#also i think it's very funny how if you look at the pictures of jeff between the two images. they rotated him. slightly
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via @.briansikoff on instagram:
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#jeff blim#starkid#team starkid#halloween hotness#mariah rose faith#jon matteson#curt mega#joe moses#mary kate wiles#dylan saunders#tessa netting#st. jude#you're lucky I didn't copy the absurd amount of redundant hashtags this dude put on the end of the caption sdfljkfsd#also i think it's very funny how if you look at the pictures of jeff between the two images. they rotated him. slightly#*rotates your jeff blim* lol
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omg hi-- can you do 89 for the writing prompts thingy? it made me almost laugh out loud at work & i think twould be very funny so !!<3
(also you are doing so good & i am loving what you're writing !!!!)
HI! This one is hilarious and I am so amused by the versions I've already read: 89. "YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!"
Rated M | tags: mention of nude pictures, language, allusions to sex, this is borderline a crack ficlet because it's funny and absurd, modern au, rockstar eddie, corroded coffin guys
📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱
Steve hadn't moved from bed all morning, couldn't even try at this point.
He was a little sore from Eddie's homecoming last night, but that was to be expected when he'd been gone for a month.
But he could accomplish a lot in bed, even if Eddie had to go to some stupid meeting this morning with the band.
The photographic evidence of all the things he could accomplish were sent and Steve was just waiting for the hilarious emoji response that was sure to come.
But minutes went by and he got nothing.
Eddie had definitely seen the pictures, the little 'Read 10:06am' popup under the set of four images showing he'd seen them immediately.
By 10:15, Steve was sitting up in bed, biting his nails, a nervous habit he'd picked up during his senior year of college and hadn't been able to kick.
His phone started buzzing, Eddie's contact photo filling the screen.
"Eds?"
""YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!"
"No, I sent you four pictures of me naked while you were in a work meeting," Steve replied, smirking to himself.
"And you didn't think that maybe that wasn't the best idea? That maybe someone sitting next to me, or two someones sitting next to me, might see these pictures? That thought didn't occur to you?" Eddie sounded mad.
Which was something Steve wasn't used to.
No matter what, Eddie was never mad at him. He'd never raised his voice, never ignored him on purpose, never done anything to show anger.
Except now.
Steve bit his lip, pulling the covers over himself and curling into a ball.
Eddie sighed.
Steve could picture him running a hand over his face, tugging on his hair, closing his eyes, all the things he did when he was stressed.
"You look beautiful, Stevie, okay? I'm just, I'm stressed and the meeting was really important and our producer saw them. He's such a creep, and then Jeff accidentally saw them when he heard my phone vibrate, and he won't even look at me now, and it's just not good timing."
Steve nodded to himself. He probably should have thought about that, but honestly, he was so high on having Eddie back, he didn't consider much of anything beyond showing off how his morning was going.
"I'm sorry, Eds."
Steve wasn't crying, it was clear that Eddie wasn't actually mad at him, but his voice still came out a bit broken, a bit sad.
"Sweetheart, I promise I'm not mad about it. I'm gonna be home soon and I'll show you just how much I loved the pictures, okay?"
"Okay." Steve smiled to himself. "Maybe we could take some new ones together?"
"What, and send them to Jeff? He might leave the band," Eddie joked.
Joking was good, it was their baseline. Steve could handle joking.
"As if he hasn't been sneaking looks at my ass for years."
"Hey!" Jeff's voice yelled in the background. "It happened, like, twice!"
Steve giggled.
"It's okay, bud, it's very distracting," Eddie said to Jeff. "Let me just grab some coffee with the guys and then I'll be home to take care of you."
Steve let out a moan, tried to hide it in his pillow.
Eddie wasn't mad, but Steve heard the tone of his voice, knew exactly how he'd be taken care of when Eddie got home.
"I was gonna get dressed and go to the store," Steve lied.
"You won't. You'll stay right there." A door closed as Eddie spoke and Steve knew he'd just found a room to talk to him privately. "You won't put any clothes on, and you'll stay in bed with your fingers keeping you ready for me just like in that third picture you sent me."
Steve was gonna scream.
"But I was gonna run errands..."
"You aren't going anywhere until I've made up for the last month. We'll have food delivered. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Good." The door opened. "Do you want me to bring you any coffee?"
Steve snorted. "Nope, I think you'll keep me awake just fine."
"Why do you even have him on speaker right now?" Gareth's voice said, faked annoyance in his tone.
"Because I have my hands full!"
"We know!" everyone yelled.
"Not like that!" Eddie yelled back. Then, "Okay, a little like that."
"See you soon, baby," Steve smiled into the phone. "Sorry about the pictures."
"You can say you're sorry when I get home," Eddie replied. "Love you."
"Love you too."
When Steve ended the call, he was sent a steady stream of texts:
Jeff: i swear i don't look at your ass. it's a nice one tho
Gareth: literally i don't wanna look at eddie anymore please make him come home now
Gareth: seriously please he doesn't need coffee he's already annoying
Grant: that's a good angle
Eds: be home soon 😉
An image came through a few seconds later, one that was clearly taken while he was talking to Steve, probably when he hid in a room.
It was just a dark shot of Eddie's crotch, pants unbuttoned and unzipped, showing absolutely nothing.
Steve shook his head and replied: you're not very good at this. love you though.
He would just have to show Eddie how to get a good angle for his next attempt at sending something suggestive.
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you know, i kind of touched on this in my au post earlier today, but it really got me thinking about how much tim joins the batfam early/jason doesn't die in ethiopia really, really relies on fanon understanding of relationships and almost has to prioritize the jason&tim relationship/perpetuate the idea that jason was "tim's robin" (my eyebrow twitches even writing that) because if it doesn't and we go by canon....jason really kind of ends up adrift due to tim's arrival, if he's not the person that tim is absolutely fixated on/that is saving tim.
because tim doesn't canonically need to be saved! he's not that socially awkward, he can make friends within 5 minutes of entering a room. he doesn't really need jason to do anything for him, to be anyone special for him. like, he admittedly probably admires jason-robin, but like, in an abstract way, not a super emotional way. tim would admire current robin whether it was jason in the costume or some random kid named jeff. jason's canonically not that special to tim, not like dick is. if jason quit and bruce replaced him with someone who wasn't jason, tim would just move on to admiring whoever is robin next and not really think about jason anymore, because the only robin who matters long-term is dick.
so if jason isn't the center of tim's world we get a tim who joins the batfam and immediately gets his canonical super-special connection with dick, through dick's parents and the night they fell and being there. and this is a connection that jason will always be excluded from, a wall between them almost. like, they might all like each other. dick does love jason. but it's almost like when you introduce two friends of yours and they immediately click super well and become better friends with each other than they are with you. like, dick is a good brother to jason. but jason's arrival will forever be marred by the actions of bruce, because bruce was the one who chose jason, though dick did eventually accept him as a brother. tim on the other hand came in connected intrinsically with dick. in many ways, tim is the brother without the baggage of bruce. tim is the brother that dick chose for himself based on past connection and fated past meetings. he's picture kid. he's the brother because of dick's parents, not because of bruce.
and isn't that lonely and a bit isolating for jason? sure he has his bond with bruce/his dad, but when it comes to his peers he is a bit on the outside looking in--he doesn't have a same-generation cohort. (which is also why i think it's funny when *tim* is always the one who's cast as this social outcast who has no bonds to anyone. now, i don't think that any of the batkids are socially awkward--on the contrary, i think they're all very good with people, but canonically, due to the short time he was alive for post-treatment, jason doesn't really have a ton of friends outside of bruce and alfred. and idk he doesn't seem to see a need to have a ton of friends! he's perfectly content being batman's son, batman's robin, he doesn't really need anyone or anything else. sure he enjoyed his mission with the titans that one time, but he's not really searching for outside connections or friends for him and bruce, not like tim does as robin. because jason is shown to be pretty content with the way things are--until we get closer to death in the family, ofc, but that's not really about feeling lonely for friends, but feeling lonely for his mother. idk do we ever have him yearning for friends? i'm not as well versed on all of jason as robin)
anyways, then we get superboy and impulse and wonder girl and young justice and they're still very much tim's cohort, not jason's. they are 13-15 year olds who act like 13-15 year olds. jason being like...2-3 years older than them would not fit in from a maturity level. and he probably does more with the titans on occasion, but he's only like 17 and they're all like...20s and having kids so he doesn't quite fit in fully there either, they just treat him like a younger brother. so where does he fit? he's kind of alone in his own odd little solitary generation there. tim doesn't really need him. dick doesn't really need him. all he has really is bruce, his dad and best friend. so it's like, when it comes to these types of stories...if jason is not tim's #1 upon tim joining the family, then what does jason have?
and i do see some resentment there. not like, pure hatred. but isn't life unfair? this kid comes in and his life is seemingly pretty good for him at first. he has dick's love unconditionally. he writes barbara thank you notes. he has a easy way of moving through the superhero community making friends with everyone like dick does and oh, i think that's a big frustration. because i don't think jason was jealous and angry at dick all the time but he was notably a little frustrated at having to live in dick's shadow sometimes (again, see his mission with the titans where he loses his temper that they look at just his uniform and expect him to be dick for them) and then to see tim have those traits like dick that jason-as-robin struggles with and thrive with them?
so yea. that's why i think a lot of those aus really depend on needing to make jason tim's #1, because if he's not, then where else does he belong?
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Jeff Atkins (When You’re Gone)
Summary: After Jeff dies you feel lost without him. You try to move on but it’s hard for you. So when they honor him for the team you decide to speak about him. You also sometimes see Jeff just like Clay sees Hannah. Who doesn’t love a ghost of there ex?
this song inspired this
Your POV
“Hey sis are you ready for today” Clay asked me. But I pretended to ignore him. I wasn’t ready. My boyfriend was dead. This year would’ve been our senior year together. Only because he was failing classes. But part of me thinks he wanted to stay back so I didn’t have to do it alone.
But now he was gone. Part of me still felt like he was here with me. I missed him more than anything in this world. I’d give anything to see his smile.
“Y/N we gotta get going” Clay said as I started at a photo of Jeff and I. A tear rolled down my cheek. “Yeah Clay” I said wiping a tear. “You don’t have to speak you know I can say you were sick” Clay said. “No no it’s okay” I said setting the picture back on my nightstand. “Alright then” Clay said.
I then looked at the necklace Jeff had given me with his initials and a little baseball bat. But now beside it was his class ring. I never took it off for anything. At least this way he was still here.
“I’m coming” I said grabbing Jeff’s letterman jacket and putting it on over my dress. Clay and I drove to the school. We parked and went inside the school. It was in the gym. I walked over to the principal were he wanted me.
Clay and our parents sat on the bleachers. Jeff’s parents sat beside them too. The principal of course said a couple words. I just sat there thinking about him. And the first time we met. Was actually when clay tutored him.
Flashback
“I brought my sister to help since she’s so good at science” Clay said as I sat down beside Jeff. “Wow there’s no way she’s your sister she’s wow” Jeff said I blushed. “And you are so” Jeff said I laughed.
“Very funny Jeff” Clay said. “So what’s your name beautiful” Jeff said I blushed. “Y/N” I said he smiled. “I love that name” he said. “Alright enough flirting” Clay said.
And after that he got my number and we talked for hours on end. He eventually asked me out on a date. Even though clay hated the idea. Eventually he warmed up to us dating.
He was my first kiss my first everything. But I never thought I’d meet someone like him. He’s perfect.
End of flashback
“And now Y/N Jensen has prepared something in honor of her late boyfriend Jeff” the principal said. I walked up. I then went up to the microphone. I just looked at everyone sitting on the bleachers.
“Jeff… I’m sorry give me a second” I said tearing up. I then pretended he was there in that room like I did sometimes. Maybe it was real and he was there protecting me. “Love it’s okay you can do this deep breaths” Jeff said standing beside me.
Even though he wasn’t there. Part of me felt his presence with me all the time. I took a deep breath and then began to speak again.
“Jeff was one of those people that you met once in a lifetime and we all had the privilege of knowing him” I said. “I had the privilege of knowing him a lot better than all of you” I said tearing up. “Maybe even more than his parents knew” I said.
“I also had the privilege of loving him and being loved by him” I said. “I remember the first time I met Jeff it was in the library” I said. “The first thing he told me was that I was beautiful” I said. “Nobody had ever made me feel as special as he did” I said as a tear rolled down my cheek.
“From that day forward he became the most important person in my life” I said. “We talked every day and night even when I didn’t want to” I said people laughed. “He even tried to teach me how to play baseball but I sucked” I said. “Even though he always told me I didn’t” I said.
“You could’ve easily beat me babe with practice” Jeff said.
“He always told me I could beat him with practice but I know he let me win” I said. “Being loved by Jeff was one of the best feelings in this world” I said. “The way his eyes lit up when he looked at me is something I’ll never forget” I said.
“I remember the night he told me he loved me” I said tearing up. “A girl waits her whole life to hear those words” I said. “We were at the dance in this very gym” I said. “Of course I dragged him to this dance like I always did” I said smiling. “And he came even though he probably would’ve preferred a movie night” I said people smiled.
“We were dancing on this very floor when he told me he loved me” I said. “It was a slow dance and I had my head on his chest and I remember how I felt in that moment” I added.
“So safe and so secure he then kissed my forehead and told me he loved me” I said. “He said “Y/N I’m gonna say something crazy I don’t care if you don’t say it back” and I looked at him” I said. “I then said “Jeff nothing you can say is crazy” I remember looked up at him and he just smiled” I said.
“He then whispered in my ear “Y/N I love you I know that it hasn’t been long but I’m in love with you” I remember feeling butterflies in that moment” I said tearing up. “I thought for once in my life I had my moment” I said.
“I then looked up at him and told him I loved him” I said wiping a tear. “From that moment on I loved Jeff everyday more and more” I said. “He promised me so much more than anyone had before him” I said. “…Jeff was… and is my soulmate and I’d give anything to have him here beside me” I said as tears rolled down my face.
“The night.. Jeff.. passed… before the party we had a conversation about our future this year” I said. “I know it sounds crazy for two kids to be thinking about the future” I said. “But we were in love” I said. “Madly in love” Jeff said. I smiled.
“He told me that he wanted to marry me” I said. “That he knew I was the one for him and there wasn’t anyone else” I said crying. “I said ask me again next year” I said wiping a tear. “And he told me he would little did I know he had the ring there that night” I said.
“I wish I would’ve known and said yes that very night.. I think all the time maybe he’d still be here if I would’ve known” I said. “But.. I do know that he’s still here with us watching over everyone” I said. “Jeff was one of a kind and he’d be so happy that this team won states this year” I said.
“And Jeff if you are somehow hear listening or in heaven I want you to know the answer is yes and it will always be yes” I said tearing up. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak about Jeff” I said.
I then stopped speaking and walked away. The principal went back up and spoke. I went outside and sat on a lunch table.
“I’m proud of you” Jeff said sitting beside me. “I wish you were here�� I said. “I am here for you always right here” he said pointing at my necklace. “You know what I mean” I said looking at him. “I know baby” he said I looked at him.
“I can’t do this without you” I said. “Hey” he said side hugging me. “Remember what I always told you” Jeff said. “No matter what you’ll always protect me” I said. “That and you look beautiful no matter what” he said I laughed.
“I should’ve said yes that night I’m sorry” I said. “It’s not your fault Y/N don’t blame yourself okay” he said wiping my tears. “I need you” I said. “And I’ll always be here but..” Jeff said. “But what” I said. “You gotta move on eventually” he said looking at me. “I can’t” I said looking at the ring.
“Love.. you will always be my first love too you know that” Jeff said. “There’s nobody else like you” I said. “Really.. what about Scott Reed” Jeff said. “Jeff what about him” I said. “Remember the day you dropped your books and he helped you”Jeff said. “Yeah” I said.
“Or when he asked you for help with the team games” Jeff said. “Jeff I don’t understand” I said. “Or how he checks up on you after the trails or just texts you” Jeff said.
“What are you saying” I said looking at him. He then looked behind me. I heard some footsteps. “Hey I came to check on you” Scott said. Jeff looked at me. “H..Hey” I said Scott said beside me. “Are you okay” Scott asked.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay” I said. He put an arm around me. “It’s weird without him here but it feels like he’s pushing me towards you” Scott said. “Maybe he is here” I said looking over at him he smiled.
“It’s just like all these things keep happening and I feel like he’s putting us together” Scott said. I rested my head on his shoulder. “Your not like your baseball friends” I said. “Those guys may be my teammates but they are all assholes Jeff wasn’t” Scott said.
“Jeff used to say the same thing about you” I said. “Maybe it’s a sign” Scott said. “So why do you keep appearing every where” I said. “Because I care about you a lot” he said wiping my tears. Just like Jeff used to do for me.
“But why me” I said. “Because your special and Jeff would always tell me that” Scott said. “And I’m starting to see why he loved you so much” Scott said. “Yeah” I said. “Yeah so if you are up for it I’d like too…
He began to say I kissed him.
“Prom” I asked. “I was gonna ask you the same thing” Scott said. “So yes” I said. “I’d love to” Scott said. “Told you I got you always” Jeff said to me I smiled. “What are you looking at” Scott said. “The beautiful sunset” I said.
“Hey maybe Jeff is here after all” Scott said. “He is..” I said tearing up. “I’ll always love you” Jeff said. “I love you” I mouthed and he was gone just like that. “So prom” Scott said.
“Oh right my dress is like light purple” I said he smiled.
#fanfic#jeff atkins#13 reasons why#brandon larracuente#clay jensen#x reader#Spotify#13 reasons imagine#jeff atkins x reader#scott reed imagine#scott reed x reader#love#fanfiction#imagines
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I am not going to read the Vogue piece, but I thought this essay on it was pretty funny -
It will never cease to morbidly fascinate me how the ultra-wealthy, despite having every resource at their disposal, will never be able to buy Authentic Coolness. We are so normal, this story’s subjects seem to be yelling, look at us in our normal 400,000-acre ranch in West Texas drinking margaritas, talking about our blended families and our friendship with the Kardashian-Jenners!
The patina of normalcy and chillness does not, shockingly, last much longer than it takes to read the story. Because all the while they are talking about driving their kids to school, attending work meetings, driving down to Tijuana for supposed philanthropic endeavors, and calling their siblings, we, the people who live in the real world and not a universe in which there exists a “salt genie” (read the story), cannot help but think, this man owns Amazon Web Services, a platform that hosts not only companies but major governments, their agencies, and financial institutions around the world; this man owns the Washington Post, one of the most widely-circulated newspapers in the country, in a continuing conflict of interest to which the government did not see fit to object; this man is not an insignificant enemy of the rising labor movement in America; and this man pays a lower tax rate than most of us. And somehow, despite all this, he and his fiancée are the recipients of Vogue puff pieces.
No? Apologies, maybe that’s what I was thinking as I absorbed these words and pictures. It is so nakedly needy, this contradictory yearning both for recognition as a Titan of Business and as One of the People. It is almost too revelatory, like we’re reading Jeff and Lauren’s journals (the ones they get to “like, three times a week”) without permission. I can picture their publicists meeting with Anna Wintour, convincing her — as they clearly did — that this would be a marketable love story. And to be fair, we are talking about it, but God, at what cost?
Why be so public? Why, when even among your cohort of billionaires, you are particularly problematic, would you call so much attention to yourself? Much like we’ve all noticed with Elon Musk and his parade of mistakes, it is evident that there is no one in the Bezos-Sánchez circle to shake their head when they spout off insane and damaging-to-the-brand ideas. They either haven’t a clue how they are perceived or they simply do not care. I’m not sure which is worse.
There were so many insane quotes in this story, I almost blacked out while reading it. My brain could simply not catch up to or even fully compute what my eyes were seeing. You should absolutely read the full story, which naturally serves as a very thinly-veiled advertisement for Bezos's and Sánchez's many brands and enterprises, if only to see the below quotes in context — context that does not, I promise you, make the words any more sensical.
“… The phrase “Love you to space and back,” a favorite saying between Sánchez and Bezos, embroidered in her lilting cursive.” (The couple’s focus on space is both childish and almost mind-numbing, as if, by their calculations and without acknowledging their own role in its destruction, earth is already lost and no longer a concern of theirs.)
“Sánchez uses a mug Bezos got her from Amazon, with the words “Woke up sexy as hell again” splashed across the side.” (In another life, Jeff Bezos was a TJ Maxx mom.)
“Sánchez is also a big audiobook fan—she’s deep into Chop Wood Carry Water: How to Fall in Love with the Process of Becoming Great.” (About this, what can I tell you that you are not already thinking?)
“On the weekends Bezos makes churros in his deep fryer, a recipe passed down from his Cuban grandfather. ‘Abuelo made churros whenever we were with him,’ says Bezos.” (Not Jeff Bezos remembering he’s Latino!! Not this! Amigues, we do not claim him.)
“Collins counts Sánchez as a close friend (they have a pickleball crew) and describes how in “deep COVID” Sánchez called her at 6:20 a.m. wanting to help.” (If a so-called friend called me at 6:20 a.m. claiming to want to help, the first step towards that journey would be deleting my number.)
“‘I made her vulnerable and soft,’ says Bezos with more than a hint of pride.” (Reader, I gagged (derogatory).)
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Hi. Belt it out for Romani/Solomon for the character ask thingy
HRNNGNG HI YOU KNOW ME TOO WELL
favorite thing about them
Romani is Solomon facing the consequences of his own actions and that's just funny to me. He asks to be human and while he's going looking at Mage Society (esp when he gets to Chaldea and sees all the shit Marisbury has been up to) and then getting to the shenanigans Goetia was getting up to the past 3000 years, Romani's just like--
On the bright side! I think this is what leads to Romani trying his best to be a good parent to Mash and also how he’s able to put on his Big Boy Pants and perform Ars Nova. It’s the most he can do to patch over what he’s allowed to happen.
least favorite thing about them
HMM... We talked about this together in DMs but I’ll lightly dabble on it here, too:
A lot of the writing for Romani early on, specifically the implied l*licon shit and how they went out of their way to make it seem like we had to hate or dislike Romani without discernable reason bugged me.
Also without going to into it... other Romani fans kind of get on me, too. There are people who either take Romani as a character too seriously or people that boil him down to just ‘gets pegged’ and both are nails on a chalkboard to me.
favorite line
His outro speech for Ars Nova.
LISTEN!!!! Temple of Time was so fucking good.
brOTP:
Da Vinci and Romani. I don’t ship them romantically, I just love their dynamic and how well they work together. I see Da Vinci as the one that kicks Romani in the ass and pushes him to own up to his shit and to enjoy himself when the time is right.
OTP:
I!! AM!! A FILTHY!!! OC X CANON SHIPPER!!!
I AM A DIRTY NASTY OC x CANON SHIPPER WHO SMEARS MY OC X CANON THOUGHTS ON THE WALLS LIKE A MADMAN PAINTING CRYPTIC AND PROPHETIC CYPHERS AROUND MY ENCLOSURE!!!
nOTP:
None, really! I think every popular Romani ship has its really high points and reflects on his character and the other’s character (Meroma, Shebamon, Romavinci...). I guess if I had to pick a ‘block on sight’, it’s David/Romani or Mash/Romani, which I had the misfortune of learning exists.
random headcanon:
Romani is a Moe Shop and Takayan fan. His favorite anime is also Madoka Magica. (yes this also goes into how River’s favorite anime is Ergo Proxy.)
unpopular opinion:
Solomon was a horrible husband/lover and an even worse parent and I wish we as a fandom would clown on him more about this.
*points to his heir, Rehoboam*
Look how bad he done went and fucked this one up. Legit to the point that when the much more well-adjusted son he forgot he had with his very much more well-adjusted ex-girlfriend showed up to ask for the back-end child support, Solomon tried to beg him to take the throne instead and then this illegitimate son looked him dead in the eyes and went ‘no thanks’ and fucked off.
...Also his wife who was the mother of his ONLY three other children left him to go be with his other wife.
That’s fucking hilarious. RIP Solomon, you’re the deadbeat male protagonist of an ABC sitcom.
song i associate with them:
Jeff Williams - ‘Indomitable’
...Yeah, sue me. I used a song from the Series We Don’t Talk About On Here Anymore.
favorite picture of them:
*struggling to breathe*
AND...!!! THE COSTUMING... AND CASTING... FOR THE STAGE... WAS SO GOOD!!!!!
#Ask of the Sphynx#ask meme#i'm so fucking normal about romani#long post#I'M!!! SO FUCKING NORMAL!!!#fgo solomon#romani archaman#my art (bc im M.I. about them)
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dara's story...
Okay, so I've been informed that you guys do want to hear my long "how i met jeff" story (stories), so here goes.
My friend Fatin (also a subscriber) and I decided to go to a Velocity Girl show at a place called Maxwell's in Hoboken, NJ (go there if you're ever in the area-great place! wanted to move in there for awhile). A band with the name Sunny Day Real Estate was opening up for them and I clearly remember Fatin and I standing outside of Maxwell's looking at the list (they posted the list of upcoming shows on the outside double doors) to see who was going to open up for VG now that we had the tix, and laughing at the name because it sounded so funny! Sunny Day Real Estate! Haha!
Well, we were excited for the show anyway (we were-or at least I was-obsessed with going to as many shows as possible and seeing any band that I'd barely heard of). I was doing a 'zine at the time with my writings and poetry which had my name and address on them. I brought a camera to the show so I could take pix for the next issue of my 'zine which I had decided to make less personal and more music related b/c no one wrote to me (well not no one as you will see). So I went into the show and was won over by the amazing SDRE! I didn't even want to see VG after that (well, actually I did b/c I was curious to see them live). I couldn't believe how the band just hypnotised me! I understood sex, drugs and rock & roll, or I had thought I did, but I had just been thinking of it in a Mick Jagger and Madonna wink wink type of sexuality. I was amazed by how this band had just so much sexuality to them that was not forced. It very much had to do with a love of music on theri part and a love of performance. They were definitely the type of band that I think get off from performing. So I took a lot of pictures, especially of the lead singer just because he was also quite amazing, he was right in front of me, and yes, because he was (and still is) gorgeous.
Well, they ended and VG came on (actually i sat next to Sarah Shannon on the stage for like 5 minutes and couldn't think of a single thing to say-still thinking of SDRE I think) and then they were done (not even half as amazing as SDRE-sorry). I talked to Jeremy a bunch afterwards b/c this girl named Lizzy started talking to me b/c she wanted to get copies of the pix I was taking and so I was talking to him "for her." Well after I talked to him, and Dan and Nate And William (Wm. is a flirt but really cute in person and very funny to watch while drumming-look at all the faces he makes) I went outside the concert hall (there's a restaurant there too) and started talking to some guy along with my friend when who should I spy not ten feet away but Juliana Hatfield. So I went over to talk to her. I wasn't like "wow!" b/c I had just met Evan D. recently at a signing (so cheesy I know, but hey I couldn't resist. He signed a picture I drew of him. We were the first to see him with buzzed hair. Real reason it was buzzzed? He and a friend got drunk and decided to buzz his hair-May 17 was the day of that signing, the day before he went to Cali for the MTV Beach thing)) and I actually disliked Juliana a lot at that point b/c she had recently been on the cover of Spin (long hair, white background) and she had said that she knew of no girls that could play guitar well and my feminism was offended. So I went up to her with the attitude of "oh well, another famous person to add to my collection." She was nice though and she took my 'zine and I asked her if she was here to see VG and she said "No, SDRE." Well, that was about it. Imagine my surprise when one day my mom hands me my mail and the return address says J. Hatfield. No, I'm not kidding. She asked me for copies of the pix of Jeremy which I sent to her and she wrote a lovely little note in reference to my 'zine. Suckered! I liked her now! (I also reread that article and she said "...except Bonnie Raitt, who was the female I had been thinking of, and the only female I could think of so my feminism wasn't offended anymore as much as shocked at the truthfulness of the statement). So I gladly sent her the not-so-great pix (forgot the flash at home-oops) and a letter. She did write back a thank you note. So when I found out she was having a show on June 2nd, 1995, at Roseland Ballroom (in NYC) I got tickets and so did Fatin. Last minute (and I really mean last minute), I called and asked for a back-stage ticket and she gave me one!! I guess it was a return favor. (I forgot to ask for one for Fatin but more on that later). I was ecstatic.
Oh yeah, opening for her was this guy named Jeff Buckley whose picture I had seen on the cover of this really thick magazine whose name I can't remember (not something that's a well-known magazine), and Fatin had told me about him so I was curious and excited to see him too. We got to the show and I stood on line (Fatin with me) for the backstage pass and who should happen to be just a few people behind me but Mr. Dando himself who I had a big crush on at that time (it was b/c Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill, the only other one to write me back about my 'zine after I met her after a Rock For Choice show and got backstage to ask her to speak to the newlly formed Gender Equities club at my school and gave her my 'zine too, sent me a 'zine that she was doing then -I think- about her love of Evan Dando and why and other things in her life that I won't mention). Fatin told me to go up to him but I couldn't and I didn't want to lose my place in line. Besides, if he was going to be backstage and I was too, we'd get to talk later.
So we went through the line and (the ticket guy was the same guy who had been at another show that I had free tix to but had forgotten my ID but had let me in anyway so this time I showed him my ID and said "see, I wasn't lying!") went inside, and I went to the platform stage for those with backstage passes and poor Fatin was on the side (I'm so sorry Fatin!) I watched Jeff's show and liked it but I wasn't totally paying attention to it b/c some women invited me to sit in a seat until their friends got back, and one of those friends was Janet Billig (she used to manage Nirvana, Hole, Evan, Smashing Pumpkins and signed them all-I think. She's now Vice-President of Atlantic Records at 29 and she's the one who Courtney Love said at one of her shows a couple of years ago, -paraphrasing here- "Don't fuck with Janet Billig cuz I'll have to fuck with you!" or something like that. There was an article about her in Spin I believe like 3 years ago - it was on my friend's wall), so I was really excited and nervous because this blond woman had come over and I had thought it was Janet so I kept switching my attention between her and Jeff (wasn't Janet by the way).
At the break between bands I went to the bathroom which was backstage (ran into Lewis Largent who used to host 120 Minutes before Matt Pinfield, who I had met at a previous show. Really really nice guy but very shy. He remembered me though!). Well, everyone went downstairs too, so that was weird and cool. I don't remeber this period to well but I do remember seeing Jules before she went on. After the bathroom I got on the corner of the side stage platform (can't really describe it sorry, but it was a very good spot to see the show) and danced through Jules entire set with my new friend Cristy (who looked a bit like Jules and was from Texas and her boyfriend who looked like Thurston Moore and worked at Reprise). After the set and before the encore I went back to the pit where Jules had just come off stage (was very easy then-they have since closed up that area :0( ) and watched her and Evan cutely give each other a big smooch (no tongue. by the way, Evan had a girlfriend who was tall and had brown hair and glasses and I think was his girlfriend. Sorry she wasn't the groupie type and not Mia Kirshner with whom Evan had just gone to her (MK's) opening for that movie she was in where she played a stripper who dressed in school girl outfits who this guy became obsessed with. haven't seen that girl -not MK- since) before Jules went back on for the encore.
After the show I wheedled the guard to let Fatin come backstage (right before that who should I knock into but PAUL MCCARTNEY!! and HIS WIFE! NO JOKE!!) even without a pass, and they let her. I was planning on taking her to meet him b/c I knew it would make her REALLY happy.
Well, we found Jeff looking passed out and sweating right by the stairs off the platform that go towards the backstage but not in the downstairs backstage part sitting on the floor drinking a water bottle and talking to some girl standing up. I said "Good show" he said "Thanks" and then I asked him if he knew where Jules was and he said probably downstairs. I said thanks and we left. Fatin couldn't say anything (I don't think) and at that moment I decided he was pretty cute and talented and I liked him too. Oy vey. Well, we went downstairs and looked for Jules and she told me about SDRE being on the Batman Soundtrack and I gave her my new 'zine issue and she said thanks and went back to talking to her friends. She is very shy and not too comfortable with people she doesn't know, but when she's with her friends she's really comfortable it seems and outgoing and fun. Well, Fatin and I floated around like lost (if you don't know anyone in the biz- and I do mean the business side of it, it can be really uncomfortable and boring) souls, although I talked to Tanya Donnelly (wearing a very cute and cool outfit I remember. Very nice WOMAN, 5 feet tall just like me). I then remember going over to wear Jeff was talking to some chicks with Fatin and we talked to him, standing not two feet from him. He was flirting completely. He gave me a water bottle (he was drinking one too and I asked him where he got it and he just handed me one. I had forgotten that Fatin and I had bought one earlier but oh well, I'll take a water bottle from Jeff anytime, even if I'm drowning), and I lit a cigarette (Newport). He said "Ooh, Menthol" and shared the cigarette with me!! A little later Evan Dando came by and wanted a cigarette and looked to Jeff who looked at and pointed to me and I gave Evan a cigarette and lit it for him off of mine! It was a miracle I seriously believe that I actually lit the cigarette and not something else! Hell, with Jeff and Evan standing around paying atttention to you, wouldn't you have missed? I didn't thank g-d!)
Well Evan left us and he said something really weird like "yeah, i pretended i just did coke" or something like that. don't quote me on that ok? (Evan has a really weird sense of humor. You know that sense of humor where you know you should say something in response but you just aren't on that wavelength yet and you just don't get where they are coming from -much like my sense of humor, which is a big part of the reason that Fatin and I became friends- well that's what Evan's sense of humor is like). The other two women who were hanging in our little circle I don't remember much except one who was tall, thin, black, and looked REALLY familiar, but I still don't know where from! No she wasn't a model (although Melissa auf der Maur was there too - and flirting a bit with Jeff or trying to be near him so no Courtney didn't lie that she had a crush on him - and I knew she looked really familiar but I couldn't figure it out where I knew her from so I thought she was a model till it dawned on me who it was). Well, this particular girl had a broken arm and I asked her how it happened and our Jeff quiped "Masturbating accident." Heehee. He's got a great sense of humor I think.
Well, guess what happened just after that? The clock struck 12:30am (Fatin and I both had Achievement tests to take the next morning!! argh! so we had to be out of there by 12:30) and my MOM came down!! No joke (unfortunately)!! You should have seen the look on Jeff's face when he saw her (and mine!) We had to leave and so I like turned and grabbed his arm with my hand behind my back and said (somewhat jokingly) "No! Don't make me go!" And so we left. I don't blush but I sure as hell was after that (well, it wasn't as bad as when my dad came looking for me after the Pearl Jam show-but that's a whole 'nother story!). Oh, my mom told me later that when she tried to get in (we had agreed to meet at the front doors but they were locked so my 'rents went around to the back doors where a shitload of kids were standing outside with guards and a security block thing, and the guards originally wouldn't let my mom in but then she said that she had a sixteen year old in there -whoa! I was 16!?!? forgot about that!- who had to take the SAT's tomorrow and he let her in - why?!?! - to the jealousy of all the kids outside! When she went downstairs, somebody looked at her and said "uh oh party's over" and my mom replied "do I look that much like a mom?" to which they then replied "uh huh!"). Then we went home and I've been unhappily ever after ever since. Until Lollapalooza.....
But that's Part 2 of the "How I Met Jeff Story" which I'm going to have to write another time because I've been happily procrastinating for way too long now. The last of the name-dropping of that night is that I think Eric Erlandson was there too but not with Drew and only for a short time if he was.
write me if you have any comments, questions, etc.
love to everybody,
dara
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Thursday December 7, 2023
Believe me, I was seriously about to write an entry on the 5th but got distracted and didn't realize it was already 3 something or 4 maybe so I just slept it out. I got lazy but I had a valid excuse, I was really tired. I even forgot what happened in these past few days. My head was hurting a lot too, I got soo dizzy often it was kind of frustrating, I even did something so embarrassing because of my dizziness that it made me want to kill myself.
Like I said I don't really remember what exactly happened so I'll just tell you what I remember. No specific dates though. Lol wait, I think I remember now. I scrolled through my gallery and saw the pictures with the dates so... I'll start with tuesday. Nothing really happened except we practiced and I slept inside the dance room, it was cold so it's nice. I thin I actually fell asleep or I was about to drift away when my damned bladder couldn't hold it in so I had to get up from my comfortable position to go piss, even met sir when I was about to go to the bathroom. He asked what we were doing, told him we were sleeping lmao. It was so awkward. Wait... what the fuck. I just had a realization, Ok so I think that didn't happen on Tuesday but instead happened on Monday, because I suddenly looked at my wallet log and realized that theres no classes yesterday so our performance was on Tuesday lmao. Fuck me, Im so sorry. See? I told you my headache was so bad it made me confuse reality. Well So yeah that's what happened on Monday.
Tuesday, it was a big day. I spent a total of 120 that day fuck me. It was a 50/50 situation for me, I was both sad and happy. On the mornings I felt fucking exhausted and I was constantly thinking of depressing things— just like how it is everyday, what the fuck is new. Shaina fucking annoyed me so much too, she won't just leave me alone she was annoying like hell. Of course I wouldn't talk back to her, I don't want to cause a fight ++ It would make me look fucking pathetic because that was only supposed to be a "joke". So yeah we performed the line dance, It was so hot, the sun was angry and glared at us. I felt like I was a marshmallow getting roasted. It was so embarrassing, I was like doing a lot of mistake it was both funny and embarrassing. If I was like on the back I wouldn't really mind but no— I was next to the person in front, basically the second one in line. The girl infront of me was short too, that made my mistakes so much more noticable it made me want to off myself. Well, after that we got ready for the opening. It was funny, I did my makeup there, which is very embarrassing but, I told myself I shouldn't give a fuck about them and did my make up. It was refreshing. We took lots of pictures but that damn bitch still won't send it so annoying. Yeah so I thought I looked fine myself, not that ugly but also not that pretty. Still, at least I looked decent to look at. It was funny performing that, It was sooo hot when we were waiting and then when it was out time, our performance was a mess! Kristina made soo many mistakes, Thank God I was behind someone tall (Not at all I'm so angry, at least let me be seen like wtf I'm being covered.. Fuck Sir jeff, he can fuck off) It was so funny I laughed when performing, she was such a mood booster, yeah I don't think Sir was having fun tho. he was definitely angry, too bad I didn't look at his expression. Well after that we just stayed in the dance room exhausted and laughing. Fast forward, I went to the booth with Tina, Sam and their cheerleader teams. It wasn't fun at all so I had to back out I was feeling out of place, So I hurried back to dance room and found jhamire and Alexis. They asked me if I wanted to join them so I did, I told them to wait a bit because my stomach hurts (I bought a 30php red tea and ran on the way there). And then jhamire told me "tumakbo ka siguro" I replied, "Oo, ang daming lalaki e" I think he said something like "feeling" or something I forgot, then I told him that "Ano? kahit pangit naman nababastos ng mga lalaki ah" and then he replied "Sinabi ko bang pangit ka?" WELL he didn't say it but he was implying like I wasn't even that attractive for guys to hit on me and become assholes because I was ugly. Does he think I'm pretty or what? I don't know, it made me upset. But anyways we went there and Alexis and I had to go back in the dance room because it was so hot and crowded and jhamire was talking with his other friends so.. And then I waited for a moment and went home. By the way I chose to do the long ride, It would take too much time to wait for jeeps so I had to. When I was getting on it was still moving a bit so I fucking slipped, that damned driver. Thank goodness a kind lady grabbed my hands and helped me get on, fuck the driver seriously it was so fucking embarrassing. I bought chicken skin btw, so yummy.
Nothing happened on Wednesday, I literally just chilled and lazed around. Now Thursday, today, I finally cleaned my room. I spent the whole fucking day cleaning it and having mental break downs in between I wanted to like destroy everything in my sight I was so pissed. Gtg, I'm going to piss lol and take a shower I'm like so nasty right now and I smell bad.
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Ok, I think we both agree on a number of eras, but mostly, we agree: Any Jeffrey is Best Jeffrey 😍. And since you did make the offer for me to go on, I shall.
Vaguely unhinged Jeffrey (no disrespect meant towards Jeff with that moniker - just a look of his where there's something mischievous in his eyes and the general je-ne-say-quois of his hair). It's worth a discussion. And by discussion, I 100% mean, let's just take a look at some pictures and scream a little more about how adorable he is while trying to pretend there's a scientific method behind this:
Is this coy? Is that what that look is? I think it is. He's being playful. Mugging for the camera. It's an 'aw, shucks, are you taking my picture' look. And there's so much floof here; it's getting outta control (this is not a bad thing). I also think he's out for a walk in the country. Which now makes me snicker since that thing you posted yesterday that said "Likes: walks in the country" and "Dislikes: no walks in the country." <- he was screwing with that questionnaire. He had to be. It's extremely funny.
More out of control floof. Did he just wander out of the woods and into downtown L.A.? Honestly, I think it's great he has fun with photographers sometimes. Also, two things to note here:
1. I'm pretty sure this is the same shirt he's wearing in that picture where he's lying down holding the Playboy magazine.
2. He looks like he's holding an iPhone in his right hand. Maybe 'Time' was more of a personal confession than just a concept album. Proof Jeffrey is a time traveler...."It's either real or it's a dream" - you tell me, Jeffery, you tell me. 😆
Uncontrollable floof. Smug look. Literally, what is not to love about this??? I will go out on a limb here and assume that's not his first beer in that picture.... .... ... (also, that one little curl that's falling down past his bangs)(I kinda want to pull it. Boing!)
I have no idea what the purpose of all this was other than to just ramble more about Jeffrey. Can you blame me?
Anyhoo, please feel free to drop by with any pics you'd like to yell about, too!
this gives me a lot to ponder lmao
well!!!! i definitely know what you mean about the whole mischievous vibe that he tends to have :^) tbh that’s one of my favorite things about him; he has such an adorable personality and is honestly very funny lmao. beyond that he is exceedingly fluffy in those photos, which is certainly not a problem! i thiiiiink all of those are possibly from the same day? someone once managed to deduce that they were taken in nashville, and since we’re on this subject anyway, this is the design on his shirt:
anyway the one with the playboy magazine always amuses me hahaha!! i’ve always wondered if he was even awake in that photo lmao
but yes omg that thing he’s holding definitely looks like a phone. i think it’s actually a camera but i would rather just believe he’s a time traveler tbh
and YES those from 1973 are some of my favorites of all time!! he looks simultaneously very mischievous and very innocent, nnnnot to mention those cute little teeth and his nails???? i always feel weird for this lmao but i’m always sort of impressed by his nails. they always look so neat/well-manicured/whatever hahaha. but yeah same re: that one particular curl. sigh.
anyway! tbh any excuse to look at and discuss him is good enough for me
#this is like if someone carved a hole in my brain and just poured out the contents#i wanted to put this under a cut but it doesn’t seem to be working on mobile and im disproportionately embarrassed by html failures#007waffles007#jeff lynne#electric light orchestra#elo#e*
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You're definitely right about me being absolutely unsupervised as kid on the internet 💀 bro I was THERE when wretched Scary maze and 2girls1cup thing was making it's rounds oof, 'twas a wild childhood. I vividly remember getting a JTK jumpscare thrown at me in the YT comment section at some point :,) but honestly... the Proxies man,,, core memory unlocked, I read so many creepypasta mansion x reader's on quotev it ain't even funny. THE QUIZZES TOO OMFG.
On another note, it's interesting how nowadays the JTK origin story creepypasta is universally agreed upon to be rlly bad and they talk about how it had bad grammar. The thing is, when I was at the very beginning of my CP phase, I didn't know shit about English, the only thing I had at hand were the translations of the most famous Pasta's and the translators rlly didn't fuck around when it came to grammar and localisation. I honestly think that if the translations hadn't been THAT good, I wouldn't have liked Jeff or the Pastas as much as I did, like these damned translations dragged me into the creepypasta fandom with no mercy. What also didn't help was the Yassification of every pasta in the form of fanart 😔 although some of them were still scary (I once saw a fanart of JTK, with the OG scary image face, smacked on top of an unreasonably well drawn feminine body in a skimpy bikini 💀💀). Honestly though, think I had crush on most Human-leaning creepypastas at some point. Not LJ though, lil me had a Clownphobia and this guy used to scare me shitless 🥲 good times, good times. The funniest thing about crushing on Hoodie and Masky for me though, was that I did not watch Marble Hornets until recently. My view on their personality was solely shaped by the fanfics I read on them agh :,)
Holy shit the edgy AMVs though- I was OBSESSED with them. They really shaped my music taste (linkin park & Melanie Marrinez my beloved <3) I still have some of them (the videos) in a playlist actually. Want a taste of what I was hyperfixating on when I was younger? lol
Also kinda funny how I'm stumped when I have to write essays at school but I can casually drop 200+ words whenever I send an ask too you, like I'm writing a long letter to a friend in ye olden times (Victor would be proud 😔✊)
-Ren'py anon
RENPY ANON ITS BECAUSE UR HAVING FUN!!!
I'm soooo glad I've found someone else who also played quotev quizzes and read those fics 😭 the quizzes were always fun, but it was always one of four. The seven minutes in heaven ;) , Which creepypasta is ur bf?, 24 hours with this character, and what does this character think about you?
WHOOO RENPY NONNIE the seven minutes in heaven quizzes I was taking when I was 10 were NO DAMN JOKE 😭
For most of these quizzes, they were also made my pre teens/teenagers, so the answers were always hella obvious and the characters were hella fanon 💀
I think I was on the internet when the scary maze thing was still a thing, but not as popular? Idk I didn't really care about it. But omg I didn't know what 2 girls and one cup was, and EVERYBODY was freaking out about it.
I looked all over YouTube until I could get a video more than 10 seconds long, and omfg I couldn't believe what my 11 year old eyes saw 💀💀💀 I didn't think it was real because NO WAY THEY WERE DOING THAT NASTY SHIT FR RIGHT???
Unfortunately it probably is real 😰
AND YES THOSE HOT AMVS AND FANART SOLD MEEEEEE
I really hated when people drew the original JTK's face onto normal or attractive stuff. It just killed the vibe for me fam :/
You know, there was always this one song and this one 'JTK tribute' video that I loved watching. It was just those picture slideshow videos, but it had the Super Crazy Psycho Love by Simon Curtis or something.
There was this one specific photo of Jeff with no shirt on. He had abs and was in a pool of blood.
... I was obessed with it. I loved it. I NEEDED IT.
I wasn't even into Jeff though? Like, my mans were LJ and Toby! Maybe Eyeless Jack or the painter guy every now and then, but those two were my favorites.
I vividly remmeber not wanting to be like those crazy Jeff stans and stuck to my own space. Idk why younger me wanted to be different so bad, but yk what good for me for not wanting to be into ultra toxic men.
Not me now though 😎
Idk why its it's such an iconic staple to my childhood and it's honestly a little embarrassing to talk about irl 😭
And yeah, the Jeff story is super flawed. I always thought it was stupid. I watched John Wolf buy and read a bad fanfiction book about Jeff and an OC. My personal taste and John's hatred for him was probably was why I didn't like Jeff in that way 😭
If you dont know who John Wolf is, he's a gaming youtuber :)
I too need to watch marble Hornets. In my pasta phase, I didnt really know them, but I just went along with it. Fanon hoodie was shy and nice, while fanon Masky was mature and calm.
Out of the two, I liked Hoodie more than Masky.
Toby is still my #1
I think it's because I used to tick most of the time when I was younger because my anxiety was so severe, and he was really friendly and loud about everything (I still tick, but not nearly as much thank god. That shit hurt fr)
I also heard they're still uploading? Just little snippets and short videos. It still sounds cool though.
AND OMG YES DROP THAT MF LINK. I didnt listen to Linkin Park, but I did listen to Melanie a whole lot!
#renpy anon#ur so amazing#I LOVE PEOPLE WHO ALSO HAD A PASTA PHASE#The internet kicked our asses#and this was our prize#doing more inernet nonsense#but in a good way this time#Say that u want me#everyday want u want me#every way that u want#me#got me trippping#SUPER PSYCHO LOVE
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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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TPWK Music Video
Word Count: 3.5k (omg shut up I didn’t think it’d be longer than 600 words)
Category: Fluff
Warning: idk a few swear words I guess? no proofreading is done on this blog ok 😭
Summary: Long-term girlfriend Y/N isn’t only the choreographer of TPWK, but she’s Harry’s dancing partner in the music video as well. Harry is in love, and can also be a pest.
reposting because tumblr hates it when i appear under tags
// masterlist //
..
For as long as you could remember, you were a dancer.
From pictures taken of you as a child by your family on your tippy toes in ballet costume, to professional ones of you ranking as first in dancing championships as a teenager as you experimented with styles other than ballet, to you befriending some of the biggest names in film and music industries as you choreographed the dances for them in the studio you owned, having had bought one at the age of only 22 and it being one of the most successful dance studios there is, with people flying from all around the world to attend your workshops and get a glimpse of what you create.
You were friends with people you had never thought, as an aspiring teenager, to know and help create choreography for, along with all the musical movies you helped bring a different tune to by the dance steps you created, and to mention one name of many, you were most proud of The Greatest Showman.
Initially, you were a friend of a friend of Harry’s.
You met the English man 3 years ago; flirting with one another for 7 months on end – Harry liked to remind you that you would’ve been together way sooner if it weren’t for the both of you being in different countries so often during that time –, dating for 1, officially being together for the rest of the 2 and half years and until that very moment.
“Look, Y/N just sent me the video they made at her Tokyo workshop.”
“I can’t make it, guys. Y/N created the choreography for Ari’s new video, and she’s in it. It premiers tonight.”
“Like my hoodie? Exclusively got to be the first person to wear Y/N’s new merch collection. Looks sick, doesn’t it? Worked so damn hard on that one.”
“Have you seen Lizzo’s new music video? Y/N made the choreography!”
If anything, your friends and family liked to joke about how Harry was a fanboy of yours.
Taking Harry with you to your studio made Harry resemble a child on a Christmas morning, or a child accompanying a parent to their work for a “take your kid to work” day. He never denied the pride he felt whenever he watched you in your element, watching you gracefully do your thing, so beautifully and passionately, in a studio that looked different from his.
“We were thinking,” he said one night as he got under the covers with you, smiling and closing his eyes as you reached to rub a missed spot of his night cream on his forehead, “Of creating a music video for Treat People.”
“How many music videos are you planning to make, really? 12? For all 12 songs on your record?” You had joked with a smile, watching him snuggle into the covers with a giggle.
“And what about it?”
“Just the fact that you never warn your poor fans,” you had chuckled, “What do you have in mind for it?”
“It’s all too fresh,” Harry said, “But I have a concept in mind.”
You had hummed, resting your head on your pillow, sitting face-to-face with Harry under the covers before he excitedly propped himself up on his elbow.
“Retro. Just retro, a casino, and a dance.”
Your eyebrows went up, a surprised look on your face, “Not what I had in mind but go on.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Lots of people, kind of like a parade thing in the street.”
“That’s nice,” he smiled.
“But...” Knowing him well enough, you continued with a roll of your eyes.
“People won’t expect a vintage video, will they?”
“I don’t think they’ll expect a video for Treat People to begin with, baby.”
“Right,” he nodded, “So, what do you think?”
Just as you were about to confirm your excitement to the concept, your face had shifted to an expression of confusion;
“Did you say a dance?”
It didn’t take Harry long to discuss the concept with his team, going through the theoretical bit of creating a music video before Jeff asked the one question Harry had been excited to answer;
“Who’s going to do the choreography? Who’s going to be your dancing partner? We need to go over some pe-”
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“You really think I’ll let anyone but my girlfriend do either of that?” Harry asked sarcastically with a smirk, “Planning on asking her tonight.”
“You son of a bitch, you already have it all planned.” Jeff laughed, shaking his head at his client and best friend.
And Harry stayed true to his word.
Insisting on driving you to and picking you from your studio after your workshop, Harry greeted you with a quick kiss once you were seated in his car, groaning about how ready you were to get in bed.
He was a little impatient, he’d admit. Holding a conversation about your day seeming to have had distracted him just a tad until you were both home and in comfortable mismatched PJ’s, indulging a late-night snack in your kitchen which consisted of quick sandwiches.
“And then he calls me, tells me that he wants me to come up with a dance for his tour promo video in a day, H! A day! Can you believe that?”
“Fucking idiot. What did you tell him?” Harry frowned, moving to remove a piece of crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.
“Declined for sure. Told him that it was too short of a notice, like, what am I supposed to do? Stop the time?”
“And what did he say?”
“Whined like a baby,” you scoffed, nodding to Harry’s annoyed expression, “I know!”
“Who does he think he is?” He rhetorically asked, “Calling one of the most demanded choreographers and expecting you to just do as he says. As if.”
Despite your annoyance at the said celebrity, your frown faltered at your boyfriend.
“And you know what’s funny?” He went on, “That you’ve been trying to reach a common ground, like, a solution that would be convenient for the both of you but he’s being an unhelpful, ungrateful twat.”
You pouted, reaching to pull him closer by one of his hoodie’s strings, pecking his lips, “Thanks for sharing the same annoyance and trash talking him with me.”
“Just wish some people weren’t dicks to you, love,” he sighed, “You don’t deserve it.”
“I can take care of them.” You smiled.
“I know you can, you deal with them so well, I don’t know how you do it,” Harry said, “But I still think some people need to stop giving you a hard time. Pisses me off.”
“Yeah? It’s hot.” You teased him, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips.
Harry’s posture eased, chuckling at you as he held on to your waist. “Glad you think so.”
“Always do,” you confirmed, “Now, what do you want to tell me?”
His eyebrows came together in confusion, “How did you know that? How- How did you know that I have something to say?”
You chuckled knowingly, giving him a shrug, “It’s a little offensive that you think I don’t know you well,” you sarcastically began, “But to answer your question, you tend to touch your bottom lip more often when you have something to say. And you have this look on your face.”
He might have fallen in love again and again that moment, opting to say silent for a moment as he took what you had said in – as he took you in.
Harry let out a sigh of contentment, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer in a hug before pressing a soft kiss to your head, “Love you so much.”
“Love you, too,” your muffled voice replied, “Now tell me.”
“You know how I told you I wanted Treat People to have a dance? And it’s all retro and all that?”
You nodded, looking at him.
“How do you feel about creating that? Being in the music video with me as my dancing partner?” He bashfully asked, eyes twinkling and smile innocent.
Your eyes widened, “What? Me?”
“Who else?”
“Are you being for real right now?” You laughed in disbelief, “Not only do you want me to create the choreography, but- but you want me in it?”
“Precisely, yes.” He nodded with a smile.
“Wow,” you smiled, shaking your head, “Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, “You’re so fucking talented and good at what you do, people know we’re together, I have been impatiently waiting for you to join me in any of that stuff, and it’ll be fun,” Harry listed before shrugging, “What do you say?”
“I mean, I see the fun part,” you replied, “But when do you want that? When do you want to start filming? I’m going to need more details.”
“Whatever you need.”
And again, Harry was a man of both words and actions, filling you with what you needed to know and enjoying how you seemed to glow brighter at the mention of your job and passion.
It didn’t take long before you were both in the studio after having discussed some technicalities with Harry’s team. On some days, you and Harry would goof around in your studio after you were done with the day. You’d occasionally teach Harry a move or two, and more often than not, Harry was the audience you needed to watch a new choreography of yours that you were either unsure or proud of.
But to be able to have Harry join you from start to finish in what you enjoyed doing had another feeling; one that neither of you could explain.
“You kick out with your right, then,” you demonstrated, “Step in.”
With pursed lips and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Harry copied your moves, eyes on himself through the gigantic mirror in front of the both of you.
“Good job!” You grinned, “Alright so it’s, 5, 6, go 7, and 8,” you began from the top, “Then 1, and 2,” you stepped with your feet as you moved, “Kick, step, kick, step, turn,” you turned, “Push to the side,” you recapped slowly, “Clap, clap. Come on, you do it.”
Harry took a moment, letting out a breath as he shook his limbs, “Alright, got it,” he mumbled, “Can you count?”
“Yeah, baby, sure,” you giggled quietly, “5, 6, 7, 8…”
“Ah fuck,” he groaned as he seemed to lag before the next step.
You approached him, resting your hands on his shoulders before cupping his face to have him look at you, “You’re nervous. Why are you nervous?”
“Besides the fact that it’s the first time I do this?”
“Do what? Dance? We took salsa classes together.” You reminded him gently.
“No, love, just- this, for a video. And you’re so fucking good. I didn’t think you’d put that much effort into my little video but the dance looks amazing and I’d just, hate to not do it justice.” Harry ended his confession with a sigh, shoulders slumping down.
“H,” you pouted, “Baby, you’re an amazing dancer,” at that, Harry rolled his eyes, “Nooo, you are!” You repeated, assuring him, “If you can’t see how far better you’ve gotten than you’re blind, H.”
Harry’s face softened, looking at you as you nodded at him.
“We’re both putting effort and I won’t rest until we give this all it takes for you to enjoy it, alright?” You leaned closer, pecking his nose with a soft kiss which seemed to work to make him giggle, reaching to scratch his nose,
“Tickles.”
“Oh yeah?” You jokingly wiggled your fingers into his sides, “In your spot, Styles, let’s go!”
You weren’t surprised that after all your little classes together, Harry had perfected the choreography. It wasn’t just in your time together that Harry practiced; you caught him in the kitchen, in the shower, counting under his breath as he sat with a dazed look on his face, and you had seen him far too many times watching the recorded tutorial you had made for him and your backup dancers.
You weren’t surprised because you knew that once he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t rest until he reached it.
But just because you weren’t surprised, didn’t mean that you were any less proud.
Far too many videos on your phones were added of one another during that time; Harry dramatically lying on the floor in the studio, sweaty and panting as you recorded him while laughing, zooming into his dopey but smiling face, your phone propped up as it recorded the both of you practicing the entire choreography, catching the bit when Harry dipped in your arms but you weren’t ready and he ended up falling, bringing you down with him as the both of you burst out laughing.
He loved seeing you in your element, that was an established fact, but being with you in your element? That was priceless.
“Jesus, this is heavy!” Gemma exclaimed as she tried Harry’s sequined, bright cropped blazer.
Filming came by, and there was nothing like seeing hard work pay off.
Harry chuckled at his sister, taking the blazer from her before putting it on, “Have you seen Y/N? Is she done?”
“They were retouching her hair.”
Harry’s stomach was filled with butterflies. If you asked him for the reason behind them, he wouldn’t know how to answer; because he was nervous he’d mess up? Normal jitters before filming? Or maybe, it was the fact that you were finally joining him and that alone was enough to have him giddy, giggly, and bouncy?
Gemma would say it was the latter, having had watched and heard Harry ask about his girlfriend during the entirety of the process of getting ready;
“Is she alright?”
“Feel like I’m getting married and I’m not allowed to see my bride.”
“Can you please tell Y/N to check her phone? She puts it on silent whenever she’s working but I want to show her my hair.”
In the dressing room beside his, you began laughing the moment Gemma stepped in, already knowing from her huff and annoyed look the reason behind them.
“Bloody pest! How do you deal with him being all clingy over you like that?”
“I don’t,” you joked, “He’s nervous.”
“And a little annoying.”
“Thank you,” you smiled to the hairdresser before getting out of the chair, “Where’s the man of the hour?”
“Whining outside that door,” Gemma answered with a raise of her eyebrows and a smile, “You look amazing, love.”
“Really?” You smiled bashfully, tugging on your vintage jacket and looking down at your shoes, “It’s a light outfit.”
“Should try Harry’s blazer,” she huffed, “So heavy.”
Walking outside the room with Gemma, you saw Harry standing with your group of backup dancers, smiles on all of their faces as he talked with them, you fully knowing that he was making sure they were comfortable.
“Here comes the bride!” Gemma joked, raising her arms up.
Harry turned, and everyone was sure that it might as well have been your wedding.
His eyes seemed to reflect the shiny blazer he had on, dimples showing as he grinned, opening his arms at you.
Concealing the shyness you felt under his stare, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, feeling his hand rubbing your back. “You look so good,” you said, pulling away to look at him, “Where’s Lambe- There you are,” you pointed at Harry Lambert who approached the both of you, “How do you do it? What’s your secret?”
“Only the best for Sue,” Harry Lambert said, tipping an imaginary hat at Harry, “And our Angel.” He kissed your cheek.
Soon enough, everyone was asked into place.
For the first shot, they decided to film Harry entering the stage with the dancers first.
Standing at a safe distance away from the camera’s view, you heard the director call before they began recording.
“I got a good feeling,” you watched Harry sing into the vintage microphone, TPWK playing in the background as well, as he leaned to the side.
A smile was on your face, hands clutched together under your chin as you watched Harry and the dancers stick to the choreography you had worked on for the last 3 weeks.
Seeming to be too into your own world of watching your boyfriend, you hadn’t noticed right away when Gemma threw her arm around you until she squeezed you into a side hug, “Did so well, love.”
You gave her a smile and returned the hug, at loss of words.
For your takes, Harry was exactly as what Gemma had called him – a pest.
“Harry, stop making faces at her!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now.”
“Harry!”
“What? I didn’t do anything!”
“You took a picture of Y/N with your flash on!”
“Oh shit, sorry.”
But you couldn’t be mad nor stop laughing, enjoying it too much for anybody’s liking.
“This is why I don’t accept when you ask me to be in your videos.” You joked as you all took a break, munching on a banana.
“See? You deprive me too much, baby.” Harry giggled, pecking your cheek quickly before reaching to grab a banana for himself.
“You’ve been depriving all these people from going back home early for the last couple of days, and look,” you pointed at Mitch, “Mitch looks like he’s close to murdering you.”
“I think that’s just his face, love. He hates this.”
..
“Alright, are we ready?” The director asked, “3, 2, 1, action!”
Harry sang as he stepped on the table you were sat at with your “friends”, a smile on his face as he did, his palm open towards you.
“And if our friends all pass away,” he sang, the soft ah’s following which was your cue to put your hand in his, stepping up on the table with him, “It’s okay.”
Nobody knew how the both of you did it, but everyone was satisfied with the one take they took.
It didn’t feel like filming anymore to either of you the moment Harry threw his bowtie away as you faced one another on stage, genuine smiles on your faces as you broke into the choreography you could do without a thought at that point.
There were moves that Harry had struggled with during practice, one of them being when he held you as you did a cartwheel; but all these struggles were long forgotten once the both of you gracefully did that move.
The song played as the both of you danced in front of the backup dancers and Harry’s band, only adding to the smiles on your faces before it began to come to an end – the end.
Harry twirled, your eyes following him with a smile before you dipped up with one arm, your other raised in the air, while one of Harry’s arms was around your back, the other stretched out.
“Cut! Amazing job! Amazing, amazing, job!”
The both of you were panting, you looking down at him as you giggled before you leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a quick kiss as everyone cheered.
..
Harry sat on it, and you sure as hell were glad he did because after one eventful year, he took matters in his own hands to start 2021 right the moment he dropped the music video on the 1st of January.
“It hasn’t been 10 minutes and it’s trending,” you laughed in shock, scrolling through your Twitter, “Your power!”
“No,” Harry smiled gratefully as he watched you as the both of you cuddled on your couch as and after you had watched the music video together, “All yours.”
“Stop,” you dragged, “You’ve been crediting me for a year for this video as if I did everything.”
“You practically did, love. It was all about the dance and look at you,” he sighed in contentment, squeezing you against him, “Made a dancer out of me.”
“You’re a natural.” You patted his cheek.
Harry scoffed, mind shifting to his X-Factor choreography, “Trust me, I’m not.”
“But seriously,” you began after a moment, looking up at him and making him shift to look at you, “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he repeated, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, you pest.”
“Hey!”
#harry styles fluff one shot#harry styles fluff imagine#harry styles imagine#tpwk music video#harry styles
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Stay Golden Sunday: Betty White, In Memoriam
Betty White, the last member of the Golden Girls, died on December 31, 2021. Let’s look back with fondness on her time with the show, and what she brought to the character of Rose Nylund.
Back in St. Olaf...
Well, this is it, isn’t it? Our very own Stay Golden Sunday Very Special Episode. The great Betty White, last surviving member of the main cast of The Golden Girls, died on December 31. She was just a few weeks shy of her 100th birthday. It’s really, truly the end of an era and she will be missed so much by all of us.
The logical side of my brain has always known Betty White’s death would almost certainly happen before I reached the end of this column. I’m barely halfway through the second of seven seasons. But the emotional side of me was absolutely, irrationally hoping she would live forever. So I never prepared anything, and I’m writing this SGS mostly off the cuff.
It seems I wasn’t the only one, either. Her agent, Jeff Witjas, told People, “Even though Betty was about to be 100, I thought she would live forever.” One of my favorite memes is just a picture of her that says, “We need to start thinking about what kind of world we’re going to leave behind for Betty White.”
White was, by every single account I’ve been able to find, an exceptional human being -- an animal rights activist, an anti-racist crusader, a staunch LGBTQ+ ally (the latter two in times when being so was even more difficult and dangerous than it is now). She remained funny, sassy, and endearing right to the end, teasing Ryan Reynolds in one of her final interviews.
So instead of an episode recap this week, let’s take a look at the extraordinary life of Betty White, her role as Rose Nylund in The Golden Girls, and her most extraordinary moments on the show.
“The older you get, the better you get . . . unless you’re a banana.”
I wish I could go over all the specifics of Betty White’s extraordinary life and career, but I’ll stick to the basics. She was born on January 17, 1922 in Illinois, and lived in California during the Great Depression. In case you ever wonder how far back her animal activism goes, apparently she originally wanted to be a forest ranger. Sadly, it was not a career open to women at the time. She later served as a volunteer during World War II.
After discovering her interest in performing, she began her career on the radio and even appeared on an experimental transmission -- meaning she was on TV before it was even officially a “thing.” She eventually transitioned fully to TV with the show Life with Elizabeth. She apparently became the first woman to produce a sitcom with that show, as well as the first to have control both in front of and behind the camera, or at least according to Wikipedia. She beat even Lucille Ball in that regard, which is absolutely something worth remembering. The two were also good friends.
She later became regular panelist on popular game shows, and would become even more well-known on The Mary Tyler Moore Show. She played Sue Ann Nivens, a cynical, man-eating parody of the sickly sweet homemaker women who appeared in other sitcoms. I think she’s probably best summarized by this clip.
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I swear this woman could make a marble statue laugh. She also, over the course of this time, had several iterations of her own show called, appropriately, The Betty White Show.
White met her third husband, Allen Ludden, at a filming of the game show Password in 1961. She frequently described Ludden as the love of her life, and remained with him until his death in 1981. She never remarried after that, as she said she’d already had her perfect love story. Reportedly, she kept a photo of Ludden on her bedside table and would blow him a kiss every morning.
Because this is a Golden Girls column, I’m going to focus on her role in the show and how she got it, but I seriously cannot overstate just how incredible this woman’s life and career is. Let’s be clear, we’re not just mourning the woman who played Rose Nylund. We’re mourning one of the most interesting pioneers in the history of television and entertainment. I also want to salute her for choosing to focus on said career over having children, even divorcing her second husband, Lane Allen, because he wanted kids and she didn’t. For the time period that was, if you’ll pardon the expression, pretty ballsy of her.
Anyway, White was approached originally to audition for the role of Blanche, as that character seemed the closest to her previous role as Sue Ann. Rue McClanahan, who was at the time best known for playing the ditzy Vivian on Maude, was shortlisted for the role of Rose. Neither woman was terribly enthused about their selected role, but they loved the script and wanted to be part of it. It was Jay Sandrich, the director of the pilot episode, who made possibly one of the greatest decisions in television history: He asked Rue and Betty to read for each other’s parts.
McClanahan loved the role of Blanche and had wanted to play her all along, but White had to be convinced that Rose was the role for her. Sandrich basically described Rose as the ultimate innocent, who takes everything literally and doesn’t have a devious bone in her body. According to White (via Golden Girls Forever), “And when he said that, it made sense for me... And Rue took Blanche and went with her where I never would have had the guts to go. So it just worked out beautifully.”
Not only was this a great decision for the two characters and actresses, apparently it was instrumental in getting Bea Arthur, the last to be added to the main cast, on board with the show. When Rue, who’d been asked by Susan Harris to help persuade her, called her, Bea said she had no interest in doing, “Maude and Vivian meet Sue Ann Nivens.” Rue responded, “That’s not the way we’re going to play it, Bea. I’m going to play the Sue Ann Nivens vamp, and Betty’s going to play the Vivian role.” That made Arthur take notice.
The pilot episode was filmed on April 17, 1985 in front of a live audience at Sunset Gower Studios in Hollywood. Betty White, along with all her costars, captured the attention of the whole world that day. The pilot was filmed twice in front of two separate groups of people, but both times they got huge laughs and everyone immediately knew this was a hit.
“That moose not only raised Little Yiminiy -- he put him through medical school!”
Betty White as Rose Nylund is, hands down, one of the funniest performances ever aired on television. I mean, let’s completely bare our biases here: Every single character on The Golden Girls is easily in the top 10 of all TV characters (my personal top 4, honestly). They’re a perfect combination of well-cast actresses and excellent writers. But focusing on Rose specifically, there’s something truly special about her.
Rose is, for one, a character who’s unfailingly kind and lovely. She’s charitably minded, and has a nice word to say about almost everyone. She’s a comforting and warm presence, even when she’s only the tertiary character in the episode. She’s almost always the one interacting with animals on set (which I have to believe was something Betty insisted on), whether it be dogs, pigs or chickens.
It’s because of that caring nature that the few times Rose seriously loses her temper, or where she discards her scruples for whatever reason, are among the most memorable in the show’s history. The first time Rose showed there was more to her is in Season 1′s “The Triangle,” where she managed to trap a philanderer into a public confession with only seconds of planning. Most people remember Rose’s response to a question about her leaking roof:
DOROTHY: *seeing Rose come out of her room with buckets* Hi Rose. The ceiling in your room leaking too?
ROSE: No, Dorothy. I just finished milking the cow I keep in my closet. Gee, with only three hours’ sleep, I can be as bitchy as you.
Make no mistake, when Rose was done fucking around, Betty had an amazing way of riding the line between keeping true to the character while also giving her a glorious moment to shine. My favorite moment out of all of them is in Season 3, Episode 1, “Old Friends.”
I haven’t yet written my SGS about this episode, so I’ll keep a recap to a minimum, but suffice to say Rose’s teddy bear is mistakenly given to a girl, who uses the opportunity to try and milk the Girls for some blackmail money. At the end of the episode, Rose at first starts to say that perhaps it’s time she let her teddy go, and then shows the child in the best way just how little weight she has to throw around.
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Even Rose’s flaws were hilarious: For starters, she had a mean competitive streak that frequently put her at odds with the other Girls. It started in Season 1 with “The Competition,” when she showed her first sign of a darker side during a bowling tournament. Later she would somehow finagle her way into a coaching role around children -- perhaps not a good idea given her nature.
Another major flaw was her sometimes toxic positivity. Not everyone was comfortable being around someone so cheery, and at her worst Rose would not accept that she wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. In Season 5, Episode 9, “Comedy of Errors,” she harasses a coworker who makes it clear he’d prefer that she leave him alone -- where we learn that Rose apparently puts on puppet shows at work. Because of course she does.
“You know the rules. I get the rose.”
But it’s not just the silly stuff for which we remember Rose. To be sure, Betty White was fantastic at that kind of comedy -- the wide-eyed innocence and the occasional flashes of deviousness and rage. But her best moments on the show were when things slowed down, and she got to show that she could absolutely make you cry.
I have a whole plethora of scenes I could use for this example, but I’ll use three just to keep this brief. First, the scene in Season 2′s “Piece of Cake,” when she recounts her final birthday in St. Olaf. Rose explains to her late husband Charlie that she’s decided to move away from Minnesota so she can move on with her life. Betty White said in interviews that she put a lot of her love for Allen Ludden into Rose’s love for Charlie. That moment at the end of the scene when she tells Charlie she loves him and misses him as her voice breaks . . . well, I refuse to believe anyone out there couldn’t be touched by the real love and devotion Betty is showing us at that moment.
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The second scene is Rose’s despair during the events of “Rose Fights Back.” I’m not exactly sure why (though I have theories) Rose was often saddled with episodes about societal problems, but she got no less than two episodes about ageism in the job market. When she hits her lowest moment, she describes seeing herself in the person of a local homeless woman. It’s one of those moments when Rose, for all her bubbly good nature, revealed she’s a lot more aware of the ills of the world than she generally communicates. She finishes with the line, “God, what am I going to do?” and, as someone who’s been without a job or prospects in my life, my heart breaks for her.
The third scene is in “Ebbtide’s Revenge,” after the death of Phil. Rose doesn’t play much of a part in the episode until the very end. That’s when she reminds everyone that she was a grief counselor, and within minutes manages to resolve the situation between Sophia and her daughter-in-law Angela. Granted, she does so with a rather tortured St. Olaf story, but she delivers some of the most compassionate, sensible, and intelligent lines on the show to Sophia, and it’s enough to finally break the emotional stalemate. Betty was excellent at portraying Rose’s smarter moments but, even more than that, she was excellent at showing how Rose was, at heart, just the best kind of a person.
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“I know no one wants to hear one of my stories right now.”
Let’s wrap this up with a compilation of some of Betty White’s best moments on the show.
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#rip betty white#stay golden#very special episode#golden girls#stay golden sunday#rose nylund#betty white#sophia petrillo#dorothy zbornak#blanche devereaux#rue mcclanahan#bea arthur#estelle getty
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I'm apparently choosing violence today. I've been staring at the cover of the book that inspired the bodyguard Frankie thoughts. Having more thoughts and I had to share them. Also, it may be a cheap romance novel but I highly recommend reading it.
First off, Frankie in tight jeans and a leather jacket? Hell yeah! Plus the guy is described as very broad and big. You know, how we usually picture Frankie. 😉 But my thought came from how he's holding her.
Even with not trusting her, he does everything to do his job and protect her. And I mean everything. He has been beaten, battered, bruised, shot at, hell even shot. He knows he could very well die protecting her and he's willing to do it.
His job of protecting her only gets hard after he realizes his feelings and they fuck. He's still driven to do the things he did before to protect her. But now he's conflicted because he genuinely cares for her and it's not just a job anymore. He's actually scared of failing to protect her. She's also scared because she doesn't want him dying to protect her. Because she loves him but doesn't want to admit it yet.
He's not only getting hurt physically with this job but emotionally too. Their whole relationship is one step forward, two steps back. They both want each other badly, but every time they get close something happens to make them stop. Then when they finally do fuck, she ends up getting information that makes her not trust him again. Or when they both realize they love each other, without saying it yet, he tries to frame her as the criminal's inside man to get her booted off the case.
Ok, I'm gonna go crawl in a hole now. Probably to reread the book and picturing Frankie as the bodyguard.
Amber 🥺💜
I started writing a bit. It's pretty rough and just a concept for now but here's a little something...
--
You rush through the door to your office, late as usual. You're sure you hear your assistant say your name so you mutter a quick 'hey' as you pass his desk and run into your office, throwing everything onto your desk before plopping down and breathing heavily.
"Morning," your assistant says, walking into your office with a bright, sort of suspicious smile. Another man follows behind him, looking around your office and whistling.
"Good morning, Jeff. I don't like that smile..." you say pointing at him. "Did we hire a new HVAC guy?" you ask, pointing at the other man in the room.
"No," Jeff says in a sing-songy voice. "Remember we talked about getting you a bodyguard after the last case?" he asks and you nod slowly. "Well..." He gestures to the scruffy man and you scoff.
"Him?" You look at Jeff as he walks over and tosses a file onto your desk. You open it to find a picture of the man surveying your office.
"Desk probably shouldn't be in front of these huge windows. Perfect shot for a sniper," the man says and both you and your assistant look at him.
"Misterrr..." You look down at his file. "Morales?" The picture is an old one, he had shorter hair and no facial hair.
"Yeah, that's me." He sniffles and shoves his hands in his pockets. You take in his appearance—he isn’t bad looking, in fact he quite handsome, but he does not look like a bodyguard. From the scruffy beard to the shaggy hair to the worn hat and the tan jeans with the grey v-neck t-shirt. Yeah, this has to be some kind of joke.
“Special ops?” you ask and he nods. “Forgive me, but you don’t look like a bodyguard.”
“Ah, forgive me. Let me just run to my truck and grab my black suit, shades, and earpiece,” he says sarcastically.
“Excuse me?”
“Pardon me, ma’am, but uh…if I walk in here looking the way you think a bodyguard should it would be a dead giveaway. I wouldn’t last a week.”
“Hm,” is all you can say to that.
“Besides aren’t you just the assistant DA?” he asks and your assistant snorts.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying…I’m who you get.” He shrugs and smirks at you.
“Unbelievable,” you mumble, shaking your head.
--
Frankie can’t believe this is what his life has come to. The jobs pays well but he’s stuck with a snooty, know-it-all like you. He knows these next few months will test his resolve like no other. He looks at you, your face buried in your work. You are pretty even with your brow furrowed like that and your tongue sticking out slightly. He already knows it will be fun teasing you.
“What you working on?” he asks and you look up at him without moving your head.
“Have you not been watching the news at all lately?” you ask. He sits on the edge of your desk and you slam the file shut. “Do you have to sit there?”
“I’m not looking,” he tells you. “Besides, I was special ops, I know how to keep secrets.” He grins and you roll your eyes. “Ever heard of a joke before?”
“Yeah but you’re not funny,” you say and he rolls his eyes this time. He stands and gives you a mock apologetic bow.
“Forgive me, ma’am. I will be sure to work on my jokes just for you.” He walks away and you watch, spotting the pistol in the back of his jeans. “You got a problem with guns? ‘Cause the guys that might come after you sure don’t.”
“Not a problem necessarily just…” you shrug.
“You don’t know how to use one,” he finishes.
“I do, thank you.”
That surprises him. “Not as innocent as you seem, huh?”
“Innocent until proven guilty, Mr. Morales.” You finally give him somewhat of a smile. He is going to ignore just how pretty it is.
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The one where model Y/N is attacked in Paris.
blurb: Harry and Model Y/N are in Paris for Fashion Week 2020 earlier this year. To celebrate her first time walking for Gucci, Harry decides to take her out for a dinner date when a crazy youtube prankster attacks her while leaving the restaurant and Harry get furious as standing up to defend his girl.
word count: 3.5K
warning: rude and disrespectful attitude, invasion of personal space, violence, anxiety attack quote. DON’T read it if you feel uncomfortable.
author’s note: HIII, I know this took me a while. I was working on it when I got a cold and just couldn’t think of anything to finish writing this, but I’m much better now for god’s sake. I’d like to apologize with whoever requested this for taking such a long time to post it and say a huge thank you or requesting this too! This is completely inspired by what happened to Gigi Hadid in 2016(I guess) and I remember seeing this video and thinking why someone would do that, also, Gigi said once that the guy was lucky Zayn wasn’t with her sooooo I guess I just think Harry would be so furious because even though he’s a very chill guy, his girl safety and well being is the one thing that matters the most to him.
gigi’s video for the ones who didn’t see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjsPmjqmcvs
February 27th, 2020
Today was the first time that you ever walked for Gucci, and it was amazing, you were beyond happy because getting where you are today being a short model and only being 22 years old it's something to be proud of. It hasn't been easy all the time but you were slowly making your way to the top and that's more than enough. And you were highly grateful for Harry either, of course you walked Gucci's show because of your talent and hard working and no one doubted that, but Harry did a important role in your newest contract with Gucci because you met the team because of him and his Gucci obsession. But anyway, the fashion show was amazing, and you had Harry on the crowd cheering for you all the time and God, he was so proud! He couldn’t even handle himself. He was recording everything and even got up when you did the catwalk next to him as he kept taking multiple pictures. If you have to be real, almost 90% of those pictures looked really bad because he wasn't focusing on the phone but he also wanted to register this moment and when you'd look through them later you'd actually laugh because most of them had a very blur image.
When the fashion show ended, he had to congratulate you backstage. As you were starting to take off your outfit, you listened to your boyfriend's rough voice making you turn around to face him and see the biggest smile on his face, you could clearly see his dimples on the side of his cheek. He walked over to you instantly wrapping his strong arms around your figure hugging you so tight that you were even afraid that he would get the feat of ruining the rest of clothes you still had on.
— You were so great, I'm so pround of you! — Harry said on a low tone next to your ear before breaking the hug and looking carefully to your face. You had this crazy green eyeshadow that were halfway gone by now which caused him to chuckle — I love your eye look, it looks fabulous! — Harry said making you bend over to stare at the mirror behind you only realizing now you haven't finished taking off your makeup yet. You stand straight again giving him a mocking expression as you grabbed the makeup wipe you were using from the makeup table behind both of you.
— I know, I'm thinking about wearing this everywhere because it's just really fashion! — you ironically said taking a smirk out of him as you turned around sitting on the chair in front of the mirror so you could have a sight of how you're makeup were doing — But thank you, you know I appreciate it!
— I do! And that's why I'll congratulate you by taking you out for dinner tonight! — Harry said walking towards you resting his hands on both of your shoulders squeezing them gently as he bends over giving you a small kiss on your neck.
— Oh, like a dinner date? — You'd ask with a smirk on as you felt goosebumps on your kiss with his little kiss.
— Exactly like a dinner date! And later, we can have our own private celebration! — He'd say with a smirk on his lips as you finished taking your makeup off — What d' you think? Sounds good? — He asked you and you nodded at him and just some minutes later you both were out stage going back to your hotel in Paris. Harry called Jeff and asked him if he could make a reservation for both of you for tonight around 8 pm and he glady did, so as it was already 6 pm and as you both were probably the one couple in the world who takes the longest to get ready, you'd come back to the hotel and started getting ready already.
Jeff made an appointment for both of you to go to Le Cinq restaurant which is located near the Eiffel Tower and Arc of Triumph. You absolutely loved Paris at night, for some reason it seemed more magical and interesting to you. The weather, the lights, the fashion and the language that you learned to master well through the years warmed your heart whenever you’d go there. When you were a child, you got used to always hearing your mom tells you:’’whenever you’re in love, go to Paris’’, and for this reason Paris was one of the first places where you and Harry traveled together as couple. Harry didn’t use to travel a lot for by the way. MOst of the time, he used to travel for work, so this changed a lot since you started dating because you love to travel. You’ve always been a free spirit person, the kind of person that goes wherever the winds takes you so with the time Harry became like this too as you started taking him to do the craziest things on the craziest places around the world.
You felt the car slower it’s velocity as it got closer to the front of the restaurant, and you both could see by the window that the front was packed. As it was Paris Fashion Week, there were a lot of celebrities in the city and usually, fans settled in front of popular places around the city hoping they’d have a chance to meet their favorite celebs and even though you were already used to crowds at this point of your life, they’d still make you a little nervous, especially when it was in places not well known to you like a city you don’t live on.
— You’ll have to guide me because these shoes are really high and I don't want to step on anyone's feet — You said to Harry while putting your phone in the small black Prada bag you carried with you with your head down looking carefully to it because you’ve lost the count of how many times you thought you had put the phone inside your bag and you didn’t.
— It's alright! Hold my hand because there are a lot of people here! — Said Harry bringing his left hand up to your face to put a lock of hair of yours that fell in your face behind your ear and you nodded to him. Harry was really protective over you, and he has been that way since the beginning of your relationship. He’d always put your safety first anytime you’d go out together. When it was his about his concerts, you’d usually discuss about the fact that you want to be in the audience and he wants you to be backstage. It’d taken you a few minutes to convince him that everything was going to be fine, but it would also have days that it didn’t matter how much time you try to convince him he’d beg you to stay backstage so he could be relaxed during the performance. But you were grateful for him being that way, you were grateful that he cared so much about your well being because you know exactly how much some relationships can be destructive and you felt lucky to have someone this good in your life. Of course he wasn’t perfect, neither of you were but who is? He tried his best and that’s what matters the most.
But anyway, Harry held your hand tightly and opened the car door, immediately feeling the camera’s flashes burning your faces and listening to some fans starting to shout. Harry’s bodyguards got between both of you and the crowd guiding your way to the entrance of the restaurant and you felt the heat from the crowd instantly even though the weather in Paris was only 59°F, it’d feel lot warmer until you entered the place. And that is one special kind of a place, The decoration was perfectly splendid, gorgeous and marvelous if you must say. The touches of gold and light blue mixed with the yellow coloration of lights and the spectacular french food scent brought a cozy and elegant vibe.The restaurant was a little full, nothing out of the common and you observed the many different sizes of tables and the groups of people in it.
You both were taken to your table that was located next to the windows but wasn’t actually on the windows at it still had people outside and it feels weird to eat with people watching you. Anyway, Harry as the gentleman he is pulled the chair for you as he always did even though you had told him there’s no need for that. You both ordered glasses of your favorite white wine, neither of you were heavy drinkers but as it was a celebration it was much needed. The date happened naturally, just as all the laughing, talking and even gossips. This the casual couple gossip that you two would have, but it happened naturally. None of you ever felt like you had to pretend to be anybody else except yourself around each other.
During the night, Harry would get lost in your face admiring your features while you’re talking. He would admire the way your eyebrows move when you’d change expressions, the way your eyes would form a very tiny line when you tried to see something that was away from you, he’d admire your smile and the sound of your laugh anytime you’d remember of something funny or he’d tell you something funny and he’d think of how lucky he is to have you, because even though he knows that sometimes he can be a pain in the ass(just as you can too) , you’re very lucky to have one another and to have someone who would make you feel this great and free about who you are. Because who you are is exactly who you need to be. Of course both of you believes that changing and envolving it’s the most important thing to do and sometimes you’d be surprised to see how much you both grew from the beginning of your relationship until today and that would bring smile to your faces. He feels lucky to be able to call you his girl, and god you loved when he’d do it. You loved when he was about to present you to someone and say ‘’This is my girl Y/N’’, it’d cause you to open a big smile because it felt natural. You’re his and he’s yours, period.
When you both decided it was time to call it a night Harry paid the check against what you wanted because you wanted to pay this time. You’d honestly hate to have people paying for you, and this would usually be a point of discussion between you and Harry. You don't know why but you hate it, and it's just the gentleman in Harry wanting to spoil his girl again and again until he get tired of doing it, but he never does.
You were about to leave the restaurant when Harry slid his right hand around your waist bringing you closer to him very calmly to kiss your cheek.
— I know you want to say hi to everyone but just walk to the car, alright? — He'd lowly talk next to your ear making you look at him with a serious expression — It's for your safety, love! It's late now, and we don't know who's there. — And he was right, it was past midnight now and there were still some people out there. How can they stand there in this cold weather? But anyway, you agreed with him as you both walked your way to outside. You felt flashes again, blinding flashing lights making you look to the ground as Harry held his hand on the back of your back guiding you to the car.
As you walked towards the car, you felt a small hand touch your arm and you looked over to see a little girl with probably 12 or 13 years. She pursued tired eyes, and your heart ached with just the thought of keeping walking back to the car because you had no idea of how much time she’s been outside waiting for you so you stopped walking and bend down a little to get close to her height which made Harry stops walking immediately looking a little surprised but he understood when he saw you taking a picture with the little girl and how your face lightens up after it. You asked her what was her name and her age and she answered that her name was Lily and she was 13 she told you that she wants to be a model just like you when she grows older and that melted your heart. You smiled at her and told her that she could do whatever she wanted to and told her that when she grows up and becomes a model, you’d love to walk a show with her. When you’d stand up again you saw Harry looking at you with a small smile on his lips. He couldn’t deny he loves your kindness to every person in the world. It made his heart happy to know that he’s with someone with the same life philosophy than him. So he turned around to open the car door for you when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist lifting you up and you froze.
— What the fu... — You'd shout before starting to hit him on his arms with your elbows as you'd move your legs trying to kick him with your heels. You'd feel flashes on your face and heat on your body increasing. It was the adrenaline and you were furious at this point. — Get...Off...Me — You'd shout as you'd hit his face with your elbows as well, Harry looked over to you and stormed out. He'd swear he'd never been like this in his life, he'd basically run to behind the guy's back and put his arm around his neck, Harry'd give him a punch right in the middle of his back and a slightly kick on the back of his knee to destabilise the guy which put you free by the moment he started to fall. Harry's bodyguard would hold you immediately trying to push you away from the crowd as you looked at Harry pushing the guy away from you.
— What the fuck were you doing? — Harry'd shout right into the man's face and watch as the man started to walk away from the crowd but Harry would go after him. Harry swears to god he couldn't even feel his body at the time. He was completely numb, moved by adrenaline and all he wanted to do was to beat the shit out of that man. — WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? — Harry'd shout walking after him getting no response which just made him angrier. At that time he didn't care about the cameras or whoever was watching him, he couldn't calm down when someone threated his girl safety and personal space. It didn't even need to be you. If he saw anyone threatening a woman's safety, he'd freak out in anger.
You felt the bodyguards strong hands trying to push you away from the situation because that's what Harry would want him to do. He tried walking you towards the car, but you were reluctantly screaming for Harry because he could get himself hurt if he didn't come back to the car now. The other bodyguard walked after Harry grabbing him by the arm and Harry turned over to look at him with so much anger on his look and you'd swear you never saw him like this but then he did started walking over to you again.
You finally entered the car and closed the door. You felt in panic. Basically paralyzed, you felt your anxiety attacking and your hands shaking. You could literally hear your heart beating so fast and loud that it scares you.
— Go get him! Follow him to hell. I don't care! Take him to the police office! — You'd listen to Harry talks firmly to his bodyguards as he opened the car's door and entered in it. He took a deep breath and turned his face to look at you. His heart broke at that moment. You were a mess. You couldn't even feel the tears leaving your eyes, but he did see them. He saw your hands shaking and how scared your eyes looked and at that moment all of his anger left his body — Love... — He'd sigh getting closer to you while wrapping his arms around your now-fragile figure. He could feel your entire body shaking on his arms. He caressed your hair with one of his hands as he hugged you tight to calm you down. He'd look to the driver and make a sign for him to start driving back to your hotel — Are ya okay? You're hurt? Did he hurt you? — He'd talk on a calm tone squeezing you a little on his arms. You'd lift your head up to look at him with red wet eyes shaking your head to him.
— I'm sorry! — You'd say lowly. He did tell you to walk straight to the car, and you didn't listen to him.
— It's not your fault, love! — He'd say wiping some of your tears and then carefully kissing both of cheeks — Don't worry about it, everything's gonna be fine, alright? It's okay!
You'd spent the rest of the ride in silence. A comfortable silence. You'd be laying your head on his shoulder while holding his head getting your breathing and heart back to normal and your phones would start buzzing with notifications of what happened but none of you would see it, not now.
When you got to your hotel, you'd get out of the car in the garage. You'd both walk slowly to the elevator and slowing to your room. You entered the room going directly to the king sized bed and throwing yourself in it because you felt like getting in a coma and just waking up to a time where all this drama would go away. Harry'd walk towards you and sit in bed beside you. He'd put both of his hands on your shoulders massaging them slowly.
— I'll prepare you a bath, so you can relax a little before sleeping, how's that sound? — He'd say trying to cheer you up a little bit.
— Sounds great, thank you love! — You'd turn your head to look at him with a forced smile on your lips. Harry'd bend down to kiss your hair line before leaving to the bathroom.
He'd try his best to make you feel the most comfortable to sleep tonight. He'd prepare you a bath. He'd give you a message, he'd brush your hair for you but actually, he loves to do that. He loves to brush your hair before you go to bed, it was more like a routine for you both. He loves to feel your long locks on his fingers and to feel the sweet scent of it. He'd cuddle you until you fall asleep too, he'd even be the big spoon tonight so you could sleep on his chest breathing his perfume because he hoped that'd make you have a good night of sleep.
And after you did, he'd look on the things on his phone. All the posts about you being attacked in Paris and him beating the guy who did it were just too much and he felt sorry that you'd have to see and read all of those stuff as soon as you unblock your phone. A lot of your friends texted him asking what happened and if you were ok. He'd answer the closest ones only, like his mom and Gemma, your mom, Bella and Jeff. He didn't know what you'll decide about the next fashion shows you had to walk, but he also knows that no one would blame you if you just chose to come back home in NYC.
Harry didn't sleep at that night at all, he couldn't stop looking for what happened and why it happened. The next day, it was everywhere in the media and later you'd found out that the guy was a youtuber and he was making a prank when he posted his stupid youtube vlog with "I pranked Harry Styles's girlfriend and he punched me" as a title. You'd sue him for sure. You don't like taking those kind of actions, but it was necessary, he had to understand that you cannot disrespect people like this, specially people you don't know.
After that you'd probably understand why Harry is so protective over you and Harry would actually get ten times more protective, if I had to be honest. But as the time passed by and quarantine came you both would leave it behind and move on with your life because in the end of the day you both will still have one another.
#harry styles and y/n#harry and y/n#hwrryscherry#HARRYxMODELY/N#harry x reader#harry styles au#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagines#harry styles imagine
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Jeff Buckley and me, taken outside The Trocadero and in front of Jeff Buckley's tour bus.
The Trocadero: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, May 20, 1995
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Jeff Buckley and Me
100 Things: Number 56
By Alec Sarkas
I saw Jeff Buckley in concert.
Jeff Buckley was the opening act to Juliana Hatfield when I went to see him in Philly at The Troc. I liked Juliana at the time, but I was there to see and hear Jeff. Juliana started getting heavy rotation on MTV and the audience reflected that. There were the cool people there for sure but there were also the Jocks and tag-along boyfriends.
He was amazing. I had already loved his music so much then that I closed my eyes and let his songs flow through me. I was very close to the stage. I remember these cool girls shoved themselves up to the front when Jeff ended his set with “Last Goodbye” and when people were giving them dirty looks they said, “What? It’s a concert!” I thought that was funny. I could tell they loved Jeff and we started jumping up and down in Rock mode to the then popular ballad.
I left by the time Juliana came on. This was mostly her concert crowd and the pit started to get dangerous and crushing so I squeezed my way out. After making it to the lobby I was staring at all the Jeff merchandise for sale there. I was debating getting a Jeff Buckley tour T-shirt. As I’m sitting there wondering if I’d have to spend all my money and be poor for awhile I spotted Jeff. He was just feet behind me talking to people on the 21+ side. I speedily made my way toward him but was stopped by a security guard but it wasn’t what you think. He asked for my ID to see if I was over 21. I fumbled for my wallet all the while keeping my eye on Jeff.
After a bit I had my chance to talk to Jeff. He was exactly as you would imagine him to be. He gave off an aura of creativity. He was extremely good-looking. He actually saw and remembered me from the audience and said, “You were in front, right? Yeah I saw you!” I fell massively in love with him. I told him how I discovered his music. I said that I found his Sin-é EP and it was hard for me to pronounce the word Sin-é. He told me how to pronounce it and I apologized for getting it wrong. “That’s OK. A lot of people get it wrong.” I said that I wanted a picture with him but that I left my camera in my car because they didn’t allow photos to be taken in the venue. He told me to wait for him outside, in front of the Troc because he and the band had to pack up their instruments soon. He said, “And remember…Don’t leave until we get a picture together.”-via jeffbuckley.com
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