine alone. 

He’s more than aware that his current state is… quite pitiful, safe to say. As soon as he landed on your doorstep, you practically cradled him into your arms and swaddled him in blankets. The whole experience was infantilizing and slightly frustrating, as Albedo kept wanting to assure you he would be fine. Though, he would like to secretly admit that this feeling of being pampered wasn’t too bad, after all.

“Good morning, love,” you greeted from the doorway to your shared bedroom. You nudged the door open with your foot, smiling bright when you saw your boyfriend snuggled up into bed, begrudgingly.

“Good morning,” he mumbled. He raised his brow at the tray you carried. “What’s that?”

You sat down, gently, on the bed and placed it on Albedo’s lap, once he sat up. “Your breakfast. I made sure to make you something that’ll warm you up from the inside out.”

He gave you a strange look, as though he was analysing your actions. It almost made your heart sink.

“What’s that look for?” you asked, sheepishly.

Albedo blinked and then blushed, suddenly realising he was caught up in staring at you. “Sorry. I was just expecting a cheeky ‘I told you so.’”

“Oh,” you sighed, furrowing your brow as you recounted the many times you nagged at him to stay warm whilst away in Dragonspine. “Well, believe it or not, I’m not as petty as you think I am.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

You pecked his cheek and smiled. “I know. Don’t worry about silly things like that, alright? I want you to rest up and feel better, love.”

“I’ll try.”

You gave him a warning look.

“I will,” he corrected himself, quickly. “I’ll rest after I eat breakfast.”

You smiled, titling your head up in victory. “Good. Now, I’ll just be in the other room. If you need anything, just call me. Okay, Albedo?”

He nodded, his focus now on pushing his food around on the plate. “Yes, dear. Thank you for this meal.”

“Anything for you, my love,” you winked at him. “Now, eat up. You need all the energy you can get.”

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 14: Alone

Season One | Season Two | Season Three | Season Four

Raining Hellfire: Season Four

Word Count: 4611 words

Warnings: swearing, mentions of dead bodies, illusions to drowning, blood, violence, death, just a lot of sad things

[A/N: this one is a lot and honestly i need to stop creating characters that die all the time]

Alone

“Y/n! Y/nnnnnn!”

You groan, removing the arm that had been shielding your eyes and looking to the girl led down beside you.

“Whaaaaat?” You mimic and she lets out a giggle.

“I’m bored.” She states so matter-of-factly that you were ready to hit her.

“So you wake me up for that?” You place your arm back in place only for her to grab it.

It turned into a small quarrel, grabbing each others arms and wrestling until she was named the victor.

“Okay, okay, jeez.” You laugh, batting her hand away, “We’ll go to the beach or something.”

“Actually…” She raises her eyebrows and you groan, shaking your head.

“No, please, no. I hate that game, I don’t even understand-”

The board is thumped down in front of you and you let out a sigh.

“I should never have gotten you that for your birthday.” You complain, crossing your arms.

“You only did this to yourself.” She grinned as she began setting up the game, eyes lit with excitement.

You smile at her, heart pounding. She was your best friend. You’d do anything for her.

“No.”

You whisper into the darkness, staring down at the body.

Steve had disappeared, leaving you stood by yourself as guilt poured into your mind.

You take a step closer, tears streaming down your face. This couldn’t be happening. You thought Nancy had died, and now you were face to face with your past.

Leaning over her, you look at her features and your breath hitches. You were right. It was Lillian.

Suddenly, her eyes snap open and you let out a gasp, jumping back and stumbling over an obstacle. You crashed to the floor, hitting it hard and losing air.

“Shit.” You breathe, slowly sitting to take deep breaths.

As you looked around, you were no longer in the darkened and flipped version that was Eddie’s trailer.

It was pitch black, nothing you could see for miles. Then, there’s a glint of red behind you, casting onto the back of your hand as you lifted it, examining further. Holding your breath, you turn around, a scream caught in your throat.

You were stood staring at the same place that haunted your nightmares. The same place you lost everything. The same place Lillian…

“Don’t you remember?”

The voice pulls you away from the reddened, vine covered pool, causing you to turn and almost cry on the spot.

Lillian stood in front of you, dressed the same way she looked at your birthday party. Her jet-black hair was loose around her shoulders, strands pulled into braids at the back of her head to show off her pretty features. Her dark brown eyes were wide, coated with mascara as her punctuated lips were curved into a small smile. A smile you never thought you’d see again.

“Lillian?” You whisper out, frozen in place. She simply tilted her head, scrunching her nose at you. Like she always did when you were being silly.

“Obviously.” She giggles, stepping closer. “Who else would I be?”

Your eyes widen. Remember why you are here. Remember.

“Vecna.” You state and this time, she frowns.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Lillian’s voice lowers and she stalks towards you now, causing you to back up with small steps. “I would have thought that you’d feel guilty, Y/n Mayfield.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Your voice cracks and a tear rolls down Lillian’s cheek, your chest tightening with every emotion she shed.

“Didn’t you?” She challenges.

You feel the heel of your shoe reaching the side of the pool and you stop. Lillian halts as soon as she is stood an inch apart from you.

“It was an accident.” You say quietly and she lets out a breathy laugh.

“Accident.” She clicks her jaw, eyes drifting to the water behind you. “Accident. Yeah, that’s what it was.”

“You should be alive.” You state and she slowly turns back to look at you. “It was my fault. I know that. And I’ve thought about that night every single day for the last five years. If I could… if I could take it all back… I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” You yell with a choked sob, grabbing onto her shoulders. She felt cold under your touch. “I wouldn’t have said those things to you! I would have listened! I- I would never have drank or fought with you. I would never have been that close to the water-”

“Right.” Lillian says quietly, her eyes darker than usual. “Because I just… fell. Right? That’s the story you keep telling yourself?”

“… what?” You shake your head, lowering your hands back to your sides and you watched as she suddenly brought her hand to your cheek.

“I can’t explain it.” She lowers her head before looking up at you through her eyebrows, a stomach-churning smirk on her face. “Let me show you instead.”

Her hand travels down to your chest and she pushes you, hard.

With a scream, you fall back into the pool, water rushing in all around you as pockets of air bubble from your mouth. It became darker and darker until you were able to take one painful breath.

Gasping, you sit up, head spinning out of control. You can’t focus on one thing; there are too many blurry objects in your vision to understand where you are. Until…

“Y/n?”

You turn your head, eyes adjusting to the boy stood in front of you with a crooked smile and your heart clenched at the sight.

“Billy?” You slowly stand, eyes never leaving his in fear of really looking around. You just couldn’t believe you were seeing Billy again, regardless of if it was a memory.

His outfit was from the same night, too, his hair a little shorter but just as scruffy as it always has been. And the red solo cup in his hand had a lipstick print around the edge. Your lipstick.

You didn’t need to look around to know exactly where you were. From the blast of music echoing around crowds of people that never really knew you, the stench of alcohol polluting the air. This time, there were no vines. In fact, everything was precisely how it looked on your 14th birthday.

“I’m gonna grab another drink.” He says lowly before walking away and leaving you there, alone.

“I think it’s time.”

You turn around to see Lillian stood in front of you once again, expressionless. You take a breath and frown as she slowly raises her arm and points to her left. Hesitantly, you look where she wants you to and you very nearly stop breathing.

She was pointing at you and another version of Lillian in the very same kitchen you had been six years ago. Through the window, you took in the dress you had worn, the way your eyes were already tiring. And you were trying to talk to her, only ever getting a shrug or a scowl.

You didn’t know how you got closer to the scene, but suddenly you were inside the building, stood just in the doorway and watching your life replay in front of your very eyes.

A tear drops down and you try to escape. But something keeps you frozen, unable to look anywhere but where Vecna was forcing you to see.

But it wasn’t as if you needed the reminder. You thought about this conversation all the time.

“I only came here because my parents forced me.” Lillian says, her back to you as she contemplated the snack table.

“Don’t say that.” You step forward, praying that she would face you. But she remained stubborn, never throwing a glance behind her.

“Just… go have fun with your boyfriend.” She says a little sourly and you shake your head.

“He’s not-”

“Bullshit.” She spits and she finally spins around to look at you. Your breath hitches once you see the hints of mascara that had ran down her face. Those tears were because of you. “You keep claiming that you and Billy are just friends but let’s be real, friends don’t act that way around eachother.”

“Look, Lil.” You risk another step and she avoided your eyes. “Billy and I just… we got confused. I-I think our feelings got mixed up and-”

“So break up with him.” She challenges and you catch your breath, staying silent.. “See? You act like you aren’t dating but look at you, Y/n. You came here with him! You guys have kissed and… god, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Why do you care so much?” You gain some kind of confidence now, sick and tired of how your supposed ‘best friend’ was treating you. “Because you keep acting like me being with him is breaking some sort of trust between us. In all honesty, Lil, I was just fine with Billy being a close friend.”

“Then why?” She was crying now, eyes red with a smudged black outline.

“Why?” You look exasperated, a cold laugh leaving your lips. “You were the one who told me to go on a date with him!”

“Because I wanted-” She stops herself, swallowing whatever words she wanted to say. But you weren’t done with the conversation.

“Because what? Huh?” Your heart was beating faster and faster.

“I wanted you to say no.” Lillian whispers out and you stay in stunned silence. She shakes her head at you, anger finally taking a hold. “I don’t know why you keep acting like it’s a surprise. It’s like you just miraculously forgot everything that happened over the summer.”

Summer. Part of you had buried those memories long ago.

“I…” You search for the words to say, but you’re speechless. You didn’t expect it to go this far.

Lillian lets out a sad laugh. “Admit it, Y/n. Just say it out loud.”

You stay silent, avoiding her eyes as tears roll down.

“You. Like. Gir-”

“Stop!” You yell and she looks startled, wide eyes staring at you. “Whatever happened… between us… it was a mistake. I’m not- I don’t-”

You let out a frustrated sigh. If you were so sure of yourself, why was your heart breaking at your own words?

“One day, Y/n Mayfield,” She grabs her filled cup, walking to the exit but stopping by your side, eyes never meeting yours. “You are going to realise exactly who you are. You’ll… you’ll finally see the version of yourself that I see. That I love. And it’ll be too late.”

She walks away before you have a single second to understand what she meant.

“You lied to me.”

You sniffle the tears that had fallen, eyes tearing away from the sight of you stood alone in the kitchen and looking back to where Lillian waited for a reply.

Except, this time, it wasn’t Lillian at all.

“You lied to her, Y/n”

Vecna stared back at you with milky eyes, head arched down to meet your height. Your blood froze over as he shifts his red body towards you, slow and steady.

“She loved you” He growls and your heart shatters a million times more. “And you betrayed her”

“It was an accident.” You whisper out now and he shakes his head.

“You deserve to know the truth” Vecna was stood face to face with you now, arm slowly raising to hold his bony claws above your face. “Let me show you what you have forgotten”

Before a whimper could leave your mouth, you felt your head whip back, eyes slamming shut as you were somehow transported into your memories, back to that night.

Tears streamed down your face regardless, flutters of broken images burning your brain until you knew the truth. Until he showed you exactly what you did.

You should have never tried to help Nancy.

7th November 1979

“What do you want, Y/n?” Your best friend sounded fed up already, taking a sip from her cup.

“I just wanted to say sorry.” You said, eyeing her cup. She never drank.

“Well I don’t want an apology.” Her words were slurred and she spilt some of her cup.

“Woah, what are you drinking?”

“Whatever the hell I want.”

“Maybe you should slow down, you haven’t drank before.”

“Why? Because I’m a prude for not banging my abusive boyfriend when I’m only 14, huh?” Her words stung your heart, tears threatening to spill.

“What the fuck?” Your voice quivered and she just laughed.

“You act like it’s all about you, Y/n. Try caring about someone else for once in your miserable life.”

And with that she walked to the other side of the pool, stumbling along the way as you filled up your own cup and drank the feelings down like your life depended on it.

“Woah, there.” Billy laughs, stopping as you grab a third drink.

“I thought you wanted me to drink?” You snap and his eyebrows raise, hands held in surrender.

“I just wanted you to have fun, not… that.” He says and you take a deep breath.

“Right.” You grit your teeth, lowering the cup before letting out a much-needed sigh. “I’m good.”

“Hm.” He pulls a face, taking a sip from his own drink, “So this has nothing to do with why Lillian’s been giving me evil eyes the whole night?”

You whip your head up, following his gaze across the pool and, sure enough, Lillian stood there with a sour look on her face. Once she caught your eyes, she simply rolled her own and turned her back on you.

“Ooh.” Billy laughs, cup to his mouth, “That’s cold.”

You watch as she almost stumbles back into the pool, someone cheering beside her as she manages to balance herself.

“I’ll be right back.” You say, placing your cup down on the table before striding over to Lillian, heart thumping in your head with each step.

You felt strange. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the guilt you felt, but it was bubbling away inside of you.

When you finally reach her, she’s dipping her cup into the punch bowl and draining it within a matter of seconds. She barely registers you’re there until you finally speak.

“Lillian, please stop. You’ve had enough, okay?” You beg your best friend as she chugs down another drink. Even you had lost count of how many she’s had.

“Fuck off. You don’t own me.” She spat, scooping up more liquid from the punch bowl with her cup.

“I’m serious!” You grab at the drink pulling it away from her. She turned to you and practically growled.

“Why?! Why are you ruining my fun? Shouldn’t you be over there fucking your boyfriend or something?” She yelled and the party went quiet. The music still blared but the conversations surrounding you had halted.

“Lil-”

“No. No, you…” She stumbled as she took a step towards you and you managed to catch her before she pushed you away. “You are a fucking mess, Y/n Mayfield.”

“What are you talking about?” You raised your voice, annoyed at your best friend’s allegations.

“You can’t even decide.” She mumbled so that only you could hear. You understood what she was saying. The biggest decision in your life had come down to two things. And you weren’t ready to let either go.

Billy was your childhood sweetheart, and always will be. Even if everything had taken a wrong turn in your relationship, you knew he was just acting out because of his mom. He had stood by you through worse, and you weren’t going to let him down. You loved him.

But… you didn’t love him the way you thought you did. You knew what love felt like, you had experienced it for the first time this summer. You just weren’t ready to admit it. Especially since the one you fell for was currently yelling at you in the middle of a crowd.

“You are a fraud, Y/n Mayfield.” She shouted again, wobbling as she tried to stand as still as she could. “A. Fucking. Fraud.”

“Can we talk about this inside?” You ask, gently reaching out to grab her hand.

“No! No! No!” She practically screamed, catching anyone’s and everyone’s attention. “The people should know who you really are!”

“Lillian.” You warned, lowering the arm that still held the red solo cup. She caught sight of the drink, licking her lips.

“She’s been lying to you folks!” She span around sloppily, announcing her words to the gathering people. “The birthday girl has been harbouring…” She slurred her words, catching herself, “She’s been keeping a deep… dark… secret.”

“Don’t do this.” You glared at her. You’d never seen this side to her in your whole life. Your anger was clouding your judgement now, not seeing how justifiable her actions are.

“Then give me back my drink.” She tilted her head to you, moving closer and extending her arm.

“No.” You stayed stubborn, holding the cup behind you.

“Give it to me!”

She ran at you with both her arms outstretched, clawing at your shoulder to turn you. You screamed in response, struggling against her attack. In the chaos, Lillian’s fingers caught your hair, pulling as hard as she could. You dropped the cup from the sudden surge of pain to your head, trying to release yourself from her grasp. She only pulled harder. So you did the only thing you could.

You didn’t remember doing it.

You pushed her.

And she fell.

Straight into the pool.

Except, you didn’t push her

It was never an accident

In the chaos, Lillian’s fingers caught your hair, pulling as hard as she could. You dropped the cup from the sudden surge of pain to your head, trying to release yourself from her grasp. She only pulled harder.

Something raged inside of you, your focus blurring black. Every adoring thought you had of your best friend was ripped out of your brain, replaced only with the intent to stop her.

It had felt like you were possessed.

You barely noticed the blackening veins on the back of your hand as you reached to the table and grabbed a thick bottle of vodka.

Lillian’s drunken eyes went wide as you swung at her, her skull no match for the strength you surged forward with.

The bottle smashed into her head, breaking skin and bone, and all you saw was the red streaking out of her through your dark spotlight.

You felt nothing as her eyes fluttered shut, body dropping back and splashing into the pool, her head marking the side on the way down, painted with splatters of crimson death.

You felt nothing until that fury inside of you dissipated, your eyes returning to their natural state as your mind blurred all of the events before.

It took a few seconds for you to remember how you were here, to even recognise where you were.

You looked down, your drink now forgotten on the floor beside you. People were screaming, but no one moved.

You kept your focus on the figure in the pool now floating. The ceramic side to a once blue pool now covered in crimson red blood.

“What did you do?”

“Oh my god, Y/n!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“Your power has only ever caused death”

You pant, knelt to the ground over the swimming pool, Lillian’s body now floating in the pool, everything turning red.

All this time, you had been believing a lie. You thought it was an accident. And you were wrong.

All those people, the town who never stopped harassing your family until you disappeared; you were a murderer.

You were a murderer.

And it was because of the black dust. Its possession had been too strong, and you had been too weak to fight it. It was all Vecna was ever trying to tell you, trying to get you to see. And he was right; you couldn’t handle the responsibility of the Mind Flayer.

“I can only end this for you if you submit” Vecna claims, stood above you and drawing your eyes away from the scarlet water.

“Why?” You finally say, tears rushing down and blurring your vision, “Why do you want this so much?”

“Ever since you arrived in Hawkins, I’ve felt the power you held” He finally explains and you slowly rise from the ground, standing with a numb feeling in your chest. “I just didn’t know how much of that power you had until you stopped the dust from possessing you”

The dust spilled from the doors, forming in the air above you. You tried to run as far as you could across the field in the sudden darkness. But you felt something pull at you, forcing you to stop.

You stood a few feet from the middle of the field, staring up at the dust as it circles you.

“Y/n”

You start to sob, covering your ears.

“It’s time”

Tears streamed down your face as a section of the dust pulled in front of you. It began creeping towards you, snaking up your leg and towards your mouth.

It pulled back for a moment, letting you see what was about to happen. The closer it got, the colder you felt. You couldn’t move. All you could do was scream.

Black dust hovered over your mouth and you scream at it one last time.

“No!”

It stopped.

You stare at it in confusion with tear stained cheeks. The dust unwrapped itself from you, returning to the shape in the air. You slowly started to feel control over your movement, wiggling your fingers one at a time. Why did it stop?

“Then why didn’t you just kill me?” You challenge, watching as he takes a step forward.

“I tried” He growls, tilting his head. “I sent everything I had to ensure you were taken out of the game”

You frown. All those years, all the visions, nightmares, voices.

“Don’t you see, Y/n?”

The Demogorgon appearing wherever you had been. The demodog that never attacked you.

“I could never stop you”

The Mind Flayer, one you defeated despite all odds. Billy.

“Until now”

Vecna was barely a breath away now, staring down at you with a cruel smirk on his face. You stare down at the bloodied vodka bottle in your hand.

“If I give up…” You begin, barely choking down tears, “You let my friends go unharmed.”

“I cannot promise their safety”

“You leave my sister alone!” You practically yell at him and he simply tilts his head.

“All I need is one more”

His cryptic words anger something inside of you and, to his surprise, you lash out at him.

You manage to make contact, hitting him with the bottle as hard as you can and, strangely enough, it hurts him.

Even in this mind world, he can still feel pain.

Before you can do anything else, his arm extends and you are thrown backwards, smashing through glass and landing on the ground with a heavy thump.

“Shit.” You breathe, trying to move but finding your whole body ached.

“Give up”

You manage to raise your head to see him staring down at you with milky white eyes, claws outstretched.

Staring up at him, the nightmare that had haunted your mind for four years of your life, any hope you had left for yourself was gone.

You were the reason your friends are in danger.

You did this.

Maybe, just maybe, this would need to be the end.

“Fine.” You whisper out and you swore you could see a smile creep onto his burned lips.

“You don’t need to suffer anymore”

Closed eyes, you feel yourself drifting away. Your soul, your life, was being pulled from you. And, as much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t care. If this was how it ended for you, you prayed the others would understand.

Y/N!!!

You open your eyes.

Blinking, you saw nothing but darkness around you, like standing in the middle of a void.

As you take a step forward, you hear a small pat beneath your foot and you noticed the ripple effect across the ground. Something like water.

When the confusion was beginning to set in, a voice echoes around you and your heart beats faster. But for once, it wasn’t out of fear.

“y/n… can... hear me?…”

You follow the direction of the voice, slowly coming into view of a blurred image. People.

Your body is stood in the middle of the room, light blaring down at you from the gate above your head. Unlike the others that have been cursed, your eyes aren’t rolled back. Instead, they are completely black, eyelids fluttering.

And, in front of you, was the boy you never stopped loving.

Eddie.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!!!” He yelled while fumbling with something in his hand.

You take a few steps closer, the object forming into a Walkman, one you had dropped way back after being dragged through the gate. Someone must have picked it up.

He’s desperately trying to put the headphones on you with shaky hands and you thought you never saw him look more scared.

It wasn’t the look of horror, not like how he reacted to Chrissy. This time, it was pure fear. Fear of loss.

And you were doing that to him.

“Where are you, Y/n?” Vecna’s voice boomed out and you spin around, a figure slowly forming out of dust not far from you. Red.

It was like this was one last test, one last chance to escape. And you had no idea if you should take it.

I hear the ticking of the clock...

You turn back, eyes wide as you see Eddie has successfully played the tape, his hands grasping onto yours. The song, the one you hadn’t heard in years.

I’m lying here, the room’s pitch dark...

Not since you lost it after… letting Eddie borrow your Walkman all those years ago.

Tears pooled in your eyes with gratitude that, after all this time, he kept it.

I wonder where you are tonight...

No answer on the telephone...

“Y/n” His deep voice is clear as day and when you glance back over your shoulder, milky white eyes stare back at you.

And the night goes by so very slow...

“Y/n, please!”

Oh, I hope that it won’t end, though...

“Stay here with me”

“Come back to me.”

...alone.

As you stare back at Eddie’s tear stained cheeks, his shaking hands, you make your decision.

And without so much as a second thought, you run.

I always fared well on my own...

I never really cared until I met you...

Out the corner of your eye, you see Vecna’s arm raise and you’re being pulled back, towards him, and away from Eddie.

And now it chills me to the bone...

You scream, fighting against his power with all your might.

How do I get you alone?...

You’re so close, reaching out to Eddie with a cry.

“This is what you deserve” Vecna growls, stepping towards you as you are held back, “Let this finally end”

You stop fighting, slumping your shoulders. Clearly content with this decision, his control falters slightly and you raise your head.

“I…” You start before a scowl creeps onto your face, “I couldn’t agree more.”

You throw your hand out, dust forming from your fingers and shooting towards his face. In defence, he brings his arm to shield his eyes and you take the opportunity to continue running, feet pounding against the wet floor.

You hear a yell of fury before your fingertips brush your paralysed body.

Then, everything flashes white.

Chapter 15: Four Chimes ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711 / @eddiesbirdie / @livasaurasrex / @darktimelegends / @jackierose902109 / @mvrylee / @chervbs / @eternallyvenus / @nervouscatsuit / @f1nn-wolfhard / @hereiamhereigo / @ladybug0095 / @fangirling-4-ever / @astrolockley / @mothmanatemycat / @sheisjoeschateau / @champagnejoker / @umidktbh / @fallinginlovewithqueue / @ilovetaylorswift132006 / @live-the-fangirl-life / @sadbitchfangirl / @cherrymedicine13 /

[discountdemonwarehouse]

Kinktober 2024 - Day 8 - Softober 2

I did another of the Softober prompts: A werewolf ate my pizza. Characters: Terzo (Missionary Man AU) & Vinnie (OC) CW - mention of "special brownies"

AO3 Link

Read below!

        The oversized shirt was comfy, and Vinnie relished the ability to relax after the Ministry party they’d attended. “It wasn’t even a formal party,” Terzo teased her. “No, but I didn’t want to wear pants today.” She shrugged. “I do enjoy it when you don’t wear pants,” he mused, relaxing on the couch. Vinnie gave him a look, thinking he was too relaxed. “A cosa serve quello sguardo?” He murmured. “What?” she laughed. “You know my Italian isn’t that good yet.” “No, it’s atrocious. I asked what that look was for.” “You just seem… Off.” Vinnie cupped his face, tilting it up. She smirked suddenly. “Terzo, amore… Did you have any of the brownies with the green icing?” “Sì, a few.” She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her, and she patted his cheek gently. “Okay.” “Did you have any?” “One, yeah.” “Did you not like them?” “I didn’t want to be high. Well, no higher than one would get me.”

        Terzo’s face became a little confused as he looked at her. “Oh… Oh. Those were special brownies.” He nodded sagely. “How did you not taste it?” she giggled. “I smoked part of Secondo’s cigar – that fucks anyone’s taste buds.” “No wonder you smell. You should change.” “You just want me naked,” he smirked lazily at her. Vinnie shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Can you make a snack, amore?” he asked, starting to unbutton his shirt. “Are you just getting naked now?” “Sì.” Shaking her head again, she headed to the kitchen. She felt a little relaxed herself, but knew the brownies weren’t that strong. She turned on the oven and retrieved a frozen pizza from the freezer. When the preheat setting beeped, she slid the pizza onto the rack. “It’ll be about twelve minutes,” she called.

        Vinnie was not expecting to see a fully nude Terzo leaning in the doorway when she turned. “I know what we can do in those twelve minutes,” he said slyly. “Oh yeah? Because, uhh…” She gestured at his still-flaccid cock. “I don’t think you’re ready to go.” Terzo snorted. “I can be ready in a moment’s notice.” “Uhhuh, if you say so. Go pick something to watch on TV.” “We won’t need TV,” he promised lustily, causing Vinnie to shake her head in amusement. “Go.” She tried to hold back a laugh. Terzo gave Vinnie an appreciative, but lazy look and turned and walked away. “Hate to see him leave, love to watch him go,” she uttered to herself under her breath as she watched his ass retreat to the living room. Busying herself getting out plates, a cutting board, and the pizza cutter, she passed the time until the pizza was done.

        Terzo was lounging on the couch, staring at the TV but not really seeming to see it. “Oh you’re high as fuck,” she muttered as she carried his plate in. “Here’s your snack.” “Grazie.” He sat up immediately and took a bit of the pizza, then set it back on the plate and leaned back onto the couch. The minutes passed, Vinnie finished her slice while Terzo’s remained untouched. Shrugging to herself, she let Terzo cuddle into her, his hand idly stroking her leg as he stared at the show he’d put on. Vinnie played a game on her phone after texting Omega to find out if he knew the last time Terzo had been stoned. “I need a drink, do you want anything?” she asked, trying to disentangle herself from him. “No, no. But you go ahead.” Padding into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of juice. Terzo’s shout of fear caused her to nearly drop the glass, and she coughed as she choked a little. “What is it?!” she called, moving towards the door, trying to clear her throat. “A werewolf stole my pizza!” he yelled.

        Vinnie stopped in her tracks. “A… werewolf?” Her head tilted to one side. “Are those… Are those even real? I mean, I know a lot of things are, given that I’m a shapeshifter and ghouls and demons are real. How would it get into the apartment?” “Vinnie! A werewolf stole my pizza!” He stared at her over the back of the couch, one hand gesturing to his now empty plate. A crunching noise caught her attention from the corner, and she spotted Chuck enjoying the last bit of pizza crust in his bed. “Are you sure it was a werewolf, Terzo?” “Yes! It was all… bald but hairy. Scary, crooked teeth. It’s tongue just lolling out. I think it was rabid!” She could feel the giggle building in her chest and shook her head. “You’re absolutely sure it was a werewolf?” “Why don’t you believe me?! I’m a Satanic Pope!” “You’re also stoned as fuck… Are you sure it wasn’t just, oh, I dunno, Chuck?” “Chuck isn’t big enough to be mistaken for a werewolf, Vincencia!” “Uhhuh. Do you want more pizza? There’s still some in the kitchen.” “No, because the werewolf is just going to take it again!” he screeched. The laughter broke free of her control and Vinnie hugged herself. “I think you’re safe, Terzo. There’s no werewolves in the apartment.” “Amore, you’re cruel to laugh at me and not believe me!” “Why don’t we go upstairs to bed then? No werewolves up there. Not allowed.” Terzo glared suspiciously at her. “None?” “Not a single one. Very firm rules in place. They wouldn’t dare cross the blanket boundary of safety.” She bit her lip to quell the laughing. Chuck knew if Terzo was in the apartment he needed to stay in his bed in the living room – not that he was a werewolf, just a pizza thief. “Fine. Let’s go upstairs.”

        He stood, heading to the stairs, and Vinnie quickly turned off the TV and lights before following him. She got him settled into the bed, and cuddled beside him. “I can’t believe a werewolf stole my pizza!” he muttered into her neck. “I know you’re high as balls right now, but it was just Chuck,” she tried to reassure him. Her effort was wasted though, because Terzo had already passed out and was starting to snore. From the bedside table her phone vibrated and she reached for it, seeing Omega’s name on the screen. Opening the message she read: It’s been a while, he might be a lightweight. Oh, he ate those green brownies, didn’t he? Fuck. Better you than me. With a stupid grin on her face, she quickly texted back: A werewolf ate his pizza. Shaking her head in amusement, she snuggled back down into the bedding and her snoring partner, figuring she’d better get some sleep.

[robinastrea]

The Breakups (Part 2/4)

Date: Late April, 2012 Age: 13 Characters Mentioned: Ryder Astrea Description: This series goes through how each of Robin’s past relationships ended. (See this post)

When Robin became Rocko’s desk partner in science at the beginning of the school year, he thought it was going to suck.  Rocko was just going to be another kid that got mad when Robin would inevitably yell across the room to his twin, and would complain to the teacher when he did assignments terribly.

But Robin couldn’t have been more incorrect; to sum up Rocko, he was chaotic, and he was hilarious.  Not only did he not mind Robin being the worst desk partner of all time, he actively encouraged it.  The two of them got in trouble on more than one occasion doing odd impressions and failing to keep from laughing, their joint lab reports read as if they were only using one brain cell apiece, and as they were nearing the end of the year, Robin still couldn’t keep straight the parts of a cell.  But they still managed to keep each other in the ‘average’ grade column, Rocko even taking the liberty of keeping careful notes the week Robin was suspended for beating up Shawn Elkies.

After a while, the platonic feelings Robin had for Rocko turned not so platonic.  During one class hour, after the erkuss had done a particularly funny impression, Robin blurted out without thinking: “Do you want to go out with me?”

Rocko had frozen, and then a grin formed on his face.  “I’ve liked you this whole year, and it’s Shrek that finally does it for you?”

It was a month after this, and things were going good.  Rocko taught Robin some roller skate tricks, and Robin taught Rocko to RipStik.  Study dates increased, as well as the amount of terrible jokes.  There wasn’t anything wrong, and Robin was having a lot of fun.  Except that somewhere along the way, he had come to realize he’d lost the non-platonic feelings; or maybe, he never had them in the first place.

“Hey, Rocko,” they were sitting at a table at the skatepark.  Rocko was pulling his knee pads on, as well as the rest of his equipment.  Today was the day the erkuss was to attempt a roller skate cartwheel, and Robin as the “muscle one” was supposed to carry him to the hospital if necessary.

“Hold that thought,” Rocko grunted, pulling his padding on with a large amount of energy.  They were too small for him, but they were a recent birthday present, so Rocko was making it work.  “Okay, shoot,” he breathed finally, leaning against the table to take a break.

“I was thinking…” Robin started when prompted.  “What if we…weren’t boyfriends?”

Rocko had been smiling slightly, but that quickly faded.  “What do you mean?  You want to break up?”

“Well, yeah.”  Rocko’s pained reaction suddenly gave Robin a large amount of dread, but he thought this was the right thing to do, so he continued.  “The thing is.  I really like you, and I have so much fun with you.  I’m having fun with you even today, right now.  But I like you as a friend, and I’d sort of like to go back to that instead of putting pressure on us.  You know?”

Rocko had turned pale and sat there for a long moment, seeming to be looking for something to say.  “I like you as much more than a friend,” he said finally, in a small voice.  “Is it because we haven’t kissed yet?  Did I do something?”

Robin immediately hated how this was going.  He should have just kept dating Rocko.  What did it matter if he didn’t actually have feelings, if there wasn’t anything wrong?  Now he’d suddenly messed everything up between them.  “No--I’m not ready to kiss someone,” he admitted sheepishly.  “You haven’t done anything, promise.  It’s…it’s not you, it’s me.”  Robin cringed immediately after he said it.

Rocko’s jaw actually dropped.  “Are you serious right now?  I’m out of here.”  He grabbed his equipment and walked off without putting his shoes back on.

“Rocko,” Robin called.  He stopped, but didn’t turn around.  Robin hypothesized he might be hiding tears from him, or perhaps he was expecting Robin to change his mind.  He felt like absolute shit, but he knew he couldn’t go back.  “I’m really sorry.  I want to be friends with you,” Robin pleaded.

“No.” Rocko answered firmly, but his voice sounded choked up.  Then he walked off.

When Robin came into class on Monday, he saw Ryder sitting at his desk, and his now ex-boyfriend across the room, looking away from him.

[let-it-show]

Oh, for sure the first Frozen movie has plot issues. Agnar and Iduna handled everything about their daughters super poorly, erasing Anna’s memory and keeping her away from Elsa is a bizarre choice when in the next few minutes she’s crashing her bike into statues or whatever. I would think someone as independent as Anna who wants to go outside would sneak out sometimes (I think part of the whole closed doors also meant she couldn’t really go anywhere herself). I could go on. But to call F2′s plot logical and consistent is baffling, I’m sorry. It does not make sense. I love the inclusion of the Sami, that’s great, but they at times feel tossed in. Why did the Spirits punish the Northuldra for Runeard’s disgraceful act? Why did it trap them? Why did they trap...themselves? The earth giants are shown to be big, kind creatures before and after they were sealed away, but the scene at the camp depicts the Northuldra as afraid of them - why? I get that many mythological creatures have their own fits and disasters across different cultures that are strange to mortals, but all the spirits, once calm, are shown to be rather intelligent and kind. Why do they endanger all of Arendelle’s citizens in their wrath? Did Helena and her single life offend them? Why a fifth spirit? Who was it before Elsa? You say this story continues her freedom, but if she is “destined” to step in this role and now tied to Ahtohallan, that’s not exactly freedom. That’s not much of striking out on her own. That’s “you have to live here now for very contrived plot reasons”. She’s made into a...goddess? Immortal? Mortal but slightly higher level? What IS she? Why doesn’t Anna get to have a big moment with her mother like Elsa did? And hey...how come Elsa gets this wonderful memory journey and ANNA’S MEMORIES ARE STILL ERASED oh that irks me! The story of F2 sets up a lot of potential, and I enjoy that. I love myths, love creatures. But it doesn’t answer the multitude of questions it brings up and then separates the two because magic - which, they are absolutely separated. I am also, honestly, EXTREMELY tired of the “co-dependent” argument. It comes up in every F2 ending discussion. On the opposite side of that coin is the “Kristoff sucks cause he’s all about Anna and whines in the woods” from those that hate on the movie. I think both are flimsy cases. Anna’s magic sister she has been connecting with for 3 years is running off into a dangerous forest after their kingdom is disrupted by waking these ancient spirits, they suddenly end up in this situation they have to fix to lift the enchantment and get whammied by new information about their family - well, yea. Of course Anna is sort of freaked out and worried. She’s watched Elsa shut her out of her life, felt crushing loneliness during the death of their parents, then found out about Elsa being magic, THEN freezes to death after her new fiance leaves her to die - I wonder why she’s a little freaked out the whole movie? Then you take Kristoff, who also has to watch all this shit, and no one is really looking out for him when you think about it, because Anna is naturally very worried about Elsa. So, he goes into the woods to have a breakdown with his bestie and you know what, I totally get it. These characters have a lot of baggage and it’s going to show in their situation. I was keeping ships out of it, but if we want to go there, my Anna I mentioned is very Kristanna and very “keep Elsanna tf away from me”. They are the one who asks that we turn the movie off before the ending, because they find Elsa staying in the forest upsetting. Best friends who place more distance between them can be really crushing. As for kids, I don’t have any of my own - but on the flipside of yours, I remember a couple of BEH members saying how their kids really disliked F2 and I’m sure that part of it plays off of how the parents react. This is why I bring up the reactions of the kids I’ve seen at work and other observations. And it’s not that I think these little kids are examining F2 for the plotholes lol or anything like that. They seem to like F2. But they want Anna and Elsa. That is the joy of Frozen to them. I do still love F2. It has stellar animation and songs, I love the sweet parts, the funny parts, I love the action and I do love the magic. I will defend it, but it really does have a lot of problems. Elsa riding off alone away from those she loves so much will always make my heart sink at the end of the movie.

I get frustrated whenever I see all those BringElsahome people hating in Frozen 2. I don’t think that Frozen 2 destroyed the franchise or ruined the messenge of the original Frozen.

I would recommend blocking them and their tags. They are incredibly vile towards Jen Lee and bully other fans, love to come up with conspiracy theories about the making of F2 or Jen Lee's personal life, and some users within that group have been proven to be racists. They have taken criticism of F2 beyond the realm of opinion and have made it a toxic lifestyle. They're not worth your time.

As for the opinion of F2 ruining the message of Frozen, I don't agree at all. I've heavily followed the creation of Frozen and Frozen 2, up to release. I don't see anything in F2 that warrants that criticism. It is still very much a story about sisters and their connection to each other. Elsa trying to find her purpose and Anna learning to accept change does not negate this.

As for destroying the franchise...there was literally a global pandemic. F2 sales were affected by that, and fans have been leaving because of a lack of content. The same thing happened to Frozen around 2016-2018, with fans leaving because of a dry period before F2 was in full advertisement swing. Not to mention the backlash Olaf's Frozen Adventure got. Did that film ruin the franchise too? Please. Frozen will be just fine.

[haikyuuhoo]

Burn

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: ANGST. Cheating, hurt/no comfort, swearing, crude mentions of sex.

A/N: FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT I LOVE ATSUMU WITH MY WHOLE HEART AND I AM SO SORRY. He’s so easy to write angst for and part of me hates it but I only write angst for the characters I love the most bc I know I’ll feel okay in the end. Anyway please enjoy my first writing in months :)

You hated Twitter.

You absolutely fucking hated Twitter.

On a day which was supposed to be happy and filled with hugs and cuddles and kisses, a simple @ on Twitter had ruined the high you’d felt only hours ago and left a burning behind your eyes instead.

Normally you’d look at the pictures for far too long, admiring the way he looked in his blazer and turtleneck, dressed up like he’d just come from a fancy dinner. But instead of adoration all you felt was anger, and you wanted someone to blame.

You supposed you couldn’t hold it against the person who’d tagged you in the photos, nor could you hold it against the person who’d taken them in the first place.

No, in the midst of your tears you could only find it in yourself to blame Atsumu—your Atsumu—who had his arm wrapped around some girl’s waist, who had his lips pressed against her cheek far too close to her lips, who was leading her into the hotel the team was staying at for their away games.

The sight made a pit form in your stomach and you clutched it with one hand, the other coming up to cover your mouth when a particularly loud sob clambered from your lips as tears left hot trails on your skin.

Too soon, you heard the telltale sound of Atsumu’s keys jingling outside your front door and you quickly snapped your laptop shut. Your gaze was locked on the door when you stood up, but you were frozen in place as it swung open and Atsumu stepped inside, dropping his bag in the entryway.

His eyes met yours and a smile formed on his face, but it quickly faltered when he took in your tearstained cheeks.

You had half a mind to lie. To pretend you’d never seen the pictures, to go back to your happy life and what was supposed to be a happy future, to pretend you didn’t know that he had cheated on you.

But that thought hardly had enough time to linger in your head before you knew that it would do you no good.

He knew that you knew, you could tell by the look in his eyes.

The sun shining through the large windows of your home suddenly made you feel too hot, like it would suffocate you. Your mouth tasted like ash.

“Baby,” he began gently, approaching you as if he were coming face-to-face with a caged animal.

“Don’t,” you snapped, but your voice betrayed you and the word came out far less harsh and much more broken than you intended. “Don’t take another step.”

He gulped, honeyed eyes wide and swimming with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t discern—not with the way your gaze was so clouded by your own. “Baby—” he tried again, but you took a step back.

“What the fuck, Atsumu?” You could barely choke out a whisper with the way your throat was closing up, and you didn’t miss the way he cringed at the sound of his full name coming from your mouth. “You’re gone for two weeks and suddenly I’m not good enough anymore?”

“No! No, I—”

“Stop,” you whimpered, hands coming up to cover your face—to hide your tears, to muffle the brokenness of your voice, anything. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you to tell me I was too boring or she was too pretty not to or you just couldn’t go a couple weeks without getting your goddamn dick wet. I’m not letting you sweet-talk your way out of this.”

It was silent for a few moments, and then you heard the click of the front door finally closing. You didn’t have to peak through your fingers to know Atsumu was still there because he spoke shortly after. “PR is working to get the pictures taken down.”

Your hands fell and your eyes snapped to him, gaze full of what he could only describe as a fiery rage that pinned him to the wall. “That’s what you think the issue is?” you seethed.

“No!” he said again, hands coming up to run through his hair as he finally looked away from you. You could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed whatever words were trying to bubble out of him. “I-I just—it’s the first step.”

“To what?” you scoffed.

“To trying to make it so I didn’t completely ruin our lives.”

You had to fight back another wave of tears, lifting your chin in an attempt to do so, so that you wouldn’t break in front of him. “It’s too late for that.”

Atsumu reluctantly looked back at you. He could tell you were trying to be strong, but he knew you all too well, knew from the wobble in the corners of your lips and the way your fingers gripped the hem of your shirt that you were absolutely broken inside. And he’d done that. And you were right—it was because he couldn’t go two weeks without getting his fucking dick wet and all he wanted to do was go back in time and never do it in the first place.

But he couldn’t.

And he’d done it.

And it didn’t matter that he was drunk. It didn’t matter that he imagined it was you the entire time. It didn’t matter that he’d kicked her out before either of them finished. It didn’t matter that he was overcome with guilt the moment his eyes fixated on the gold band on his finger pressing into the bare skin of her waist. None of that mattered, because he did it, and you knew that he did it, and he knew that nothing would fix it now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and that only made it worse, because you knew he was, but he’d done it anyway.

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.” There was no use in attempting to explain himself, Atsumu knew that, so he didn’t waste his time trying.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Are you going to make a statement?”

“PR’s working on it.”

You nodded, and your eyes didn’t meet his when you opened them. No, instead, they fell on the ring on your left hand, the large diamond glinting so brightly in the light you felt like it might blind you. Shaky fingers removed it and you leaned down to place it on the coffee table. “Tell them to add that to your statement.” You stood up straight and put your shoulders back. “Hopefully it won’t ruin your life.”

Atsumu wanted to reach for you, wanted to call after you as he watched you retreat from the room, but he felt like he was nailed to his spot. Tears clouded his vision, and the way the light caught on the ring made it seem like the whole room went white. It wasn’t just the ring that sat on the coffee table in a living room that suddenly felt far too big, it was everything—his future with you, the promises he’d made, the memories you’d yet to create. It was all there, encompassed in a tiny metal circle and capped off by a rock, and it felt like he’d just ground it to dust with the heel of his boot.

It was only after you’d locked yourself in the bathroom that you let yourself cry again. You slid down the wall and clutched your knees to your chest, burying your face in the fabric of your sweatpants in an attempt to muffle your sobs. You knew you would have to leave eventually, but for now you would just let yourself cry.

Part of you wanted to blame yourself. You should have known this would happen—Atsumu’d had girls throwing themselves at his feet since high school for Christ’s sake. You had to see the way beautiful girls crowded him after every game and every press conference, had to endure girls coming up to him every time the two of you would go out for date night.

Maybe it was always bound to happen.

You should have heeded the warnings of your friends, should have listened when they recounted the stories they’d heard of him in college. But instead, you convinced yourself that he was ready to settle down, that he loved you.

Maybe you’d been blinded by the sweet ways he would talk to you, the promises he would make, the lingering touches and fond gazes.

Maybe you’d been consumed by his warmth, lulled into a false sense of security that you didn’t feel until you were burning.

Maybe you’d loved him like Icarus loved the sun—too close, too much.

And he would be fine, just as the sun had been while Icarus fell and long after he’d crashed. He was Atsumu Miya, pro volleyball player, and he would be fine.

But as you sat on the bathroom floor, back pressed to the cold wall that did nothing to soothe your hot skin and hand clutching your stomach which ached from the way you were sobbing, you wondered if you would ever be fine again. And when you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing echo through your empty house—a house you’d hoped to fill one day with the sound of little feet running across the floors and laughter bouncing off the walls—you wondered if it would have been better if you really were Icarus after all.

[landothemuppet]

Smth with Tom and actress!reader where they're working on a movie together and everybody ships them and they secretly like each other, but he already has an overcontrolling girlfriend, so in an interview he tries to deny the rumors, but actually overdoes it and ends up offending reader? Your choice on how to end it, if angst to angstest or angst to fluff~

you’re a great actor, you know? || t.h x actress!reader (+18! smut!)

word count: 4.5k

pairing; tom holland x actress!reader

n/a:  omg i am so sorry it took me so long to write. I really didn't think this request was going to be more than 4K words long. I really hope you like it. I know you didn't ask for smut, but I was actually inspired for this one, so I hope you don't have a problem with this. I didn't proofread myself before posting so I apologize in advance if this contains any errors. I remind you that French is not my native langage.

warning(s) : smut (mutual distant masturbation) swear, angst, mention of alcohol.

taglist; @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @reawritesthings (thank you so much for you help and support!) @cedricdiggorysimpp @hogwartsmarvelmommy (thank you so much too for you help and support!) @allthisfortommy @delightfulmuffinclamauthor @kimberlyemerys @mcushvft @ecarlette99 if you want to be notified on all of my future writings, you can add yourself in my taglist here

Your eyes burned with desire as they scanned your co-star's torso, his suspenders still hanging from his shoulders to prevent his civil war period pants from falling. Who's making the carpentry with the shirt off? Tom's manly hands worked the wood, his biceps contracting with every movement he made, his callused fingers smoothed the surface of the furniture under construction. You swallow hard before biting your lip. His brown curls were falling over his eyes and you suddenly dreamed of running your hands through them or that his curls tickle your inner thighs while his tongue took care of your warm and wet spot, just for him. You remembered that your colleague told you that he had trained as a carpenter, all like part of the male members of his family, as a back-up solution if he didn’t become an actor. He had told you that he was happy that it could be of use to him now, but you didn't think it would be so hot to see him work. Your whole body was a furnace, heat radiating every inch of your skin. You raised your cup of coffee to your lips, trying to suppress a grimace at the coldness of the liquid.

"Cut!" you heard. "Y/N, you winced as you drank from your cup ..."

"Yeah, sorry, sorry. Would it be possible to heat the coffee or give me water instead?" you asked nicely.

One of the director's assistants reached out to grab your cup. Your eyes were lost in the direction of your co-star who was getting up from the top of the cabinet. Tom gave you a warm smile and your heart skipped a beat. It wasn't hard to play out the desire for his character when literally your whole body was reacting to his sight. Sometimes you could feel a connection with the British. The only major problem: Tom had a girlfriend. You weren't that kind of girl to get involved in an already established relationship. You liked your partner, found him attractive, you felt close to him but never revealed those feelings to him, because he was taken. It was not your place; the seat was taken. However, a little hope burned deep within you, the dream that he felt the same, an illusory utopia in which he would leave his current girlfriend for you. Tom's girlfriend was on set, visiting, and you could feel his frozen gaze on you. Your eyes locked with hers and you could see an authoritative, territorial glow. Tom was hers, not yours. Your eyes narrowed in an annoyed expression, your irises almost silently defying the woman standing in front of you. You would never attempt anything of course, but you didn't like to be stared at, you also hated possessiveness. Nothing about your behavior with Tom off the set could suggest any ambiguity. So, it turned out that Tom's girlfriend just didn't like you playing her boyfriend's love interest, on screen. But, hey, that was part of the job, right? This girl was dating Tom, she knew that her career required screen shares with actresses in a romantic plot, isn't it? The assistant director brought you your cup, warning you that this time it was only water. You nodded and your gaze fell on Tom again. His hairdresser was reworking his curls a bit to make them appear a little damper. A little pinch in your stomach reminded you that you wanted so badly to be in this woman's shoes.

"Is everything good on set?"

The director asked to everyone to get back in their place, you settled down correctly on your brand, leaning on the fictitious stoop and the boss then shouted "Action". The scene picked up a few moments from where it had left off earlier.

Your eyes scanned Tom, working with wood, and you drank your "coffee" - which was now water - dreamily. Your co-star glanced at you with a smirk that fell to the ground. He stopped in his movements, placing the hammer on his wood desk to turn fully towards you and approach.

"I will end up believin’ that you’re only callin’ me to look at me ma'am" he said in a somewhat gruff, country accent.

“You might be right, but if I am asked, I will deny everything altogether” You replied nicely. A smile almost as brazen as the Brit in front of you.

Tom grabbed your hip, slamming you against him. You half opened your lips by planting your feverish gaze in his eyes to reveal the desire that consumed between you.

"Ma’am, it’s not respectable from you, you’re an engaged woman"

Out of context, this scene looked like bad porn. The first time you read it you remembered laughing out loud, even more so the first time you repeated it with Tom, who had thought the same thing. It took both of you a lot of hours of preparation not to laugh today, during the shoot. But the film was beautiful, the context was even more beautiful, you were wearing that civil war pioneer costume.

"But I'm not married yet ... and my husband isn't giving me the attention I deserve"

Tom's leg was between your thighs and despite the petticoat and vintage underwear, the pressure was enough to make you really horny, without having to act for the camera. You let out a small moan as your co-star moved closer to you, delivering his cue before you jumped to his lips in a languid kiss. It was in the script but deep down you weren't sure if you were acting or not. Tom lifted you up while leaning against the wooden column on the porch, keeping your legs around him despite your petticoat. Your hands clung to his shoulders while taking care to drop his straps. With a hasty hand he pulled his pants down just below his butt. His lips were on your throat and your hands were running through his curls before you pushed him away.

"Not here. Someone could see us." you said, your voice a little rocky with horniness.

God you wanted this to be real. Your co-star grabbed you by the legs again in a rush, you let out a little cry of surprise before laughing, wrapped like a Koala around Tom who came through the doorway while kissing you again.

"And cut"

Suffice to say that it was not a good day to visit her boyfriend on a film set. Tom's girlfriend looked like a real dragon when you laid your eyes on her, still in Tom's arms, because he loved walking with you and laughing after the scene. His laughter filled the room as he let out another of his stupid jokes:

"Does my character get clamydia? Because by wearing this koala, I have doubts about my sexual health"

You burst out laughing before hopping on your own two feet, firmly on the ground, not without a little slip. The petticoat is really not suitable for the stunts. You dusted off your costume and your head turned to Tom's girlfriend again. You could almost believe smoke was coming out of her nostrils and if her eyes were daggers you would be dead by now. The film crew however found their joke very funny since a few seconds later, the entire set and its employees were laughing at Tom's nonsense, just like you had done a few seconds earlier. You slapped your fist on Tom's shoulder with an amused smile before tilting your head towards his molten girlfriend.

"You should join your girlfriend, Holland, instead of clowning."

Tom rolled his eyes before kissing your cheek and heading towards the thundering dragon, not forgetting to wink at you. Was he actually flirting with you in the presence of his girlfriend? You shook your head as you chased the idea, happy that the first part of that day of filming was over.

Everyone was going to sleep, well that's what he thought.

Comfortably seated on the sofa, t-shirt and boxers as the only casual outfit, sunk under a thin blanket, Tom was reading the script for tomorrow's scene. A scene he already knew and which had already warmed his cheeks at the first reading. But tomorrow he had to be ready. His eyes went through lines of text, little dialogue, a lot of action. And the more he read, the tighter his boxers got, he tried to stretch the fabric to make himself more comfortable but nothing helped. Tom had a fucking erection right in the middle of the living room reading his script. He heaved a sigh of desolation. He should have gone up to his room and made love to his girlfriend, reduced that tension between his legs ... but he didn't want to ... worse yet, he knew if he did, it wouldn't be her that he would think of. It had been a long day and the scene earlier had made him a little exhilarated. After all, the "bad porn" scene he and you were having fun portraying had the desired effect. And then his girlfriend flustered him. She wasn't wrong, the tension between you and him was there and he was attracted to you.

Tom put the script on the coffee table, glancing around him before repositioning himself on the sofa. His right hand to cross under the blanket and he came to feel his penis through his boxers, releasing a small sigh of comfort. His fingers began to weigh down his testicles as his thumb stroked up and down his cock through the fabric of his underwear. He tilted his head back on the armrest of the sofa, enjoying his own medicine, his lips and eyebrows pursed.

You stayed for the night. Despite the storm that was Tom's girlfriend, you had spent the evening in his rental house with several members of the team. Tom's girlfriend went to bed angry and soon enough and you stayed so late that Tom offered to take one of the extra bedrooms. You called it a night before your co-star, but now you were awake, uncomfortable with the room temperature. You needed some freshness and you got up slowly to go down to the kitchen. You only had reached the bottom of the stairs when you heard a noise, or rather, a sigh. Discreetly, you tilted your head and saw a figure lying on the sofa. A rustle of fabric caught your attention again, a soft moan accompanying it, making your body heat up more than it already was, but in a new sensation. Another moan was heard.

Tom was quite oblivious. His hand continued to stroke his hard cock through his boxers but he needed more. That's why he grabbed his dick straight into his underwear, making him sigh with glee once again. Images of this day of filming came back in his mind; how this period corset curved your boobs, so inviting ... How your breath was so erratic, the way he pressed his knee between your legs, wishing you weren't wearing this civil war costume. Tom leaned his head back on the armrest, letting his hand guide him into his own desire.

"So pretty for me, y/n"

You were still in shock at what you heard now, but an unseen force made you sit in front of the stairs as quietly as possible with your legs spread. It was incredibly sexy and the warmth you had felt before was nothing compared to that moment. Your hand slipped under the elastic of your improvised pajamas. It was bad, so bad. Someone could come down at any time and find you there, lying on the stairs, touching you as Tom did the same thing, without seeing you, a few feet away. Your fingers caressed your lace panties, putting pressure on your folds already swollen with desire. Tom's moans and his praise for your fictitious self, brought you into one of the hottest fantasies and you could imagine the British between your legs, your fingers replaced by his. You have inserted a finger in you, not without pressing your free hand against your mouth, pinching your nose to avoid moaning too loudly. But Tom was still unconscious, in his own high, as his hand picked up the pace on his hard red cock, about to unleash his intense pleasure just imagining you beneath him, moaning his name.

"Fuck, Y/N"

Your hips sank under your fingers at the hearing of your name coming out of her mouth again, you had just started your torture that you were already ready to losing ground. Your pace was rushed, strong and passionate but damn, you wanted this man, this man who had a girlfriend and yet moaned your name on the living room couch. You felt your toes twitch, your head thrown back against the staircase wall, your hand still pressed against your mouth to silence you. But the moan of your orgasm has escaped you.

For a moment, in his own orgasm, Tom thought he heard your muffled voice with lust, his cock contracting even more in his hand as his cum covered his hand. He threw his head back on the armrest again, closing his eyes to take a few seconds to recover from his orgasm. The guilt only invaded him a few minutes after the realization: He had just masturbated while thinking of you while his girlfriend was sleeping in a room above him; he was screwed.

You wiped your hand on your pajamas before holding on to the railing to gently get up. Without a word, you went up the stairs ... Never mind for that glass of water you wanted to take ...

The next day, Tom had asked his girlfriend not to appear on the set, out of respect for her ... Well, that was his biggest excuse ... he didn't want her to see how this sex scene disturbed him and how much he loved this idea of ​​him fucking you passionately in period costumes. You never talked about what happened, Tom never knew you were on the stairs the other night, he never knew your little secret ... The scene, well that choreographed, was so intense but so insincere at the same time. Sometimes you could hear when Tom wasn't playing but you also knew when one of his moans was real, even though you weren't actually having sex. Because it was nice to laugh about it but your film was not made in the framework of the porn industry.

Months had passed, the press tour had started last week. You weren't surprised to see Tom's girlfriend join in behind the scenes in a few interviews. She liked so much to analyze all the behaviors of her boyfriend to blame him later, initiating the argument. You could see that Tom wasn't happy but you were just the good friend. His makeup artist would go out of her way to try and hide the dark circles under his eyes and as your hairdresser added the finishing touches to your hairstyle, you smirked at Tom out of the corner of your lips.

"Tough night?"

"If only that was what you were thinking ..."

You wanted to yell at her "why don't you leave her?" but you held back. Your hand simply landed on your co-star's thigh in a reassuring gesture. But it did not escape the journalist's eyes. The man had worked with Tom before, so your co-star wasn't going into new territory. But without knowing why, you felt it really tense ... And you quickly discovered the reason for this tension.

"Y/N you're pretty new to the movie industry and for a big lead role you found yourself shooting some very intimate, nude scenes with your co-star. Tell us, how was that, being so intimate with Tom Holland? "

You let out an embarrassed chuckle, the question was meant to make you uncomfortable, and the fact that the reporter was talking to you like Tom wasn't in the room made you nervous. You sat back in your chair with a tight smile.

"I'm not sure. Whatever my answer would be, I could piss off his fans greatly."

"Oh, come on ... not even a small impression?"

"Let's just say he's not the most obnoxious person to play this kind of scene with or even watch in general."

The journalist's smirk reflected an "I feel you, girl" and a "I'm not done with this bullshit." He tilted his head, his eyes turning to Tom.

“That's a compliment to you Tom. And you, it was your first intimate scene in the movies for you too. And from the footage… it's scorching, you even seemed pretty comfortable with it. How did your girlfriend take it when she saw the first pictures? "

Tom tensed too, he bit the inside of his lips before looking at you and then at the reporter. He leaned down from his seat to take a sip of water and cracked his neck before letting out a laugh that sounded so wrong in your ear. It didn't amuse him, you knew that.

"Come on, man ... What can I say? Like a girlfriend watching her partner be intimate with another. But she knows it's cinema, it's our job."

There was a game between your co-star and the reporter, like a man-to-man, brother-to-brother bond. The advantage of having already worked together but above all, that Tom is so natural in his words. Yet this is what pushed the man further in his questions.

"Your on-screen chemistry is still intense. Those kinds of scenes should bring you closer, though."

"Of course, we get along well off the set y/n and I but yeah, you know ... it's still weird ... It's a bit like sleeping with the nice and shy neighbor that your mom has been trying to settle you with since you were a teenager ... It's nice but it's still weird and platonic. "

Your throat tightened at his words. The performance he had just made hit you in the stomach and you were hurt and angry at the same time. In your head you were screaming and your rage was telling you to retort that it was weird for him to say that when he had jerked off the night before your sex scene, whispering your name. But you knew it was better to say nothing at all, for your career and hers. You put on your best smile, hiding your hurt feelings, you just faked a laugh and looked at the reporter.

"Yeah, I was going to say he was like a brother, but the neighbor's shot is more original."

The interview ended with a few questions about the film to which you answered with the usual speeches already pre-written by the production team. At the end of the interview, you have to thank the reporter, your tongue pushing against your teeth, your smile twitching. Tom turned to you and sighed dramatically.

"Pfff, the hard part is over. Last interview of the day. Would you like to grab a bee..."

"Fuck off, Holland." you cut him off, releasing the tension you felt during the interview before leaving the room, your assistant on your back.

Your uber was already there and you almost jumped in to get back to your hotel. As soon as you got back, you undressed to put on a bathrobe and did what any girl would do in a cliché romantic movie: call room service to have champagne delivered to you. You told your assistant that you wanted to be alone and for once she listened to you, not without wondering if you were okay. She was a lovely woman, about your age, maybe a little younger, very concerned about your sanity and your interests. You assured her that you just wanted to have an evening of your own. And she left you alone.

The champagne drunkenness was the worst: it was delicious, you didn't feel the alcohol rising and you were quickly intoxicated. You were lying on your bed, your mouth full of chocolate - more cliché than you, you're dying! - the bottle of champagne completely empty. You leaned over the phone and called room service to ask for another bottle when there was a knock on the door. In your drunken state your eyes widened, surprise /

"Wow, that was quick" you said to the receptionist before hanging up.

You stumbled to the door. You were pathetic. Make you sick for a man, who wasn't even single. Speaking of the wolf - well rather the spider, in his case -. Tom stood there; his forehead creased by your appearance. You laughed at your previous thought - that of the spider -. Then you frowned, you didn't want to see him but he was still there.

"Can I come in or is the party private?" he asked in a half-amused, half-frustrated tone.

In a burst of contention, you opened the door and turned your back on him to your bed, which you sat on the end of, not caring whether Tom would come in or not. But he came in and he looked worried.

"Y/N, have you been drinking?"

"No, shit?! Good's on that, Sherlock" you said sarcastically.

Tom closed the door behind him before approaching you but you reached out to stop him. You shook your head negatively. No kindness, no kind Tom's best friend. You were fed up with this game.

"You are a great actor, you know?"

He wanted to speak, confused by your words but you stopped him in his tracks. It was your turn to speak, it was your moment. He had disturbed you in your drunken moment so he was going to listen. Why was he even there, after all?

"That sometimes you wonder what the line is between fact and fiction."

Your co-star wasn't sure where to look, he didn't understand why you were in this state and he really did care. Besides, you had been so cold after his interview, he had to understand. Did all of this have a connection?

You laughed alone, absorbed in your thoughts. You grabbed the champagne glass that barely had a left champagne in it - which is why you ordered another bottle in the first place - and then you kind of toast, pointing at Tom with your glass.

“You're an enigmatic character all on your own, Tom Holland" you said, by marking the intonation on his name. "You give sweet and funny, perfect boyfriend vibes, while giving off a fuck boy vibe that takes you against a wall bluntly. That's what makes you a good actor ... " you paused." "Just like now! A few months ago, you jerked off while blowing my name in your living room during the shooting ... and now ... you say about me that I am the nice little neighbor who 'we fuck for pity. "

You put your hands dramatically against your lips, hissing a little "oops" as Tom's eyes widened in surprise. How could she even know this intimate moment?

"Wh-what? How do you know that?" he asked with a shaking voice

You chuckled, drunk, the deceptively guilty expression. You could be such a bitch when you were drunk.

"It was supposed to be a secret."

You have swept your words with your hand, the champagne flute still between your fingers.

"You are playing with me, Holland. And I don't like it. What you said was hurtful!"

"I am not. Y/N, I am not play-"

"And you know what's funny, Tom? You know?" you cut him off, for the umpteenth time tonight.

"Uh no."

"No, of course not. Well, here's the funny thing: it's not respectable from you, mister. You have a girlfriend." You imitated his line from your movie with your own words and an attempt at a masked British accent in a South American accent wanting to sound like Tom and his character.

Tom really didn't know where to go. It was too much for him. He who had just come to get answers to your behavior now had some, but it was way beyond what he expected. You were drunk declaring your love to him while reproaching him for still being in a relationship, without taking his own feelings into account.

"And you know what's sad ... is that, damn ... I really thought you liked me."

"You're drunk, Y/N. We're not having this discussion."

You suddenly started to cry and Tom felt really helpless in the face of the scene in front of you. No lie, you looked pathetic.

Your co-star ended up approaching you and, in your vulnerability, you let him. Slowly, he took the glass of champagne and placed it on the entryway cabinet, then hugged you. You buried your nose against him, too drunk to care about your behavior. You were still mad at him, but the softness of his arms was so good, everything was heartwarming. Tom kissed you on the top of your head as he rocked you.

"I like you. I didn't know how to tell you." He spoke.

"What a romantic way to declare yourself." You joked, slightly laugh in his shirt.

“You said it,” he joked too, still hugging you.

"But you have a girlfriend."

"I was about to leave her. I didn't expect to receive a drunken outburst of love in the meantime, that's all."

You laughed again, lighter. The point of your feelings flew away, relieved to have confided your love, even in an advanced state of intoxication. Even more relieved to know that Tom shared your feelings. You frowned, however, as the words came back to you, your eyes plunged into hers in a confused pout.

"But ... earlier?."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to offend you… I just didn't know how to shut up this guy…"

You pursed your lips, your brows furrowed, still nodding your head to say that you understood - well, more or less -. Tom smiled you really looked adorable when you were drunk ... well, when you didn't look like an evil bitch ... he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then when he got to the level of your lips, he hesitated, before kissing the corner of them.

"I really like you ... really, really like you. But I'm not an asshole cheating on his girlfriend. Let's leave some time to digest tonight. Let me break up with my girlfriend before I can properly kiss you."

You simply hummed an answer, his scent had invaded your nostrils from the moment he hugged you, his words were soft as cotton, just like the tone of his voice and without wanting to offend him, you had started to fall asleep. The Briton let out a laugh before kissing you on the forehead and pulling you over to the bed to tuck you in. Tom brushed off a strand of your hair admiring your beauty. Even with the mascara that had run off, even with the messy hair and the boozy breath, you looked beautiful. Fearsome, but beautiful.

"Good night, Y/N".

He kissed your forehead again before leaving the room with a smile, knowing that his feelings for you were mutual.

That night, Tom left his girlfriend.

[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. 

[realcube]

you flinch during an argument

navi | masterlist | taglist 

thank you to anon for this request 

characters ♡ suna, atsumu & sakusa

content warning ♡ cursing, angst, mentions of abuse, hurt to comfort, hinted ptss, parent!reader (in sakusa’s)

rintarō suna

♡ he paced back and forth through the living room, casting you dirty looks whenever you try to speak 

♡ you rolled your eyes at how far he took your singular comment on his volleyball career

♡ you were aware that what you said might’ve offended him and in any other situation you would’ve just apologised but considering how needlessly confrontational he was being, of course you were going to be mean too

♡ ‘rin, you’re being overdramatic.’ you muttered off-handedly, assuming he’d brush it off like everything else you said, so ofc you did not expect what he did next

♡ he suddenly stormed over to you 

♡ not only did he take you by surprise but also his furrowed brows and generally mad aura unnerved you too, so your natural instinct was to flinch 

♡ once he saw that, he immediately stopped in his tracks 

♡ his head slowly tilted to the side and his clenched jaw loosened, ‘(y/n)?’

♡ your hands were still covering your face but when you heard the suna’s soft voice, you realised what you had just done and craned your neck out to peer over your hands, ‘yes?’

♡ obviously, his intention wasn’t to hurt you but rather just stand in front of you. though it worried him that your natural instinct was to prepare yourself for harm from him. despite the fact he would/has never hit you. 

♡ ‘are you okay?’ he sighed, slowly approaching you as if you were a small critter that’d run away in fright at any moment

♡ you hesitantly lowered your arms, eyes wide as you intensely examined his every move, ‘i’m fine. are you okay?’

♡ suna gestured to the seat beside you on the couch, ‘i’m good. can i sit?’

♡ you simply nodded

♡ he reluctantly sat down next to you and gently placed his hand on your knee, tracing circles with his thumb, ‘i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.’ he said, his now hushed voice contrasting to how sharp and loud his words were just a minute ago

♡ you blinked rapidly, shocked at how quickly his demeanour changed but also relieved he realised that what he did brought you discomfort, ‘it’s fine, i guess. it just looked like you were going to- y’know. and i’m sorry too, what i said was uncalled for’ you murmured, the words just falling from your lips without any prior thought as your mind was somewhere else

♡ ‘i’d never do that.’ he blurted out, ‘but i get why you might’ve thought.’

♡ a few minutes passed and not a word was spoken - you just blankly stared at the wall opposite, completely lost in thought while suna closed his eyes, slumped back in his seat and revaluated everything he did 

♡ eventually, you snapped out of your contemplation and turned to look at him, only to see his sleeping figure beside you 

♡ it was probably the most peaceful you’ve saw him all day - so you decided against waking him up and instead cuddled up to him, accidentally falling asleep yourself 

atsumu miya

♡ you had your arms crossed over your chest, patiently waiting for atsumu to finish his hissy fit

♡ ‘it was a fucking joke, (y/n)! not that i’d expect you to understand my humour anyway. do you not get what you did? you fucking embarrassed me.’

♡ ‘it wasn’t a very funny joke, atsumu.’ you shook your head disapprovingly, trying your very best to keep a level-head but his nasty remarks didn’t make it an easy task for you, ‘you made me really uncomfortable so of course i was going to say something. also, i didn’t embarrass you, you embarrassed yourself.’

♡ the fact you weren’t as worked-up about this as he was only irritated him more. because deep-down, he knew he was being overdramatic and the contrast between both of your demeanours only highlighted this fact.

♡ he gritted his teeth together, momentarily side-eyeing you before absentmindedly cracking his knuckles

♡ he cracked his bones when he got tense - you knew this - but there was a faint voice at the back of your head, insisting that you had to run away bc he was preparing to hit you 

♡ and it didn’t help when he jerked his head around to look at you 

♡ though it was only the movement of his neck, this caused you to flinch as a part of you expected his hasty motion to be followed by a swing of his hand 

♡ you never really thought too much of your action and assumed atsumu would pay no mind to it and continue to talk but you couldn’t have been more wrong

♡ he slapped his hand over his mouth and let out gasp as though his whole soul was exiting his body through his mouth

♡ your eyes were squeezed shut but you blinked them open to see when you mentally established that atsumu wasn’t going to swing at you and had actually stopped yelling

♡ ‘(y/n)- i’d- i’d never do that!’ the volume of his voice gradually rose as he spoke, starting as breathy emphasis and increasing to a cry

♡ upon noticed his appalled expression and his frozen structure, you dropped your arms which you had automatically raised in defence, ‘you’d never do what?’  you voice was hushed, afraid that if you spoke too loud, you’d reignite his temper

♡ he rushed over to your side, immediately opening up his strong arms for you to enter, if you wished, ‘i’d never hit you.’

♡ both his eyes and tone seemed sincere so without even thinking, you found yourself leaning into his embrace, his arms holding you close - but gently

♡ you really had no reason not to believe him as he’s never harmed you purposely in the past and he didn’t plan on harming you just there; he didn’t even plan on intimidating you but that kinda just happened involuntarily

♡ he had so much on his mind, so much he needed so say at once, so much he wanted you to know. hence, it all came out as rambles. 

♡ ‘i love you, (y/n). i love you so much. i don’t want anyone to hurt you - including myself. i just want you to feel safe - i want you to be safe - so i’ll leave if you don’t feel that way with me around. i can understand why you wouldn’t. but heh, i guess it’s quite funny because i feel the safest when i’m with you. well, it’s not funny - i’m actually gonna miss you like hell - but it’s ironic. i wouldn’t even dream of harming you, love, but i don’t expect you to live in fear constantly so yeah, i’ll go if you want me to.’

♡ you blinked rapidly against his chest, pulling back to look him in the eyes and to your surprise, he appeared to be in more tears than you

♡ ‘i love you too, atsumu.’ you cooed, wiping away one of his tears with your shivering hand, ‘we don’t have to break-up. i mean, truthfully, i feel safe when you’re around too.’

♡ he let out an audible sigh of relief, ‘thank goodness.’

♡ a few moments passed of you just silently enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms until he spoke up once again while placing an infintite amount of kisses on your forehead, punctuating each kiss with an ‘i love you.’

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he was sitting beside you on the bed but he had long before withdrew his arm which rested behind your head when you expressed your concern surrounding his hostile behaviour lately 

♡ ‘omi, i’m too ti--’

♡ ‘don’t call me that.’

♡ you sighed as you realised that this had spiralled into a heated fight which you really didn’t intend for it to become. all you wanted to do was talk to him about how rude he’s been to you and the baby as of recently and try to work out a solution but he had turned this into something way bigger than it needed to be.

♡ the remarks he was throwing around - as if they were nothing - resulted in a wrath bubbling in the pits of your stomach, which had been present and building up since the start of sakusa’s attitude problems 

♡ you knew that if this argument didn’t stop soon, you’d lash out on him and although you really didn’t have a problem with that in theory, you had spent hours trying to get the baby to fall asleep and you didn’t want to risk waking them up with the noise 

♡ and though you hated to give sakusa (mental) praise in a situation like this, you had to admit that he was good at keeping his voice down even while angry

♡ so you decided that it was best to diffuse this situation quickly and pick it up at a later date, ‘you know what, kiyoomi--’

♡ ‘don’t call me that either.’ at this point it was clear he was just saying that to piss you off, and it was working

♡ ‘--i’m going to bed; i’m tired from doing all the work in this damn house. we’ll talk about this later.’

♡ sakusa quirked a brow, scoffing at your statement despite the fact it was completely true 

♡ ‘no, let’s talk about it right now. since you clearly have a lot to say.’ 

♡ instead of replying, you gave him what he deserved - the silent treatment

♡ you casually pulled off your slippers, tossing them aside, proceeding to do other nightly activities - while completely ignoring his presence - then reached down to pull the duvet over yourself so you could drift into sweet, serene slumber to imagine a life where sakusa acted like loved you again  

♡ ‘(y/n).’ sakusa snapped, his voice sharp and demanding, ‘listen to me. talk to me- god, you’re so immature.’

♡ your eyes widened; out of the corner of your eye you saw him quickly raise his arm

♡  during your three years of marriage with sakusa, not once had he ever purposefully harmed you - physically or emotionally - but you were aware that what you were doing displeased him so your immediate reaction was to turn away and shield yourself with your forearms

♡ sakusa froze

♡ moments passed and you had yet to feel the impact of his hand so you lowered your defences to peer at him, only to see that his arm was stretched upwards as he yawned

♡ his gaze flickered between you and his arm - he was truly at a loss for words at what he just witnessed

♡ a lump formed at the back of his dry throat as he didn’t dare to speak, trying to communicate all his emotions through his eyes which grew increasingly difficult as they began to burn with tears and ache from the elongated period of time he went without blinking 

♡ he wanted to tell you that he’d never lay an finger on you in that way, that he adores you and he was aware of how he’s been treating you recently but he was previously too arrogant to change his ways. now he was ready to change though, if it’s not too late. 

♡ but all that came out was a choked syllable followed by a cough 

♡ ‘are you okay, omi?’ you tilted your head, watching as your husband coughed his lungs out beside you, his puffy, irritated eyes squeezed shut

♡ he eventually managed to catch his breath and the first thing he did was offer his shaky hand to you 

♡ though you were reluctant at first, upon meeting his gaze, it was as though his fury had melted away. his eyebrows were no longer knitted together, his judgemental sneer was now a gentle smile he wore to try reassure you and the way he looked at you resembled how he did on your wedding day. all the resentment, all the stress and all irritation was gone - which left you with the considerate, understanding man you had married. 

♡ you fingers found their way to his as you slowly intertwined them together, ‘we should, uh, g-get some rest, yeah?’ you stuttered, your lips gradually curling into a weak grin

♡ a faint hum of agreement could be heard from sakusa as he shuffled so he was now laying down, with a duvet draped over him 

♡ though he lay with the intention of going to sleep, he kept his hand locked with yours all throughout the night

[bunnykawa]

i’m better than you! (oikawa x f. reader)

summary: If there was one thing Oikawa hated more than geniuses, it was your boyfriend.

a/n: thought about oikawa with a glock and it had me feeling some type of way. so here’s 6.2k words of what’s been in my head. also if you love iwa-chan, i’m deeply sorry. (btw someone replied to my last fic saying they were gonna move to the states with iwa-chan and...yeah that was funny cs this was sitting my drafts) 

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, implied character death, mentions of blood/gore, GUNPLAY!!, violence, noncon/dubcon/rape, little bit of exhibitionism?, mentions of cheating, brief mentions of stalking, abusive language/cursing

Oikawa didn’t know when it started.

It could’ve been the first time he ever saw you in school, so quiet and shy, with a pink tinge across your face when you glanced in his direction. Or it could’ve been the first time you spoke to him, with a little tremble to your lips as you struggled to form the right words that would leave a lasting impression. Maybe it was when he started noticing you were always attending his volleyball games, cheering on your school with a big stupid grin on your face.

Or maybe it was a mixture of all these little moments that made Oikawa feel what he felt. It didn’t matter what started it. All Oikawa really knew was that he was so in love with you. 

You ended up spending so much time together and blossoming such a beautiful friendship that others didn't expect to happen. It was a dream for him—seeing you smile and laugh, not caring about how you looked. And when you would tease him, it would make him laugh rather than upset him. Yes, he loved you for that. He loves everything about you. From the way you fiddled with your fingers when you had nothing else to do to your weird outbursts when you get excited. You were nothing like the girls who threw themselves at him in hopes of getting his attention. 

Often times, after you would hang out, Oikawa would pull down his pants in the privacy of his bedroom and desperately fist his cock until thick spurts of white would shoot onto anything that he was able to steal from your room from all the times he came over to your house. A picture, a shirt, his favorite pair of panties that smelled so deliciously like you, one of your socks that he wrapped around his length as he fucked his hand—absolutely anything he got his hands on that once belonged to you—was enough to have him dizzy with lust, desire, and love.

You became everything to him. If he was ever able to hold you close with his own fingertips, he would be able to die happily. He would even suffice with just a sniff of your hair while you’re actually awake instead of when you’re dead asleep in the middle of the night and he sneaks into your room through the window you always forget to lock. You couldn’t know that, though. Not like he would have been able to make a move on you so soon to make you completely his anyway.

But he would do anything for you. You were his best friend after all.

So when for the first time ever in your close friendship, you suddenly show up to his house unannounced with tears running down your cheeks and shamelessly throwing yourself into his arms, Oikawa was frozen in place for a second. 

“He cheated on me, Tooru,” you sobbed into his chest. Oh...all he could do was hold you close, bring you inside, and kiss the top of your head lovingly as your shoulders shook.

“It’s okay, Princess. Let it all out. I’m here,” he cooed.

And, wow...you smelled so good when you were awake. So sweet and pure. Absolutely beautiful...

So why the fuck would he cheat on you? 

Oikawa was angry. He was so angry he could laugh at how incredulous the situation was to him. How could he willingly treat you like shit?

After letting him take you away so easily, so Oikawa was forced to resort to pretending that he wasn’t devastatingly in love with you. After being forced to trust him with your heart, convincing himself that he would never hurt you. After having to deal with the fact that every single moment that you shared with Oikawa, that made him fall so deeply for you, was also shared with him. After hearing you scream his name at every single volleyball game you ever attended instead of "Go Tooru!"

It was true—you really were nothing like Oikawa’s fangirls. You didn’t love Oikawa like the fangirls loved him. Never yearned for Oikawa like how his fangirls did. 

You loved Iwaizumi, the former ace of Seijoh and the target of most of Oikawa’s sets. And you broke poor Oikawa’s heart every single time he witnessed a loving moment between you and Iwaizumi. He didn’t understand. He was taller, maybe even more cuter, just so much better than Iwaizumi. So why didn’t you choose him?

That’s how you ended up here; shivering in fear on Iwaizumi’s bed as he sat on the swivel chair he usually kept in his bedroom. Iwaizumi's hands and feet were tied together and the ghost of a blue bruise was forming on his right eye. The rest of his face was slightly swollen and there was a smudge of dried blood under his nose. Whenever you glance up at him, he was staring down at his hands in guilt, shame, and maybe anger and pain. But he made no move to try to get out of his restraints. It was no use.

Can we talk? Come over soon.

You received that text from Iwaizumi's number, assuming it was him. Anxiety-ridden and curious, you came to Iwaizumi's house, wondering what he could possibly say after hurting you so bad. The door was unlocked so you let yourself in, but you didn't expect a shirtless Oikawa—your best friend ever since you met him—to be sitting on the couch looking as relaxed as ever with Iwaizumi's phone in his lap. The little dry splatters of crimson liquid that kissed his skin were easy to notice.

As he led you to Iwaizumi's bedroom, your heart was pounding. And when you saw Iwaizumi in such a disheveled state, you were frozen in fear. Oikawa forced you to sit down on the bed, and you would've started screaming for help—you could've, but a metal handle sticking out of Oikawa's pocket caught your eye.

"God, I fucking hate you. Ever since you got with (Y/N), you’ve made it so hard not to rip your skull apart.”

Oikawa was standing a few feet away from Iwaizumi. A million thoughts ran through your head and every single one of them was wondering how this happened.

When did your best friend become so violent?

And when the fuck did he own a gun?

"I know. I made a goddamn mistake," Iwaizumi grunts in pain, "It's over now. We're not together anymore so-...so you don't need to be doing this dumb shit."

Oikawa laughs loudly, "That's not the point, Iwa-chan! The point is you hurt her." He's clenching and unclenching his fists in anger.

"I said I fucking know!" Iwaizumi barks. He was breathing heavily, his chest was rising and falling deeply.

Oikawa's face forms into a deep scowl. Suddenly, he pulls the black pistol out of his pocket and strikes Iwaizumi's cheek with it, making him jerk his face to the side, before pressing it against his temple. Blood drips from the side of his mouth from the sudden impact.

"Tooru," you whimper. You were shaking so bad, trying hard to stay as calm as possible in case he would try to turn the gun on you. The sight of blood made you feel sick. This whole situation was disgusting.

"You're lucky I haven't blown your brains out for stealing my girl. But hurting her, too? I should fucking shoot you right now." Maybe Iwaizumi was scared, just like you. One pull of the trigger and he would be gone in an instant. But he also looked so furious, with his jaw clenched and his eyes ablaze.

"Then shoot me, Shittykawa. Fucking do it," Iwaizumi taunts him, "Let (Y/N) see how fucked up you are. Traumatize her."

Oikawa pulls away and presses the pistol underneath his own chin in thought, before he carelessly waves it around as if it was just a toy. Every single time he moved, you jumped in your seat and your heart beat eratically. He was unpredictable. "Fuck that, I don't wanna kill you in front of (Y/N) yet. I'd rather blow her back out than blow your brains out first."

His words send a fearful shiver down your spine and makes your skin crawl. You’ve never seen this side of him before—never even expected him to be like this.

Iwaizumi growls, "You're sick."

"I'm not sick, Iwa-chan. I'm doing what's right for my girl," he said firmly. He spun the weapon between his fingers.

"She's not 'your girl.' She was never your girl!" Oikawa and Iwaizumi continued to argue, as if one of them wasn't holding a gun capable of killing everyone in the room instantly. “If this is what you consider right, then you’re just a fucking psycho!”

Why did you have to be here? In between this mess?

You cover your face with the collar of your shirt, crying and trembling with your heart threatening to pound until it jumps out of your chest and leaves you dying. The thought of someone just... getting their life stolen in the hands of someone else right in front of you was destroying your mind. Somehow, even if this was all Oikawa's twisted idea, it felt like it was your fault. 

"Tooru, I don't wanna be h-here. I... I don't want you to kill him..." you hiccup through your tears. Without you noticing, he slowly walks towards you so that he's directly in front of you, watching you break down. “I wan-wanna go h-home.”

"Put the fucking gun down, dumbass," Iwaizumi warns him.

Looking up from your shirt and desperately brushing away the tears as they fell, you're faced with the muzzle of the barrel pointed straight at you, only a mere few inches away from your terrified face. Behind the pistol was, of course, the man you thought would always protect you.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi snarled, "Don't you dare fucking hurt her. Are you crazy?"

"Shut up, Iwa-chan! Since when did you ever care about her like I do?" Oikawa snaps at him. You stay focused on the shiny barrel of the pistol.

You could die right now. Right in front of your ex boyfriend and your soon-to-be ex best friend. Bleeding with your brains on the mattress you once shared with the man you spent a whole year loving.

All because of Oikawa.

"Why, Tooru?" you ask in a cracked voice, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oikawa smiled at you, "I'm gonna make this right, okay? I won't hurt you. I just...follow what I say, okay, Princess?"

“I don’t-” you gulp hard, trying to find your voice, “I really don’t understand any of this. I-...I hate this. I don’t wanna die. Tooru, I’m so-...I-...nng?”

The muzzle is delicately pressed between your lips suddenly, nudging your soft lips apart and cutting you off mid-sentence. You inhale sharply as you stare into Oikawa’s brown eyes, surprised and terrified of his sudden action. It throws you off guard, your body going rigid at the thought of dying at this very second.

What would your parents do? Is anyone even gonna find you? Will Iwaizumi survive? Since when did Oikawa hate you so much that he wanted to stick a gun in your mouth?

“Suck.” 

Wait, what? 

The fear on your face is instantly replaced with bewilderment. Suck? What does he mean suck? You stare at each other, the confusion evident on your face, but Oikawa couldn’t stop smiling evilly. 

“Suck on it, Princess,” Oikawa coos. Is he being serious? Even Iwaizumi, ten feet away and tied up, is looking at him as if he was an alien.

“You heard what I said, (Y/N). I won’t hurt you if you listen to me.” When you don't move, he pulls the gun back only to cock it. Your breath hitches in your throat as he places it back on your lips. "Put those sweet lips around my pistol and suck on it. Make it pretty.”

“What the fuck?” breathes Iwaizumi, gawking at Oikawa’s odd demand. 

With the sound of Oikawa cocking the gun fresh in your mind, and fueling your desire to live, you hesitantly wrap your lips around the gun. You start sucking on it, flicking your tongue against the underside of the barrel and slowly bobbing your head around it as you maintain eye contact with Oikawa through your blurry vision. It wasn’t cold, surprisingly, but the feeling of the metal in your mouth made you wince. You’re squeezing your eyes shut, ignoring your tears and trying to think of the weapon as something else.

Oikawa says nothing, his gaze never leaving you while you take his gun as if it was his own cock. The only thing flashing through his mind is that this view is absolutely perfect. Your saliva leaves a thin coating on the barrel every time you pull your head back, just to nibble on the muzzle and swirl your tongue around it, only to let half of the barrel disappear into your mouth again—and it leaves a satisfied feeling in his lower stomach seeing you attempt to submit to him so you could live. 

Slowly, he starts pushing it deeper into your mouth, almost to the back of your throat, and you recoil before he can reach that point, grabbing onto his hand that was holding the gun with both of your weak hands. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts in a disappointed tone, “I wanna see you take in more, Princess.” Instantly, you force yourself to relax your throat to let him invade the rest of your mouth. You hold your breath as he hits the back. You’re still trying to bob your head along the weapon, relying on your nose to give you the air that you need.

There was something really fucked up about this whole situation. A red tint is flushed across your face when you glance over at your ex boyfriend, watching you intently. He’s disgusted, that’s for sure—but when you look up to make eye contact with Oikawa, he’s far from disgusted. And it’s easier to tell, because when you trail your gaze to his lower half...

He’s rock hard—bulging from beneath the fabric of his sweats, sweet smile on his perfect face, absolutely no shame in his erection from getting his pistol sucked.

Iwaizumi always knew he was fucking weird.

But there’s an odd, yet familiar sensation, in your lower stomach—a warmth that you know all too well that only happens when Iwaizumi touches you—that makes you clench your thighs and flutter your eyes shut. Looking up at Oikawa, there’s no doubt that he knows what you’re feeling. A small smirk finds its way across his lips. 

Iwaizumi didn't know you were fucking weird, either.

Yeah, that’s what’s fucked up about this situation. Why was this turning you on, too?

Oikawa suddenly pulls the gun away, leaving a thin string of saliva following your lips to the harsh metal for a second until it disconnects. He leans in, making you hold your breath, and his lips find yours.

Soft—that’s the first thing you think about when he connects your lips. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs. 

So, you do. He feels foreign to you, strange even, and you feel quite awkward kissing him when you never even thought about kissing him before. You were beyond flustered. Despite being in such a stressful situation...he’s gentle. The tip of his tongue trails along the opening of your lips. As a habit, you part your lips and allow him to enter your mouth. 

You’re still scared. Your heart is beating so fast. Your breathing is labored from the anxiety sitting heavily on your chest.  But Oikawa is strangely calm. In fact, if he wasn’t moving against your lips right now and lapping at your tongue with his, he’d be smiling and laughing at Iwaizumi’s face. I’m kissing your ex girlfriend!

And Iwaizumi couldn’t do anything except stare. 

You push your hands against his bare shoulders to pull away. “Tooru, stop it,” you gasp out, “Hajim- Iwaizumi is right there.” You didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t even wanna see him in the first place after coming home to find him with another girl.

With his face close to you, he harbors a blank expression. “So, would you rather...do something else?” You pause for a second, remembering that he has a gun that’s a few inches away from you, and you reluctantly nod your head. His expression changes—a small smirk and softer, relaxed eyes, an indication that he definitely has something else in mind. Regret starts to fog your mind, but you also can’t help but be curious.

“What are you planning, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi asks in an irritated, strained tone. He even sounded a bit...jealous? Was he actually jealous? You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side to shoot Iwaizumi an evil smirk.

“I’m gonna fuck your ex girlfriend, Iwa-chan. Right in front of you.”

~

You never thought you'd be in this position.

It's hard to fully take in the situation when you literally feel like you're about to pass out from anxiety and all you want is for everything to be calm. At least go back to the way it used to be or how it should be—spending the rest of your time with Oikawa while eating tubs of ice cream and watching movies until you pass out together.

Instead, you're shaking like a leaf while straddling his thighs, fully exposed, soft skin pressing against his. Oikawa is completely bare, too, and while you always admired his athletic ability and perfect body, you didn't wanna see him like this. Not at all. Especially when his finger is still lazily sitting on the trigger of his pistol with it still pointed towards you, challenging you to do something so he can pull it.

It's that mischievous glint in his eyes that make you tense up the most. You want to be angry. You have every right to be, you think, but it's so difficult.

You're trying to cover up your body with your arms, holding onto the small amount of pride you have left, but it's no use when Oikawa is constantly looking you up and down. At the same time, you're trying to avoid looking down—his cock was sitting upright, hard and pulsating and...bigger than you thought he would be.

Way bigger.

"You can give it a little lick, Princess. If it'll make it easy for you."

You bite your trembling lip, shaking your head side to side, "I don't...I don't feel like it, Tooru." Oikawa moves to place his free hand on your waist, trailing his finger tips up and down, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Just try it, baby. I won't bite," he muses, "Or would you rather I-" He picks his gun up higher. That small, annoying smile seemed to never leave his face because he knew the power he had over you at this moment.

"No," you quickly interrupt him. A chuckle vibrates in his chest at your response.

"I think I need to take care of you first, hm?" Before you can disagree with him again, he's sitting up to grab your hips. He flips you both over so he's above you. He opens your legs and lifts them up so your thighs are pressing against your stomach, exposing everything to him. You’re embarrassed, covering your face with your hands. 

“Let’s see your face, Princess. Don’t hide,” he insists, “You’re so pretty. I wish I could’ve seen you like this sooner.” You have no choice but to let your hands fall from your face. Oikawa looks so happy. In the corner of the room, Iwaizumi is muttering something under his breath with a flushed, bruised, and bleeding face. 

Oikawa runs his fingers along the skin of the underside of your thighs before placing his palms on each. He was still holding onto the weapon. It’s pressing against one of your thighs. Why did everything feel so cold? 

You flinch when he leans down towards your heat to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe up your slit. Oikawa stifles a groan at the taste of you. This was what he wanted since the first time he met you—an opportunity to make you his. He wraps his lips around the little sensitive nub at the top of your cunt and sucks on it. 

“T-Tooru,” you softly whine in uneasiness. You’re not sure if Oikawa can hear the distaste dripping at your mouth, but he keeps sucking and lapping at you as if you were the last thing he would ever eat. “I really don’t like this, Tooru. This is so embarrassing...”

He looks up at you, locking eyes with you as you silently beg him to stop. He removes one of his hands from your thighs to probe at the entrance of your pussy with his thumb. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear the familiar slick of your wetness and he spreads it around with the pad of his thumb. “You don’t seem to be that against it, (Y/N).” 

Of course you’d be wet—he’s licking and playing with your cunt. When would he understand that?

You gulp nervously, “I don’t want this, Tooru. Please.”

He hums to myself, seeming to be deep in thought as always, before he mutters, “Oh, I know what you want.” You’re confused for a second, but he moves his other hand to hold the pistol at your entrance and...what the fuck?

What the fuck?

“No! Tooru!” you gasp, moving to sit up. Oikawa quickly pushes you back down by your chest. He’s pushing the gun inside you, slowly, but surely—and you feel every single rough patch and texture on the barrel, breaking through the rings of your cunt. “No, no, no!” You’re trying to reach for him, to stop him before he continues, yet he’s able to hold you back with one arm and pushes the pistol inside your pulsing heat, stretching you with the hard metal. It’s an uncomfortable stretch because of how stiff it is. You can already feel the trigger guard pressing at your asshole from how much he filled you up.

You swear Iwaizumi whispers a “holy shit” from his place.

“This is what you wanted, hm? You wanted to get fucked by my pistol?” Oikawa coos in a sickeningly sweet tone. You’re shaking your head, bracing your arms against the bed sheets and chewing on your lip. No. This can’t be happening. “I saw how you reacted when I let you suck on it, Princess. Bet this sweet pussy was already dripping the second I put it in your mouth. I never knew you were so dirty.” He wanted to laugh. The view from between your legs was incredible. He’s glancing at Iwaizumi, who is trying very hard not to look.

“That’s not true!" you gasp. Oikawa continues to pump the gun in and out of you with slow and deliberate strokes. You hate that you feel every single ridge and dent. He leans down to give a few licks at your clit. You’re suppressing a moan in your throat, because this shouldn’t feel good. Every single time he snaps it back into you, you’re gasping for breath. The walls of your cunt are clenching around the thick barrel and it’s hot—you’re heating up from the unfamiliar object forcing its way inside you, forcing you to react. Forcing you to take it in even if your brain is screaming for mercy.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Oikawa mutters, “You’ve been mine since the beginning. I just let him have you.” This time, you’re biting down on your fist as he continues his assault. This wasn’t the Oikawa you met and became best friends with; this was an absolute monster. Maybe this was who he was the whole entire time—a liar, a master manipulator, a delusional psychopath who couldn’t understand the chemicals behind truly loving someone. 

But that doesn’t matter right now because fuck—the consistent strokes of Oikawa fucking you with his pistol felt good. The tiny moans you’re letting out proves everything, even as you try to hold them back. It’s so hard to stop your hips from bucking against the hard metal, even harder to stop that stupid fire burning in your pelvis. God, you’re about to fucking explode.

It doesn’t feel good, you’re trying to convince yourself. This is assault. This is rape. This doesn’t feel good. You’re not turned on, you’re just terrified if he pulls the trigger—

“Let it out, baby. The gun’s still fully loaded,” he whispers against your lips with a smirk, suddenly lifting himself up to press his forehead against yours. His words were ringing loudly in your ears, reaching every single nerve in your body. You part your lips in shock, your legs are shaking violently against your chest, and your eyes are finally rolling back into your head. A loud moan erupts from your throat, high-pitched like a scream. Quickly, he connects your lips and forces his tongue inside.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

It almost hurts with how tightly you’re clenching onto the gun still inside you. But it’s one of the best feelings that you’ve ever felt because you’re cumming. You’re actually cumming. Your pussy is hot with so much shame, but you’re still gushing juices, soaking Oikawa’s hand.

You’re cumming on a fucking gun.

The room is silent as you’re coming undone. Iwaizumi is dazed, obvious from the look on his face as he’s staring at the place between your legs and the wet spots soaking the sheets. Oikawa stands upright on his knees, and you notice that his pelvis is wet from your juices. How embarrassing. How utterly fucking embarrassing. He’s pulling the gun out of your cunt and raising it up to his face, examining how your cum is running down to the handle. 

Oh, that’s really satisfying. He could take a picture right now, but he didn’t want to waste anymore time. 

"Cumming just from my pistol?" Oikawa chuckled, "So fucking dirty. I love it. I could get you pregnant right now. Pump you up with my kids, would you like that?" 

“Fuck’s sake, Shittykawa. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi speaks up all of a sudden. Oikawa simply scoffs at the other man before pulling you closer to rest your thighs against his hips. 

You wheeze, completely out of breath, “No, Tooru. I’m done. I need to leave.” With the palms of your hands against the mattress, you weakly try to pull yourself up and away from Oikawa’s grasp. 

“I said I was gonna fuck you, didn’t I?” Oikawa hums, pulling you back against his hips and placing his tip at your entrance. You wanna move away, and you really try to by moving to scoot away from him, but you feel so weak. He’s still holding onto his disgustingly wet gun—wet from you. Has he even put it down at all? 

"I never break promises," Oikawa sighs, with a big smile on his face, "And you’re so beautiful, (Y/N). How did I ever stop myself before? I should've taken you even if that fucker was still with you."

You’re trying to protest. You’ve been trying all night, but Oikawa is so persistent with wanting his revenge—revenge that you never even wanted. But he’s also thinking that this is it—this is the stepping stone of becoming the object of your affection. Not Iwaizumi, the man you loved and who cheated on you. Not anyone else. Just your best friend.

His hands are gripping onto your hips as he arches your back for his hips to meet yours. It’s another uncomfortable stretch as he pushes passed the fleshy walls of your pussy with his throbbing cock. You’re already wet—he has no struggle sinking into your pussy—and the squelching sound your wetness makes and the sharp whine that you let out in response to his movements are music to his ears. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re tight, Princess. I thought Iwa-chan was fucking this pussy every night before.” 

It seemed like Iwaizumi wasn’t in the room at first, even if you were hyper-aware of that fact and it made your whole body become flushed. If you could hear his thoughts right now, he would most definitely be thinking that this fucking sucks. There’s a crack in your voice when you let out a low moan at Oikawa finally sheathing you on his cock. 

“How is it? Bigger than Iwa-chan?” he teases you. He pulls back only to dive deeper into your wetness. The feeling of his cock sliding against your walls makes you tremble. You’re so sensitive from how he fucked you with his gun less than five minutes ago, it’s a surprise that you haven’t passed out from the extra simulation he’s giving you. 

“Shut up,” you groan, looking off to the side. When Oikawa is comfortably settled between your folds, he leans over you to brace his hands on either side of your head. Instinctively, you wrap your small hands around his biceps as he slides in and out of you, squeezing desperately. 

Oikawa cocks his head to the side. “You don’t want to admit it, huh?” He suddenly snaps his hips sharply against yours, jerking your whole body upwards. “You don’t need to say it. I know how you feel, anyway.” It fucking hurts. His cock is longer, thicker, and going deeper than his gun was.

“How would you even know how I feel, Tooru?” you ask in a shaky tone. The anxiety never seemed to go away. Maybe you kept quivering because of your new-found fear of the brown-haired man above you, or maybe it was because you can still feel Iwaizumi burning a hole through you—he probably realized how much he hated you because if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be sitting tied up in his own home witnessing his friend rail his ex girlfriend.

Oikawa knew, though, that it was because you couldn’t fight the way your nerves were responding to how he touched you.

“Because if you didn’t like this, you wouldn't be under me right now,” he says lowly. With his hands gripping the sheets next to your head, he forces you deeper into the mattress with his body weight. The gun next to your head would’ve made you nervous, but you were too focused on the way Oikawa’s cock was drilling into your pussy like he was trying to leave an imprint of himself there for you to remember forever.

Every time he thrusts into you with all his strength, you’re gasping and moaning, gripping onto his biceps that flexed so deliciously as he filled you up completely. Your body was betraying you, writhing beneath him, basically begging for him to give you more. To make you cum one more time from just his cock.

“You really think this is funny, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi growls. You tense up at the sound of his voice—the anger dripping in his tone. “Basically raping my ex girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa purrs, “It’s so...satisfying.” He’s building up his pace, and pretty soon he’s pounding into you with such a force that you’re struggling to let out moans and end up up letting out breaths of air and whiny squeaks. “Especially since she likes it so much. Right, (Y/N)?” Your eyes are rolling back at the sensation—you’re not even trying to deny it at this point. No matter how fucked up or disgusting you look right now, you couldn’t escape Oikawa and you couldn’t stop your pussy from sucking in his cock hopelessly like he belonged inside you.

“I fucking hate you.”

The area on your pelvis is undeniably hot now. Sweat was appearing on your skin despite being fully naked and exposed to the cold air in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Oikawa is consistently snapping his hips into yours while you’re trying to control your own hips from trying to buck into his. Trying to hold onto what little sanity you have left before you’re ultimately forced to let go on his veiny cock.

Oikawa is your best friend—was your best friend, you don’t even know anymore. Fuck, he’s evil, giving you a warm, welcoming smile with a gun laying next to your head and ravaging your insides at the same time. This isn’t normal. But damn did this feel so fucking good.

You’re crying now, the tears running down your cheeks in a steady stream. Fuck Iwaizumi. Fuck Oikawa’s gun. Fuck the insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, and guilt that you’ve had inside you for the past few weeks after your failed relationship, crying into Oikawa’s lap every single time. Fuck everything. 

Only his name is forming at your lips, accompanied by wails of pleasure. You’ve never felt like this before, not even with Iwaizumi, who you thought would be the only person making you cum until you’re stupid. 

“F-fuck, Tooru,” you manage to gasp out. All your muscles are clenching involuntarily. It only makes Oikawa groan, your pussy unbelievably squeezing even tighter around him, pulling him inside you.

“Are you okay, my baby? You gonna cum all over my cock?” 

Your head is spinning and you just want it to stop. All you’re thinking about is how roughly Oikawa is fucking into you and the pleasure he’s bringing in waves washing over you. He’s not even touching your clit—the base of his cock is just hitting your swollen nub every time he thrusts inside of you, letting tiny shocks run through you.

“This is my pussy now,” he growls, “I’m gonna fuck this. I’m gonna stretch out this little cunt every day and you’re gonna let me, right? You’re gonna let me fill you up with my cum, too?” 

Let go, every sensor in your body is screaming.

"C'mon, Princess. Tell me. Tell Iwa-chan how much you love my cock inside you. Tell us how much you wanna be filled with my cum," he grins as he shoves his length into you roughly. He nudges your head to the side and attaches his lips to the soft skin on your neck, sucking and biting at the area. You arch your back off the bed and you don't hold back anymore—you're chanting his name, finally, begging for him.

"Tooru-mmm, please," you plead, "Fuck me, please! I'm...I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum, Tooru!"

Then Oikawa lifts himself up, bracing himself on one of his arms before bringing his gun against your lips again. You don't hesitate to stick your tongue out, letting it in your mouth this time. God, he could fucking cum at the sight of you willingly sucking on his pistol, swirling your tongue over the metal surface. He won't shoot, he just wants to see you submitting to his gun and his cock like he's a king.

It's taking everything within you to not pass out from violently twitching and spasming on his cock, letting your juices squirt all over him once you open your mouth to cry loudly. His gun is still pressing into the base of your throat, so your scream drawls out into a choking noise. Oikawa is letting out a string of curse words—your juices are coating his skin and spraying all over his cock.

Your thighs feel so sore, and you're a sputtering mess as he pulls his gun away from you. It's covered in your saliva. Oikawa is lifting himself up, panting heavily, observing the erratic movement of your chest and the red flush of your body. He doesn't bother to pull out of your convulsing cunt. Why are you still trembling like that?

But it's okay. Oikawa is so happy, so pleased. You were such a good girl—he knows for sure that you finally accept him and want him.

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sang with delight in his tone to catch Iwaizumi's attention. Damn, you completely forgot he was still there.

Oikawa is finally upright on his knees, leaving you sweating on the bedsheets. Iwaizumi looked up, cringing in disgust and fueled with anger and envy from watching Shittykawa himself take your body so relentlessly as you were cumming beneath him. Oikawa lifts his arm, pointing the shiny metal weapon towards the other man in the room. He was still throbbing inside you, enjoying the feeling of you still twitching gently around his cock from your orgasm. With half-lidded eyes, you look up at him weakly, suddenly admiring his toned, muscular body and the sweat glistening on his abs. You're not sure if he came inside you, but the wetness escaping your hole and the feeling of his length twitching, too, is more than enough proof that he probably did.

"What do you want now, you fucking asshole?" Iwaizumi snarls.

The words that come out next are so snarky, filled with hate and arrogance. "Just wanted to let you know that I’m better than you," Oikawa sneers, "And I don't shoot blanks."

He finally pulls the trigger. The sound of a gunshot is piercing the air and Oikawa jerks slightly from the recoil. Then it's completely silent. Your thighs are still shaking, you’re still struggling to find your voice, and your brain seems to be focusing through the haziness. He leans down to give you the sweetest kiss, as if to say that everything will be okay now. The smell in the air was suddenly pungent—a mixture of sweat, sex, gun powder and...blood? Holy shit.  You're screaming now.

Holy shit, Oikawa.

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.