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harrys-titties · 3 years

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

29K+

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

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

-masterlist-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yes, Y/N is understandably confused.

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But of course, Harry should have known better.

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeh, there was nothing for him to worry about.

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

"Who's Elle?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hugs him.

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

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

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

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

But Harry especially missed Elle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you say, Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

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

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

"Who, Harry?"

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

"Elle."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night H."

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Having trouble H?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have fun?” She whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t have been more wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh for fucks sake H.”

“You’re so crude.”

“We do not do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No funny business dove, I promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are the worst.”

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

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

“That would be nice, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

She was fucking beautiful.

“Stop looking at me like that you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tha’s it baby, get what you need.”

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

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

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

“What do you need, hm? Tell me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N bursts out laughing, shaking her head. He was an idiot, but she loved that they can switch between moods so quickly. While she’s still laughing, he’s pushing her legs apart, his hand nearly fitting over the whole surface of her inner thigh. “C’mon love, spread your legs fo’ me.”

And with that, Y/N stops laughing.

While continuing to push against her leg, he presses an open mouth kiss against the front of her underwear, already able to taste the heady flavour. Harry can’t help but let out a deep groan, every nerve ending set alight at his mouth finally around her cunt. The tip of Y/N’s tongue tingles with a beg for him to take off her underwear, but Harry acts on his own accord, almost ripping the garment off in his haste.

If Harry thought the taste of her was mouthwatering through the cotton, the taste of her without it was even better.

He had meant to tease her, he really had, but he can’t help but lick straight into her weeping hole, moaning at the taste and the smooth feeling of her smeared against his mouth. Spreading her lips with his pointer and ring finger, Harry continues to explore, flicking his tongue against the swollen bud underneath her pubic bone, causing a loud moan to erupt from her mouth.

“Holy fuck Harry! Feels so good.”

Harry tucks two of his fingers into her while sucking at her clit, Y/N tugging at his curls harshly in response.

It feels so good, but Y/N needs more. The feeling of Harry’s fingers is making her skin tingle, and her legs shake, but she wants nothing more than to be stretched out by him. She wants him to give her everything, push into her slowly, stretch her pussy, and finally feel his cum spurting into her.

So she pulls him up, one hand still intertwined in his hair and the other on his shoulder, scratching and pulling as a hint to bring his mouth to hers. At first, he’s hesitant, grumbling slightly in annoyance, not wanting to part from her, “Harry please, want to kiss you.”

He gives her one more harsh suck, before sliding back up her body, where Y/N is waiting with her mouth open and her eyes on him. Harry smirks, slipping the two fingers that had just been inside of her against her tongue, feeling more blood rushing between his legs at the feeling of her licking and sucking them as if it were his cock.

She bites gently, causing a hiss to escape from his mouth as he drags them back out slowly, quickly replacing his fingers with his lips, licking into her mouth.

The tangy taste of her own cum slips past her tastebuds again, and Y/N had never been one to find it hot, but with the salty flavour transferring from Harry’s fingers and tongue, she’d never been more attracted to her own taste.

Y/N desperately wants to mix his cum with hers, wants to swallow around his cock and feel the intoxicating mixture slide down her throat, “I wanna taste you now.”

He breathes through his nose heavily and shakes his head, “just want to feel you. ‘M not gonna last long if you suck me off as well.” Y/N whines, but by the longing look Harry gives her pouting lips, it seems he’s not entirely content with his decision either.

He reaches over her shoulder, digging into the set of drawers next to the bed, giving Y/N the perfect view of his broad chest, littered with tattoos. He looks so tan, his muscles rippling under the smooth skin, and she wants nothing more than to litter it with love bites and scratches. She teasingly licks at his nipple, and he startles, an uncharacteristic giggle leaving his lips as he comes back to lie in front of her, in his hand a condom.

Suddenly his eyes clear, the lust caused fog fading, “you still okay with this? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Her heart swells, how was it possible that this Adonis-like man was also so sweet? There was nothing she wanted more than to be with Harry in every way and right now, she needed him inside of her, “yes Harry. Do you?”

He scoffs some, “fuck yes,” he mumbles his next statement as he tucks his head under her jaw, putting the condom on at the same time, “feel like my dicks gonna fall off, I’m that hard.”

She laughs, wrapping her arms around him, she’d never felt so happy and complete, so overwhelmed. Every positive emotion was combining within her, creating a whirlwind of passion and love, causing each feeling to increase tenfold.

The head of Harry’s cock slips through her folds, sending a zap of pleasure through her each time it nudges her clit, and he smirks each time she twitches, unconsciously arching up towards him. “Y’ ready?”

She nods, moving her hips closer, making her own attempt to be filled by him.

Slowly, Harry enters her, each inch causing the delicious burn from him stretching her walls increasing. Y/N almost chokes on her own moans, can hardly stand how good he feels or the way her muscles spasm attempting to adjust to the intrusion. It feels as if each ridge and curve was being simulated, each nerve ending firing again and making her head feel dizzy.

Harry almost looks like he’s in pain with his eyes shut so tightly, Y/N can see the wrinkles surrounding them. His mouth is parted with sharp breaths entering and leaving his mouth, his head hung back, and his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

“Holy fuck. You feel so fucking good.”

At the sound of his voice, Y/N clenches, making Harry cry out. “Move H. Fuck me, please.”

He begins slowly, pulling out before slamming back into her, reaching so far Y/N can feel him in her tummy.

He intertwines their fingers and holds them against the pillow her head rests on. She squeezes them, and he leans his forehead against hers, the tender action contradicting the harsh snaps of his hips. “How do you feel so good?” He whimpers. She nudges his chin with her nose, pushing his lips closer to hers, each thrust smearing them closer together.

“You’re so good to me H,” she whispers back as she wraps one of her hands behind his head, his neck in the crook of her elbow. Using leverage from her other hand against the bed, she pushes her hips upwards, creating double the amount of friction between them. The actions causing both of them to cry out, Harry seeming to be pushed impossibly further inside of her, the head of him nudging against her cervix.

“Fuck that’s it. Look at you, usin’ me to get yourself off.”

While the new angle felt so good, it was quickly tiring. Harry could see Y/N fatiguing after a few minutes, knowing the burn in her legs would be almost unbearable at this point. So he tucks his arms under her outstretched ones, laying his torso against hers and tucking his head into her neck, kissing lightly as he completely slows down his movements. He stops the whine that leaves her throat with a quick, “shh, it’s okay. Just wanna take my time with you, never want this to end.”

While running her hand through his curls and holding the back of his neck closer to her chest, she replies, “me either baby.”

They spend some time like this, just enjoying each other’s company and the feel of being so close to one another. Y/N breathes deeply, the smell of sex in the room mixing with Harry’s cologne, making her relax and let out a contented sigh. She had never felt more full and so satisfied, with a hint of an orgasm sparking between her hip bones, the dull ember just waiting to be fully ignited by his movements.

As if sensing this, he speeds up once again. The burn that stretches through her legs as Harry pulls them over his shoulders, mixes with the pleasure of his thrusts, the head of his cock nudging her g-spot with each deep drive of his hips.

Y/N cries out, grabbing at his shoulders, her nails unintentionally digging into the skin, creating small red crescents along the tense muscles connecting his neck to his scapula.

He just feels so good. Every movement of his hips, each inhale and exhale, each brush of their lips and dig of his fingers brings Y/N even closer to her orgasm. She can’t tell if Harry plans each of these things with her pleasure in regard or if it’s the chemistry between them that’s causing every sensation to be felt tenfold. All she knows is that she would happily lie under Harry for the rest of her life if it meant she always felt this weightless.

Harry’s balls make a sharp ‘thwack’ against her ass each time he thrusts, the sound of her arousal echoing through the room, in such a crude fashion, Y/N almost has time to feel embarrassed. On the other hand, Harry revels in the sound, loves the fact he can see, hear, touch every part of her arousal, surrounding them in their own cocoon of sex and pleasure.

“C’mon Y/N, please. Cum on my cock.” While Y/N had already been feeling the building pressure of her impending orgasm, Harry’s words only work to bring it faster. “Please Y/N,” she bucks up against him, chasing the feeling of his pubic bone rubbing against her already sensitive clit. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re my good fucking girl, aren’t you?” She whines a response, the noise high pitched and hoarse. Harry sees Y/N’s desperate search for her finish, and brings two fingers down, rubbing at her clit.

“Fuck, yes, Harry!” Y/N can’t describe how overwhelmed she is with pleasure and feeling. Her face feels flushed and sticky with sweat, her legs are slightly cramped from her constant strain to get closer to Harry and his cock buried in her cunt, and when Harry brings one of his ring adorned hands to wrap comfortably around her neck, suddenly Y/N feels weightless. She feels the burst of pleasure from between her legs, a zip running up her spine, leaving her limbs with a tingle.

Harry hears her cum before he sees it, the moans dripping from her mouth, her eyes widening before she’s squeezing them tightly together. Harry knew he would play that exact moment on replay for the rest of his fucking life.

He watches as she brings her hand up to his that’s still spread around her neck, and Harry almost can’t stand it when he feels her squeezing it tighter, begging for Harry to give her more. If he wasn’t so close to cumming, Harry might’ve teased her, loosened his grip on purpose to watch her squirm and whine, whisper in her ear how hot it was to see how desperate she was for Harry to simply touch her, alas he’s too close. Can barely form a coherent thought, let alone tease her. So instead he appeases her, tightens his grips and begins to pound into her harder, searching for his own release.

Finally, it comes, Harry releasing a deep groan, grabbing onto the pillow next to her head, letting out a deep moan. Both of them can feel each rope of cum, as Y/N’s own orgasm works to milk each drop from him.

His movements slowly come to a stop, leaving him tucked inside of her as his length softens. Wrapping his arms around her once again, he revels in the warmth and comfort she brings, his lips pressing against hers gently. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Y/N giggles and nods in agreement. How had they spent so long fighting when this was the result of them getting along. She still feels Harry shifting above her, the aftershocks of her orgasm, creating an increase in sensitivity, each movement from the handsome boy above her sending a jolt through her whole body.

“Fuck you’re still squeezin’ me pet.” She hugs into him tighter as yet another twitch is brought from his prick still buried deep within her, “mhm, still sensitive but you feel so good.”

He kisses her soft temple, “lucky for you, in about fifteen minutes, we can go again.” Y/N scoffs, her head leaving the crook of his neck to give him a dirty look only to be met with his deep smirk. His famous dimples indented next to his smile, as he giggles and brushes his nose against the swell of her cheek.

“You really are…” his giggle is joined by her own.

“A lecher,” they finish together.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry #harry styles writing #writing #thank god this is finally finished #holy shit #let me know what you think #i love u #harries

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

Note

Possibly a Hotch imagine where he is dating an artist and he finds her drawing him and Jack ?

Is That Me?

gif by nerddivision

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Warnings!: none, literally all fluff :), well ig kissing, curse word or two

Description: Hotch finds a drawing you did of him and Jack. Will you tell him how you feel, or brush it off as nothing?

Author's Note: I LOVED this request. I did switch it up a bit, reader is Hotch's best friend. Sorry, I just really wanted to throw a love confession in here!! Hope you guys enjoy reading and I hope its what you wanted!!

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

You loved to draw. You always have. It was one of your favorite things to do.

You would do it while doing paperwork, or on jet rides. You would draw to help calm you down, or even just to keep yourself busy.

Point is, you were always drawing something.

But you never drew people. Or atleast you never showed others your drawings of people. The whole team knew that.

They never turned out the way that you liked. You would always end up messing up a facial feature. Or you would draw the hands wrong. A number of things would go wrong.

That was until you decided to draw your boss, and best friend, Aaron Hotchner.

It was no secret to the team that you had somewhat of a crush on the man. You hadn't done a good job hiding it. But it was still very oblivious to the man in question.

He had quickly become one of your closest friends after you joined the team. You guys would often hang out at each other's houses on the weekends, or you would just sit around at the park with Jack.

You just loved spending time with eachother. Which had led to the feelings.

But of course you didn't know he had felt the same. The team did though. And of course they were going to meddle. Thats just who they are.

Anyways, you had gotten the idea for the drawing of Hotch about 4 weeks ago.

You had all been at Rossi's for a dinner, children included, and Hotch had been sitting there with Jack in his lap. He had this look of pure adoration as he listened to his son tell a story and he had this bueatiful smile adorning his face. You just couldn't look away.

Now, similar to Reid, you had a photographic memory. It wasn't the same as his eidic memory, but similar.

That image had stayed printed in your brain. You remembered that exactly moment, and it stayed there for 2 weeks before you began drawing.

There was a lot of erasing and starting over. But you kept going. The team would catch glimpses of the drawing, but never enough to know what it actually was. You especially made sure to keep it hidden from Hotch, only working on it in the office when his door was closed.

When you finished the drawing, you put it in the top drawer of your desk, knowing no one would go through it. You kept it there for weeks. Adding bits and pieces here and there to add to the beauty of the drawing. It had probably been one of your best pieces. But you kept it hidden.

Until of course, Morgan found it.

He had seen it in your desk when he went to borrow a pen, without pernission. He had taken it, and walked quickly to Garcia's office. They had been trying to get the two of you together for months.

"Babygirl, I think I just found how we can get them together." He had said walking in without knocking.

"Of course you did." And they worked out a plan, bringing in Prentiss, JJ, Spence, and Rossi.

After planning and then going over everything, everyone gathered in the bullpen. Morgan walked over to you, a little too chipper.

You gave him a suspicious look, co fused as to why he looked so giddy.

"Hey sugar, want me to take your paperwork up?" You looked down at the finished pile of paperwork, and back up at Morgan.

"Suuure." You slowly said. Still very suspicious, but allowing him to take the pile. Soon he was walking off, with his own paperwork as well, marching up to Hotch's office. He opened the door and disappeared from your sight.

With a roll of your eyes, and a lasting glance, you turned away. You had completely forgot about the whole interaction, and had gotten back to work.

You got bored with that quickly and about 2 hours later, you opened the top drawer of y I ur desk, so you could work on your drawing.

Only it wasn't there.

It was gone.

You began frantically searching each and every drawer. Opening and shutting each one as your rummaged through everything. You checked your bag, the trashcan, your floor. You went through each and every piece of paper on your desk.

But it was gone.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" Prentiss asked from across the desk.

"No. Um, I-I lost something."you were freaking out, if anyone saw that, it would be disastrous. You could lose your job, your friendship. And if Hotch every saw it, he would probably think it was creepy.

You continued to search looking through each like of paperwork.

But then you realized. You had sent a pile with Morgan.

Morgan had taken it to Hotch.

Hotch.

Son of a bitch!

You were up and out of your seat in less than a second, sprinting up to Hotch's office and throwing it open.

You expected Hotch to look up in shock. To glance at you. Something.

But he didn't.

He was staring at a piece of paper. With him on it.

How long he had been sitting there staring at it, you didn't know.

"Hotch." You whispered out. But he heard you none the less. He glanced up for a second before glancing back down.

"Is that me?" He asked. The silence that followed was deafening. You didn't answer him. You couldn't.

"Is that me Y/n?" He asked again.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm so sorry Hotch. You weren't supposed to see it." You looked up at him and your eyes locked. He had a tear rolling down his face.

"I-I love it. Its bueatiful." You stared at him waiting for the other show to drop, waiting for the but. Except it never came. He just stood from his desk, marched around it and smashed his lips against yours.

You let out a surprised noise and faltered backwards, but that just caused his to press you into the wall, kissing you harder. It was intimate and everything you had ever dreamed about. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss.

He broke away after a minute or two. You couldn't tell how long it was, the kiss had left you in a daze.

"I love it. I love you." He stuttered out breathlessly. You stared at him in awe. You hadn't expected this kind of reaction. Never in a million years did you think he would feel the same as you did.

"I love you too." You spoke softly. He smiled widely.

"The drawing is so perfect. Its bueatiful. No one has ever drawn me before. And you drew Jack, he looks, he's perfect. Its perfect, you are perfect. God I love y-" you cut him off with another kiss, smiling the entire time.

You were kissing Aaron Hotchner.

You loved Aaron Hotchner.

And he loved you too.

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Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #reader insert #angst #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

Rent An Oppa ~ HHJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Reader

GENRE: non idol AU, strangers to lovers, rent an oppa, fluffy, a little angst but nothing too major, pining for one another, first kiss,

A/N: I made this one a fluffy one without smut hunny, I hope that this is okay hunny

Moving to South Korea was one of the best decisions you'd ever made. It had been your dream for years to move somewhere that wasn’t where you were from. You’d finally made it happen, you were here. Sitting in your new apartment staring out at all of the sights that you could see. The apartment you’d gotten was a loft apartment which was something you’d never thought of having before, but it was perfect. The ground floor was open plan, besides the bathroom of course and you had large floor to ceiling windows that looked out at the city of Seoul. Your bedroom was just up a flight of stairs and it looked out at the ground floor, it was unbelievably perfect for your first home in Seoul. There was only one thing wrong with everything and that was that you didn’t know your way around. Sure there were maps and people you could ask for help but you wanted a tour guide.

You’d seen an app being advertised on your plane ride over which you were tempted to use. “Rent an Oppa.” It sounded like it was straight out of a K-Drama but it was real and monitored wonderfully. Everyone had a screening test, background test and everything is done before they were allowed to become an “Oppa” for the app.

“Let’s see what this is then,” You mumbled to yourself as you sat down on your sofa, pulling your knees up to your chest as you began to scroll through the app. Everyone had profiles set up with verification photos to prove that they were who they said they were, then there were some small descriptions about the boys or girls there.

Endlessly scrolling and swiping through profiles you couldn’t find anyone you thought you would get along well with. You wanted someone that you had things in common with, if you were going to be paying them for their time you might as well do something you both enjoy doing it.

About to give up hope and go at it alone a profile popped up. A new profile that caught your eye. The photo was of a boy around 21-years-old standing on top of a rooftop, dressed in a smart shirt and tie aiming a camera at whoever was taking the photo of him. Photography-nut was written in his profile making you giggle a little as you flicked through his images. In each of them, it began to reveal his face and mid-length blonde hair. He looked as though he was really sweet and kind, the kind of boy you took to meet your parents.

“Hyunjin,” You smiled as you said his name, swiping onto his profile to see what rates he was charging. It wasn’t expensive and just in your budget range so you messaged him. There was no harm in seeing if he was free that day.

[12:03] Y/n:

Hi there, I’m not entirely sure how this thing works 😅😅 but could we arrange a meetup? I’m new in Seoul and need a tour guide 🥰

Staring at the phone you debated with yourself if that was the right way to start a conversation with someone on the app. There was no tutorial on how to message them or if you had to wait for them to message you first.

[12:07] Hyunjin 🍀

Hey! I would love to arrange a meetup. I can meet you anywhere you feel comfortable! Welcome to Seoul! 💞🌺

Smiling to yourself you gave him the address to the shop right beside your apartment building. It was the only play you really knew so far and you wanted to meet him somewhere you knew the exact location of. Rather than wandering around lost trying to find somewhere to meet him you didn’t know yet.

Dressed in a long-sleeved Beige shirt-dress and some black leggings you waited outside the shop, acting as though you were busy on your phone so you didn’t look as though you were staring out for Hyunjin. It was already going to be awkward enough without you looking around gormlessly for him.

“Hey,” A voice called out making you jump a little as you looked up from your phone to see him. He was identical to his photos though his hair was a little longer now.

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” You shook his hand and he smiled nodding his head,

“I’m Hyunjin and I know this is probably going to be awkward for a while so I hope we can become friends throughout it,” He smiled as he let go of your hand. This time you looked at him you took in his whole appearance, he was wearing a black and white striped turtle neck and some black jeans.

“I’m new to the app so we’re both doing firsts here,” He smiled as he looked around you both, taking in everything around him as he tried to figure out what you could do for the day.

“It’s still quite early in the afternoon...I can show you around, show you all of the shops, shopping mall and just around Seoul itself if you like?” You were completely taken by his voice, appearance and how sweet he was being with you.

“I would love that, the only place I know is the shop and my apartment.” You laughed weakly as he nodded his head.

“Would you mind if I linked our arms?” You shook your head and you linked arms with one another as he began to lead you down the road.

“So what brings you to Seoul?” He questioned as he tried to break the ice. It was nice that he was trying, you had rented him for the rest of the day and you were going to have to get to know each other.

“I fancied a change in pace. I’ve always loved South Korea and the culture,” You admitted as your eyes glanced around at all of the people you were pacing. Everyone in their own worlds as they went about their daily lives. Each person you saw looked as though they had been plucked out of a fashion magazine, their outfits were so effortless yet stood out in the large crowds.

“When did you get here?” He asked as he waited at the side of the road for lights to change and you could cross without being in any kind of danger.

“About two days ago...I’ve been locked up in my apartment eating Ramen. I was so worried I’d get lost.” You groaned thinking back on it while Hyunjin laughed a little, shaking his head.

“I’ll add a shopping trip on our list of things to do. I can’t have you living off only ramen.” He chuckled and your whole heart seemed to swell up when you saw the smile on his face. It was honestly one of the prettiest smiles you’d seen and his dimples were so deep you wanted to reach up and poke them. But you didn’t.

The rules of the app were very simple. No inappropriate touching, no exchange of social media or phone numbers. Once the dates were over that was it unless you rented another one but only through the app.

“I should take you to see Cheonggyecheon River, a small walk down and we’ll be at the nicest cafes,” Hyunjin explained as he seemed to be enjoying this almost as much as you were,

“So why did you join the app?” You questioned as you looked at him, it had been a question on your mind since seeing him on the app.

“I needed the extra cash for art supplies...I’m studying at the moment so this seemed to be the perfect side job.” He explained as he began heading down some stairs towards a small river that ran through the city.

“Cheonggyecheon River,” You whispered as you looked around, it had only been something you’d seen in photos but now it was real.

“So you do art?” You questioned as you went back to looking up at Hyunjin while you walked.

“Yeah. I try to, I’m learning to draw, I thought it would be fun.” You smiled wanting to know more about it.

“Do you have any pictures?” He nodded as he sat down on an empty bench with you, pulling out his phone to show you photos of the drawings he’d been doing in his spare time.

“These are amazing! You did these?” You were truly shocked to see someone who was just learning to draw create amazing pieces as he had done. Some were anime characters, others were drawings of himself and another was a drawing of a dog.

“This is my favourite,” You told him as you looked at the Chihuhaha drawing he’d done,

“My little Kkami, I missed him so I drew him from a photo.” You smiled at the drawing again,

“Do you not get to see him much?” He shook his head as he looked out at the water.

“I live in a dorm with seven guys who are studying, Kkami is at home with my family.” Your heart clenched at the thought of him not getting to see his dog much,

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head at you, you had nothing to be sorry for.

“Don’t be, it makes the time I have with him all the more special. Shall we start to go?” You nodded getting up from the bench once more and heading in the direction he was leading you in.

The two of you had gotten to know each other more on your walk over to the supermarket, getting to know about him and all his roommates that seemed adventurous.

“Felix came here at 2 am once just to get baking ingredients.” He laughed as he pushed the trolley around the store, adding things he thought you would enjoy as well as ingredients to make Kimchi with.

“Why was he baking at 2 in the morning?” You laughed adding some pasta products into the trolley, looking around at everything in shock. It was so much larger than any other supermarket you had been in and it was empty. Hardly anyone besides you and Hyunjin was around and there was soft music playing through some speakers.

“It’s Felix, who knows why he does what he does,” He laughed as he watched you. You were standing in front of ramen packets and he smirked a little,

“You could get the cups. They’ll be better for you and cheaper in price.” Thanking him you added a bunch into the trolley and smiled a little,

“Noodles are the only thing I can successfully cook.” You chuckled while Hyunjin shook his head at you,

“I need to give you cooking lessons but we’re almost out of the day...I can send you some cooking books if you like.” The thought of the day almost being over made you sad to think you’d never see him again.

“I could book you for another day? I would love to learn to cook from someone who’s lived here their whole life,” Yes. That was the reason. Totally not because every time he smiled or laughed your heart fluttered. Hyunjin’s heart seemed to flutter at the thought of getting to meet you again, although he was getting paid to hang out with you it didn’t feel forced. It felt natural to be around you as though he had known you for years and he couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

“Sure! We should get some ingredients to cook with tomorrow. Your Kimchi will stay good for three to six months if you keep it in the fridge and once you know-how. You’re pretty much great for everything,” You smiled before nodding. Both of you grabbing more and more ingredients for recipes you could freeze and add to the freezer.

Laying in bed that night you couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the day you had. Hyunjin bought you home in a cab, helping you in with the bags before he helped you put everything away. You’d already paid him before he got home and booked another day together but none of it felt like a job or obligation to either of you. Hyunjin went home with a giant smile on his face having enjoyed the day much more than he had expected to.

“I told you that you’d have fun,” Chan said as he walked into the kitchen later that night to see Hyunjin couldn’t stop smiling.

“I had a lot, she’s amazing Hyung.” He explained as he began to pour himself some hot chocolate and get ready for a few hours of studying before bed.

“Just don’t get attached. The rules were simple Hyunjin.” He nodded as he headed back to his dorm room to find Felix sitting there waiting for everything that had happened that day.

“Felix made cookies.” Was the first thing Hyunjin said to you as you opened the door to see him standing there. Today he was wearing a white t-shirt, a grey jacket and some shorts. It was the hottest day of the year.

“His famous ones?!” You asked a little too excitedly as you saw the Tupperware box filled to the brim with cookies all of different shapes and sizes.

“He was baking last night and he thought I could share them.” It was a lie. Hyunjin had practically begged Felix to bake you some the night before. He’d told you so much about them and he’d seen the look on your face when he mentioned them. He wanted you to try them.

“Tell him I said thanks,” You hummed as bit down into one of the cookies, instantly rolling your head back at the taste of them.

"He could run his own bakery, oh my goodness," Hyunjin smiled as he walked into the kitchen pulling out an apron he'd brought from the dorms and getting ready to help you cook.

"We'll start with the Kimchi, it'll be the best thing to start with and then whatever you're planning for your dinner." You nodded at him, finishing off the cookie before you washed up and pulled on an apron you'd gotten from the store yesterday.

While you were chopping and washing up the ingredients Hyunjin was telling you everything you needed to do.

"You know you should be a chef...Or give out cooking classes." You told him as you began adding all of the ingredients together.

"I would give you five stars," He laughed softly as he looked at you,

"Like a Michelin chef?" You nodded at him as you continued to add everything together. Hyunjin laughing a little as he began to stir some of the stew he'd been making, scooping some up for you.

"You've reached the peak of taste, you'll never go back to normal food I promise." He laughed as you hummed at the taste of the stew.

"You'll have to take some home with you, there's no way I'll eat all this to myself." You mentioned as you stared at the huge stew pot he was cooking with.

"I'm sure the guys would love it," Hyunjin said before adding a little more spice to the stew and leaving it.

The two of you camped out on your sofa for hours just spending time getting to know one another. He told you all about his life at the dorms while you told him about life back at home.

"Do you miss it?" He asked as he bit into one of the cookies and looked at you,

"Sometimes. I miss the people more than the place but it's home." You frowned thinking back on your time, it wasn't as though you were never going to go back again, but this was your life now.

"I suppose that's how it is with many people." He smiled weakly putting down his plate and looking at the time, he only had an hour left with you before he had to head home for the night.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" You shrugged your shoulders as you thought about it. Nothing was planned for at least a month, your job was waiting for some final paperwork to be done.

"Nothing that I know of,"

"Do you want to go to Seoul Tower, it's one of the best tourist spots. I think you'll enjoy it there," You smiled while nodding your head, wanting to spend all of the time in the world with Hyunjin. For as long as you could at least.

"Sure!" You smiled at him before going over to the stew to get everything put into smaller tubs for him to take home. The subject of payment was growing closer and neither of you wanted to feel awkward about talking about it again.

"Hyunjin. You're growing attached," Chan warned as soon as Hyunjin stepped through the door that night. All eight of the boys were on the app to earn some extra cash and for them, it had been routine days out. A cafe, a shopping spree here and there but that was it. None of them ever spent so much time getting to know their clients or even cook with them.

"I'm not. She's just being a nice friend Hyung," He complained as he placed the stew down onto the counter. Calling out to the boys that there was food if anybody was hungry for it.

"She's a client Hyunjin. Nothing more." He rolled his eyes as he listened to Chan bring up the subject of the rules again.

"No exchanging numbers, social media or inappropriate touching. I know Hyung, Gosh what do you think we're doing? Fucking in some park?" He grumbled taking a cookie and heading for his bedroom. He didn't want to hear the same speech over and over again reminding him that he couldn't have you the way that he wanted. There were feelings growing between you and he knew he was never going to be able to act on them and it killed him inside.

The days you spent together began to grow more and more and you forgot that this wasn't just friends hanging out together. That you were paying him for spending time with you. That was until the end of the night when you would wire transfer him the cash when he left leaving you both feeling awkward the next morning. Only for that to fade whenever you got on with the day that you had planned together. You'd seen almost every tourist attraction there. Hyunjin took you to Nami Island, ice cream dates, cafe dates, Seoul Tower and today you were going to Gyeongbokgung Palace.

"Everything okay? You seem quiet." He chuckled as you waited in line together to get tickets for the palace. Your eyes wandered up to him as you smiled weakly.

"Fine...I just can't wait to get in there." You lied not wanting to make anything between you more awkward than it had to be.

The palace was beautiful and filled with history Hyunjin couldn't wait to tell you about it. Explaining everything and tell you all of the facts he knew about the palace.

"Did you come here a lot?" You asked as you both sat down on some grass patches by one of the lakes. He'd brought along a picnic basket and a blanket for the two of you. The basket was filled with food he’d cooked and baked goods Felix had been forced to make once again,

“When I was a kid. I love history so I used to beg mum into taking me.” He laughed as he remembered all of the weekends he would spend there, learning about everything that he could.

“That’s amazing,” You smiled as he held up a spoon to your lips, spoon-feeding you some yoghurt he had bought along with him. You hummed letting him feed you when you looked around at different people around you. Lots of couples were doing the same thing as you both. Sitting together on the grass as they fed one another.

“Hey I was-” Hyunjin stopped speaking when you turned to look at him, neither of you realising how close you were to one another until your lips almost touched. Neither of you moved. You just stared at him, eyes flicking from his lips to his mouth your whole body aching to lean in and kiss him. But you didn’t. You sat there looking at him as he looked at you.

No one would have to know, he could just lean down and kiss you right now and no one would know about it. It wasn’t as though there were guards on the apps that tracked their every move. Placing down the spoon he looked at you, scooting closer to you as he watched to see if your facial expression changed at all. His right hand slowly rose to your face and he cupped your face in his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip as you let out a small whimper.

“If I do this, there’s no going back.” You shrugged your shoulder. You didn’t want to go back. You wanted his lips on yours, you didn’t care about anything else.

Hyunjin pressed his lips against yours and instantly it was sweet yet filled with passion, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as you kissed him back. Lips moving in sync with one another as he pulled you closer to him. The world around you faded away as you made out on the small patch of grass together, forgetting that he was paid to be there and you were renting him for the day. None of that mattered when you felt the way you did. Your whole body prickling with tingles as he kissed you. Lips parting and tongues touching. Everything around you was gone. All you cared about was this moment.

After taking you home Hyunjin came in to have hot chocolate with you, well over his intended time limit and continued to kiss you. Cuddle you. Only making you yearn for him to stay longer but he had to go home. He had classes the next day.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” You admitted as you stood by the front door of your apartment. Neither of you moving as you stared up at him. It was your last week before work and you could no longer afford to pay him. Though the subjects of paying for dates had gotten too weird for you and Hyunjin to talk about.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other around,” He sighed knowing he couldn’t give you his number or any way of contacting him outside of the app. He’d hoped he’d told you enough about his personal life for you to accidentally bump into one another somewhere.

“Hyunjin I think-” He kissed you softly not wanting you to finish the sentence. He was getting feelings for you too but admitting them out loud would make him stay and he couldn’t.

“I will see you around,” He whispered putting an emphasis on the “will” before he leant down to kiss you one last time. His hands on your waist as he smiled against your lips, pulling away and leaving you alone.

Weeks passed by and Hyunjin saw no sign of you in any of the spots he had told you about, he even made an effort to walk by your apartment building every night home from classes but there was no sign of you.

“You’ve been so weird lately. Why haven’t you been going to see Y/n?” Felix grumbled as he rolled over in bed one night to see Hyunjin laying wide awake at almost 1 am. Just sitting there and staring at the top of the bunk bed he was under.

“I can’t...I have feelings for her and I didn’t want to keep taking her money.” Crawling down from the top bunk Felix came to see Hyunjin. He was fully dressed and staring at the ceiling still.

“It’s creepy. Stop staring like that. Just go and “accidentally” bump into her...What’s the problem?” Hyunjin sat up and shook his head,

“You don’t think I’ve been trying that? I’ve been walking by her apartment building almost every night. Sitting in cafes...Maybe I was reading into it wrong.” Hyunjin’s phone flashed up and he darted toward it only to see it was an email from the Rent an Oppa app telling him that his account was deactivated.

“You quit?”

“I didn’t want to do it anymore.” He mumbled before getting up from the bed and grabbing a jacket,

“Where are you going? It’s almost 1:30?” Hyunjin said nothing as he left the bedroom.

The account was gone and all that was left was a stupid message telling you that Hyunjin has left the account. Staring down at your phone you hated yourself for not messaging him sooner to arrange something. You had to see him again. For the last two weeks, you had been going to what he said was his favourite cafe and waiting for him. You’d do the paperwork for work there, read books. You’d been in there so much the owner knew you by name.

“I’ll make you some goodnight tea,” The elderly owner whispered as she walked over to your table. They were open 24 hours which was nice at times like this when you couldn’t get to sleep.

“Thank you,” You whispered as you went back to looking through the paperwork you had to finish. The job wasn’t what you expected it to be so you were trying to file paperwork whilst look for something else to do there.

“Nightcap for you too?” The elderly woman called out to someone who had just walked through the door. Frowning to yourself you glanced up to see a hoodied boy walk through the shop and stand at the counter.

“You’re not alone tonight. Someone else who can’t sleep,” The hoodied boy began to turn and as soon as you locked eyes your heart lept to your throat.

“Hyunjin?” You whispered to yourself as he began heading over to your table, eyes wide as he saw you sitting there.

“Fancy meeting you here,” He laughed as he sat down beside you, both of you just as happy to see each other.

“I-I’ve been coming here almost every day,” You admitted as he looked at you, hands finding yours and holding onto them as tightly as he could. He never would have thought you would come here, he’d only mentioned it once and how much it meant to him.

“I only told you about this place once,”

“I could see how much it meant to you...I thought I might catch you here and then we could...Go on a normal date.” He let out a breathy chuckle as he nodded his head.

“Sounds good to me. I’m paying.” He told you as he kissed your lips softly. All of a sudden all of those weeks away from one another melted into nothingness. It was just the two of you together once again giving you the freedom to date, exchange numbers and hang out without some pesky app or their rules in the way.

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix

#skz #skz x reader #skz x you #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin imagines

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal -Ch. 13

Chapter Summary: Old memories come back to you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: angsty internal thoughts, no Bucky this chapter.

A/N: Here it is. I’m sorry I ended up not reblogging all the comments on last chapter before I post this one, but I’ve read and cherish them all, please don’t doubt that. Thank you, incredible Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer you’re a Queen around here. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

You bet that if you told anyone about the scene playing out in your apartment right now, people would scoff their asses off at your face: Saturday afternoon, your living room, the Leader of the Avengers Tech Team, the Director of SHIELD – probably the most powerful organization in the world- and one of the scariest, if not the scariest spy to ever walk on earth. All three of you sitting on your carpet, barefeet, wearing tops and tiny shorts due the heat brought by the bright sun slipping through your windows. A big bowl of popcorn in the center and innumerous chocolate bars everywhere.

Those afternoons with the three of you are a rare event. First, you had your relationship with Eddie to blame, but now it’s mainly due to your work schedules that almost never are in sync, but whenever there’s an opportunity, there you are.

Your phone's message alerts ringing together bursts into the conversation and the three of you grab your devices simultaneously. You were dreading to see what it was, sure it was something from work, but a huge smile widens in your lips at what you see on your screen.

“Jesus…” Nat says, while, laughing, you three turn the screens to one another, confirming you have received the same message. “Bucky’s a lost cause with that cat. That’s the millionth picture I received of her this week. And she’s always doing something extremely exciting like… sleeping.” She rolls her eyes.

“But we have to admit that little asshole is kinda cute,” Sharon comments looking back at her screen and the picture of the, indeed, sleeping cat.

“She is, right?” You agree, with a huge smile on your face. You and Alpine may have had a somewhat rough start, but you can’t help but admit she’s an adorable little jerk who’s just very protective of her human.

“By the way,” Natasha smirks at you, putting her phone back on her pocket, “I had no idea that was what he meant when he said he would romance the shit out of you.”

“It suits perfectly, though,” Sharon comments, shaking her head and laughing with her.

“It does. Shame on me, I should’ve known better.” Nat agrees.

“He said that?” You ask with peaked interest you try to disguise in the quietness of your tone while you bite the corner of your lips.

The curiosity in the information doesn’t go unnoticed by them, who just snicker at each other. You decide to ignore that.

“The dude is smitten, Y/N, wake the fuck up.” Natasha not so gently throws a popcorn right on your face.

“Hey,” you whine.

“And so is she, giving that little dreamy look on her face. Wake the fuck up indeed.” Sharon sides with Nat with a huff.

“I’ve created two monsters…” Nat comments like you weren’t even in the room, referring to the fact she is the one who brought you two together.

“It’s not like that…” You barge in their little interaction, catching their attention, before folding your legs up and holding your knees, “I mean… yeah, of course… I can’t help having feelings for Bucky, I mean… he’s…” you pause, searching for the right words to describe him, “He’s Bucky.” You shrug… a small smile curling your lips, “He’s Bucky…” you repeat with a sigh while your gaze wanders away…

It’s just you don’t really need anything else to justify why it’s so inevitable to grow feelings for him and your friends catch on to what you mean, because when you look back at them, they both have stupid and dreamily little looks at you… ones that don’t fit to a couple of spies.

You clear your throat, letting your initial line of thoughts come back to you, “But it’s not that simple… There’s…’ you falter.

“There’s what?” Nat insists, in a kind way.

But “Who” was the more proper pronoun.

“Eddie…” You whisper.

“Argh…” Sharon groans, tilting her face to her side before, looking back at you, “What about Eddie?”

It was just yesterday that you had your little “encounter” with Bucky. You know it was no coincidence he was there, the little shit must’ve tracked you down… but you couldn’t make yourself care about that when it was so amazing… incredible… Not only the fact that he went down on you in such a shameless way and gave you a mind-blowing orgasm, like he always does. It was also the way he spoke to you…his attitude… not really imposing himself… encouraging you to have fun with your friends… no sign of jealousy. It made you feel special and free and… loved. Really loved for who you are and not for who you make yourself to be to please and that is a tremendously powerful feeling.

Still… you have mixed feelings about it all and Eddie is the reason. Being there with him felt familiar and comfortable, but, in some way different… better than before. It makes you think that he really is engaged into finding not just a way back to you, but also a way to make your relationship work and it certainly weighs over your heart.

You tell your friends all of that.

“Did Eddie notice anything?” Nat asks, reaching over for some popcorn.

“I don’t know,” you answer, “He wasn’t at the table when I returned, but he came back shortly, my friends were still talking about it, but we changed to subject once we saw him. The girls didn’t comment anything again, and he acted normal… I guess he didn’t.” You shrug, starting to bite on your nails.

There’s an annoying little feeling rising in you since the night before and, thinking over it, you recognize it as guilt. Guilt for doing that with Bucky while Eddie was there in Club, guilt for not being bothered by Bucky’s presence, while, at least initially, you were bothered by Eddie’s, guilty for enjoying that Bucky was the one who actively made a move when Eddie didn’t, for missing him more than you missed Eddie, for feeling more positively about his change of mind than Eddie’s, for wanting Bucky more…

Guilt because you know you’re falling for him. For Bucky. And there’s little you can do to stop it.

“What is it?” Sharon asks, tightening her lips and nodding at where you’re chewing your nails.

You promptly stop, bringing your hands to around your knees again, “I guess I wasn’t expecting either of them there.” You decide not to share your most recent thoughts with them.

“You know why both of them were there. It was definitely not a coincidence.” Nat reminds you.

“I know… but it's ok, they were polite...” You brush it off but add, quickly, fighting back a smile at the memories that flashes in your mind, “In their own way.”

“Polite? Even when Bucky had his face up your pussy?” Sharon teases, not letting that one go, and making you give in and let out a laugh while you hide your face with your hands for a moment.

“I was pretty excited to find out he was there, actually,” you admit and their faces light up, which you assume is prompted by your own expression. “It was a thrilling sensation… I can’t quite explain.”

“He really is in love with you…Bucky…” Nat tightens her lips and tilts her head.

You sigh, looking back at her, “I know…” You admit.

They both keep waiting for you to say something else but you don’t know what you could say. No… as a matter of fact, you do. You’re just not ready to put your thoughts out in the world. At first, you had your doubts if what Bucky was feeling was really that deep… but now… something has changed. You believe him. You really do. And you know you’re falling for him, too, but…

Eddie was the one you wanted for so long… you’ve made so many plans with him… Long term plans. You used to see yourself growing old with him and that’s an image that still somehow haunts your feelings. And now… the fact that guilt surrounds the feelings arising for Bucky inside you makes you feel like a cheater. You didn’t feel that when it was just sex, but now you do. And you’re damn scared.

What if you surrender to your feelings now and go to Bucky and then comes a day you’ll realize that you were wrong and Eddie will still be the one you really want? You wanted him for so long… can that really have changed? How can one let go of that feeling, that certainty of being right for each other, without being afraid of doing the wrong thing? And if that happens, if you do the wrong thing now, you will eventually hurt Bucky and that’s definitely the last thing you want.

That’s fucked up and you know it. But it’s what you’re feeling.

You keep it to yourself, though.

~~~

It’s a few hours after the girls left your place, you take a refreshing and long bath and are about to put on a movie to relax a bit more for the rest of the evening. Maybe that way you can put your thoughts and feelings in order.

That duality of emotions is crushing your mind. You wanted some time alone and you had that… now, you can’t help the feeling that you need to come to a decision, a conclusion of some sort, you just can’t keep pushing it further. For better or for worse. Or you will lose your mind soon.

A comfort movie is in order for all the thinking you need to do, so you set “The Prisoner of Azkaban” on your TV before you head to the kitchen. You’re still pretty full of all the junk food the three of you made a feast of the whole afternoon, so you decide to prepare just an old recipe of peach iced tea your mom has taught you. Perfect for the hot weather, too.

You’ve just added the ice in the jar when your intercom rings. You frown wondering who could that be and check your phone for any missed calls or messages, finding none before answering the intercom.

“Yeah? Oh… no, yeah, sure, come up.” You press the button to let him in. Your heart beats just slightly faster, wondering what could he possibly be doing there.

“Hi,” he greets, once you open the door after he pressed the ringer.

“Hi,” you answer, and without even thinking, just keep staring at him, blocking his way into your apartment while he stands at your door, holding a big box in his hands.

“Can I come in?” He asks, when you say nothing else.

“Oh, yeah, of course, sorry.” You step aside, allowing Eddie to walk into your living room with a tight smile on his lips.

“Please,” you gesture towards your sofa and he nods, walking with you over there, “I was about to pour me some iced tea, would you like some?” You offer, tentativeness still present in your tone, while the big box secured in his hands grasps your attention for a second.

“Your mom’s recipe?” He asks, his whole face lightening up as he takes his seat.

You chuckle and nod.

“Oh, hell yeah, then.”

You take just a little longer than you actually need to fix the tea for the two of you in the kitchen. For some reason, his presence, after the night before, what you did with Bucky and after you coming to terms that you are, indeed, growing feelings for the other guy… it just unsettles you.

After taking a deep breath or two, you come back to the living room. Some small conversation ensues while you take a seat by his side and you two drink from the tea you’ve just prepared.

“Ahm…What’s that?” At some point you give in to the curiosity and nod towards the box now on your center table.

He smiles, before placing his cup on your table and taking the box in his hands. He shifts on the sofa, making room for placing it on one of the cushions between the two of you. “I was taking a look at it at home earlier, it just… I couldn’t help myself… and decided to come by to show you.”

When he opens the lid, placing it aside, you take in the contents, which makes your heart beat a bit funny at the surprise. You recognize pictures of the two of you, letters, a few souvenirs… All of them represent a memory of your relationship.

“Oh…” you say. You know all that stuff had been stashed in some place, but you never knew he had taken them with him once he moved out.

“Yeah…” Eddie brushes the back of his neck, peering at you from beneath his lashes, “I guess I really wasn’t that confident about my decision when I left…” he shrugs, looking down at the box again, “I just couldn’t leave it behind.”

You give him a tightened and brief smile, before placing your teacup on the table and starting to fumble through the items inside the box. You let out a breathy laugh when you find a picture of the day you two have met… he had founded a study group on advanced software creating techniques and you were the only one to show up.

“Oh my God…” you laugh.

“Yeah… what a couple of nerds,” Eddie chuckles, looking at the picture.

He helps you through the shuffling when you go through some more pictures from college, his family, your family… the day you two closed the deal to buy the apartment… the letter you received when you were both accepted in the Avengers tech team…

You feel the tears gathering in your eyes before they start silently rolling down your cheeks… It’s a weird sensation, it’s like meeting with an old part of yourself, an old friend. One that has never really left, but you almost don’t recognize anymore… leading to a nostalgic and longing feeling.

They’re all good memories stashed on that box… of course… you guess no one is really keen to proposedly keep a souvenir from the bad ones… but that’s not on what your focus lays right now. Your attention is caught by a particular thing from the box. A small gasp escapes your lungs at the sight.

You look up at Eddie, whose eyes have been intensely trained on you, before you grab the object in your hands.

It’s a scrapbook you two have made through college years. While you silently and carefully go through the pages your life passes in front of your eyes. Movie and concert tickets… more pictures… a few drawings… software ideas you had together… little notes you’ve written to each other… and then, on the very last couple of pages, there they are.

You remember them. The day you two decided to write a letter to each other, telling how you wanted your future to be.

You roam your fingers through the frayed papers… you don’t have to read them again to know what’s there. You remember. Without knowing, in the end you two had written the exact same thing in both letters… among other small stuff, you two wrote you wanted a kick ass job, live in the city in an apartment of your own… and stay together forever.

Your watery gaze follows when Eddie slides down to the floor and kneels before you, taking your hands in his, “I meant every word then and I still do,” he says, softly, staring deeply into your eyes, “I can’t see my future without you… I just can’t.” He shakes his head, before it drops.

You see how his lips twist before he looks up at you again, with a saddened look on his face, “I know how that guy makes you feel…”

Your body freezes just as your heart does and you feel the precise moment when it splits in two. That heavy sensation comes back to your chest when the image of Bucky pops into your mind and suddenly there are two lives running before your eyes. One there, with Eddie, with everything you've ever dreamed of… the other running straight into Bucky's arms and leaving all of that behind.

And you know there's only one right for you.

You're brought back to reality by the sound of Eddie's voice.

“I- I know about what happened last night, I, ahm, I’ve heard the girls…” he stammers but holds his hold on your hands when you shift on your seat and he senses your discomfort. “No… it’s ok. “I know it’s new… it’s exciting…” he continues, nodding and hastily licking his lips, “And you deserve to explore that. You do… it’s ok.” He puts on a small smile, “But I want you to know that I’m here. I’m waiting for you. I’m waiting for us… for our future. No matter how long it takes. How much fun you need to have with that guy before you realize what I already know.” He smiles wider, “Because I know you and I are it. We’ve always been it.”

You’re frowning while looking down at him. His words making their way into your senses.

You free one hand of his secured hold to reach over and cup his smiling face.

He leans into your touch.

You make a decision.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #it´s a deal #it's a deal ch. 13

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willowbird · 3 years

Note

Aah I need more smiling and laughing Andrew from you now please!!! I'll be happy with anything you want to do with that! 💜💜

We ALL need more smiling and laughing Andrew in our lives. It's just too purr. 😉

I hope you enjoy!

(Also, I’m like -- SUPER sorry this took so long to finish even though it’s just a lil drabble. I hope it was worth the wait!!)

-----

Dan checked her watch for the third time and frowned. "Jesus, where the hell are those two? We're gonna miss our reservation if we have to wait for them much longer."

Their family had been spread to the winds for years at this point, but they still managed to get together once a year for some sort of a reunion. This year they were back in Palmetto the week before Christmas (something they tried to do every other year around the holidays). Half of them had arrived in town last night and the rest only this morning, but they’d spent most of the day itself imposing on Wymack and Abby (who had finally moved in together).

It had been a good time and though Abby had offered to cook for them, Dan had insisted that the whole team treat Abby and Wymack to dinner at a nice restaurant. Considering how many of them there were, the celebratory nature of the visit, and the general rowdiness of their group, it had been decided that the lot of them would carpool with Neil, Renee, and Kevin as the DDs.

Renee and Kevin had already driven off with their allotted passengers, so now Dan and Matt were left waiting for Andrew and Neil to finish getting ready or whatever the fuck they were doing.

“We won’t miss our reservation,” Matt assured with a chuckle, nudging her. “Miss out on the breadsticks? Well, that’s more likely...”

“Fuck that.” Dan was not missing out on breadsticks so that Andrew and Neil could get in a quickie before dinner. With that decided, she whirled on her heel and charged back into the house. She instinctively angled for the hallway that lead down to the guest bedrooms, intending to make as much noise as possible as she tromped down the hallway so as to alert them of her approach. She was less concerned about getting stabbed these days as she was about seeing parts of her friends that she really, really did not need to see.

Not that Andrew and Neil were grossly all over each other now or anything, but the years seemed to have softened the both of them. It was no longer shocking to see them holding hands or leaning casually against each other. They traded easy, casual kisses in greeting and simple affection just like the rest of the couples -- though there was still this... weight to every interaction between Andrew and Neil that spoke of how hard-earned those simple, casual expressions of affection were for the pair.

Dan didn’t begrudge them that. On the contrary, it warmed her heart every single time she caught one of those tiny actions of easy love and affection out of the corner of her eye.

Accidentally walking into the wrong guest room and catching Andrew pinning Neil against the wall, both of them barely dressed, was an entirely other matter and Dan was never going to be able to scrub that image or the sound of the way Neil was fucking moaning out of her damn mind.

Yeah. She was officially scarred for life.

So, while she was done waiting for them she was also not willing to add more trauma to her already considerable payload. She took a deep breath and prepared to start shouting and stomping when soft sounds coming from the den caught her attention. Now, if it had only been the little meows and scrabbles of kittens playing that would not have made her pause. After all -- the whole team had spent about four hours straight this afternoon going positively gaga over the adorable little fuzzballs. Nancy, Abby and Wymack’s recent rescue cat turned out to be pregnant when they adopted her -- which they hadn’t realized at the time. Now they had a little bundle of kittens taking up space in the living room. Wymack had already tried to pass them out like candy to the rest of the team but no one had bitten.

Well, that wasn’t true -- Nicky had wanted to take the whole litter, but Erik had kindly and calmly told him ‘no’ in such an effective way Nicky had dropped the subject with little more than a bit of pouting.

So if it were just that, she wouldn’t have paused.

No, it was the quiet murmuring that bubbled over the kitten sounds that drew her attention. Dan cut off her shout before she could utter it and pivoted smoothly, heading instead for the den. She slowed her steps as she approached, holding her breath so the sound of her breathing wouldn’t smother what she could now make out to be words.

“We have plenty of space.”

“Drew, while you aren’t wrong -- I don’t think that five kittens is the best way to start a family.”

“Because you are such an expert.”

“Drew.”

A sigh. “Three then.”

“What, not going to try for four?”

Andrew -- because it had to be Andrew, even though Dan was struggling to compute this particular conversation with Andrew ‘The Monster’ Minyard -- snorted in affront. “And leave just one all by itself? Don’t be stupid.”

Neil, because again -- it had to be Neil -- chuckled. “We are not taking three kittens home with us, Drew.”

There was a long silence and Dan risked peaking around the edge of the doorframe. Andrew Minyard was sitting on the floor with his back against the armchair, mostly facing away from the door and absolutely covered with kittens. One was on his shoulder, two were wrestling between his folded legs, and he was holding the other two against his chest, his face turned down as he nuzzled the little fuzzballs, all while glaring at Neil over the top of their furry heads. Well, Dan assumed he was glaring. She couldn’t actually see enough of his face to gauge his expression, but even covered with kittens this was still Andrew ‘I Wear Fucking Knives Everywhere’ Minyard, so she felt it was a safe enough assumption.

Then again, she could see most of Neil’s face, and he was looking at Andrew with an expression that Dan had no other description for other than “abject adoration”. So who knew, maybe Andrew was smiling gently and...

Yeah, no probably not.

Neil sighed, and Dan knew that sound. It was the sound of a man too much in love to say ‘no’ to whatever his partner wanted. Of a person too much in love to say ‘no’ to their love’s request, actually -- because she knew that she’d made that sound more than once regarding Matt.

“Alright, fine. But not three. Two. Two kittens. That way they won’t be alone and might be somewhat manageable.”

Dan thought that Neil was in for a rude awakening if he really thought that any number of cats were ‘manageable’, but she’d let him figure that out for himself. She could tell that Andrew was debating an argument, but he ultimately shrugged -- which she supposed was an agreement. Then he handed one of the kittens in his hands to Neil and gently scooped the one off his shoulder and added it to the squirming fluff-pile in his lap.

Neil held up the kitten and studied it, then his face broke into a wide, bright smile as the little black poof reached out and batted at his nose with the sweetest little squeak. The sound must have drawn the attention of the other kittens because they suddenly all turned their attention to Neil and launched a less-than-coordinated assault, even the one in Andrew’s hands squirming free to jump onto Neil. Neil barked out a laugh in surprise and jumped, ending up on his back as the kittens overran him and took him for their own.

With a sound that Dan didn’t really understand, Andrew pushed up to his knees and crawled around to be able to lean over Neil’s head as the kittens tussled and romped all over his partner. This change in angle allowed Dan to see Andrew’s face, and then her brain sort of caught up with her ears and she realized that she did know that sound -- because Andrew was making it again. He was laughing. It wasn’t a big laugh, not bright or rapid or voluminous. It was small, and soft, but there was a rich, deep quality to it that sang with genuine affection as he smiled down at Neil.

“See? I still say we should take all five. They are already a well-formed strike team.” Andrew. It was Andrew ‘I Eat Strikers For Breakfast’ Minyard saying those words. Smiling softly down at Neil. Chuckling as he reached out and brushed just his thumb over the tiny head of a fuzzy black and gray kitten.

“Two,” Neil said again, but Dan wondered exactly how firm he was going to be able to remain on that point with the way he was looking up at Andrew. “We can convince Aaron to take the other three then set up play-dates.”

Andrew laughed again, a quiet dance of sound between barely-curved lips. His eyes were still on the kittens. “Aaron would not know what to do with a cat.”

“Neither do I.”

Andrew looked down at Neil then and his expression lost the smile but became... so much more intimate that Dan almost looked away. “No,” he said. “But you have me.”

Dan’s chest tightened and she had to physically lift a hand to cover her mouth. She could feel the imprint of her own smile against her fingertips.

“Yes or no, Drew?”

“Yes.”

Dan turned away as Andrew leaned down to kiss Neil, slipping quietly down the hall to rejoin Matt. Maybe they could afford to be a little late to dinner.

#asks #anon #aftg #aftg fanfic #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #smiling andrew minyard #laughing andrew minyard #andreil in love #andreil with cats #kittens #pov dan wilds #100 asks #so sorry this took so INCREDIBLY LONG #I hope it was worth the wait!

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honeygingergemini · 4 years

Note

Now I'm thirsty for your writing! Can you write one where reader or steve wants to make a sex tape? Thank you😘😘

Hello my dear :) Thank you for being patient with me. I had writers block and just thought everything I was writing sucked so I kept deleting it and starting over. I hope you like it @donutloverxo

p.s. I was today years old when I found out tumblr doesn’t send you a notification when someone answers your ask (I’ve only ever asked on anon bc my main blog is something different so let me know if I am wrong lol) I tagged you just incase <3 IGNORE TYPOS :)

pairing: Steve rogers x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: camera sex, dirty talk, oral male receiving mentions of face fucking (light), unprotected sex, cream pies and descriptions of it, light spanking, and praise kink for stevie :)

On Camera

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. My heart is racing and we haven’t even done anything but set up the camera. We’ve only been dating for five months and four days, so imagine the graveling I had to do to get America’s golden boy to agree to fuck me on camera. I begged Steve for so long and now I'm the shy one. We’re supposed to be making a sex tape yet we are on opposite ends of the bed.

Steve’s bare back is against the headboard while his long legs are spread out before him. He keeps looking everywhere but the camera. His eyes bounce from the walls to the sofa in the corner of the room but once he looks at me, he looks at the camera and he retreats further into his shell. His hand keeps running over his shorts and now I'm starting to feel bad.

He agreed to this for me but I know he’s nervous. Maybe he doesn’t want to actually do this? Maybe I don’t want to do this?

Nothing will happen if I get up and turn the camera off now, nothing will happen except me being deathly embarrassed. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I know I want this, I thought about it for a long time before and after bringing it up to Steve. It was my bright idea and now I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs like a dummy.

You’ve had sex with Steve countless times, this is no different don’t let the camera scare you. Just relax, he’s your boyfriend, the one you’ve slept with numerous times. Just kiss him.

I take a deep breath looking at Steve whose skin is slightly flushed. I lean over to his side of the bed and reach for him taking in his warmth. His skin is damp with a light coating of sweat. Steve’s eyes shoot over to mine with the unexpected contact.

“Hi.” I smile at Steve hoping to relax him. As well as myself.

“Hi.” He looks at me but then quickly looks at the camera. I follow suit doing the same.

We need a distraction from the boxed recording device. I lean over more to capture Steve’s lips in a demure kiss. I kiss him slowly trying to memorize every detail of his mouth. My tongue rolls over his teeth before dipping further into his mouth pulling a deep groan from him, but after his groan he tense and pulls away.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah... i’m still not...” comfortable. he didn’t have to say it for me to know what he meant. I lift my body over his straddling him as I trace my fingers over his body knowing the simple act calms him. It works because this time Steve initiates the kiss. It’s more firm than the last but pleasing just the same. Our tongues waltz in a sinful manner pulling soft calls from me. Forced breaths exit my nostrils as I grind my hips slowly into his. His large hands grip my hips and he pulls me down harder.

“Uh Steve.” I moan out. “More please.” He’s now attacking my neck leaving open mouth kisses across my jugular. His hips push up to meet mine once then twice then it’s a repeated action that leaves me breathless.

His eyes snap open to meet mine but instead they meet the camera and his arms drop to his side. Deep sighs are released from the both of us

“I’m sorry princess... I'm just trying to get used to this.” I know he’s turned on right now. I can feel how turned on he is.

“Do you want to stop?” He looks at me but doesn’t answer. I peck his lips quickly before removing myself from his thighs. My fingers are at the rim of his shorts very close to pulling them down before Steve sits up to stop me.

“What are you doing?” it comes out mumbled together almost as one complete word.

“Let me help you relax.'' I push his chest back down softly and continue my plan. I pull his shorts down just enough to free his erection. It bounces back and hits Steve's stomach. I take him into my hands and slowly stroke him. I bend over Steve's thigh arching my back while bringing my spit slick lips to his tip and leave a wet kiss. Steve shudders whispering profanity under his breath. My tongue joins the fun, slipping out to run around the tip in slow semi circles. I continue my teasing until Steve's hips jut forward and his hand is on the base of my neck.

“Suck it right.” He grunts voice hoarse “Stop playing with me.”

“Yes sir.” The last words I say before I take him fully into my mouth. I push down until my nose is met by the coarse curls of his base. One of my hands grip Steve’s thigh while the other is holding on to the side of his abdomen subconsciously giving the camera a perfect view. Steve's grip on my neck is unwavering; he's holding my head down.

“Fuck... breathe through your nose doll.” He grunts with a rasp I’ve never heard from him before. I take in sloppy breaths trying to calm down. “You gonna let me fuck your face? hmm princess?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer; he begins pushing his hips up into me slowly speeding up with each thrust until he’s assaulting the back of my throat. The action pulls strangled noises from me. My sounds only serve as encouragement for Steve. I think he’s completely forgotten about the camera.

Steve juts his hips in a way that knocks the wind out of me. I gag around him getting a deep groan in return.

“F-fuck princess.” His hand finds your ass with conviction. Steve suddenly becomes fixated on your bottom. His burly hands run from your ass and down your thighs repeatedly. I wiggle my lower half as a silent plea for him to spank you again and he complies.

“You like it when Captain spanks you?” Slap. “You like the pain?” Slap. “I asked you something, doll.” you were presented with two slaps this time. I nod ferociously around Steve’s cock. The super soldier rubs the area he’s abused before dipping his fingers into your core.

“Shit princess.” he continues toying around with your pussy. He pulls your head from his dick not wanting to end his fun prematurely. His tongue meets yours in a grimy kiss. “I can’t wait to watch that back.” Steve mumbles around your lips as you simultaneously squeeze the finger within you.

“Oh? You like that?” Steve adds his middle finger to his index and presses into your warm sex deeply. I cry out enjoying the sweet burn of Steve’s fingers. “You like the thought of me watching this while i’m away?”

You absolutely loved the thought of Steve watching you pleasure him when he’s away. An image of Steve hunched over dick in hand pumping himself into oblivion leaves you dripping.

“Take your dress off.” Steve demands his voice carrying power. I begin stripping myself for him when he quickly stops me. “Nuh uh, not for me, for the camera.”

I turn to the camera as a shiver runs down my spine. My slip dress easily falls off my body leaving me with only black lace panties as covering. Not that I want to be covered in this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve’s thickset hands wrap around me from behind covering my breast giving them a pleasure filled squeeze. “Such a pretty sight.” Steve brings his body to mold into mine from behind. His left hand trails it’s way down back to my clothed opening.

“Can i touch you?” I nod yes at Steve's ridiculous question. Why would you ever deny him? Your response must be good enough because he’s pressing down over the fabric just the way you like. It doesn’t take long for his self restraint to be overcome and he’s dipping his fingers under your panties. He dips into your liquid arousal and coats your sex with it.

“You’re dripping princess.” He shudders to himself. He says it every time you two are intimate but you never get tired of hearing it. “So wet.”

“Always for you.” My words flow out breathlessly “Only for you.” You’re unsure of when steve removed his shorts but he’s aligning himself with your entrance. He’s bare. There’s no protective barrier between the two of you. He’s never done this before. You’ve never done this before. His tip is barely grazing your lips, Steve surprises you.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks for your permission and of course you accept. How could you turn down your favorite super soldier? So now you’re face down into the mattress dripping at the idea of getting to feel your Steve in a new way. A more personal way. Steve pushes into you slowly, only his tip. An exasperated moan leaves you as your suspicion is confirmed. You feel every detail of Steve's mushroom tip. Your vice like grip cups him into your squelching center holding him there. You absentmindedly hear Steve express his approval of the pleasure your body is providing him. Steve pulls out his tip just as slow as he entered. A suctioning click echos in the room showing just how wet you are.

“Fuck.” Steve whispers “You feel like a dream doll.”

He hasn’t fully delved into your sweetness and he’s on cloud nine. Not wanting to waste anymore time Steve dips into your bottoming out quickly and stays there. Labored breaths from both of you fill the room. It feels like Steve sits there forever unwavering. He takes in every detail of your squishy walls as you commit every vein, dip, and curve of Steve’s dick to memory.

“Stevie baby,” You can barely breathe but you need him to move. “Move… please… for me.”

Steve takes in one deep breath before he’s pounding into with great intensity. He doesn’t work your way up to his speed. He just slams into you, repeatedly. Hips clashing into your ass causing a jiggle that Steve adores. His hands strike your bottom giving added stimulation you didn’t know you needed. Steve pulls your head off of the bed bringing your body to lay flush against his. He dips his hips just a little bit lower and his tip sweeps the sweet spot located deep in your center only he can reach. You choke out a cry, his name being the only thing on your mind. Your cries encourage him to duplicate the action.

“It feel good, doll?” You nod so fast you feel the contents of your mind scramble.

“Say it, tell the camera how much you like it.” Steve turns your head to the recording device in front of you. Something you forgot was even present in the room with you. “Tell the camera” With each word his body collides with yours making sure you feel him as well as his words deep. “ Tell ‘em how much you like Captain stretching this pussy out.”

“Tell them.” Steve’s stern grunts are accompanied by passionate strikes to your outer thigh.

“Captain…” You whine, The pleasure is starting to feel overwhelming. “You feel so good, so different.” You want to catch your breath but you always want to please Steve. Captain has a praise kink.

“I can feel all of you.” You reach behind yourself to cup Steve's head. “It’s so deep.” You sigh when his fingers find your clit. The tingle of your orgasm begins at your toes and travels up your body. You’re so close.

“You’re the only one that can make me feel this way.” Steve grunts in approval of your expression pressing harder into your clit. He likes control but only because you give it to him so when you praise him, he feels like he’s on fire.

“I love when you touch me like that.” Another grunt from Steve. I teeter close to saying something important, something so permanent that once I say it, it can't be taken back. Steve’s chest puffs with need. A need for you to express the feeling you both have swirling within your chest growing with each passing day. A small smack is applied to your clit before Steve flips you over so you’re on your back.

“Tell me what I want to hear.” His voice is as rough as his pace. You don’t respond. It’s only been a couple months. Way Too soon to say it.

“Don’t wanna say it?” Steve is plowing into making sure no air is left in your lungs. “But I thought I was doing so good?” His thrusts are unabated.

“Thought I was the only one that could make you feel this way? hmm? Thought only I could make you feel good?” Long drawn out moans escape you. One right after the other each one more melodic than the last.

“Be my good little baby and say it.” His thumb flicks around your bundle of nerves with sharp short strokes. “Say it princess.”

“I love you.” You think you say it. You hope you say it. You’re unsure, your words are completely slurred and your mind is only filled with white noise. Your body is levitating as your orgasm washes over you. You’re feeling everything all at once. Steve doesn’t stop. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath.

“I know you do baby,” Steve chuckles, pleased with his work. “I love you so much more.” Each word is followed by a sweet kiss. Too sweet for what’s taking place. Your understanding of time becomes weary but soon enough Steve meets you at the peak.

“F-Fuucck doll.” His body tenses as he releases deep inside you. “Fuck.” Once he collects himself he’s off of you. You whine at the loss of heat from the super soldier. You didn’t realize it but Steve has grabbed the camera bringing its focus to your filled cunt.

“You look so pretty like this doll.” His finger dip into your overstimulated sex. He pushes the proof of his orgasm around before pulling some of it out to spread it across your lower lips.

You lay still trying, trying to breathe, trying to not pass out, trying to not look as fucked out as you feel. You hear steve mention how this was fun in the background but you don’t have the strength to respond. Soft kisses to your inner thighs, stomach, then lips lull you further into your euphoric state.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm i’m perfect.” You sling a leg over the super soldier. “So you love me?” Steve’s soft chuckle is the last thing you grasp before falling into much needed slumber.

#smut writing #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #smut #steve rogers x you #nomad steve rogers fic #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x black!reader #chris evans black!reader #chris evans x black reader #honeygingergemini #ask ginger

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare Part 4

The birthday sleep over has completely fallen apart, Mammon and Levi are at each other’s throats, Arianthi backslides into old thoughts and dangerous habits, and Diavolo offers her comfort.

Some good old fashioned angst and NSFW content: Language, blowjob, penetrative sex, face riding, unprotected sex.

Remember everyone, consent is key. Being open and honest with your partner and making sure you’re both on the same page is the sexiest thing you can do for one another. Also - practice safe sex mmmkay? :)

TW: body image and self esteem issues, eating disorders.

Written from the perspective of my female character Arianthi.

I’m adding a different mood playlist to each installment of this series, just songs that I listened to while writing and feel embody each part of the story.

Foxy Shazam - Count Me Out

Callum Scott - Dancing on My Own

Meg Myers - Desire

Hozier - Movement

Jess Benko - A Soulmate Who Wasn’t Meant to Be

“Arianthi! Arianthi! Open the damn door!” Mammon pounds on the door to Arianthi’s room, unable to open it.

“Screaming at her to open the door after you’ve just insulted her on her birthday probably isn’t the best way to get her to let you in Mammon,” Lucifer says coldly.

“I doubt she’d let you in anyway, scumbag,” Satan adds, an angry growl in his voice.

Mammon opens his mouth to snap back, then closes it, unable to come up with a retort.

“Stupid Mammon can’t even defend himself this time,” Asmo mocks. “You just blew whatever shot you had with Arianthi straight to hell.”

Mammon looks at the floor, ashamed. “I didn’t mean it. She’s got to know I didn’t mean it, I was just so.....”

“Jealous? Stupid? Idiotic? Pick a description because they all fit. Newsflash, even a shut in otaku like me knows like you can’t treat the girl you supposedly care about like shit and then expect her to still like you.” Levi glares at Mammon and then tries the doorknob again, agitated.

The door still doesn’t open and he can’t hear any movement inside her room.

Beel looks around worriedly. “She never locks her door. Ever. She always leaves it open so I can go in and get the snacks she keeps for me. And Luke said she might be sick.”

Belphie shares his concern. “Do you think we should have Beel break the door in? In case she’s too sick to answer and needs help?”

For the first time since Lilith, Lucifer looks to be at a loss. Concern for Arianthi and the urge to comfort her battles with his desire to protect her privacy.

Diavolo steps forward to pass a hand over the door and sighs. “It wouldn’t matter if he did. She’s warded the door against us.”

The brothers share a look of surprise.

Mammon is the first to recover his voice. “Where would she even learn ward magic? And why would she start using it now?”

“I taught her.” The demons turn to look at Solomon, who has walked up behind them. “And as to why she’s using it, I’d venture to guess that Mammon’s little attempt to shatter her self-confidence worked, and she doesn’t want to see any of you right now.”

Mammon flushes with shame. “I didn’t mean any of it,” he mutters.

“Then you shouldn’t have said it.” For the first time a sharp tone enters Solomon’s voice.

“Take down the ward,” Lucifer orders him.

Solomon moves to stand in front of Arianthi’s door. “No.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleam red, anger rising. “You may be a powerful sorcerer Solomon, but I am one of the seven lords of the Devildom and I will rip your heart out of your chest without hesitation. Open. The. Door.”

“No.”

Lucifer lunges forward, already shifting to his demon form.

Diavolo stops him with a strong hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re all worried, but maybe Solomon is right. Maybe we should respect her privacy. She’s put up the wards for a reason.”

Levi pushes forward and knocks softly on the door. “Arianthi? It’s me. Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Please Arianthi?”

The demons and Solomon all hear movement behind the closed door and Arianthi’s voice whispering. There’s a soft click and the door opens. Arianthi’s hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail, her make up removed. A t-shirt that is clearly Beel’s hangs to her knees, over it she wears one of Levi’s hoodies, and a pair of Belphie’s sweats peek out beneath the over sized shirts. She’s obviously been crying.

Something sharp and painful twists in Mammon’s chest. I did this. I made my human cry. I was stupid and jealous and I fucked up. I need to make this right. He moves quickly towards the open door, attempting to push past Levi.

“Arianthi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean -”

Arianthi holds up a hand to cut him off. “Just Levi.” Her voice is soft and hoarse.

Levi slips past Mammon and into the room. Arianthi shuts the door behind him and whispers the incantation to once again ward the door.

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

Levi follows me and we both take a seat on my bed, leaning up against the headboard, shoulders touching.

“Luke said he heard you being sick.”

I sigh heavily.

I don’t want to talk about this now. Never talking about it would be ideal. Forgetting this whole shit show of a night would be fantastic.

“I was sick. Then I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I’m fine now.

“Did you make yourself sick on purpose?” Levi asks softly.

I turn to face him, getting my first proper look at his face and his emerging black eye.

“Levi! What happened to your face?” I reach out to touch his cheek, worried.

He gently grabs my hand and pulls it down, folding it between his two large ones. “Don’t change the subject.”

The urge to cry comes on again, hard and fast. “I’m sorry Levi,” I whisper.

He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just........I wish you wouldn’t feel like that’s something you have to start doing again.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “It just....it’s hard. I haven’t felt that way in a long time but then......... I just felt this panic and I thought if I could get rid of the food then I would feel better. And if I start doing it again then I can be more like what he wants.......I could be pretty. I could be so much more than this. I could be good enough for him.” I gesture at my body, the tears flowing freely now.

Levi thunks his head back against the headboard of the bed in frustration. He turns me to face him, his thumbs brushing my tears from my cheeks.

“Hey we’ve talked about this. Remember what you told me when Mammon was selling that picture of me? And I was so embarrassed because I didn’t want anyone seeing that much of my body? You told me I was perfect how I was. I didn’t have to look like Beel or Mammon to be attractive. Fuck everyone who thought differently. You loved me. My brothers loved me in their own weirdly deranged ways. You said I didn’t have to change to be like anyone else to be worthy of love and the things that made me different from my brothers were what made me sexy. And then you got Mammon to delete the picture and give me all the Grimm he made from it.”

Levi grins at me. “I think you’re the only person who has ever been able to get Mammon to willingly hand over Grimm.”

I choke back a sob. “I remember.”

“Ok, well I’m telling you the same thing now. Don’t go back to that. Don’t hate yourself, don’t make yourself sick to try to control things, to change things about yourself to make someone else care about you.” Levi gives me a little shake.

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m just a human. Is there some stupid rule here that all demons must be skinny and mind blowingly attractive?”

Levi looks at me for a moment then laughs. I join in, giggling through my tears.

“I mean what I’m saying,” Levi says as he wipes away the rest of my tears. “We all care about you, exactly how you are. If you start to feel like you can’t handle this and need help we can talk to Diavolo. He can send you back to the human realm to get help from the doctors there. I’m sure he’d let you come back after.”

I bite my lip anxiously then nod. “I’ll tell you if I can’t get a handle on it. If I can’t, or you think I’m slipping you can tell Diavolo.”

“Pinky promise?”

I smile, linking my pinky with his. “Pinky promise.”

Levi sighs in relief. “Good. Feel a little better?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” I answer, leaning my shoulder against his. “Hey Levi?”

“Mmm?”

"Thank you.”

He smiles at me. “Anything for my Henry.”

“Could you do me a favor? Could you tell Diavolo I want to talk to him real quick? I want to apologize for everything that happened tonight.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I stand up and reach over to my nightstand. I hand Levi a jumble of things; a toothbrush, a D.D.D. charger, some t-shirts, a pair of sunglasses, a white dress shirt.

“Can you give these back to Mammon when you go back out there? Please?”

Levi nods and we walk to the door together. I take down the ward and he slips through the open door.

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

“She wants to talk to Diavolo,” Levi tells the crowd assembled outside Arianthi’s door. “She’s upset but she’s not sick anymore.”

A wave of shock ripples through the rest of the brothers. Diavolo nods and quickly enters the bedroom.

“She really doesn’t want to see any of us?” Asmo asks, hurt.

Levi looks at the ground, trying to avoid the upset gazes of his brothers. “It’s nothing personal Asmo. She’s just got some stuff going on right now. Really personal stuff. She can’t talk about it with anyone else. She might though. Soon. Just don’t be mad at her for it, please?”

Asmo nods, still obviously distressed.

“Well, now that I know she’s not sick I’m going to gather up Luke and Simeon and we’ll take our leave,” Solomon says, shooting Mammon one last dirty look before he turns and walks down the hall.

The demons all give him a half-hearted wave goodbye.

Levi remembers the things that Arianthi gave him and quickly shoves them into Mammon’s arms. “Here’s all your stuff that was in Arianthi’s room. She doesn’t want it in there anymore.”

Mammon looks down at this things in horror. There’s a stinging sensation in his eyes, and he suddenly can’t breathe. He bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, and quickly walks to his room without a word to his brothers.

“This is really bad.” Beel looks around at the remaining brothers. “We have to fix this.”

Satan sighs softly. “This might be something we can’t fix Beel.”

“Satan’s right. Ultimately this is going to be between Arianthi and Mammon,” Lucifer says. “The best thing we can do is to let Arianthi know we still care about her and want her in the House of Lamentation.”

He sighs. “Let’s all go to bed. There’s nothing else to do here tonight. I’m sure if Diavolo thinks anything is wrong he’ll let us know before he leaves.”

The brothers all exchange worried glances before they disperse to their bedrooms.

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

“Hey.” Diavolo gives me a small smile as he enters my room.

“Hey.” I return the smile and pat my bed. “You can come sit with me if you want.”

“Do you want to put the wards back up?”

I shake my head. “No, just close the door please.”

“Are you feeling better?” The mattress dips under Diavolo’s weight, causing me to slide closer to him.

“Yeah, just a bad moment.”

“I’m sorry Mammon said those things about you.” Diavolo reaches out to take my hand. I involuntarily flinch at the touch of his fingers and he jerks his hand back. “I’m sorry, I overstepped.”

I quickly grab his hand, lacing my fingers with his. “It’s ok Diavolo. I’m just feeling a little off right now.”

“Are you sure?” He looks at me with concern. “I don’t want to make your night worse with my attention if you don’t want it.”

I press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I’m sure.”

A faint blush stains Diavolo’s cheeks. “And you promise you’re feeling better?”

I grin. He’s absolutely adorable.

“Promise. I have some things I need to work on, but right now I am feeling better.”

He squeezes my hand. “Good.” He pauses for a moment, looking as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts, before he turns and looks earnestly into my eyes.

“Arianthi....... I want you to know that I don’t agree with any of the things Mammon said. And I hope that you don’t let his outburst taint your opinions of other demons...... or of me. I meant what I said earlier tonight, about wanting to get to know you more. I don’t want to push you, because I know that you have feelings for Mammon, but I do hope you’re still open to giving me a chance. And I think our encounter earlier this evening proved that I’m more than slightly attracted to you, just as you are.”

His last sentence comes out in a rushed whisper, and he’s blushing heavily.

“I wouldn’t let something like that change my opinion of you Diavolo,” I respond truthfully. “There are some feelings regarding Mammon that I need to sort through. I really don’t know how all those are going to shake out. I do like you, I enjoy our time together, and I think I made it obvious earlier that I’m attracted to you too. I meant what I said earlier about getting to know you. I’m open to see what could happen between us.”

He smiles and places a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist. “I’m a very patient demon. I’ll follow your lead. Whatever you want, no pressure at all.”

He pushes himself up from my bed. “I should be going. You need your rest.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Good night Arianthi.”

I reach up and stroke his cheek. “Diavolo?’

“Hmmm?”

“Stay with me tonight?” This might be a bad idea, but I really just want him close to me right now. Someone who’s open about how he feels me. Someone strong and handsome who can distract me from this fucked up night.

I just want some comfort. Some cuddles. There’s nothing wrong with that. Right?

He hesitates a moment, shock and pleasure warring across his face. “Are you sure?”

I bite my lip, hesitating a moment before holding my arms out to him. “Cuddle me?”

“Your wish is my command, birthday girl.” He grins at me, bending down to give a tight hug.

I stand up to feel more of him, nuzzling my head against his chest. “Thank you.”

He rests his chin on my head. “Anything for you,” he whispers.

We stand that way for a minute, swaying slightly. I feel safe in Diavolo’s arms, like nothing can ever hurt me.

A demon, the Prince of the Devildom no less, is the one who makes me feel safer than I ever have before. I internally roll my eyes and huff a small laugh against Diavolo’s chest.

“Diavolo?”

“Mmm?”

“This is really nice, but can we get into bed? I’m exhausted.” I playfully slump against him to prove my point.

He effortlessly holds me up and chuckles. “Yeah, we can do that. Let me send a message to Barbatos really quickly to let him know he’s free to go home.”

He reaches for his D.D.D. to tap out a quick message.

I pull away to shuck off my hoodie and sweats. I look up to find Diavolo staring at me, eyes wide. I look down at myself, wondering what the problem is.

Beel’s t-shirt is all the way down to my knees, I’m wearing underwear. I’m all covered up. What’s wrong? Panic starts all over again. He hates what he sees. This is a mistake. He knows he made a mistake.

“Everything ok?” I ask anxiously.

“Uh huh. Yep. All good here,” Diavolo says, swallowing nervously.

“Ok.” I smile at him, and slide between the sheets, sinking into my mattress. Diavolo moves to lay beside me, still fully clothed.

I look up at him, confused. “You’re not sleeping in your clothes are you?”

Diavolo’s ears turn red. “I was considering it.”

I stare at him. “Diavolo, we’re both adults here. You can sleep in your boxers. We’ll be ok. If anything happens beyond cuddles it will only be because we both want it. But neither one of us are going to sleep comfortably if you’re still wearing all your clothes.”

He lets out a nervous breath then grins down at me. “You’re right, you’re right.”

He peels off his jacket and shirt, and I stare as his hands move to his belt buckle and he pushes down his pants.

Holy. Fucking. Fuck. Temptation has entered the chat.

I thought Beel was a gorgeous specimen, but Diavolo surpasses even him. Every inch is heavily muscled, perfectly defined. Smooth skin that I want to run my hands over.

I want to climb this man like a tree and never come down. Bad Arianthi. Bad. Quench your thirst.

Diavolo slides under the sheets next to me and we roll onto our sides to face each other.

He reaches out to hold one of my hands. “I really am sorry your birthday ended on such a sour note.”

I squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry you had to see all that. Besides, it’s not all bad. We’re here, getting to spend time together.”

He gives me a soft smile, and his hand moves up to gently stroke my arm. “That’s true.”

I tense in automatic response to his touch. He’s going to feel how fat my arms are. He’s going to hate what he feels.

Diavolo’s hand stills immediately. “Is this ok?”

I suck in a deep breath and nod, relaxing a little, waiting for the rational part of my brain to take over.

He’s seen my arms before. He already know what they look like. He wouldn’t be here, touching me, spending time with me, if he didn’t want to.

He resumes his gentle stroking, but remains silent. He seems to be considering what he wants to say.

I place a hand on his bare chest and he shivers under my touch. “Diavolo I can hear your wheels turning from here. What’s on your mind?”

He smirks at me. “I always forget how perceptive you are.” He pauses for a minute, choosing his words carefully. “I know that you have some issues with your body.”

I tense up again.

His hand moves away from my arm, stroking the curve of my waist down to my hip. Up and down. His soft touch gradually helps me relax.

“I’m not going to push you to talk about it now. But I hope someday you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about what you’re feeling. Until then I have no problem telling you how gorgeous I find you. How perfect your body is to me. I’ll tell you every day. Every hour. Every minute, if that’s what it takes.”

I lay my head on his chest trying to hide my tears. Happy tears this time. After a couple minutes I regain my composure and look back up at him. Warm golden eyes meet mine, and he smiles down at me.

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back more tears and give him a small smile. “Thanks. You know, you’re going against every single demon stereotype right now.”

He pulls me to him, holding me tight. He chuckles, and it rumbles deep in his chest. “Maybe so. But as long as I’m making you happy that’s all that matters.”

He pulls back to stare down at me intently. “I just ask that when you do struggle with things like that you talk to me. I might not always be able to make things better, or even understand, but I want you to always be honest about your feelings with me.”

“I can do that. But only if you promise to do the same thing.” I press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I promise.” He moves to kiss my cheek in return, but I turn my head at the last minute, catching his lips with my own.

This kiss is soft, chaste, but he still gives a pleased gasp and tightens his grip on me.

He pulls away suddenly and looks down at me with concern. “I want to kiss you. Really kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.” I tilt my head up, ready for more.

Diavolo frowns and bites his lip. “You’ve had a rough night, and you’re upset. I don’t want to take things further, if you’re not......” He exhales sharply. “I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re not in a good head space right now.”

Mind. Blown.

Once again, a demon is being more considerate than the majority of humans I’ve dated. He deserves to have the same consideration from me.

“I promise you Diavolo, you won’t be taking advantage of me. I want this. I want you. But if you don’t feel comfortable then I won’t push it and we’ll just cuddle and talk. Or you can leave if you don’t feel ok about that anymore. I won’t be mad. I want you to be comfortable too.”

“I am more than comfortable with this as long as you are.” Diavolo moves in to kiss me again but I press a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“I just want to make sure that I’m being totally transparent with you. I like you, and I do want you. I still want to keep getting to know you. But whatever happens between us tonight I can’t make you any promises that it will lead to anything permanent. If you don’t feel ok doing anything more physical than kissing without a being in a relationship, then I totally understand.” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

He stays silent for a bit, mulling over what I’ve told him. “I appreciate your honesty. We’ve already decided that we want to keep learning about each other and spending more time together. Sex won’t change what I want, and I won’t ever push you for more than you’re comfortable with. Physically or emotionally.”

Whew. “Same page then?”

“Same page. Can I please kiss you now?”

I giggle and nod, and he surges forward, pressing his lips against mine. I sigh into the kiss, pleasure lighting up every nerve ending. Diavolo licks along my lower lip.

“Open your mouth,” he growls.

I instantly obey and brush my tongue against his. He pulls me tight against him, his tongue soft against mine, expertly teasing me, gentle and exploring. I wriggle against him, desperate for more contact. He grips my hips and rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him, his mouth never breaking contact with mine.

His hands tug at the hem of my shirt, asking permission. I move up to my knees and pull it over my head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

“Fuck.”

Diavolo pulls me further up his body and turns his attention to my breasts. He draws one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and flicking it with his tongue. His hand moves up to cup my other breast, gently stroking and squeezing, before his large fingers start pinching and tugging my nipple, bringing it to a stiff peak. He cups me again, his large palm overstimulating my already sensitive breast.

I card my hands through his hair, tugging slightly and giving a small moan. Diavolo releases my nipple from his mouth with a small pop! and gives me a wicked grin. His hands stroke down my back and move to squeeze my ass. He mouths my neck, teeth nipping against the tender skin.

“Mmmmm. So quiet. Clearly I need to do better. I need you moaning my name. Telling me how good I make you feel. Don’t hold back beautiful. Let me hear you,” he murmurs.

He sucks hard on a particularly sensitive spot on my neck, then soothes it with a soft swipe of his tongue.

“Diavolo!” I shudder against him and he takes the opportunity to lavish more attention on my breasts, kissing and licking, making me squirm above him.

“Mmmm, that’s more like it.” His deep voice sends pleasant vibrations against my skin as he continues to use his mouth on me.

I pull back and look down at him. He’s flushed, breathing quickly, his eyes heavy lidded with desire. “My turn.”

I lightly kiss his lips, moving down his neck slowly. I press sensuous kisses to his chest, licking one of his nipples while I gently scrape the other with my fingernail.

“Yes,” he hisses between clenched teeth, arching beneath me.

I grin against his chest, slowly moving down his body. I scrape my teeth along his abs and give him a soft bite. One large hand moves down to softly tangle in my hair. I stop my kisses at the waistband of his boxers. His erection strains against the fabric, but I’m not going any further without his express permission.

I look up at him through my lashes and give a small tug on his boxers. “Are you ok with this?”

His hand tightens in my hair. “Don’t you dare stop now.”

“Perfect.”

I give his stomach one last kiss and palm him through thin fabric. His hips arch up and he ruts against my hand, the front of his boxers already wet with pre-cum.

I pull his boxers down, slowly freeing his erection. He lifts his hips, speeding the process along. I quickly toss away his discarded boxers, and reach out to stroke him.

He’s huge.

I suddenly have doubts about how he’s going to fit in my.......well anything really. Then Diavolo moans my name and everything else disappears.

I continue to stroke him, relishing the velvet feel of his skin against my hand. I lower my head to give him kitten licks, slowly swiping my tongue against the head of his cock and his slit, lapping up his pre-cum.

“Fuck.” Diavolo fists his hands into my hair. “More. Please.”

It’s a heady feeling, having the prince of the Devildom beneath me and begging for my mouth. I wrap my lips around the head of his cock and begin sucking, continuing to stroke his shaft, my hand moving in rhythm with my mouth.

Diavolo tries to keep his hips still, but he can’t help thrusting up into my mouth, greedy for more contact. I gag, my eyes tearing up, but I continue on, his pleasure the only thing on my mind. I eventually remove my hand, my mouth bobbing up and down on his cock. It’s a messy, sloppy blow job, but from his groans of pleasure I don’t think he minds.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Diavolo breathes, those words somewhere between a plea and a prayer.

I reach between his legs to cup his balls, my mouth still wrapped around his thick cock. His hips buck, his back arching off the bed, and I can feel the muscles in his thighs tighten. He tugs on my hair, pulling me off of him, and I release his cock reluctantly.

“Something wrong?” I ask with a grin, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” Diavolo’s chest is heaving and he grips my wrists tightly.

I arch an eyebrow at him. “And that’s bad because.......?”

He growls and yanks me up his body. “Because I need to taste you. Now. And when I cum I’m going to cum inside you. I want to see your face when I mark you as mine for the first time.”

He keeps pulling me up until my thighs are resting on either side of his head. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh. “Hold on to the headboard.”

“Wha-? Oh god!” I lose my train of thought as Diavolo gives a sharp bite to the inside of my thigh. He turns his head and brushes kisses along the other.

He brings a finger up and slowly circles my clit.

“So pretty,” he mumbles. “And so wet. Just for me.”

He lazily swipes his finger through my folds, up and down, before returning to press on my clit.

I grip the headboard, panting. “Diavolo..... no teasing.”

He presses one finger into me, stretching me. He strokes slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size.

I whimper and attempt to move my hips. One large hand grabs my thigh, holding me still. Diavolo adds a second finger, stroking in and out, working me into a frenzy.

My grip on the headboard tightens. “Your mouth, use your mouth. Please,” I beg.

Diavolo continues his maddeningly slow pace, pressing his thumb against my clit for further stimulation.

“I can’t hear you princess. Be a little louder for me. Use your words.” He blows a breath of cool air against my heated core and I shiver, tightening around his fingers.

“Diavolo please! I need your mouth on me. Please!” I’m no longer worried about keeping quiet. The whole House of Lamentation could hear me for all I care. My one need is to feel Diavolo’s mouth on my pussy. NOW.

He laughs and gives my thigh one last kiss. “Good girl.” He slowly and deliberately swipes his tongue against my clit.

“Fuck!”

He removes his fingers and presses an open mouth kiss against me, his tongue stroking through my folds. “You taste even better than I imagined you would.

My hips buck. “More,” I mewl helplessly.

Diavolo’s hands grab my hips roughly and he plunges his tongue inside me. I scream, overwhelmed by the sensation. He keeps a firm grip on me, never allowing me to move away. He begins using his hands to guide my hips in an up and down rhythm, his tongue thrusting in and out.

He’s making me fuck his face.

Everything begins to fade around me. Nothing matters but the sensation of Diavolo’s tongue between my thighs.

“Diavolo..........Diavolo I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum.” I’m a whimpering mess, unable to do anything but hold tight to the headboard and let pleasure sweep me away.

He removes his mouth from me long enough to say, “Then cum for me Arianthi. I need you on my tongue.”

His presses a finger against my clit, circling it roughly while he resumes fucking me with his tongue. Tension gathers in my core, tighter and tighter until it finally snaps.

“Diavolo!” I scream, shuddering against him. My vision flashes white as my orgasm takes over. He continues to stroke and lick me through my release, lapping up everything I give him.

I’m trembling when he eases me off of him and lays me back on the mattress. He rolls over on top of me, grinning and looking pleased with himself.

He brings his mouth to mine and gives me a deep kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and I moan into the kiss, greedy for more of whatever he wants to give me.

“Good?” he whispers against my lips.

“Try amazing,” I whisper back, lacing my hands behind his neck and bringing him down for another kiss.

He breaks the kiss and laughs, moving to settle his hips between my thighs. He reaches between us to stroke his cock a few times, using the head to tease my already overstimulated clit.

He looks up and meets my eyes. “Is this ok? Do you still want this?”

I nod and tilt my hips up to meet his. “I want this.”

He slowly pushes the head of his cock into my pussy. I tense slightly and he stops.

He’s so big. How is he this big? Are all demons this big? Goddamn Diavolo you could split a girl in half.

Diavolo presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Relax baby. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be so gentle with you.”

My body melts into his, soothed by his sweet words. He continues pressing into me, inch by excruciatingly pleasurable inch.

“You’re so beautiful Arianthi. And so wet for me. Such a tight fit baby. Like you were made just for me. Fuuuuuuuuck...... I love the way you feel.” Diavolo murmurs against my neck, kissing and nuzzling me between endearments.

He lets out a beautifully obscene moan once he’s fully sheathed, and gives me time to adjust to his size. I’m panting, already overwhelmed by the feel of him.

“Are you ok if I move?”

“Fuck yes,” I whisper, rocking my hips against his.

He pulls out, only to thrust back in slowly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can. I throw my head back against my pillows and close my eyes, reveling in sensations. His cock inside me, his lips on my neck, the feel of his hair between my fingers, the weight of his body pressing me down into the mattress.

Diavolo continues to slowly thrust, building our mutual ecstasy. I feel his mouth against my ear.

“Look at me,” he orders, nipping at my earlobe.

I gasp and focus my eyes on his face.

“I want your eyes on me princess.” He snaps his hips against mine, increasing his pace. “I want you looking at me when you cum, knowing it’s me that made you feel this way. I don’t want you thinking about Mammon. I want all your attention on me and how good I make you feel.”

“Yes,” I whimper, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“What’s that baby?” Diavolo thrusts into me hard, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Only you Diavolo. Only you,” I cry out.

He gives me a feral grin. “Good girl.”

He deepens his thrusts, grinding against me every time our hips meet. He holds himself up on one forearm, bringing his other hand between us, fingers sliding down my stomach to rub against my clit.

I scream his name, fingertips digging into his shoulders. I’m coming undone, quickly. Diavolo feels me tensing beneath him and kisses me, tongue entering my mouth and mimicking the movements of his cock.

I break away, gasping for air. “Diavolo I’m going to -”

“Me too.” He’s breathless, chasing his own orgasm. He rests his forehead against mine. “Please look at me. I need to see you.”

I open my eyes and he looks down at me, eyes glazed with lust. His hips stutter and his thrusts become sloppy. He pushes into me one last time, and I feel the warmth of his release as he cums, moaning my name. The sensation of his cock twitching inside me sends me over the edge, and I bury my face into his neck as my pussy clenches around his cock.

We’re both breathing hard when I pull back to look at him, and he leans down to repeatedly press soft kisses to my lips. He stays inside me as we kiss and hold each other for a few minutes, reluctant to separate.

“Are you ok?” Diavolo whispers, nose nuzzling my cheek.

“That was ........ I can’t....wow....you’re amazing,” I answer, giggling as his nose tickles me. “Are you ok?”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this happy.” He smiles down at me, giving me one last kiss before he pulls out and stretches out beside me. He curls into the position of big spoon and pulls me tight against his chest, one arm wrapping around me protectively.

He kisses the back of my neck, and pulls the blankets over us. “I think we’ve earned a little rest.”

I nestle back into the warmth of his chest and relax, listening as Diavolo’s breathing becomes slow and even. I close my eyes, settling into the comfort of his body against mine when a sudden noise makes my eyes fly open.

I scan my bedroom before my gaze settles on my door, cracked open, light from the hallway spilling into my room. My eyes fly up and land on the pale face staring at me from the doorway.

Oh, fuck.

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

Mammon wanders the hallways of the House of Lamentation, miserable over the way things had happened at Arianthi’s party. He can’t sleep, sick to his stomach that he had let his jealousy and pride hurt the person that he cared about the most.

I gotta find a way to make this up to her, to show her I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It was so stupid. All I need is a chance to apologize and I’ll promise to never do it again. I just need to get her to listen to me for five minutes so I can give her the birthday present I got her and tell her how I really feel.

A cry catches his attention and he follows the sound to investigate. He ends up in front of Arianthi’s door. It’s barely cracked open and he can hear whimpers coming from inside her room. Worried that she may be sick again he softly pushes the door open a little wider. What he sees makes vomit rise in his throat and tears spill down his cheeks.

Diavolo is on top of Arianthi, thrusting his cock into her slowly and whispering things Mammon can’t hear. What he can hear is Arianthi moaning in pleasure as she writhes beneath Diavolo, bucking her hips up to meet his every thrust. He watches in horror as they cry out in pleasure together, then gently kiss and whisper to each other as they come down from their shared high.

What did I do? Did I fuck up this badly? Or has this been going on right under my nose the whole time? No, no, Arianthi’s not like that. I did this. I pushed her away every time she started to get close. This happened because I fucked up. I didn’t treat her right, I didn’t let her know I cared. This is on me.

Mammon roughly wipes the tears from his cheeks as he watches Diavolo wrap himself around Arianthi and they settle in to sleep. He can hear Arianthi’s sigh of contentment as she cuddles back into Diavolo.

He stares at them a moment longer, something deep and ugly taking root in his chest. Rage, jealousy, pain, love, and regret war inside him, each begging to be released.

That should be me. She’s MY human. MY girl. I’m her FIRST man. That should be ME.

Mammon’s breath catches as Arianthi’s eyes snap open and focus on him. He looks at the person he loves above all others, tears falling openly down his face, as she gazes back at him in shock from the comfort of another demon’s arms.

257 notes · View notes

sd1970x · 4 years

Text

Marinette, work in progress - Chapter 1

Read also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203645/chapters/63770623

----

“One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.” Simone de Beauvoir

There is almost nothing about Marin Dupain-cheng's life, an aspiring clothes designer, that makes them happy. Certainly not the bullying they keep getting at school.

Marin doesn't even know her true gender identity yet.

Both of these are about to change. But would that be enough for her to fight the demons within? ----

CW - Homophobia

Pronouns note: in the beginning of the fic, as Marin(ette) is very much closeted, I am purposefully using he/him pronouns as these capture the correct perspective feel. Pronouns will change as soon as she realizes who/what she really is.

---

So, this is my first work after almost two years of not producing any new ones. I am planning to explore mental challenges involving the crossing of the gender barrier, the very same ones I am now fighting after discovering my own gender identity, as I was writing it in a Miraculous Ladybug fic.

This work is planned to be about a dozen chapters and around 30-40k words when complete.

Thanks go to: V- for inspiring this fic and for being the amazing and caring person they are. Wonderful beta feedback and copyediting: Skye, MyKeyboardDidIt

(further thanks will be updated as goes! if you helped with beta/ideas just hit me up and i'll add you!)

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

"Dear, your alarm’s been going off for fifteen minutes! You’re going to be late for your first day of school!”

You say that as if it’s a bad thing. As if I don’t want to be several hours late. Or days.

“Yeah Mom, I’m coming.”

Marin dragged himself out of bed, his form hunched as he made his way to his closet, regarding his clothes with indifference.

I Don’t even like any of them. And I doubt they would solve the real problem here. That I do not like what I see in the mirror.

Myself.

His hand drifted to a random shirt of no particular interest and he casually tossed it over his head. He shuffled over to the bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror.

Ho-hum. Same old me, isn’t it?

His hair was in its usual mess on top of his head. Foregoing using a brush, he ended up lightly combing through his hair with his fingers until it looked somewhat acceptable.

I guess that’s okay, he thought while shrugging.

As he was brushing his teeth, his eyes strayed to his face. Studying it. Scrutinizing it.

I ought to shave better than this, He thought. His hand reached for the razor, but he stopped short of picking it up.

What even is the point. Either way, trying won’t make any difference.

The image in the mirror appeared to give him a judgemental look, his own blue eyes prying into the inner parts of his soul.

Well, at least these eyes aren’t half as bad. Perhaps they would have been of some use if they had been matched with another person altogether.

He sighed and turned his head away, as if that would be enough to make the thought disappear.

It wasn’t.

The stairway creaked just a bit as he went downstairs to the kitchen where his parents were already toiling about.

“Your need to patch up your shave, my boy,” Tom said. “You want to look good for the ladies, don’t you?”

I’m not into girls, Dad.

Maybe one day I’ll gather the courage to tell you that.

“Well… not really…”

After all, what difference does it make?

“Come now, where’s the spirit? Every girl is different, they can’t all be like Chloe,” Sabine interjected, attempting to be helpful but having just the opposite effect.

“Ugh, Mom, why’d you have to mention her at all?”

Marin frowned as he sat down for breakfast, unable to drive Chloe’s image away from his mind. He took a bite off of his omelette and was struck by the apparent blandness. He set the fork down, sighing quietly to himself.

And there goes my appetite. It’s not the omelette that’s the issue though....

A sip of fresh juice did the trick, the taste too strong to be overridden.

“Cheer up, buddy!” Tom came over. “Take these macarons to school, maybe a tasty start would help lighten up your day!”

“Thanks, Dad, these are awesome.” He said as he picked them up, giving him a half-hearted smile in return.

I appreciate the gesture..., but it feels more like bribing my classmates with these. Guess anything is worth a try at this point.

---

Marin walked into school where everyone was bustling about and chatting with old friends.

Bright banners greeted the students and everything still felt pristine and clean. The corridors even had flower bouquets placed as decorations. Marin took a breath of air, relishing in the floral scent, and proceeded to enter class.

The classroom was freshly painted and even the furniture had been patched with an attention to detail. Marin barely allowed himself a moment of excitement, before despair and weariness took hold again.

It may look different, but looks won’t change anything for people like me. It’ll still be an endless test of mettle against bullying and harassment.

He cautiously went for his seat and observed his classmates.

So there’s Nino, he’s kinda-sorta okay with me. Something I could never say about Kim. Max hasn’t been mean either, but he’s with Kim, so... At least I don’t see her , maybe we’re not in the same—

“What do you think you’re doing?” a loud cry halted his thoughts and confirmed his fears.

Chloe. The nastiest of them all. Here’s to an old-new welcome, a start-over that amounts to absolutely nothing.

“Ugh. Here we go again,” he muttered quietly, hoping Chloe wouldn’t pick it up.

She came over, an accusing look plastered on her face.

“That's my seat.”

“But Chloe, this has always…” he attempted to retort, then quickly backtracked.

“Fine, just… take it. I don’t care.”

“Take it? It’s always been ours.” Sabrina added, bearing the same mocking countenance.

Sabrina helped herself to one of Marin’s macarons uninvited, then made a puking motion.

“Ugh, they are so gross!” she said, even though she was quick to pocket one for her friend as well.

Chloe paid no heed to the macarons as she was already busy teaching Marin the new rules.

“Listen. Adrien's arriving today and the last thing he needs is someone who needs straightening like you giving this class a bad name. Stay away from him, get it?”

Marin tried his best to ignore the obvious insult and focus on the more pressing question.

“Who’s Adrien?”

Both Chloe and Sabrina chuckled, making Marin regret asking.

“Adrien is a famous model. Pretty, rich, glamorous, someone to look up to. Like me. And just like me, he’s everything you’ll never be and everything you’ll never have.” Chloe fawned over her imaginary description as Sabrina took up the task of reprimanding Marin for the question.

“A loser that doesn’t even know who Adrien is, needs to sit as far away from him as possible. You’re enough of an embarrassment to our class as is.”

Marin opened his mouth as if to deny every word, but opted against it.

You’re wrong. One day, I’ll be a famous and successful designer and every single one of you will be sorry for how you treated me. I just have to persist through this. I won’t bite it this time.

He picked up his bag wordlessly and slowly went towards his designated seat.

At least that’s what he planned to do, but the new girl pre-empted him as she grabbed him by the hand and helped him to the seat next to her. Apparently she had overheard the conversation and didn’t plan on letting it slide, at least as far as her expression read as she looked towards one Chloe Bourgeois.

“Hey! Who elected you queen of seats?” She cried out.

“I did. Good luck dethroning me with your pariah friend.” Chloe laughed at her.

It was then that Miss Bustier entered the class, finally putting a timely end to the whole ordeal.

“Has everyone found a seat?” she called.

“Hey. Don’t let her get to you.” The new girl turned towards Marin again.

He nodded.

“If only I could… She makes my life miserable. My only comfort is the thought that I’ll be free once I graduate.”

“I’m Alya, what’s your name?”

“I’m Marin” He replied. “Pleased to meet you.”

“For those of you who don't yet know me,” Miss Bustier called yet again, “I'm Miss Bustier and I'll be your teacher this year.”

At least with the lesson going on, I should be safe from unnecessary trouble.

Marin pulled out his history book, the same one from last year, bearing yet another reminder. "Marin the Gay-boy" scrawled over the cover, courtesy of Kim.

Safe, huh.

“Everything you’ll never be, Everything you’ll never have.”

Like a clean history book.

It was then when the memories came back to life, a flashback from last year.

---

“Who did this?”

Marin looked about, trying to discern any dead giveaways by his classmates. Too many of them seemed to be smiling too mysteriously to be able to get anything out of them.

You need to stand up for yourself! Show them weakness and they’ll hunt you down like prey!

… easier said than done.

He took another good look at his history book. A small red scrawl was now adorning it, not unlike a barb stuck in flesh and equally painful.

“ Marin the Gay-Boy ”.

“Please… tell me who did this.”

Weariness engulfed his voice as it went weak.

I’ll find out who did this! I’ll…

Drip.

Drop.

The book’s hardcover had just won yet another adornment, as Marin’s teardrops started collecting over it.

Marin picked up the book, tucked it by his side and blasted away from class, his legs carrying him as far as he could, a bout of laughter coming from his classmates in his wake.

By the time Nino found him, his tears had mostly dried out.

“I saw it, dude. It was Kim.”

Marin sighed.

“Thanks, Nino. I… there’s nothing I can do about it, now can I?”

Nino nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

---

I may have missed first period and the picking of seats, but I haven’t missed out the first day entirely. I guess luck is somewhat on my side, today.

“Hey there, Adrikins. Here’s your seat, I saved it for you. Right in front of me!”

So, I have that going for me as well!

“Thanks, Chloe, that’s really nice of you!”

As Chloe and her friend Sabrina went to do something else, Adrien found it to be an opportunity to introduce himself to other students around. What caught his attention the most about the nearby student were his orange headphones, seemingly a fixture of his appearance.

“Hey, I’m Adrien, pleased to meet you!” he offered his hand and got answered with a sturdy shake.

“Yo, I’m Nino. So, you’re that guy Chloe mentioned earlier?”

It was at that moment that he caught something happening out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s that all about?” he called towards Chloe and Sabrina, as both were putting gum on one of the seats.

“The brat that sits here needs a reminder of his place in the hierarchy. I'm just commanding a bit of respect, that's all.”

“You think that's really necessary?”

“Ah, you've got a lot to learn about school culture, Adrikins. Watch the master.”

Hardly convinced, Adrien went about trying to remove the gum from that seat, as he heard another male voice.

“Oh. So that’s your method of choice. How original.”

The voice sighed as Chloe and Sabrina laughed.

“Uhhh… I…” Adrien tried to protest, as he turned towards who he presumed was the seat’s owner.

The first thing that struck him about this boy is that he had a good amount of untapped potential. Smooth black hair, bright blue eyes… given proper care, he could look so much nicer, but he was relatively unkempt and his clothes were poorly matched too.

“And to think I imagined this year would be any different. Stupid, stupid, stupid. ” The boy lamented.

“No, no, I was just trying to take this off!” Adrien tried to salvage the situation, but to no avail.

All the while, Chloe and Sabrina continued to laugh.

“I see you’re in cahoots with Chloe. You don’t need to play pretend with me.”

“See?” Chloe said, “Gay-boy here knows his place. As he should.”

Marin just covered the gum with spare tissue paper and sat by Alya.

“There you go. Adrien Agreste, daddy's boy, teen supermodel and Chloe's buddy.” Alya quipped.

“I bet he’s used to not seeing or caring how people beneath his status feel,” Marin muttered.

---

Alya had little interest in the class, but much more interest in her table partner. She quickly learned that Marin wanted to be a famous designer after he graduated. While she wasn’t a professional, the sketches Marin gave her seemed really good. But there was something else to watch for, too. How his face had lit up when he handed her his sketches. For a moment there, he seemed to be another person altogether. His face brightened up as he took at least a hint of pride in his handiwork.

And you should. Not to mention that a smile looks so much better on you than that sad face you had on earlier.

They had a free hour just after class, so Alya was only mildly surprised when Marin caught her hand and pulled her towards somewhere as he ran forward.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked.

“The best place this school has to offer.” he grinned and continued to dash forward.

“I present you… the art club room!” he exclaimed.

It’s as if he’s another person entirely.

Marin waded in, showing Alya all the different areas the art room had to offer.

A wall for street art, mostly cleaned from past works but still bearing color marks of older works. Desks used for writing, pen scratch marks still visible even after having been cleaned for the new year. Drawing stands, also marked by some uncleanable paint blots. Then there was...

“... Here it is. A state of the art sewing machine, My best and only friend in this entire school.” he laughed, but in a moment the smile dropped from his face.

“That… I…”

He sat by, not nearly as happy as before, and pulled a derby hat from the nearby drawer.

“I worked on this last year and haven’t managed to finish it yet.”

Alya picked up the hat and casually caressed the fabric. It felt somewhat sturdy yet comfy.

Marin flicked the machine on and seemed to be mulling his next move. Eventually, he just turned it back off without doing anything.

“We technically shouldn’t be here without a teacher, so let’s go.” His passionless voice took over again.

Alya could see this was nothing but an excuse, but she declined to call it out. Her instincts told her there was no chance on earth Marin wasn’t keen on violating this rule more than once.

“It really is a lovely place.” She tried to brighten up the atmosphere, with mild success.

“And I loved the hat.” She said as she handed it back for Marin to place in the drawer again.

That seemed to work a bit better.

“Wait ‘till it’s complete, then. I’m sure it will suit you well.” Half a smile crept to Marin’s face.

---

Marin bid Alya farewell as he left the classroom and slouched towards the school’s main doors.

He cautiously opened it, only to find rain pouring outside and the sky filled with grey clouds.

A fresh start, huh? The morning’s nice weather is already gone. At least the bleakness isn’t hiding anymore.

He stood by, still sheltered, when he found out another person was standing next to him.

That Adrien guy. And he just noticed me. That’s the last thing I need right now.

“Hey!” Adrien called.

He slowly sidestepped to maintain a safe distance between them and turned his head away, muttering a slight ‘hmph’.

“Hey, listen buddy… I really was trying to remove that gum from your seat.”

Marin turned his head around and looked at Adrien, wide-eyed.

I… I must be dreaming. Did he really just say that?

“S-so… you weren’t…” he tried to piece together his words and found himself unable to do so.

“Of course not. I came here to study, to make friends… I’m not here to harass or insult people, where’s the sense in that?”

He is sincere about it. Somebody that doesn’t see me as the “gay punching bag” everyone else does.

“I didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s… It’s Marin.”

Marin’s heart nearly skipped a beat, one that he was sure Adrien managed to hear even with the rain’s sound muffling it.

And then, there was an inaudible sound he missed.

A cracking sound, as the nearly-impenetrable shell, one that was built layer over layer of self-defence from bullying and mistreatment, sealing off his emotions, gave just a little bit of way.

Adrien let his hand out of the shelter, feeling the raindrops accumulating.

“So, Marin, It’s raining and I’ve got a ride, need an umbrella?”

He nodded ever so slightly and Adrien pulled out a black umbrella. A click and a whoosh and it was now open, handed for him to take.

Marin cautiously reached out for the umbrella Adrien handed him, his hand shaking and trembling.

That’s… so nice… so… so unlike…

No sooner than he had picked it up though, his hand slipped and triggered the activation switch, the umbrella closing shut over him.

Adrien laughed for a brief moment and gave Marin a slight friendly shoulder bump.

“You keep safe, alright buddy?”

“A… al… alr-...”

Marin barely even noticed his bag dropping, hitting the ground with a ‘thud’ and his personal effects rolling about on the wet pavement. His eyes were transfixed as Adrien waved goodbye and proceeded towards his pick up car.

He’s not going to insult me or beat me or humiliate me.

Someone I can trust. Someone I can rely on.

I feel… safe next to him.

Oh, Adrien!

Maybe things were going to be different after all.

---

Unnoticed by them both, there was another figure watching the exchange, clad in a hawaiian t-shirt and accompanied by a green looking creature.

“Are you sure of your choice, master?”

“Yes. He will make a fine Chat Noir…

… and she will make for an unforgettable Ladybug.”

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #trans marinette #trans-AU #fanfic #ladybug #umbrella scene

102 notes · View notes

hanamuranobuyuki · 3 years

Text

About the Amanda, Jyushi, Jiro, Love, Life series

Today I thought I would try to give a little bit of insight to the ongoing series right now. It’s surprisingly been a couple of months since I began this journey, and with how much I have planned to write for this, it will probably take a few more until I’ve written all that I have planned out. With the sheer length of these works it does take a long time, so I might have forgotten about a loooot of stuff, but I’ll try to list off the things I remember quq. If you’re interested in reading some of these backstories, you can after the line break^^

For those interested in reading the series as it gets updated, you can read it here! I hope you enjoy this!

To be completely honest, I should have been done with this little excursion after writing Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness. I thought that this much was enough, and I was having low confidence issues as to whether or not things were likable, if they were in character (or somewhat at the very least...) and the list could go on forever.

But ideas kept popping into my head and what was supposed to be disjointed scenes out of everyday life for Jiro and Jyushi as they manage a long distance relationship after only being together for a day turned into Closing the Distance Between Us..... quite comical if you ask me considering the word count just got longer from there *cries into the distance*

But to tell you the truth, I’m happy I continued this journey despite the challenges. I feel like the way I’m progressing through this is giving it a more complete story that embodies the “circle of life and love” I imagine thanks to Amanda’s existence. This is also the reason why I named the series the Amanda, Jyushi, Jiro, Love, Life series. It’s a circle of connections, founded by Amanda, and it branches off into love for Jyushi and Jiro, which betters their life and/or changes it drastically from what it could have been. So with that kinda pushed out of the way, lemme tell you about some good old background info.

1. Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness is not my first Jiroshi fic

... it’s just the first one I’ve completed. After being immersed in the Hypmi fanfic archives and devouring the sweetness that is Jiroshi I started thinking about things I could write. The first one came in the form of Jyushi wearing red lipstick, which to this day I don’t know if I’m making it fluff or more explicit but I was hooked on the idea and... stopped writing 500 words into the work. The second one came in the form of An Outrageous Circumstance. I wasn’t surprised about Buster Bros making an appearance in my strange dreams, but after reflecting on it I realized I could use this and switch Jyushi with me in the dream plot. I fortunately did manage to finish writing that, so if you’d like to read that, you can here.

Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness was born from the concept that Amanda has more of an importance to Jyushi’s life than ever imagined. I wondered, what would happen if Amanda had a soul and supported Jyushi? And from there this was born. Initially I was content with leaving it as it was since I didn’t know just how much power I could give Amanda, but they grew on me so much okay? I practically love Amanda as much as I do Jyushi and Saburo. I can’t produce them tho aha... having Amanda as a support person is one of the best things I could write for Jyushi. And I hope people can enjoy this as much as I have.

2. The soulmates concept is mostly forgotten about 90% of the time for me.

Whenever I write more installments I forget that this is kind of a soulmates au, based on the fact that Amanda can see the fated linkage between Jyushi and Jiro. I always imagine this is kinda like a semi rewrite of canon world but at the same time it’s like it’s own little world quq. But whenever I have to stop and think about how much fluff I need to add and just sequential things like that... the soulmates concept come out. I guess I do have to thank myself for actually remembering about it every once in awhile XD

But I will mention that this fate concept will come out more in some of the newer installments. I have prewritten something a little more into the future that heavily talks about the fated pair deal. I hope you’ll look forward to it!

2.1. Why is Jiro the only one that has a fated string?

I wrote this specifically in Amanda’s point of view. If anyone had a fated string, Amanda would believe this person to be Jyushi’s fated partner, because their duty is to look over Jyushi and make sure he receives the happiness he deserves. Amanda cannot see the fated strings of anyone else in the world, because Jyushi is all Amanda truly cares about. Think of it as a special gift Amanda was gifted by the gods for their journey to giving Jyushi his happiness.

From here, I don’t know what else might be important, but I’ll list off some other things that might’ve been written in notes and other things like that.

3. Jyushi has “graduated” high school.

Jyushi’s school circumstances are kinda strange now that I think about it. THINKING ABOUT IT LOGICALLY, Jyushi should be a third year in high school at his age of 18 (or at least... I thought so lmao). Instead, I’ve given him a job and a life outside of school lol. So I’ll just say Jyushi got into school a little earlier than he should have thanks to his parent’s frequent travels abroad. He was raised by his grandmother most of the time, whenever his parents couldn’t stay in Japan. Around middle school, Jyushi transferred to a middle school that was closer to his grandmother’s residence, rather than feed into the middle school his elementary school was joined with, so then the commute from his grandmother’s residence wouldn’t be as problematic.

Amanda was born around this time, and they got to witness the extremely difficult times Jyushi faced. When Jyushi’s grandmother passes, Jyushi moves in with his aunt and uncle who lived in the next town over. Feeling bad about being a nuisance when they were planning on having a family, Jyushi finds a high school with a boarding plan so he doesn’t have to inconvenience them any more than he did. Along with these plans Jyushi also found part time jobs that were allowed in accordance to the school rules. This is where he finds his passion with making music, which is more than just listening to it and singing in general.

Jyushi was fortunate enough that he had his own dorm. Most of that reason came in the form of his “eccentric personality” which came out a lot whenever he was nervous. He had classmates who talked to him, but he didn’t really have friends. With that said and done, Jyushi quietly progressed through school and quietly graduated around his 18th birthday. He was already set with a job though, with the label he is currently under giving him a contract whilst in his third year of high school. The company officially advertises Argo Kishii Gakudan, and Jyushi becomes the lead singer who produces everything on his own. They gain popularity almost instantly thanks to the copious amount of lives they have done.

Technically, Argo Kishii Gakudan was already a couple years old however. They were made up of Jyushi’s upperclassmen that recognized his talent for music, Takeru, Jun, and Keisuke. You will see more of them in Side N. But because they were so small, and had to pay for all their bookings and everything on their own, going out to share their music, even when they were a hit in their frequent live houses, was nearly impossible. Thanks to the backing of their label, Argo Kishii Gakudan was able to perform around the country and do tours. The fateful one that brings Jiro and Jyushi together is their first one to Ikebukuro.

Jyushi in the current day doesn’t have many opportunities to see his mother and father. They’re successful in their own respective companies, and it shows in the way they send copious amounts of money to Jyushi whenever they can’t meet. Jyushi never has used it though, instead saving it and using only his own earnings from his contract and his previous part time jobs.

Sooo that’s my sorry attempt to document the reason why Jyushi doesn’t attend school lmao. And maybe a little insight on Argo Kishii Gakudan lol.

4. Room settings are soooo difficult to envision, especially whenever they’re different from whatever it is you’re looking at

When I started writing Side: I, and even before when I was writing the ending of Closing the Distance Between Us, I didn’t have the image of Jiro’s room to refer to. How I imagined his room was somewhat drastically different, and thanks to that, I ended up not really giving much of a description to those fics. As of today though, I wrote some hefty descriptions of Jyushi’s room because it’s building up on the imagery I had, in combination to Jyushi’s room in ARB.

You’ll get to read it in the next fic I post from this series. Hope you look forward to it!!

5. Music kinda defines a lot of my inspirations to adding to this series

I listen to music all the time while I’m writing. As a result, there are times I get sidetracked based on songs that come to the shuffle. When I wrote Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness and Closing the Distance Between Us, I shuffled a lot of the Hypmi music into my playlist, with a focus on Moonlight Shadow XD. But then I started writing Side: I, and then I came across a really inspirational song when I watched a Men’s Rhythmic Gymnastics routine. While I don’t really associate with the story this song was for, I love this song enough I played it on repeat for like. 80% of that fic entirely.

There’s a couple lines where Jiro thinks about how some romantic music would be playing in the background if it was a drama of some sorts, and this song was a tribute to the fact I was listening to one song... almost entirely. Please listen to it here.

For Side: I-02, another song was put on replay for a little while as well. I made mention of it in the upload post I did for that fic, but I’ll list it here as well.

I hope you’ll give these tracks a listen one day!

7. Some references kinda inside the fics.

I guess I’ll wrap up this mini list of nonsense by mentioning some things I’ve added into these fics based on inspiration from other things or just in random I guess.

Amanda’s Journey to Bringing Jyushi Happiness: I didn’t know how a love at first sight type of story with soulmates au would work out when I wrote it. I was inspired to write the arcade portion of the date because 1. I wanted to write a kiss segment. And 2. I thought arcade dates would be enjoyable XD.

Closing the Distance Between Us: I never expected this would be in sequential order, like I think I mentioned earlier. I intended on this being more like texting and messaging moments between the two while coping with their long distance relationship. Because of this... I... I don’t really know. I didn’t have an excuse to write this XD I just loved the two and my inspiration was the fuel that was this series? Ahahaha XD

You, Me, and Summer: Side I: a lot of romantic feels fueled this fic, among other things. I was inspired to write a whole lot on Jyushi’s hair routine bc of the tsunami season voice lines on ARB. When I did write this, I was also watching a sports anime called Bakuten. It is a Men’s rhythmic gymnastics anime, and it was what I mentioned when Jyushi watches the anime with Ichiro. The game that they all play is the Game of Life, more or less. I played a few games from the game boy edition just to get a grasp on the game ahaha. But the reason why I added this game was because the ARB event that ran me over with Jiro and Jyushi SSRs. They were event scout SSRs... and the fact that I was drowning in Jiroshi feels only to have MORE thanks to official content even if they weren’t in the same team just made me internally scream and dance all night long.

These two... destroyed my account in more ways than one. I’m now technically a Jiro and Jyushi stan rather than a Saburo and Jyushi stan bc Saburo or Ichiro on that matter never come home. But thanks to this I had to play enough to rank on two accounts. Thus... the one month delay.

Side I-02: because of this event, I decided that they should okay their own human sized Life game. I had to give tribute to the event that wrecked me aha. When I was writing this, I drew something on the side as well. . . And while I’m not sure I like it anymore, I thought I’d share it as well.

One hour of watching the sun rise and not being able to sleep led me to drawing this prototype on a whim. And because I’m a fan of drawing Jyushi’s wardrobe... I thought it would be fun ahaha XD I am a newbie still when it comes to digitally drawing but I am happy at how this turned out!

Finally, I will make mention of the haunted house. While hopping through logs on pixiv, I came across some log that showed how Jiro and Jyushi are scared of scary things, but Jyushi is like a sobbing mess and Jiro is just flat out scared. And later, I heard Jiro react negatively to a horror movie in ARB. When I heard this, I couldn’t resist the temptation! And since technically, Jiro and Jyushi don’t know more about each other than you would think, I thought it was a good opportunity to get them to know something else about them.

Sooo... I think that’s all I can think of right now! I hope you enjoyed learning about some of these small tidbits I could remember when I started working on this series. There’s a lot more to this you can look forward to, and I hope you look forward to it!

I will also apologize in advance for the sheer amount of mistakes there may be. I am my own beta, and I’m usually finishing these up at 5am like clockwork XD whenever I hit a slump in my writing, or miraculously reach the end of this series, I will make sure to clean them up I swear TTuTT thank you for understanding QuQ

If you have any questions, you can ask me here! I’ll try to get to them as quickly as possible. Thank you for taking the time to read this!

#hypnosis mic #aimono jyushi #yamada jiro #jiroshi #amanda-jyushi-jiro-love-life talks #behind the fic #please let me know if you wold like to learn more about any of these fics as I’m uploading them!#I do hope this is enjoyable for you to read!#Thank you for your support QuQ

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things-we-used-tc-share · 3 years

Text

The Town That Never Was

[Image Description: a long road with decaying plants on either side, with text overlayed that reads ‘the town that never was’ in white. A white icon of a clock is placed underneath the text /end ID]

I’m re-releasing the first four chapters as I’ve edited them!

Ships: DLAMP/CALMD, Remile.

Warnings: Cheating is mentioned at some point during this fic in the past, some slight horror themes but in a comedic sort of way, kidnapping is mentioned but again this is like a comedy-horror so there’s not a lot of suspense.

Plot: In Hell, a town of roughly 1,000 people, nothing that is supposed to happen ever happens and everything that physically should happen, does. Logan, a scientist, goes there in hopes of studying the world’s most unfortunate, and miraculous, town. But no one who ever enters ever finds the will to leave again.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Chapter Four: Heartbreak Hotel

Roman, Patton and Virgil wandered into Remy and Emile's home and business with questions on their tongue. Logan is sat in the reception using the impossibly fast wi-fi that doesn't seem to extend to his room quite as well, and Emile has just finished getting ready for his actual job (being a therapist to about four people who always seem to be confused about where they are) so he was stood in the foyer chatting to his husband.

“Did you know that there’s another hotel, it’s just opened across the road?” Patton enquires. Remy frowns, symbolising that no, he did not know and this most certainly will not do. He doesn’t go as far as to express this because the door opens again and Deceit wanders in, coffee in hand, and then asks the exact same question.

“No I didn’t,” the half-man, half-cat-man utters with an expression that can only be described as grouchy on his face. “How did it even get there?” He stands and walks to the door, taking the coffee off of Deceit on his way past, the DJ frowns at his now empty hand like a small animal with no sense of object permanence.

There is indeed a hotel there, and the huddle of strange men stare up at this even stranger occurrence with some sense of unease. Mainly because Remy is rather hotheaded and the thought of him having competition is unnerving, but also because it is strange for there to be an entire hotel that wasn’t there before.

Logan, who is somehow acclimatising, sighs and grabs his not-pen from his pocket to scribble something in a notebook and then pocket both of these objects in favour of wandering up to the door. “We should say hello,” The scientist decides for them all despite the fact that at least four of them have other places to be today.

“We should!” Patton agrees emphatically, with an air of confidence that everyone else (except Logan) is lacking at nine in the morning (Especially Deceit, who has just had his whole coffee stolen off of him).

And that, of course, is why they wandered through the large oak doors of 1950′s-style hotel, and once again, into some form of emotional trauma. And for the second time in a row it’s because Logan doesn’t quite know what to do with the unending amount of lust for knowledge that he has, except to use it to get everyone else in danger.

The inside has cream walls with wallpaper that looks too pristine, the carpets are a deep royal red and there are chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The doors slam shut behind them, making them all jump as they stare into the large and empty foyer. “It’s pretty,” Logan remarks quietly, Remy slurps on the coffee with a narrowed glare directed to the scientist. Logan doesn’t notice.

Emile wanders up to the front desk and taps on the little brass bell, it gives a very timid ring and they wait in silence but, after five minutes, nobody comes. Deceit winces at the sudden migraine he’s experiencing and stares around the hotel. “We should get out of here,” he whispers “...this place...it isn’t good,” he shivers as though witnessing something he shouldn’t, the way one witnesses a car crash or anything as equally catastrophic.

But as they all turn around the entrance they had walked through is now just a wall. “Not good at all,” Dee adds to his earlier sentence with an exasperated sigh of ‘really? again? We’re in another perilous situation?’ You know, the sort of sigh a mother gives her child when they’ve dirtied clothes that have just been washed.

“Sorry,” Logan offers, but in all honesty he doesn’t seem very sorry at all, or afraid for that matter. “I suppose we should explore the hotel?”

“Absolutely not,” Deceit and Virgil say, at the same time that Roman, Patton and Emile reply with “Yes!” Remy slurps on his coffee with no opinion other than the fact he is sleep deprived and needs to finish his (stolen) coffee before he formulates any form of response that requires critical thought. He is however feeling a little better about the fact this hotel isn’t really a hotel, rather a potential death trap, because it means he has no competition.

“Let’s just stick together,” Deceit speaks firmly, feeling uneasy because of one thing and one thing alone; he cannot see a thing here. Like all of its past and present and future had been wiped from its walls and its carcass, bleached of any sort of moments that have or would have happened, is hollow of time. His sight doesn’t work, which means someone or something had planned for him to be here.

They all head up the large wooden stairs, which creak under their weight as though protesting their company. On the first floor there is a long corridor, the walls are the same cream and the carpet the same red, and it goes on for miles, much further than it had appeared from the outside. “Trans-dimensional engineering?” Logan offers into the sudden hush that falls, every breath too loud. Emile looks at him with the exact expression a child gives their teacher when they don’t know the answer. “The inside is kept in a dimension other than the one we were in, the outside is just a shell, a mirage if you like, when you stepped through the doors you stepped into this dimension but...also the one you were in at the same time,” This did not ease Emile’s confusion. “Like Roman’s bag,” he added, and Emile nods in understanding.

“Do you think there’s anyone in the rooms?” Patton asks, stepping forward down the corridor, straying foolishly from the others.

“Possibly,” they glance at Logan once he had spoken, and then at Patton who had now started to wander down the hall. He pauses for a moment and stands very, very still, before turning sharply to stare at one of the rooms. “Wait, Patton I wouldn’t...” But it’s too late, his hand is around the golden doorknob and he’s pushing it open with a fierce determination like he can hear or see something that they cannot hear or see. “Patton!”

They race towards him and stare into the room. There’s someone else staring back.

Patton stumbles backwards with his eyes wide, his nails scratching against the wood to get away from the stranger, whose teeth are too sharp and his eyes too dark and that grin...Logan shudders as Roman and Virgil pull Patton back away from the malicious figure. The baker is shaking, his hands trembling to find some familiarity, they land on Roman and hold him close whilst he shakes. It doesn’t take them long to realise he’s crying. “How...How can he be here, how can he...?” He repeats this, stammering against his lover’s chest.

Roman lets him cry, rubbing his back and uttering for words of consolation as Virgil waits patiently, worried, by his side.

“It wasn’t real right, it’s not him?” Patton whispers as he manages to prise away, taking shaky breaths to calm himself down. They all look at Logan who shakes his head.

“It’s...it’s unlikely,” he confirms, clearing his throat. “It seems unlikely that whoever he may be has crossed dimensions to sit in a room you may not have opened to simply smile menacingly at you,” he feels a chill run through him, he doesn’t want to know how many times the sweet baker had seen that grin in reality. Or what it meant.

Patton seems to ease at his words and gives Logan a small smile. “You have a big brain so you’re probably right, yeah?” Logan knows that logically he can promise nothing, but Patton’s bright eyes are looking at him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, so he nods mutely in response. Patton’s arms wrap around him and for just a moment Logan feels as though there is a weight against his chest but...not in an unpleasant way, no, it’s the sort of weight you get when a cat sits on you. Warm, homely. Like you’ve been chosen.

“We probably each have rooms then, right?” Virgil asks tersely. A cold silence descends and they exchange quiet and scared looks. Logan pauses before he answers, but honestly he just isn’t sure. If his previous hypothesis is correct and the hotel is forcing them to relive traumatic memories then it stands to reason it would not just attack Patton.

“It’s possible, yes.” They all stand very still.

“No offence,” Virgil starts “...But if I’m going to have to relive the worst moment of my very long life, then I’d rather you not be there to see it.” They look between each other, not wanting Virgil to walk off alone but also not wanting to put him in an even more uncomfortable position.

“I understand,” Patton says gently, and he does to some extent. “I think that if the hotel is playing a game, an emotional game, then once it’s had its fun it will probably let us go, right? That’s what people do when they want to get people to feel bad but there’s only so much fun to be had...” Logan’s heart feels like it’s suffocating itself in his chest. “So we find our rooms, and then it might let us go.”

Remy, who is finally looking less of a zombie, glances at his husband and then at the cup of coffee in his hand “I’d rather not have an audience, either,” his words are so uncharacteristically solemn and so is his tone “...except Emile of course, Emile’s always invited to my trauma party.” His husband smiles and squeezes his hand before looking ahead “I don’t know why but I feel like my room is on the third floor so, I’m going up a few more flights, we’ll meet back in the foyer when we’re all done, right?”

They all agree, and soon, they find themselves splitting; Virgil wanders off alone, whilst Remy and Emile head back to the steps to take a few more flights up into the tall, everlasting staircase. Roman looks at Deceit and then at Patton “Virgil’s right, I don’t...I don’t want you to see Pat,” It hurts to see someone you love in pain. Patton smiles and nods. Logan offers him his arm with a raised eyebrow and the baker takes it “I’ll see you later okay?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Logan and Dee have their own type of smiles; Logan’s is soft and happy that the two know their own boundaries enough, that Patton knows how to control his fears, that they love each other so greatly. Deceit’s is sad, it’s scared and it’s lonely as he thinks of the hundred reasons that he could never deserve that, he hasn’t forgiven himself and he will not forgive himself.

But then he and Roman are alone, sharing an awkward glance as they stare at an empty hallway and each other and a thousand memories that cannot be seen left buried in the bones of this hotel. There’s this lingering feeling of everything they could’ve said, should’ve said and then, everything that they did say and everything they wish they hadn’t.

When you find out someone cheated on you, there is no amicable way for how you are feeling, no friendly forgiveness for the heartache they caused, no wonder in the feeling of being betrayed. But Roman is getting too old now to hang onto the past of a teenager who got his heart broken.

He shakes away this thought and clears his throat “after you,” Roman offers an amicable smile, his long hair tucked behind his pierced ear as they start down the too-long hallway. He doesn’t want to admit that he knows what’s going to be on the other side of Dee’s door, and wishes the walk to be longer as dread settles in his stomach.

When they finally get there, after several long turns, Dee stands very still. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and over his arms as if a sudden breeze had hit him. He stares at the golden door with slightly cracked paint and knows he is about to address something he’d been dodging for years. His hand wraps around the reflective door handle. He turns it, and pushes it open.

Roman had known, but he still felt sick when he sees his own face staring back at him as the snake-like man holds the door open with shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” Dee whispers, his voice cracking and fragile “I’m so sorry.” There’s a low pause before Roman can’t quite handle staring at himself; him, but not quite, a little younger and more naive and so angry.

“Sorry doesn’t take it back,” the fake Roman huffs, the memory of Roman, a shadow or silhouette of time left in the skin of Dee’s mind, his dark eyes afire with something so potent and terrible.

“I know, I don’t want it too,” Deceit whispers, flinching slightly as if fearing a slap, before Roman, the real Roman, grabs him by the shirt collar and tugs him back into the hallway.

“Then what do you want?” He whispers.

Static fills their ears in a silence so tense and so fragile at the same time. Dee’s eyes are prickling with tears. He shakes his head and steps away “It’s not fair to say and it’s not fair to ask,” the taller finally speaks but his voice has gone cold with his own unending self-hatred.

“Don’t treat me like a child, for fuck’s sake Dee,” Roman is frustrated and tired and...scared. His heart hurts under the weight of love that he cannot shake because he always had loved Dee and no matter how much pain stands where that man once stood...there would always be love. Roman can’t rewrite his own emotions, he falls in love with the first pretty man that smiles at him and falls hard, like a rock sinking into waves that are too rough to find solid ground. “Just tell me, for once, the truth.”

“I love you.”

A beat, a pause, a soft exhale that speaks so many different languages. “I know,” what a response to receive. They’re both setting themselves up for pain, they know this, but they’re adults that get to decide when they make bad decisions. “I love you too.”

“You shouldn’t.” And Roman laughs, he laughs with disbelief and an awkwardness of a man who doesn’t know what to say, he laugh and laughs until he is crying. Then his laughs turn sour because he got the truth and he hates it, he hated walking into that room, a room that does not lie about heartbreak and knowing that Dee’s biggest heartbreak is the pain that he caused Roman. That he lives and thinks about that every single day. For years. Why doesn’t that feel like an achievement when he was the one that was hurt?

“Why the fuck didn’t you just not do it?” His choked off words come out angry and hard and bitter and they taste like the sound of hailstone smashing windows open. “Would it have been so hard? To just not do it? To not cheat on me? Why do I deserve your heartache when you already gave me all of mine?” He curses loudly and kicks at a wall, frustrated, in tears. His words taste like saline and a cold beach in winter. “Fuck you,” Roman’s anger is nothing beautiful. He feels dizzy. He feels...cold and hot at the same time. “Fuck you, Dee.”

And Deceit can only leans shakily against the wall as he shakes his head with no idea what he’s supposed to say or do or if there even is something that he can say or do. Can you really fix something you shattered long ago? Find the fragments lost by time and glue them back together? “I’m sorry, I know...” He whispers , swallowing and choking on his own words as he tries to keep himself from breaking “What I did was bad, I don’t expect you back, I don’t expect...anything from you, Roman,”

There is an irony of feeling small against someone you are a head taller than, as Dee leans against the wall and Roman stands in front of him in a vicious cocktail of emotions. The anger flickers, it falters, and Roman sighs in defeat, resting against his ex-boyfriend because he’s suddenly too shaky to stand alone.

“I know you don’t,” his head still rests against Deceit’s collarbone the way it used to “I know you don’t, and I hate that you don’t,” he leans back “because I loved you and you loved me and it would be so, so much easier if that wasn’t the case, if you were a horrible person who treated me like shit but you weren’t, otherwise you were so wonderful it felt like a dream.” He wipes his eyes. “You did one thing that really hurt me, years ago and now I’m still so angry with you because you didn’t show me you loved me, you taught me that love is just a heartache waiting to happen.”

Deceit is stunned into a quiet silence as the walls seems to close in around him “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to be you,” he whispered “...but you’re the only person I’ve ever loved so who else would it be? What were you expecting?” And Roman doesn’t know, he has no semblance of an idea of what he was expecting, then and now.

“You took so much more than I was trying to give you,” Roman whispers, voice soft in his own sadness. “So much more,” he wiped his eyes “I don’t understand why I’m angry with myself when I did nothing wrong.”

“You’re not angry,” Deceit manages out as best as he can because Roman’s head is resting on his chest like a wonderful, suffocating weight and he doesn’t remember how to breathe with someone he’d loved so much so close to him. How do you breathe when there are flowers made of heartache growing between the bones of your ribs? How do you look them in the eyes and lie?

How did he look Roman in the eyes and lie. They used to be something greater than this hurricane, this destruction this…terrible idea. What a terrible idea love turned out to be, who willingly subjects themselves to the possibility of the tears and the cold feeling in his own veins?

“I tried,” Deceit’s voice is catching every notch in his throat. “I tried so hard to move on, to find someone else but how could I? How do I fall in love again knowing I can ruin it just like that?” Roman leans back to look up at the man he’d known, vulnerable and insecure; he supposes that never changed and Dee is just as good of a liar as his name would suggest. “I see everything Roman, everything that should happen, everything that has ever happened I see that every day, I know how a relationship is going to end before it even begins, how…how do I just fall in love when I know that?”

“You always knew?” Roman asked, his eyes looking up at his past lover with a new kind of sadness “Every time I told you I loved you and you knew how it would end?”

“I can’t turn it off,” He gestures to his eyes. “I just hoped it was a could happen instead of a will happen, not everything is so fixed, sometimes I see multiple futures or none at all,” his back is pressed against the wall like he’s afraid of the way Roman’s hand sits on his forearm too familiarly. “This place is switching it off, I can’t see anything but what’s in front of me.” ‘And never before have I wished to see something other than what is here and now, nothing else.’

“Good,” Roman muttered. “It’s not healthy for you.” Dee snorts, lifting a hand to wipe his own teary eyes “I’m serious,” but he’s smiling too, the way they used; when life was life and neither a dream nor a horrendous nightmare. “When you see me now what do you see? With that eye of yours?”

“Well, different things, different futures.”

“Are any of them happy?”

Gods, isn’t that the million dollar question? But then Dee knows this is it, this is the converging point where all those futures choose their course and he has no way to see how he gets to them; what a fucked-up irony that the one time he wants his sight is the one time he cannot have it? He blinks, his lips part and they quirk just a little as he takes in those god-awful puppy eyes he’d fallen headfirst into. “Yes.”

Roman’s smile could light up a million rooms, Deceit thinks, and a million stars could bow to its brilliance. He smiles for the first time like maybe he isn’t so angry, as though the past they’d had didn’t matter so much anymore. It does, he hasn’t forgiven Deceit even if maybe he will one day, but he does at least know that change is a passage of time and not much else.

The leaves grow in spring and fall in autumn, people make mistakes and change. And Roman knows that it hurts more to keep denying half of his heart than it ever did to be cheated on; for the most part it wasn’t even the act that had upset him, it was what it meant to him, that he wasn’t trustworthy enough to be effectively communicated with. It was also not as though he never did anything wrong, at the time they’d both been young and dumb and fiercely determined to fuck each other over and maybe, maybe Roman had pushed once too many.

Maybe they’re both different people now.

Not teenagers, or anywhere close, adults and trying their best. Maybe it’s time to move on, try life again. Roman wants to try him again, not because he misses him but because missing someone is different from craving who they are right down to their soul.

Roman shakes his head and steps back, but not today, he needs time to think properly . “Then one day I hope I get to see it, now let’s find my room.”

Remy is seven different types of jumpy right now, the first is caffeine-induced, the second is genuine fear and the third is the creak of floorboards as he tries to walk quietly through this too-old and too-big hotel. “Whatever it is,” Emile mutters to him, squeezing his hand “It’s okay,” And when his husband says those words, jumpy becomes just a word, because nothing can calm him quite like his partner’s caring eyes and smile.

He stops halfway down a corridor that seems to go on for miles, standing very still as he feels a tug at his body, like a magnet to metal. Remy turns with a deep breath and stares at the door, before he opens it with one quick movement. He stands very still as he looks onto the other side, blinking slowly as his eyes turn glassy. “Of course,” He mutters, a humourless laughs bubbling past the threshold. “What else would it have been?”

Emile stares over his shoulder with wide eyes and a tight throat before he can’t handle what he’s witnessing any longer and turns away. Remy walks back into the hallway, closing the door and staring at his feet. He breathes shallowly before nodding, coming to terms with something that had happened so long ago but still hurts, loss always hurts, it has no expiry date even ten years later. But he at least knows how to handle this sadness; it’s one he’s tackled before. He wraps his arms around his husband and buries his face in his neck, inhaling and exhaling with calculated breaths. “I’m sorry Rem.”

“It’s...okay,” Remy replies, in a way that says he is and he isn’t, okay. Okay is just a word people use when they don’t know what else to say, really, okay is a filled silence because there are no other words to add, a static TV screen that people have forgotten to turn off. “It was a long time ago,” He pulls back and rubs his eyes, a bittersweet smile stitched to his lips. “I’ve gotten used to it now,”

Not “I’m over it,” or “I’m fine,” those would both be lies. Losing a family member you loved is a hard ordeal no matter the age you were. When Remy was 7 he’d lost his brother to a static idea of happiness found on the backs of prescription bottles, and been the one to find the cold when nobody else was paying attention to an absent person with much more absent eyes. He’s gotten used to the sadness, the memories, the flashbacks and the unending feeling of dread of finding your brother unmoving on the floor. But not even time can heal such an early trauma.

Perhaps this is why he cannot sleep at night.

“We should find yours,” Remy finally breaks the quiet as he gets out of his own head. “Come on,” Emile doesn’t look scared, he doesn’t even flinch because he knows that nothing is going to be quite so scary with Remy, and also his heartbreaks have never really been that bad.

Well, most of them anyway.

The two wander down the hallway and Emile feels like he knows where he’s going as though he’s walking to work instead of a slightly spooky hotel.

When he gets there he knows what’s waiting on the other side, he’s not had his heart broken many times before; at least not bad enough that it had left an impression. But heartbreak never really hurt Emile enough because he’s had Remy by his side.

You’re a whole lot braver, a whole lot stronger, when you are not alone.

He pushes his shoulders back and raises his chin defiantly as he wraps his hand around the doorknob and then opens the door with a purpose. He was right of course about what it was, who it was. Two elderly people, a woman and a man with firm expressions and opinions that he didn’t care for; Emile is many things, but afraid of homophobia is not one of them. He listens to their violent words and then snorts a little “I’ve dealt with people like this my entire life mister hotel,” he snorts, rolling his eyes “It’s been a long time since I’ve cried over that sort of heartbreak,”

The door closes as he steps back out into the hallway, barely an image of discomfort on his face, whilst Remy smiles proudly at the bravery he’d fallen in love with so long ago.

The two of them had ran off together that night. In the middle of the night they’d taken to the road with nothing but their clothes, their bank’s worth of money and a beaten up car. Remy had been out of Hell for a few months, people never really make the year out of this place. It's how he'd met Emile, and he'd fallen so in love that he wasn't really sure how to breathe at the time. When he met Emile he understood love, and not soon after he understood hate too.

So they’d found themselves here, for Remy, a second time, somewhere where misfit is just an ordinary citizen, and sure you might get hit by an inter dimensional hotel every now and then, but no one will bat their eyelids if you’re gay. Sometimes this town choses you before you chose it.

Remy squeezes Emile’s hand and his lover smiles back, not at all scared, not at all bothered; he hadn’t been that night either. Emile rarely swears but the entire neighbourhood heard the “Fuck you!” he shouted angrily at his parents, a spitfire in pastel hair dye and a soft woollen sweater. As Emile had always known, you really are braver when you know you’re not alone; and for most of his life he hasn’t been.

Logan and Patton had been walking for quite a while now, staring up at the walls as they look between each other “I have no idea where I’m supposed to be,” Logan admits softly. “None of these are particularly calling out to me,” he sighs, scratching the back of his head in confusion. Perhaps he is an outlier, a mistake. Perhaps he isn’t supposed to be here.

“I’m sure you’ll find it.” They keep walking, but every hallway seems to just lead to the stairs and Logan doesn’t really feel like he should be going up or down the way Remy had. “Or maybe we’re not supposed to be here?” Patton voices finally as he stares down the stairs. After a moment he sighs and starts walking back down, it leads to the reception “I guess we just sit in the waiting room,”

“But I didn’t find my room?” Logan mutters with a confused expression “I thought that was the point?”

“Well, maybe you’ve just not had your heartbroken.” The scientist considers this carefully before a look of realisation crosses his expression. He hadn’t. He hadn’t even had the time to get his heartbroken. He’d never fallen in love, never loved anyone enough and lived in textbooks and chemicals the way a bird makes their nest.

Logan had never had his heart broken. What a horrid thing to realise, that you’ve never loved enough to have someone break your heart.

Virgil is anxious. This is nothing new of course, anxious is his part-time job, his favourite hobby and the first and last thing he does every day. But this is the sort of anxious that had his stomach twisting. He doesn’t know why there’s a dread in the pit of his stomach, as in he doesn’t know what specifically about this is making him anxious. He’s a demon and demons, categorically speaking, do not get heartbroken.

He doesn’t know what’s going to be on the other side of his door as he walks with a weighted step and aching bones and the knowledge that he is about to confront something that he himself does not know, how large or how terrifying or how non-competitively sad it is going to be. Sad is just a word, he tells himself, it doesn’t have to mean something.

Demon he may be, invulnerable he is not; he’s lived in this skin suit for many years now, among Humans, among��Patton and Roman and people who have taught him no emotion is just a word. He had known this before and forgotten, so Patton taught him all of his sad and all of his happy, and Roman all of his love and anguish. He is enough Human now, to be more than just anger and fear again, as he hadn’t been for decades before.

Human is not a category in their world; it is a feeling, an innate sense of right and wrong and love and hate. Human is a knowledge and a heartbreak.

The dark-eyed Demon stares at the end of a hallway at a door that is cracked and blackened as though it had been torched to the ground but the wood had refused to succumb to the flames. Virgil knows this is his door by the invisible rope dragging him towards it and the broken pounding of his heart in his chest. He steps towards it. There is silence and silence and silence.

Virgil opens the door with a shaky hand, pushing it open a little and staring into the beyond. Into the feeling of a cold hand on his back and nails dragging on his skin and the look of someone he tried most days not to remember. He swallows a little “I’m sorry,” He whispers “I’m sorry I didn’t come back.” Unable to hold back the guilt he’d been carrying for a fair few Human decades now.

A boy stares up at him, bright blue eyes wide and a small smile on his face. “Verge!” He giggles, a small hand reaching up to rest on his hand, ignorant to Virgil’s broken expression. The demon swallows and squats to hold his hand out, the little boy wraps his arms around him.

“How did you recognise me kiddo?” Virgil sniffles a little, “I don’t look the same.” The child laughs and places his hand on Virgil’s chest over where his heart is. Of course, he’d always know. “One day I’ll find you,” he wipes his eyes “But you’re not you, you’re an image, not real.” He lets go and steps back, shaking his head “You wouldn’t even be a child anymore,” The boy’s smile falls and his eyes tint a little black. “No, you’re not him,” He steps back through the door at the boy whose teeth are a little too sharp and if you look too closely you can see the way the air crackles around him.

“One day I’ll find you kiddo, but today isn’t that day.” And with that he slides through the door and lets it fall shut behind him. The hallway has changed and he can see the stairs through his tears. He staggers towards them, running into Emile and Remy as he does, practically tripping down the stairs to get to the warm feeling of love. Anything but that, anything but him.

Patton’s arms find their way around him as he takes deep breaths and remembers where his heart is, where his head is.

Now just to wait for Roman and Deceit.

“I have a long list of heartbreaks so I’m curious to know which is the worst,” Roman hums to himself, fingertips trailing across the papered walls as his legs move of their own accord, seemingly knowing where they’re going. He certainly doesn’t know in his mind, so at least the rest of him is controlling some sort of brain cell.

“You’re horrendously chipper,” Deceit grumbles a little, but the smile on Roman’s face can’t keep him grumpy. Because he knows now, and Dee knows too, that things are changing and are not going to stay the same. Roman knows he was angry for a reason, but whether that reason is slowly crumbling is another answer.

The thing is, Roman is aware he doesn’t have to forgive Deceit, the issue is that he knows the Dee doesn’t want to be forgiven. It’s been years and he’s still rolling in his mistake and to Roman that just doesn’t seem healthy, for either of them to be gripping on a hatred that isn’t real. He doesn’t hate Dee for cheating on him years ago, and the more time he spends in his presence the more he realises he probably didn’t hate him at all. Angry, sad, and many other things, but he loves him too much to hate him. There’s no hate in love, the two are not compatible and Roman has always found that a strange thing people say; that you love someone but hate them too.

Dee fucked up. He holds himself accountable for that, and Roman holds him accountable.

But there’s a time to move on and live. And now is that time. Maybe it’s Logan and his pretty hair and pretty cheeks and lovely eyes and the fact they both want to take whatever he’ll give, maybe it’s because he knows that Patton is worried about them both. Maybe it’s simply because his anger comes from the fact every time he looks at Deceit he feels that thundering of his heart that most people get from new crushes.

Yes, he decides, it’s time to move on. Not right now at this instance, but in the near future. There’s a life to be lived without all these negative emotions.

But that thought process dissolves as he finds himself standing very still, eyes trained on the wooden hotel door. He lets out a deep sigh, cheeks puffing out as he does so. They both stand very still and Dee looks down at his feet as though he dreads knowing what’s on the other side. But as the door opens and he can’t bear to not know, he looks up and is pleasantly surprised.

He’s not the person on the other side.

He does know who it is however.

Roman blinks slowly before muttering a quiet “Oh, I see,” he hums a little, before nodding. “That does make sense,” but he isn’t crying, he isn’t angry, he just stares unblinking, before clearing his throat and moving out into the hallway. The door closes behind him and the two stand in silence as Roman stares blankly at the carpet. There’s not an ounce of energy there at all, for a moment he barely looks like himself, devoid of everything that makes Roman….Roman.

“Remus?” Roman clears his throat lightly as Deceit asks the question with uncertainty. “Roman what happened to him isn’t your fault,” he knows this logically, of course he does, but Roman can never quite live without blaming himself for something. Another unhealthy habit he can’t seem to shake. “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s…it’s fine,” It’s not, Dee knows this now. He just never quite realised how Roman’s twin brother’s…possession had affected him.

Possession in the literal sense. Remus, Roman’s twin brother, had been possessed by a Demon at a young age. And now, as an adult it’s as though there’s little left of the brother there had been anymore. No matter how hard the man tried to learn, to understand, even Virgil had tried to help, nothing seemed to be able to shift the Demon from it’s vessel. He’s not even a terrible demon, a little odd and overtly sexual but otherwise not planning the apocalypse, he just really likes the flesh suit he’d adopted and grown in like a normal person would a house.

The two stare at each other a moment, before Roman sighs “I need a hug,” he mutters and Dee hesitantly opens his arms. The two still fit together like a warm glove in winter, Roman can feel Dee’s heart thudding lightly between his ribs and finds the sound as comforting as he once did. It’s nice, it’s…pleasant. When Roman finally eases away he looks down at his feet with an uncharacteristically shy expression “I did miss you, you know.” Then he shakes his head and starts to walk away. “Come on, let’s get back to the others.”

Everyone is in various states of upset, Emile is perhaps the only one who looks unbothered and Roman feels like someone that bubbly is either lying, stronger than they look, or simply has never had too bad a heartbreak. Remy is quiet, his eyes open like he’s forcing them to look at something, not wanting to close them; Roman decides he doesn’t want to know what he’s seen. Logan looks upset, he’s pacing and muttering under his breath, eyebrows furrowed. Patton still looks a little pale, but he’s busy tending to Virgil who is crying. Immediately Roman stands a little straighter and makes his way over to his lover, holding him close and pressing kisses to the top of his dark hair.

There’s a soft clunk noise, and when they look up the doors have returned.

The group all scramble to get outside, standing on the gravel pavement with one last glare at the hotel, before they cross the road towards Remy and Emile’s hotel. “I don’t know how to explain to my clients I got trapped in another dimension,” the psychiatrist snorts, squeezing Remy’s hand.

“Me neither,” Patton sighs, glancing at his watch, “...it’s nearly sun down Dee you need to get to the…Dee?” They all pause and look around, but Dee is on the other side of the road still stood in front of the hotel, his eyes glowing and unblinking like he's frantically searching for something. Roman pauses and then sighs.

“You guys go ahead,” he speaks gently, offering his partners a small smile. “You’ve had a long day, I’ll make sure he’s okay, make sure Virgil is okay,” they glance hesitantly between them before Virgil makes a noise of agreement despite his current state, he understands they’ve probably talked about a lot that needs a resolution.

“See you later Roman,” Emile offers with his kind smile. “Good luck,” and then they all trail away. Roman crosses back over the road carefully to stand in front of Dee. He rests a hand on the man’s arm and feels him jump, his eyes focusing once more as the glow subsides. He sighs with relief once he realises it’s just Roman, with his dark eyes much softer than he is used to seeing them.

“Sorry,” the serpent-man’s eyes look sad, he, in general, looks so very sad. Like he knows something he isn’t supposed to know.

“It’s okay,” Roman pauses, eyes searching as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “What are you looking for?” Deceit’s cheeks flush and the smaller man smiles like he knows the answer, eyes avoiding each other before they finally meet again. “Fuck it,” He whispers under his breath.

“What?”

Deceit doesn’t get much further as Roman’s lips press to his own, sweetly and carefully and shyly. He can’t feel his own heart because it’s beating too fast, and his body feels like fireworks are shooting in his veins. They both pause as the world slows around them, the glow of streetlights illuminating their bodies in the carefully setting sun. Then they both break, they part and Roman sighs. “I forgot how much I missed that,” he muttered “We’ll talk, eventually, go do your radio show, I’ve got a Demon to look after.”

Deceit grins and nods, wondering how in all the futures he’d seen he hadn’t see that coming.

#ts sides #ts fic

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