#and she didn’t keep up with it even when she did just watched reruns sometimes on USA
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My grandmother today, apropos of nothing: Well, why did they make Buck gay?
Me, bristling already: Because sometimes that’s the way the world works
My grandmother, ignoring me: Well, I never knew he had a crush on Eddie
Me:
#the thing is is that she didn’t even watch the episode because she doesn’t have a Fox channel rn#and she didn’t keep up with it even when she did just watched reruns sometimes on USA#so I don’t even know how she knows Buck is bi now lmfao#I guess the interviews???#but I need to know which one she read that made her go oh ok he has a crush on Eddie#ABC channel I mean although she also doesn’t have Fox
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Sunlight
peter maximoff x reader smut
warnings: shameless smut, fingering, kissing, first time, loss of virginity, female reader (sorry), mutant/clairvoyant reader, porn with (slight) plot, clunky writing
word count: 5,908
a/n: got a couple requests for a virgin/inexperienced reader. apologies if this one's kinda weird, idk !!! aaaaaaa !!
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You were surprised to find someone you clicked with, after dipping your toes into the metaphorical dating pool. He was an incredibly nice guy, who wasn't bothered by your lack of experience with relationships; nor did he mind your bizarre, clairvoyant mutation. With him, you began your first, serious relationship.
He seemed to respect that you were a bit...inexperienced. Being a virgin, you were fearful of sharing yourself intimately. And growing up, you always lived a fairly sheltered life. In fact, you were so withdrawn from all things sexual; you barely even masturbated much. Somehow, you never figured it out. Embarrassingly enough.
Despite this, your new boyfriend never pressured you. He waited patiently, and didn’t seem to mind doing so.
At the six month mark, you felt comfortable enough to take things a step further. For once in your life, finally, you were going to do it. To 'go all the way,' as they say. Just as you’d always imagined doing, in your lonesome, teenage years. Sex was one of the many experiences you felt you missed out on back then.
But out of nowhere…
He cut you off.
Your first boytoy (since however long, you couldn’t remember) gave you no word of warning. The only reason you discovered the truth behind why, was through your mutation. You came to his apartment for answers. And the moment your knuckles connected with his door, the unfortunate knowledge swarmed your mind. You saw everything.
He found someone else. A prettier girl he’d taken into his bed. She was more than willing to sleep with him. After only a few, short dates behind your back.
Your heart shattered to pieces.
Spending the day in a melancholy state; you went about your business as normal. During training with Charles and the other X-Men, you struggled to exercise your abilities. But Charles could tell something was keeping you distracted. Whether or not he looked inside your mind to see for himself, you didn’t know. But after offering his usual, warm-hearted reassurances; he let you off for the rest of the day.
Sometime at the end of the night, the X-Men returned from that day’s mission. And after everyone in the mansion had gone off to bed, Peter found you. He came speeding by with his goggles hanging from his fingers. And he clumsily slid to a stop behind the couch, his shoes skidding along the hardwood floor.
"You know Charles can't stand it when you scuff up his floor like that." You teased in gloomy montone.
You were curled up on the sofa, in one of the X-mansion lounges. A thin blanket covered your form, as you watched reruns of Fraggle Rock on TV. Of course, Peter instantly knew, the moment he laid his brown eyes on you. Something was wrong. He could always see through any smile you forced.
In mere seconds, you were surrounded by boatloads of your favorite snacks. Several stacks of books in various genres appeared on the coffee table before you. As well as a wide selection of VHS tapes and TV-show box sets. And without tearing your gaze from the TV, you laughed, shaking your head.
Peter sat at the opposite side of the couch, giving you your space. He leaned back against the armrest, with his legs stretched in front of him. And you adjusted in your spot, letting Peter rest his sock-clad feet in your lap. Gazing over his form, you stared blankly at the Alice Cooper shirt he wore. And for a moment, you wondered why Peter was always so nice to you.
He joked around with you for a short while. Doing his best to take your mind off your shitty ex-boyfriend.
And sure, spending time with one of your best pals gave you some sense of relief. Peter was a master at using his goofy charm and clever wit to cheer you up.
But your heart ached too deeply, and he knew. He could see it in your eyes, in the way you avoided his gaze.
“Hey, babe, look at me.” He threw you a nod of his head, insistent. And you cast a sorrowful glance in his direction, “Seriously, don’t sweat it over that guy. Yer wastin’ yer time. Dude doesn’t know he’s missin’ out on the coolest girl this side of the Mississippi!”
A force so faint it was barely noticeable, made itself known in the back of your mind. Clairvoyance strikes again. And in its metaphorical palms, it handed you a piece of knowledge you couldn’t make sense of. Something warm. Like shimmering, summer sunlight on your skin.
Unsure as to what it meant, you chose to ignore its warmth. Surely, it would come to you again later. As it always did.
Smiling sadly, you dropped your gaze to the Star Wars logo pattern on Peter’s socks. Absent-mindedly, you tugged on a loose piece of lint sticking from his foot.
“Thanks... I really do appreciate you sayin’ that, dude.” You shook your head, sighing again, “Guess he just got tired of waiting.”
“Waitin’ on what?” Peter asked with a brow raised.
You shot him a serious look. And Peter seemed to catch the hint then. He nodded his head in understanding.
“Ohhhh…the virg-...yeah. I kinda forgot about that, sorry.” He shrugged, chomping into a Hostess Ding Dong cake, “That’s really fuckin’ uncool of him, though. Dude’s a total dick! Not that you need me to tell you.”
You nodded, fixing your gaze to the flickering TV screen across from you. A cheesy, romantic 7-UP commercial played in low-resolution quality. And Peter repeated the commercial’s silly lines in a mocking tone, making you giggle.
Throwing your head back, you groaned.
“Today was gonna be the day, dude! I was ready! I was finally ready to open myself up like that to someone, and…” Your words trailed off into silence, as you were too embarrassed to continue. And you shook your head once more, “Uhm…so, I’m feelin’, like, totally discouraged now."
Peter sat up, pulling his legs from your lap. He scooted towards you on the couch. And as he did, you followed, inching yourself into his space. The blanket fell from your torso, and Peter moved close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.
You felt it again then. Summertime warmth. Rays of light on your skin. A cozy sprinkle of something unknown in the back of your mind. Glimmering faintly, so indecipherable.
“Aw, what? All cuz ‘a that guy? Babe, you really don’t gotta-”
“No-uhm…I mean, I feel like-” You snorted, covering your face with a hand. And you bashfully laughed, “Not to sound dramatic? But it feels like it’s all over for me, Peter! I’m a grown adult! I still haven’t had my cherry popped! Did you know, I never even had my first kiss until my late twenties? Ain’t that, like, super embarrassing?” You groaned, running your hands through your hair.
Peter blew a raspberry, waving a hand at you dismissively.
“Whaaaaat?? Pfffbbt! Dude, that’s not-...lots ‘a people don’t get to bang ‘til they’re way past their prime ‘er whatever. It happens! People 're late bloomers! What’s the rush?” He snapped his fingers suddenly, “Hey, check it. Did you know, I didn’t lose my v-card ‘til I was like…what? Twenty four?”
You blinked, and Peter held a box of Ding Dongs in hand. Like magic, it seemed as though the treats appeared from nowhere. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was a magician. Though, he probably grabbed it from the pile of snacks he left littered around you. You laughed, skeptical of his confession. And reaching forward, you slipped your hand inside the box for a chocolatey, snack cake.
“Oh, get the hell outta here! No way!” You giggled, gently slapping his chest with the back of your hand, “It took you that long? You? I don’t believe that for a second, Peter!”
“Hey, believe whatever you want!” He held up a hand in mock surrender, and set the box of snacks on the floor, “I was a total loser then, babe! Fuckin’ A, I’m still a loser! I’m just a loser people recognize on the street!” Peter chuckled, biting into another Ding Dong, “Look, my point is - you’ll get there someday! And fer what it’s worth?”
Peter placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. And you nibbled on your own chocolate, Hostess treat.
“The one who gets to share somethin’ like that with you? He’s the luckiest guy in this whole stinkin’ world!"
Warmth again.
Sunny yellow, blissful pink. The comforting sensation eased itself to the forefront of your mind. And though you still couldn't deduce where it was coming from, or what it meant...you found peace in it.
And a little something else.
Feeling your cheeks steadily burn, you swallowed nervously. Peter’s hand on your shoulder seemed hotter and weightier where it lay. And somewhere between your legs, a pleasant ache stirred to life. Causing you to instinctively squeeze your thighs together for relief.
“Y-You’re way too sweet to me, dude. Thank you!” You shook your head again. A sudden sense of mild frustration boiled in your blood, “If I can be honest? I’m, like, soooo tired of waiting! I wish I could just…get it over with! I know I shouldn’t want to, but…it’d be nice to stop wonderin’ about it all the time! Auuughh…”
“I get it, dude. I do! But, like, you really don’t want yer first time to be disappointing.” Peter said in a soft tone, swallowing down yet another cream-filled cake, “I know it sounds totally cliche. But you should wait fer the right person! Isn’t that wayyyy better than givin’ yerself to any ol’ creep?” He smiled sincerely, squeezing your shoulder a bit tighter, “And trust me. You’ll know the right person when you meet ‘em. I-it’s like…a feelin’ in yer gut.”
Peter paused then, stopping to nibble his lip in thought. And he awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Sorry, that sounds-...ahaha…that’s super cheesy, huh?”
“Not at all, actually!” You said, giving Peter a sweet grin. Scooting a smidge closer, you leaned your head on his shoulder, “I think that’s very nice of you to say, Peter. I mean, I know you’re right! I definitely want it to be with someone I trust. That’s for sure.”
A tiny splotch of cream decorated the corner of Peter's lips, and you brushed it away with a thumb. Without thinking, you sucked that thumb into your mouth, running your tongue over it. Sugary sweetness greeted your tastebuds. And Peter swallowed hard, raising a brow.
"Gross." He passively mumbled through a smile. And you giggled again.
Dreamy, summertime warmth swarmed to a blazing fire.
On a normal day, your clairvoyance allowed you to see clear images and concepts in your head. Anything to help you better understand those around you, as well as their intentions. A sixth sense, one might call it. But at this very moment, you could see only colors. Summery yellows and warm oranges, as well as lovey-dovey pinks. All mixing together on an emblematic painter's palette. Blurs of incoherent thought.
And in your body, surging through your veins; you felt heat heat heat.
Peter stifled a nervous cough, and tilted his head down. He rested his cheek against the soft locks of your hair. And you thought you heard him inhale, as though breathing in your scent. But perhaps, you only imagined him doing so.
“Don’t worry so much, though. You’ll find someone! Yer a total catch, babe! I don’t just think so. I know so.” Peter casually moved to wrap a strong arm around you, pulling you even closer into his body, “Ya just gotta be patient, is all! I know that sounds, like, majorly hypocritical comin' from me, but...”
Another pause, and Peter hesitated to continue.
“Until then? You have me. I’m here fer you, kay?” Peter nuzzled his nose into your hair, “Hurts me to see you like this. All sad ‘n stuff, cuz ‘a some dumbshit douchedick. Wish there was somethin’ I could do…”
Cozy, warm colors all collided in your mind, like cloudy nebulas merging into one. They formed a beautiful spectacle of vague, blurry images. Romantic in nature. Conjoined hands. Linked pinkies. Brushing lips. You sucked in a sudden, light breath. A feeling of foreign desire flickered in your lower belly.
Tilting your head up, you observed Peter's face.
Oh.
Had he…always looked so handsome? He was most definitely stunning like this. With his dark eyes heavy-lidded and exhausted, after a long day’s work. Silver stubble barely showed its presence across his sharp jawline. And his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Peter was in such close proximity, that you could feel every breath of air he took. Breaths smelling of sweet, sugary, snack cakes. And you wondered if his lips would taste as nice.
Feeling uncharacteristically bold, you reached up to gently grab his chin between your fingers. Peter’s stubble felt rough under your fingertips. And for some reason, the touch made your body burn even hotter. You brought Peter’s head down to meet his pretty, doe-eyed gaze. And coyly, you smiled.
“I have you, huh?” You playfully teased, “You’re not…suggesting anything by that, are you, Peter?”
Something shifted in his gaze.
A ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ sort of moment. And with that shift; sunlit warmth and romantic imagery shifted in your mind. Those summertime hues of yellow, orange, and pink became born anew. Blossoming to life, as deep purples and dark, lustful reds. Suddenly, that subtle spark of heat flickering in your core set itself ablaze. Your cunt reacted, tingling and dripping wet. A sensation so alien, you weren't even sure what to make of it.
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” Peter playfully shrugged, holding a mischievous gaze. His tone fell hushed as he spoke, an octave lower, “Who’s to say, huh?”
Biting your lower lip in conflicting thought, you slowly dragged your hand down from his chin. Your fingers trailed unesteady lines across Peter’s chest, feeling his toned body under your fingertips. Sucking in a breath, you felt your pussy flutter with a budding yearn for…him? Was it him your body wanted, and ached for so desperately?
And curiously, you wondered, was Peter the source of your clairvoyant confusion? No...he couldn't be...could he?
“For what it’s worth, Peter? If I trust anybody that much…I trust you.”
Peter kept his cheshire grin. He brought his hand up to pull yours from his chest, cradling it. His own hand dwarfed the size of yours by comparison, and Peter grazed a thumb gently into your skin.
“Do you?” He whispered, speaking in a more suggestive tone, “Y’know, babe…I could be wayyyy more than just a shoulder to cry on. If you catch my drift.” Peter pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “I wouldn’t mind doin’ you a solid.” His voice fell more hushed, “And you know I’d take such good care of you, baby…”
Your eyes widened, making you appear all the more vulnerable and innocent. His sensual implication made you tremble with unfamilair need, and you reacted with an inaudible squeak.
“Y-You’d do that for-uhm…for me?” You stammered. A bit embarrassed by your own flourishing lust, you struggled to whisper, “P-Peter…would you-uh…would you…kiss me? I really want you to kiss me…"
Looking down into your pleading eyes with a half-lidded gaze, Peter taunted you in a teasing hum.
“I might…if you ask me nicely.”
His salacious tone could've softened you into putty, easily moldable in his vascular hands.
“Uhm-...would you kiss me, Peter? Pretty please?” You fluttered your lashes, pure innocence painted across your blushing features, “Pretty please with lots of snack cakes on top?”
Peter snickered, huffing soft breaths, ghosting your lips. A needle-fine hint of understanding peeked its way through his mischievous gaze. And despite his fast-paced nature, he took his time with you.
The moment his lips connected with yours, your mutation reacted.
Hazy images, misty with erotic lust, became slightly more crisp. Like opening one's eyes to the dim light of dawn, and sleepily rolling over to find a lover in bed. You saw again, conjoined hands in heated passion. Linked pinkies making private promises. Brushing lips followed by intertwining tongues. Faintly, you heard a distant whisper of...something. You weren't sure what. All you knew was that it hinted towards loving fondness, and sultry devotion.
Peter kissed you as gently as he possibly could, allowing you to take the reins completely. Never before, had you kissed anyone beyond a simple peck on the lips. And Peter knew.
But as sweltering, lecherous desire surged through your veins, you suddenly found your courage. Oh, you wanted Peter so badly, and to feel the touch of his masculine hands on you. You kissed him back with heated eagerness. Timid, cautious movements of your soft lips turned quick and heavy. As you let your tongue meet Peter’s in a warm, wet embrace. Mimicking those scandalous visions brought upon by your mutant gift.
And, thank heavens, he tasted just as sweet as you imagined.
He leaned further in with a hand to your chest, inching you slowly backwards on the couch. Peter pulled himself from your kiss for a few, short beats. And you chased after him, seeking the feel of his skillful tongue in your mouth again.
“Shhh. Hold on there, eager beaver-” He laughed, breathing a whisper into your lips, “Let’s take this slow, okay? Just tell me if you wanna stop, baby. Seriously.”
"Mmmm...don't stop. I never wanna stop." You hummed, pulling him back in. And he chuckled, huffing soft breaths from his nose.
Peter kissed you passionately for a few moments longer, letting you explore his body with your hands. He was careful not to touch you too intimately yet. Keeping his own hands on your face, Peter cradled your cheeks. But the longer he avoided trailing his fingers downward, the more you ached for his touch. Breathlessly, you pulled away. And you looked into Peter’s eyes, your own sparkling with lubricious intent.
“C-Can you please touch me, Peter?” You begged, your voice high-pitched and needy, “I don’t even know what’s goin’ on with me right now. But…I know I want your hands on me.”
“Oh? Where do you want me to touch you, baby?” Peter asked, his tone hushed and teasing, “Here?” He lowered one of his hands to your neck, hot fingertips dragging across your skin.
You shuddered, feeling sparks pepper throughout your body. Shaking your head, you squeaked a disapproving sound.
“No? Awww…” Peter continued to taunt you, lowering those same fingertips to the valley between your breasts. Your top was low-cut, allowing him easy access, “Here?”
“Nooooooo~!” You giggled through a more desperate whine. In another fit of unexpected bravery, you grabbed both of Peter’s wrists. And you guided his hands under your shirt, letting his palms cup your breasts, “Here! Stop teasin’ me!”
“Wooooahhh-” Peter groaned, lifting your shirt up over your head, "Hell-o, mama..."
His half-lidded, dark gaze settled on your tits. Instead of unclasping your bra, he simply tugged it down. Letting his teeth sink into his lip, Peter reached out to palm your breasts again. Fondling the soft plush of them in his big hands. He brushed your nipples with his thumbs, pinching the hardened buds every few beats.
“Am I, like-...would it be weird to say yer tits are totally slammin’?” Peter mumbled, moving in to kiss you again.
You bashfully chuckled, shaking your head. Running your hands through his hair, you tugged gently on soft locks of silver.
The two of you made out on the couch, in the middle of the X-mansion, like a couple of troublesome teenagers. And the subconscious fear that someone could walk in at any moment, made you all the more lustfully excited. You moaned quietly into Peter’s hot mouth. Submitting to him entirely, you allowed his hands to explore every inch of your untouched, virgin body.
“This okay?” He politely asked, his fingers meeting the button of your shorts, “Just say the word if you want me to stop, 'kay?”
You nodded, a little too enthusiastic. And you spread your legs more open, allowing Peter to crawl further in between.
“I-I’m a little-uhm…nervous…” You whispered in a shy breath. And you braced your hands on Peter’s broad shoulders, “...but I trust you.” Peering up at him with a beady eyed, innocent gaze, you mumbled, “Make me feel good, Peter.”
His cock throbbed in his jeans, straining underneath the suffocating fabric. Peter helped shimmy your shorts down over your thighs, along with your delicate, lace panties. Bringing his hand down to your leaking pussy, he toyed with your clit under deft fingers.
Having your clit played with felt like an entirely new, alien sensation. Blissful tingles fired through your sensitive bud, causing a tightening tickle in your gut. You gasped, squirming under the skilled touch of Peter’s fingers. He circled your delicate, little clit in careful motions. With his brows furrowed, Peter watched you intently. As you reveled in a newfound feeling of euphoric pleasure.
His fingers inched down through your lips, and Peter braved a single finger into your virgin walls. Your cunt squeezed tightly around his one, lone digit. And as he fucked you with his finger, he leaned in to capture you in a sweet, soft kiss.
“Want me to take us somewhere else? Just real quick? I can take us somewhere more private.” Peter suggested, peppering your neck in hot, mouthy kisses. Keeping you somewhat distracted with his hushed words, Peter inched a second digit into your pussy. Stretching you just a smidge wider, “I know you probably don’t wanna risk anyone walkin’ in when-”
Rocking your hips greedily into his fingers, you shook your head. Your hands dug blunt nails into Peter’s shoulder blades over his t-shirt. And you softly whined, feeling your cunt clench tighter around his thick digits. Peter knit his brows together. He groaned under his breath, feeling the warm pulsation of your pussy against his skin.
“N-No! No, right here, please? Right now. I want you so bad, Peter, baby. We can just hide under the blanket! No one’ll see!” You insisted, keeping your voice quiet.
As you pleaded with Peter so desperately; you eagerly fucked your virgin pussy on his fingers.
Surprised by your boldness, Peter raised his brows. He smirked, dragging his lips teasingly across your jaw. When his lips met yours once more, he kissed you wet and rough. Peter moaned, letting his tongue swirl with yours in a thirst for your cute whines. His fingers fucked their way skillfully through your slick walls, stretching you open even further. Allowing your pussy to become accustomed to his intrusion.
“Yeah, baby? You want my dick that bad? Want me to fuck you right here, princess?” Peter moaned through a smirk, his teeth playfully nipping at your lip, “Yer kinda bad, aren’t you?”
Blushing profusely, you found yourself at a loss for words. Peter laughed into your lips, his grin spreading wider. Adjusting positions, he moved to spoon you on the sofa. Peter concealed both your heated, lustful bodies under your blanket. A less than favorable attempt, since the flimsy thing barely kept the two of you covered. With your soft, round ass pressed against his crotch; Peter let his palms feel the smooth skin of your thighs. Dancing fingertips across every, etched-in stretch mark.
He fumbled with his belt, undoing his jeans and tugging them hastily down. Turning in your spot, you reached for Peter’s crotch. Brushing timid fingers over the bulge in his underwear, you pulled your lip between your teeth. A damp stain of precum peeked through the fabric, wetting your skin.
"Can I-...can I touch it?” You asked in a courteous, careful tone. And Peter's cock visibly twitched, pulsating under your bashful fingers.
Grinning confidently to himself, Peter pulled his heavy, leaking cock from its confines. Upon seeing such a girthy dick in person for the first time, your mouth instantly watered. Drool pooled over your tongue, and you swallowed it down. You awkwardly reached out to wrap a hand around the twitching length, giving his cock a cautious stroke.
Peter brought his hand up to yours, engulfing your fingers as he guided you. He helped you build the perfect amount of pressure, as well as the most ideal speed to stroke his cock. You followed his motions carefully, pleasuring him in the exact way he showed you. Careful not to squeeze too hard.
At least until he uttered the hushed, sinful words, "Harder, baby."
You followed suit, increasing pressure. Peter dropped his head, his forehead meeting your chin. Frazzled, silver hairs tickling your face. He groaned, his burning cock pulsating with soft vibrations in your hand. Precum wept from the tip. And Peter nudged his hips a little, coaxing his cock through the firm squeeze of your fist.
“Ohhh…just like that, babygirl.” He moaned, the corner of his lips quirking up in a grin, “Yer a fuckin’ natural.”
“I-It’s so big, Peter…” You whispered, skittish and embarrassed. Experimentally, you stroked his thick cock in a tighter grip, “I dunno if it’s gonna fit.”
Bringing his head up to meet you in a heated kiss, Peter growled a low sound.
“Mmmmm…we’ll make it work.” He hummed hotly into your lips, "I'll be so careful, I promise."
Nodding, you turned in your spot, letting Peter spoon you again. With your ass cheeks pressed against him, Peter directed his cock to your dripping entrance. Giving himself a few generous strokes, he pushed his smooth tip into your cunt. Peter alternated between glancing down, watching his cock slide inside you; and he checked your reaction for any obvious signs of pain.
“F-Fuck, you okay?” Peter asked quietly, squeezing his cock through your plush, wet walls. With a vunerable, little whimper; you nodded. And Peter let his lidded, dark eyes roll back, "Ohhhhhhhhhh - damn, that's tight."
Peter moved with a level of careful patience you never imagined he had.
Feeling a girthy cock force its length through your pussy was painful at first, and extremely unfamiliar. But as Peter edged in at a cautious, slow pace, careful not to hurt you; you felt your cunt adjust. Until you were so lubricious and wet, Peter’s entire length finally bottomed out deep inside you. The bulbous head of his dick brushed your cervix. At last, you were on cloud nine.
It was a sensation unlike any you’d ever experienced, one you could feel so deep in the pit of your stomach. A gnawing, carnal pleasure. Like electric shocks of static through your core.
Finally, Peter let himself fuck you. Thrusting into your unbearably tight cunt at a more consistent pace. He angled his movements in just the right way, allowing his hard length to collide with those most sensitive, squishy bits inside you. Your stomach tightened, and you felt your gummy walls suffocate Peter’s cock. Peter reached under the thin fabric of the blanket, his fingers finding your clit.
“P-Peter, oh my god!” You squeaked his name, “I-I feel so…oooooooh~” Instinctively rocking your ass into Peter’s thrusts, you moaned a little louder. Bracing a hand on the couch tightly, you dug your fingernails into the plush of it, “Oh fuck! Oh god! Y-You feel so good! Feels so good, but soooo - ah - so weird!”
Breaking your own train of thought to mewl another flurry of moans, you bounced your ass cheeks into Peter’s pelvis. Confused about your own needs, you couldn’t help but seek that tightening feeling deep in your core. You wanted to chase it like an addictive high. To get drunk on the sensation of a thick cock tearing through your innocent cunt.
“AH!” You whined a little too loudly, “P-Peter, it f-feels like you’re gonna break me!”
Peter plunged his hot length deeper inside your pussy, fucking you harder and faster with every passing moment. Keeping his fingers occupied with your clit, he rubbed quick, but light circles into the bud. Maybe adding a little, subtle vibration here or there. Just to tease. And you squealed, covering your mouth with a hand to conceal your desperate noises.
“Ohhhhhh, babygirl, you gotta be quiet, okay?” Peter whispered, his voice breaking into a choked moan, “Fuuuuuuuuuck! Yer so fuckin’ wet. Takin’ me so easy.”
Overwhelmed by the pleasure Peter gifted you, your eyes pooled with heavy tears. They spilled over in glistening streaks down your burning, scarlet cheeks. Thick drool dripped from your tongue, dribbling down your chin as your jaw went slack. Your pussy followed suit, weeping hot slick with every thrust of Peter’s cock.
His nonstop stimulation to your sensitive clit made you feel on the verge of bursting. An explosion of ecstasy waiting just beyond the horizon of your first, carnal fucking.
“F-Feel like I’m-” You cried, squealing little moans through your tears, “O-Oh! W-What the fuck? P-Peter, I feel like I’m gonna leak all over you! I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry!”
“No no no no no, princess. Yer doin’ so fuckin’ good. Yer gonna cum, baby. Just – ohmygod – let it happen. Let it go, baby.” Peter groaned, fucking your innocent, little pussy at a less forgiving, more relentless pace, “Cum fer me, please.”
“OoooooooohHHMYGOD!” You bit your lip with a bruising force to keep yourself quiet. Your body trembled, uncontrollably shaking as you unraveled on Peter’s cock, “Peter, your cock feels too big! Too big, it’s breaking me! Fuck! FUCK!”
Something brand new, scorching hot and lustfully exotic ripped through your body. With a sensation unforgiving and so intense; you came. Spraying your succulent nectar all over Peter’s cock, you drenched him in a fierce gush of ecstasy. In that instant, you broke free from the shackles of innocence.
And he felt every last, filthy, wet moment of it.
“Sh-Shit! Yeah???” Peter cursed, dropping his sharp nose into your neck. He whispered hotly, “God, I can feel you fuckin’ cum, babygirl. Feels fuckin’ outrageous. So tight. Soooo fuckin’ tight-” Squeezing his eyes shut, Peter threw his head back with a deep, choked groan, “F-FUCK! Can I cum inside you? Huh? Wanna cum inside this cute, little pussy. Please please please please please-”
Nodding frantically, you shifted in your spot. And you pulled Peter down for a messy, clumsy kiss.
“Whatever you want! Please!” You begged.
Enthusiastically meeting each of Peter’s rough thrusts, you fucked yourself hard on his cock.
Mindlessly drunk on the unyielding allure of your pussy, Peter lost all control of his actions. He drilled his cock inside you at a pace so beyond humanly fast. Sending you on a collision course towards complete submission. After a few more chaotic thrusts, he spilled his thick heat deep into your needy pussy.
Peter buried his nose in your neck again, mumbling soft praises into your skin.
“L-Love you so much. Love you. Love you. Love you. Never gonna let anybody hurt you again. Yer mine. All mine. My good girl. Sooooo fuckin’ good.” Peter senselessly muttered in a speedy flurry of words, spilling the last of his hot cum inside you.
A flash of scorching light burst within your mind. Every intimate vision you'd seen before, along with each, summery sensation...became suddenly clear. Crisp and bright, like sunlight through a glassy window. In that instant, at last, you knew. Clairvoyance had been trying to pass you the secret, forbidden knowledge that Peter cared for you. On a deeper, much more intimate level than buddy-buddy friendship.
And your stomach erupted in gleeful butterflies.
Coming down from his rapturous high, Peter slowly raised his head. He threw you a cheeky grin, giggling and looking into your eyes through his own, lazy gaze. He appeared completely unaware of the fact that he'd just confessed his most personal feelings.
Romantic feelings. For you. Holy shit.
“Y-You okay? That feel good ‘er what?” He hummed, leaning in to kiss you passionately, “You were so fuckin’ amazing, babe. Sure yer okay? No pain ‘er anything?”
Uncertain, overwhelmed, and completely spent; you nodded. With blush burning in your cheeks, you pressed a soft kiss to his nose.
“I-I’m wonderful, Peter. Thank you.” And you giggled, avoiding his eyes, “That was…fantastic. Thank you for-uhm…for doin’ that for me. I-...I couldn't have asked for anyone better. You're perfect.”
Peter snorted, laughing doubtfully in response to your kindly words.
Your body continued to tremble uncontrollably, and you felt sticky tears staining your cheeks. After pressing playful, loving kisses to your temple, Peter disappeared for half a second. By the time he returned, in the blink of an eye; you were all cleaned up and refreshed. Your shorts were tucked back into place, your shirt covering your torso once more. And Peter threw that flimsy blanket over you, tucking you in as he held you close.
"Oh my god...wow..." You gasped, surprised at his careful, caring treatment, "How many times can I even thank you, dude?"
And he scoffed, waving you off.
"Fer what? Basic human decency? Nahhh, don't worry 'bout it, babe." Peter dabbed at your remaining tears with a cool, wet rag, "I'm hopin' to god nobody heard what kinda nasty stuff we just did...because damn...that was...phew." He exhaled a breath for comedic effect. Peter shook his head, appearing shocked at himself.
"Too late." A deep, rough voice called quietly from the hall. A groggy, shirtless Logan came walking by, only stopping to address the two of you. With a large hand pressed to the doorframe, he pointed to Peter with his other, "Might wanna take that shit somewhere else next time, bub. There’re kids sleepin’ upstairs, fuck’s sake.”
Logan sauntered off then, grumbling in low whispers to himself. You sank further into Peter’s arms, covering your heated face with your hands. And Peter snickered. He mouthed a hushed 'shit', his own cheeks tinted in a rose-y hue.
"I might like you too, by the way." You suddenly muttered, your quiet voice somewhat muffled by your hands, "In a more-than-buds kinda way, I mean."
Another spark of joyous sunlight shined through your mind. And this time, you knew exactly where it came from.
Peter.
"Oh, fuck, wait-" Peter closed his eyes tightly, cursing himself. He remembered, in that moment, what he'd mindlessly confessed while busting a nut, "Shiiiiiit. I'm just embarrassin' the hell outta myself tonight, aren't I? Haha…" He paused, and realization appeared to dawn on him, "Waaaiit wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait-"
"Yeah?" You peeked shyly through your hands, "I'm waitin'..."
And Peter smiled, as warm as the sunny visions he'd been unknowingly sending you all throughout the night.
"So, does that make us, like, a thing now? Like, a thing thing? Because that'd be really fuckin' awesome."
You reached down to the floor, grabbing a box of snack cakes you kicked off the couch at some point. It was lying in a pile of other snacks, each an unfortunate victim of your lustful scuffle with Peter.
Ripping open a cake and turning your attention back to Fraggle Rock on TV, you playfully shrugged.
"Maybe. Maybe not." You bit into the sweet dessert, "Who's to say, huh?"
Abruptly barking a laugh, Peter attacked your cheeks in kisses galore.
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The sillies have consumed me.
Give me your BlaireCrash + FlameBomb Hcs, and DONT hold back.
I haven't even posted abt FlameBomb yet, I guess your Hcs will be the first.
Take a spinning Ramsey as Payment :3333
“don’t hold back” “alr” writes a whole fucking essay worth at 2am
tw: SA, Abuse, Eating Disorders
Blairecrash + Flamebomb HCs
Blairecrash (Blaire x Fred)
The two met through tutoring. Blaire was failing history. Fred wanted to make some extra money.
Eventually some of the side talk turned into actual conversation, befriending each other.
Fred caught feelings first. Blaire was completely oblivious to this.
The two actually got together through a drunken confession. Fred picked up Blaire after she went to a bad party and was too intoxicated to drive.
He even carried her to the front door. Until she confessed. Then Fred dropped her in the grass out of shock.
Fred will make fun of his girlfriend for being “short” even though it’s only by a couple inches.
In reverse, Blaire will make fun of Fred for being less athletic than her.
Fred is teaching Blaire how to draw.
Blaire spoils Fred. A lot. Many of their dates are just shopping sprees.
Fred sucks at dancing. During homecoming, he was completely embarrassing. Blaire would roll her eyes and keep going anyway.
Would 100% fit that “He asked for no pickles!” meme.
Blaire has an entire crying fit whenever the dog dies in movies. No matter how many times Fred has to explain it’s just fiction, she’ll cry even harder.
Blaire’s favorite thing ever is My Little Pony. Any and all generations (Except the 5th one, ew). She keeps this a complete secret. No one knows except for Fred (who probably found out by opening one of her closets and seeing 300 toys)
She feels welcome to talk about My Little Pony, and even wake up early to watch reruns or play with some of the toys.
Fred doesn’t judge her for it. Finds it a bit weird, but loves her enough to go along with it.
Angst
Tanner McCroy is an abusive ex boyfriend of Blaire’s.
She was sextorted by him for a year or so. Blaire essentially did anything he wanted.
After Tanner got “bored” of her, they broke up and she was finally able to find someone else.
When Fred realized what happened, it made him angry. A type of angry that he’d never felt up until that day.
So angry that he got into his first school fight for it, punching Tanner square in the jaw.
The effects of Tanner never fully went away. Blaire developed PTSD from the events.
Fred wanted to do something, but beating up Tanner over and over again wasn’t going to fix the bottom line.
The only thing he could really do was be there to support her. No matter what.
Flamebomb (Flamethrower x Valeri)
less bc i don’t know val like that and i don’t want to get it wrong 😭
Val is a night owl and Flame is an early bird (Due to his practices being so early in the morning). This causes the following to happen:
On Friday nights, Flame will tend to fall asleep doing anything extraneous/ comfy past 1am. This tends to happen during cuddling. Val finds that adorable.
Speaking of cuddling, sometimes Flame plain sleeps on top of his girlfriend. On accident. Not in a cute cuddly way, but taking up half the bed type of way. Val refuses to move, making productive things more difficult. For example her trying to type on her phone would produce gibberish.
They go on mini crime sprees as dates sometimes. The occasional fire starts.
Like Blairecrash, they sometimes also wake up early to watch Saturday Morning Cartoons and rather cereal in bed, albeit different ones.
Angst
Tanner was also an ex of Val. The situation didn’t get as far as Blaire’s, but Val was SA’d.
Flame feels similar about Tanner as Fred does.
When Flamethrower witnessed Valeri’s bulimia first hand, his heart dropped into his stomach.
He tried to stay calm when confronting her about it, staying completely passive and not blaming her for anything. After a couple minutes of her being out of view he completely shut down.
Flame wished she didn’t have to suffer like that. That he could just snap his fingers and make her healthy again. That she’d just be okay. But things didn’t work like that. Things were much more complicated.
Bonus - Double Date HCs
These mostly get planned by Fred and Flame since they’re closer.
Despite being somewhat the opposite of each other, Blaire and Val get along very well.
Their first double date was to a laser tag game.
Everyone got really competitive.
For extra competition, Fred and Flame were on one team, and Blaire and Val were on another.
Fred is actually really good at laser tag, causing Blaire to get targeted and shot multiple times. Because of that, Blaire “swore revenge” on him.
That essentially just means stealing the food off his plate later on.
^ Val actual ended up doing this to Flame. He got flustered and this was all he could think about for the rest of the day.
After, they went to go pick up something to eat.
It took a million years for them to figure something out since no one was craving anything but was also picky of where they wanted to eat.
They ended up choosing a fast food joint. (Taiga Country’s In & Out equivalent)
Blaire ate half of Fred’s fries.
Unrelated to this, I’d like to think they went on another date where Val blew something up. She would go:
“Whoopsies! Well, anyways….”
And then Blaire would stare at the fire like this
#i have some prom hcs but that’s a whole can of worms i’m not prepared to open#epithet erased#ee#epithet erased au#fred donaldson#epithet erased fred#epithet erased flamethrower#blaire katchadorian (arospecbandgeek)#valeri potage (sadsoftserve)#bandgeek oc#bandgeek writings
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Na Jaemin
Part of the Bad Boy Series – Differences: My Ending
Badboy!Au
Warnings: Mention of Death, Mental Health.
Word Count: 1.1k
Summary: Jaemin is struggling to get over your death. Despite having his friends by his side, he still feels like something is missing.
(This is NOT the epilogue.)
The days went by slower than Jaemin could comprehend. He felt like he was watching the clock tick by, second by second as every time he glanced at the clock what felt like ten minutes had in reality only been three minutes. He found it ironic that when he was with you the time went by faster than lightning. But now he didn’t have you, and time went by like a slow painful death. He winced as he thought that to himself. How could he even compare clock watching to the death that you had gone through.
He sighed to himself. He just felt so bored all the time. The last four months that had gone by since he said his goodbyes to you had been the slowest most boring and mentally draining months of his life. But he couldn’t figure out a way of making time go faster. He didn’t feel ready to go out partying, nor did he feel like going out and socialising with anyone other than his closest friends, which even sometimes he did his best to avoid conversation with them. His wrist had made a full recovery, but he still didn’t have the confidence to get behind a wheel of the thing that had killed you. Well, he knew it technically wasn’t the car, and was the driver of the car. But the last time he was in the driver’s seat of a car was the day he lost you, the love of his life, forever. So, his normal past time of street racing was out of the question for the time being.
He knew he was lucky to have the support system that his friends and their girlfriends had in place for him. He appreciated it, he really did, but nothing could fill the hole in his heart.
So, he sat, staring at the wall. Bored and stuck in his own head, which was never a good case for Jaemin. He’d had more depression spikes than he cared to admit, but he wanted to stick to his promise of living his life and not giving up when his love never got that chance to choose whether she wanted life or death.
It was one day, when he was watching the tv that had an old rerun of scooby doo playing that a lightbulb went off in his head, and for the first time in what felt like eternity, he felt that spark inside of him again.
“What the fuck is that?” Renjun asked upon walking into the apartment and seeing Jaemin on the floor, kneeling beside newspaper spread out on the floor and a soft looking pet bed beside it. The puppy that sat on the newspaper wagged its tail upon seeing a new arrival in the apartment, and was about to run over to him when Jaemin scooped the small fluffy puppy up.
“It’s a chihuahua.” Jaemin said with a big smile on his face.
“It’s a squirrel with a collar on.” Renjun replied back, grimacing as he set his keys down on the coffee table, keeping a distance between him and the puppy. It’s not that he disliked puppies. He just wasn’t keen on small ones.
“Don’t be rude! He didn’t mean that Fang, ignore him.” Jaemin cooed to the fluffy tan coloured puppy in his hands in the same way he spoke to his friends’ kids. The puppy wagged its tail again and leaned its little head forward to lick Jaemin’s nose.
“You named it Fang?!” He asked with his eyebrows raised in surprise at the name that did not match the dog’s appearance.
“Yeah, what else was I supposed to name it?”
“I don’t know, Alan or something?”
“Oh like Alan is better.” Jaemin scoffed and rolled his eyes. Renjun sighed and moved to sit on the couch. He no longer lived in the apartment, but he had been tasked with checking up on Jaemin today whilst the other guys were busy, and luckily, he didn’t have daddy duty today, so he was free to hang out with Jaemin. He was starting to think that perhaps he left Jaemin alone for too long on his own though since Haechan left the apartment that morning and texted Renjun to remined him that its his turn to check up on Jaemin, he hadn’t mentioned anything about having puppy. So Renjun assumed that whilst Jaemin was left to his own devices for a few hours that’s when he left and bought himself a new friend.
“Why a chihuahua anyway?” Renjun asked, rubbing his hand over his face and sighing.
“Because the apartment is too small for anything bigger. Also some guy was selling him on facebook marketplace so I decided that I would give him a home.” Jaemin’s reply left Renjun sighing again.
“Do the guys know you bought a puppy into the apartment? It’s technically none of my business since I live across the hall now, also Jiyeon loves dogs so its kind of cool, but Haechan lives here, and so does Jeno and his girlfriend, and they’ve just had a baby. I’m not sure they’ll be too thrilled about this…” He said in a slow, non-accusing way as he didn’t want Jaemin to think he was attacking him or being too negative about what he’d done. Jaemin simply shrugged and looked over at Renjun.
“What are they going to do? Tell the suicidal widower that he has to get rid of his puppy?” He shot back at him and Renjun’s eyebrows raised in surprise, before he nodded with a hum.
“Fair point. Just…I don’t know. Like I said, none of my business. Not my circus, not my monkeys.” He shrugged again and reached over to pet the chihuahua, Fang, on the head. He had to admit, that when he walked into the room, he had seen a light behind Jaemin’s eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time, and it felt nice for him to see that. He just hoped that the puppy wasn’t a temporary fix for Jaemin and that that he’d made the right decision in buying a puppy. “Whatever makes you happy bro.”
The front door opened and Jeno came walking in, shrugging off his jacket and dumping it down and the couch as he pushed his glasses back into their spot at the top of his nose. He looked over at Jaemin, doing a double take before pausing and squinting at him through his glasses.
“Why are you holding a guinea pig?”
“IT’S NOT A GUINEA PIG!!!” He knew Jeno’s eyesight was bad, but come on.
#differences#jenonctcity differences#nct#nct dream#na jaemin#lee donghyuck#lee jeno#huang renjun#just a lil something for you differences fans#nct fluff#nct angst#nct smut#nct dream angst#nct dream fluff#nct dream smut
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april 17th
CW: swearing, light creepy stuff/violence, ipad kids
a “/” indicates the next line begins.
melody
eva
sparse room. MELODY sits on a threadbare couch, staring intently at an old TV. sound of static humming. there are bottles, cans, plastic packages scattered around. the TV glows blue.
MELODY: the stranger paradigm. new innovations in reality TV. 16 go in, only one comes out. to care for the wellbeing of the whole, or oneself? running saturdays at 7pm eastern standard time. network executive’s favourite. highly rated. five stars, five stars, five stars. four point nine six stars. they’re just like you. could be anyone off the street. could be you. new innovations in reality TV.
EVA enters, she wears a bloodstained apron. late shift at the slaughterhouse.
EVA: hey there, little mouse.
MELODY (muttering): the stranger paradigm. /16 go in, only one comes out. to care for the wellbeing of the whole, or oneself? running saturdays at 7pm eastern standard time. network exec-
EVA: sorry i’m later than usual, tess was supposed to work the evening shift but couldn’t make it in. they’re having another bout of storms off the coast, lots of lightning. what’cha watching?
MELODY: reruns.
EVA: right. anything good?
MELODY: no. cheap.
EVA: course. hey, be careful sitting so close- maybe we should move the couch back, that can’t be good for your eyes.
MELODY: four point nine six…
EVA: what?
MELODY: it’s a good distance.
EVA: ookay. if you say so. you’re the one who's here all day… did you get out at all?
MELODY: no.
EVA: why not?
MELODY: it’s too foggy. you can’t see where you’re going.
EVA: fog… oh, that’s dust. it’s dusty.
MELODY: okay.
EVA: probably best to stay in today.
MELODY: that’s what the nine o’clock said.
EVA: the news?
MELODY nods.
EVA: oh! i didn’t know you watch the news. that’s good, i was worried it was just the shitty game shows. you still watch those sometimes?
MELODY: yes.
EVA: god, those’ll rot your brain. you’re still reading though, right? keeping up with your schoolwork?
MELODY: it’s-
EVA: shit, oh i’m sorry, i forgot i was still in my uniform. one sec, i’ll go change. do we have food for dinner?
MELODY: no.
EVA: great, i’ll whip something up…
EVA exits. MELODY flips the channels.
MELODY: a woman. long dark hair, pale legs. do they make her wax them? or is it laser? they stretch on for miles. the bottoms of her shoes are stained. she pulls at her long hem, lifts it past her waist, revealing more skin. the man, he can’t take his eyes away. he’s a super spy, they call him suave. now they’re kissing, mechanically pressing their faces together, lips smack at a rate of twice per three seconds. a hand on the small of her back. she smells like apple blossoms. big screen debut. straight to DVD. streaming late. X-Rated cut available at your local video store.
EVA enters once more.
EVA: it’s trashed in here.
she starts gathering up the cans and packages.
EVA: you’ve got to tell me when it gets like this, you know i don’t notice these things.
MELODY flips the channel.
EVA: hey, have you talked to kelsey recently?
MELODY: no. she moved.
EVA: you could call-
MELODY: they don’t like how i talk over the phone.
EVA: why?
MELODY: she said i breathe too loud.
EVA looks at her. MELODY breathes loudly.
EVA: okay, okay- i just worry you aren’t talking to anyone.
MELODY: i talk to lots of people-
EVA: food delivery men /don’t count-
MELODY: like 16. i call them friends.
EVA: the food delivery /people?
MELODY: no. i have friends. they live far away but we can still talk.
EVA: good, good. sorry. i don’t mean to be an "overbearing older sister", i know you can fend for yourself. just… i was talking to tess last week, and she has two younger brothers. she told me, the other day she came home, and she saw them just staring at the TV. like, she couldn’t tear them away. and their eyes were huge, she said she thought they’d taken something because their pupils were the size of palms. and they were just watching… nothing. it was incomprehensible to her, tess said it was like a mix of static, like the TV was broken but the people on it just kept talking and talking, and they looked all wrong, like their limbs were stretched at odd angles or the skin on their faces didn’t fit right… i just get worried about what you’re watching all day. i don’t know if it’s good for you to be all alone up here.
MELODY: where else am i supposed to go?
EVA: yeah… i don’t know.
MELODY: the air’s not safe.
EVA: i know. you could-
MELODY: i can’t go to school.
EVA: why not?
MELODY: because no one likes me.
EVA: that’s not true.
MELODY: i look weird.
EVA: no, you don’t. who told you that?
MELODY: how’s work?
EVA: melody.
MELODY: forget i said anything. i didn’t mean it. how’s work?
EVA: it’s… fine. same as always. it doesn’t get any better.
MELODY: you don’t get used to it?
EVA: no.
MELODY: sometimes i think i look like a pig.
MELODY twists her face like a pig. EVA stares.
EVA: you don’t.
MELODY: i see my reflection. oink, oink.
EVA: stop that.
MELODY: oink, /oink, oink oink-
EVA: melody, i said stop it, please-
EVA approaches MELODY and the TV.
MELODY: NO!!
EVA gasps, stops dead in her tracks.
EVA: what?? are you okay?
MELODY: …yes.
EVA: melody.
MELODY: eva.
EVA: what are you watching?
MELODY: eva.
EVA: what are you watching?
MELODY: NOTHING.
EVA runs over to the TV. MELODY tries to stop her but can’t.
EVA: what the fuck is this?? who-
silence. the two stare at the TV, watching the action unfold. slowly, EVA is horrified.
EVA: WHAT THE FUCK-
MELODY: eva!
EVA: what the hell is that???
MELODY: i’ve seen it before-
EVA: WHAT?
MELODY: i thought you weren’t squeamish.
EVA: those are PEOPLE, /MELODY-
MELODY: I HAD A DREAM ONCE WHERE I WAS A PIG AND YOU KILLED ME.
EVA: oh god, melody.
MELODY: you hacked my head off. my ears were like this.
she holds her hands up like ears, droops them.
EVA: melody.
MELODY: don't apologize.
EVA: i'm so sorry.
MELODY: you shouldn't be.
EVA: i didn't know you were- how easy it is to find shit like that-
MELODY: i like it.
EVA: why?
MELODY: reminds me of you. slaughterhouse. except it makes me feel safe, because you're not a pig. you're one of the killers. so you'll live.
EVA stares.
MELODY: i don't know what i am, yet.
EVA: come here.
MELODY: the stranger paradigm. new innovations in reality TV. 16 go in, only one comes out.
EVA: come here, melody.
MELODY: will they care for each other, or fight to escape? they always leave. have you ever heard of a rat king?
EVA: melody.
MELODY: no.
EVA: come here, please.
MELODY: no, i know what you want. you're going to hurt them.
EVA: no, i-
MELODY: you do. that's how you work.
EVA: COME HERE.
MELODY: YOU WILL. YOU CAN'T TAKE THEM FROM ME.
EVA: for fuck's sake-
EVA lunges for the TV.
MELODY: YOU CAN’T BECAUSE THIS IS ALL I HAVE-
MELODY jumps on EVA.
EVA: GET OFF ME.
MELODY scratches at EVA. she draws blood.
MELODY: YOU CAN'T TAKE THEM-
EVA screams. the TV is smashed. MELODY drops, spams the remote, shakes the TV. it’s dead.
EVA: melody…
MELODY starts screaming.
EVA: MELODY.
EVA tries to hug MELODY, is rejected. EVA grabs onto MELODY, holds her close. MELODY sobs.
MELODY: they’re all i have.
EVA: i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.
MELODY: eva-
EVA: i’m sorry. it's going to be okay.
MELODY: HOW?
EVA: we'll get you a job, or something. we'll get you out.
MELODY: i don't want to be like you.
EVA: i know, i know. i know.
EVA comforts MELODY. fade to black.
AUTHOR’S NOTES
not going to lie i’m really attached to these characters. pacing is fucked but i quite frankly do not have the energy to fix it. will maybe post another draft at another time!
what did i listen to while writing this?
melanie martinez’s cry baby album :)
#theatre#playwriting#melanie martinez#little nightmares#little nightmares 2#writing#writing prompt#retrofuture
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Cappyverse oneshot: It’s ok ‘cause I’m gonna repair it.
Summary: Lucius makes some quick cash for his Mom.
Lucius opened a bag filled with alien technology and Nick nacks and placed it on the counter of pakmar’s pawnshop, he was impressed that lil bastard was able to make it despite his previous businesses getting destroyed.
A week ago, Sceles, Lucius’s mom, Lost her job at the diner due to being mistaken for stealing the money for herself. She had been looking for a new job but due to her family's infamous history no one would hire her. The bills were piling up, the electric company was threatening to shut their power off, and She was scraping the bottom of the barrier for groceries.
Seeing the panic in his mother's eyes as she realized she wasn't going to find another job any time soon, he had to do something. So he stole a bunch of stuff from some low level criminals Sure it was stealing but they were criminals too so karma even itself out.
Without saying a word, pakmar climbed up the counter and went through the contents of the bag.
"250," he said.
Lucius almost choked. "For all of it? Come on man!, there's gotta be at least 1,500 dollars worth of stuff in there."
"Pakmar doesn't pay retail."
Well, no shit. Lucius didn't say that, though. "I know, but you can't hit with me 3 or 4? This is primo stuff. You can get a grand for it easily."
"250. Take it or leave it."
He sighed. He should have known. Pakmar was a tough negotiator and a cheap son of a bitch to boot. Lucius didn't expect much but he was hoping for at least three, that way he could pay the power bill and get some groceries. Pakmar wasn't kidding when he said take it or leave it, though.
250 was better than nothing.
“Alright’ He said “Deal”
Pakmar counted 250 in tens and twenties, and handed it over. Lucius pocketed the bills with a nod and a "Thanks" and then they went their separate ways. He lets out a deep sigh, Mom worked so hard to give him a good life and what did she get in return for it? What did she get as thanks for sacrificing and going without? 250 measely dollars.
Lucius felt like a terrible son. When he was a kid he would get into some serious trouble not on purpose but by curiosity’s sake. Sometimes people would blame his mother for not raising him better while others would say it’s Fatherless behavior, he tried becoming a plumber but he failed plenty of times to not even bother trying again.
Fifteen minutes later, He came back home and whipped out his key, unlocking the door. Inside, his uncle octagon and rhomboid sat on the couch watching some rerun of an old show. "Hey," he greeted and took off his jacket. "Where's Ma?"
"In the kitchen," Octagon said without looking away from the screen.
He crossed through the living room and went into the kitchen. As he expected, he found his mother at the table with her face propped in her hands and a stack of bills spread out before her.
“You alright?” he asked
"I'm fine, just tired."
That was a lie but he ignored it. He reached into his pocket, took out the wad of bills, and laid it on the table. "I figure you can get groceries or something with it."
Sceles looked both touched and uncomfortable. "No, I can't, you keep it."
"No, you take it. Really."
"I don't feel right taking money from you."
He smiled. "I was going to buy groceries with it anyway, I just didn't feel like going out. Alright," she said, "but only once, okay honey?" She took the money and patted his head.
Later that night Lucius was laying on his bed staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t sleep and how could he? His brain was running a hundred mile per hour on ways to help his mom. He could try to apply for a job but his resume wasn’t the best at the moment, maybe Baumann’s store has an opening.
He got up and went to get a drink of water. As he went into the kitchen he saw sceles sleeping with the bills still scattered on the table, he didn’t want to disturbed her so he placed a blanket over her sleeping form before getting water from the bathroom. As he drinks the cool refreshing water Lucius looks at his reflection in the smudged mirror. His red eyes looked back at him as if he was judging himself.
“Listen you need to be better, not only for yourself but for Ma.” He said poking the mirror “Ya can’t be going around getting in fights and flirting around no matter how pretty they are, from now on you have to be responsible and a mature young man ya hear?”
He heard his mother stirring in her sleep as he hurried back to bed, Tomorrow he’s gonna be a son she can be proud of.
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Hello love!! Would you be able to write a steve x reader where the reader is kinda insecure about their body because she used to be “chubby” and people used to say shit to her now that she is slim she is feeling a little insecure again remembering her past and looking at the models, what would steve do here? This would be very helpful to me if you wrote this no pressure 💕💕💖💖
Bullies
a/n: Hey, babes. I hope this imagine could help you out a little. I’m honored you trusted me for this request and even though it was a little heartbreaking to write, it was fun to get back to sweet old Steve again. Just know that everybody has insecurities and you’re not alone. If you need someone to talk, please don’t hesitate. I know it’s hard to open up to people sometimes (hell, if anything, I would rather solve any problem by crying myself to sleep alone) but I learned that having someone, even if that someone just listens to you rant, does help a lot sometimes.
word count: 2.1k
warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia, overcoming depression/trauma, bullying, flashbacks, down talk, overall sad themes, soft Steve, and a whole lotta fluff
!Disclamer: All bodies are beautiful and I usually don’t do readers with specific body types. So, I tried to still keep it a little open as to what the reader looks like now (but for this request it was kind of difficult). Please know that I don‘t mean to discriminate anybody with this 💓
It hadn’t always been easy. Of course, overall, life was pretty great and you did not have a whole bunch to complain about, but sometimes, your insecurities got the better of you. Didn’t they for everybody? Probably. But the thing was, that nobody talked about them. And it was annoying how fast they could change the mood because of that. One second you were happily sipping on an iced coffee in the midst of Brooklyn, and the next, you were crying in the smelly women’s bathroom of the nearest Starbucks. It was emotionally draining and even though you had already come a long way, it still affected you from time to time.
It was silly, really, how a simple phrase - an under the breath comment - could cut open long healed wounds so fast. Catapulting you back to high school, where you would sit in the far corner of the classroom, away from everyone's eyes, to get a little peace and quiet from the hell that was every teenager's everyday life. The comment of the tall, skinny woman in the café wasn’t even directed at you, but it still felt like a pushback into the deep horrors of your own mind you had fought so hard to keep quiet over time.
“Look at her. That skirt is definitely too tight, girl,” was what the woman had said to her 90-60-90 measurement friend.
And it had lit a fire of emotions within you. But all you could do was sit there, stiff as a board, and forced to watch bad reruns of your life as the “chubby high school girl” before your mind’s eye. After a couple of moments, you had checked back into reality, feeling the burning tears brim in your eyes from the horrible flashbacks. That’s when you stood up and bolted for the bathroom, like a coward.
“Get yourself together, Y/N,” you encouraged your reflection in the mirror after splashing some cold water on your face in hopes of reducing the puffiness in your eyes. It didn’t help a lot, but it did cool you down enough to get back out there. And so you did. Striding through the doors with some newfound confidence and past the two women who had been shamelessly dishing ever since they had taken a seat at the table next to yours, you made your way to the other woman who had become their target for the afternoon.
You leaned down next to her to tap her shoulder slightly. And after she had turned her head, you simply smiled and told her: “You look very beautiful today. I love your skirt.”
The woman’s eyes brightened at that and it released a warmth in your heart, that rewarded you for your actions.
“Oh, thank you so much,” she smiled brightly and waved once you said your goodbye.
And it was nice at the moment. Being able to brighten a stranger's day felt good, but it didn’t help with the deep uneasiness that had settled in your stomach before that. During your ride back on the subway, you tried to ignore the feeling as much as you could, thinking of coming home to your boyfriend, Steve, and the evening you had planned together. But every happy thought seemed to be overshadowed by a faint voice that told you, what the two women might have said about you. And then it set you back again to freshmen year - the peak of insecurity.
It wasn’t terrific. You had no friends at the beginning of the school year, and people did everything to gain the crowds they would later call their ‘friends’. You, unfortunately, just so happened to be on the receiving end of the bullying that made kids ‘cool’ back then. It didn’t help that you had a little extra weight on your body, which - honestly - you never had great issues with until that dipshit Brian from PE pointed out that having you on his dodgeball team meant that ‘the hit ratio of the others would triple’.
Yes, Brian was an ass. And you had wished every day of your life that he was stuck at a boring job with a low pay grade and a wife that was hopefully telling him how much of a loser he was. But it didn’t change the fact that his words had also made you look in the mirror five minutes longer each day, debating whether your favorite shirt made your arms look big or how you could twist your head to make your chubby cheeks seem less visible.
Luckily, after you graduated high school and entered college, people seemed to all have their baggage to lug around. They were all a lot more considerate or just kept to themselves. It was the change you had needed to focus on yourself and to work on a healthy mindset. Surrounding yourself with people who supported you had helped you to get better. And after you joined the gym in your first semester of college and the last few pounds that you had not grown into during puberty had shed to your goal weight, you seemed to be completely fine again. The focus being on seemed here because every so often, situations like the one today set you back a few steps.
So, when you entered your apartment building, searching for the key in your purse, your insecurities had skyrocketed from all the spiraling your mind had done. You weren’t feeling good, a headache was sneaking its way into your body and your shoulders tensed with the constant need to hold your body upright in a more appealing posture. Once you had closed the door to your and Steve’s shared apartment, you leaned against it with your forehead, sighing as your heavy purse fell to the floor with a thud.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Steve’s concerned voice traveled through the room. You could hear him shuffling from the couch and placing his glass on the table before you felt two large, warm hands on your upper arms.
You just grumbled in response, and Steve proceeded to press his chest to your back, moving your hair to the side to place a tender kiss on your shoulder.
“You wanna talk about it?” He stepped back and turned you around. As soon as he saw the redness in your eyes, his face fell - being replaced with a caring frown. He didn’t ask if you’d been crying and you were pretty grateful for that because it would have probably sent the tears running anew.
Steve embraced you in a comforting hug, and you pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of citrus and sandalwood. You had never really mentioned your body issues, mainly, because that was a part of your life you tried to suppress. And even though, Steve was the most understanding man you knew, some part of your mind had always toyed with the thought of him rejecting you because of those issues. You had managed to quiet that voice every time - telling yourself that he chose you and none of the other amazingly breathtaking, people-saving coworkers he was surrounded by in his line of work. Even if you couldn’t comprehend why on earth you were the one he chose, you were grateful nonetheless.
Steve’s hand traveled to your head and soothed over your hair as he placed a kiss on top. His grip tightened when your hands fisted into the back of his shirt and a silent sob escaped your mouth.
“It’s so stupid,” you breathed out shakily, holding onto your boyfriend as if he would vanish with the falter of your grasp. Steve rested his head atop yours and tugged you even tighter into his chest as he noticed how desperately you clung to him.
“I’m sure it’s not.” He loosened his grip around you and when you felt confident enough to let go as well, he took your hand and lead you to the sofa, where he pressed his glass of water into your hand before proceeding to sit down next to you. His hand found your back yet again, drawing soft circles in your dress, while the other rested on your knee.
Placing the cup back down after taking a sip of water, you peered up at him. The deep blue of his eyes was clouded with concern, but the encouraging smile on his face nudged you to speak up again. “There were these women at the café today, and they were just really mean.” You sobbed again at the thought of the mental distress these malicious women had set you in. You didn’t care that you sounded like a child right now, bawling your eyes out over some sleazy insult that wasn’t even directed at you. But it could have, more than a decade ago, when your insecure high school self pressed against the hallway lockers to avoid giving anyone a reason to talk to you.
Steve’s posture didn’t falter at your words. He listened attentively, scanning your face to register the emotions flooding through you, and it draped a calmness over you - a feeling of being heard and respected. His genuine interest in your well-being paired with the soft touch of his hands made you relax a little more.
“They were bullying someone for being overweight and it just hit really close to home,” you whispered as you wiped the tears from your cheek.
Steve’s expression told you that he understood what you were getting at. And you were grateful that he didn’t make you explain it further. The hand on your knee traveled up to your cheek, turning your face in his direction and making you look into the comforting blue of his eyes. They went deeper than your face, though. As if they could see right through your skin and into your soul where they soothed it with an easing embrace that slowed your pulse and pulled the tension out of your muscles.
“I just get really insecure sometimes.” Your gaze stayed focused on his face and your hand wandered to his wrist, pushing his fingers tighter to your skin.
A couple seconds passed before Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered on your skin for a moment, and then he pulled away to say the next words with steady eye contact - conveying how sincerely he meant them. “Y/N, I know I can’t tell you to stop thinking about these things, but I want you to know that you don’t need to worry about other people’s feelings towards you. They won’t change just because you look a little different or because you are scared of something. The people who truly care about you will always be there for you. I will always be here for you. I’ll help you with whatever it is you're going through. Because I love you, regardless of what anyone says.” His Captain voice shone through the little speech he was delivering, and your heart began pounding several beats faster at his words.
It was stupid to think he would be weird about it. If anyone were able to relate to you on body image issues, it was Steve Rogers. The man who had probably gone through the most public transformation of them all. At least, you had the choice to openly speak about your past. Steve had had that privilege taken from him before he could even say ‘America,’ and it sparked another 'peng' in your chest at the considerate man before you, who listened to your troubles all the while having even bigger ones on his own. But he never made you feel that way. You always came first, and you decided to make sure that you would show him how grateful you were for that every day.
“Thank you, Stevie.” You took a deep breath to steady the last traces of unease in your body and placed your hand on his arms. “I love you, too.”
And then you kissed him, capturing the comfort and warmth in his gaze with your lips. Steve pulled you closer to his body and leaned back on the couch, taking you with him in the process. The kiss was eager and loving, conveying as much aid as possible. Though, his mere presence had already done most of that.
When you parted again, you rested your head on his chest, snuggling into his side with his hands warming you with a loving touch. And that’s how you stayed until the sun set outside the living room windows, dipping the room in a glowing, happy yellow. Steve’s hands rode up and down your arms in consolation, and his steady heartbeat lulled you to sleep, sending you into a dreamless slumber.
@cotton-candy-clouds-26
#megs imagines#steve rodgers x reader#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers angst#steve rogers#captain america#captain america imagine#steve rogers x female reader#marvel au#marvel fanfiction#request#answered ask#mywritings
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She’s Got You
Lightly inspired by Patsy Cline’s song, “She’s Got You”
Summary: (Y/N) feels as if she has lost her best friend now that he has started dating Sarah Cameron. Requested.
Warnings: Pushy guys, depictions of negligent parents, mentions of organic chemistry homework, mentions of violence/injury, and depictions of a panic attack. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with this.
Topper and (Y/N) were always together. From the beginning of time, they were inseparable. She had a distinct memory of the two of them, all of three years old, clinging to each other while covered in sand and popsicle juice, demanding that their nannies not make them leave the beach even though the sun was setting.
Now, (Y/N) doubted if Topper even remembered her name sometimes. It might have been her fault; she never pestered him about hanging out, and the first couple of times he had cancelled, she had been okay with it since she and Kie had been planning on waking up early the next day to help baby sea turtles safely get to the ocean. She knew they would fall right back into their routine by the next week. Only they didn’t.
Their Friday movie nights were the first to go, supplanted by Kook parties with Rafe Cameron. Then, it was their beach days where (Y/N) would make a picnic lunch and they would surf and swim till they could barely stand; however, to be fair, those days were overtaken by Topper’s demanding mom, so (Y/N) couldn’t blame him for that.
Both of those didn’t matter overly much, but (Y/N) knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had lost her best friend when he could no longer go to Sunday brunch with her anymore - because now Sunday’s were Sarah’s.
(Y/N) couldn’t blame Topper for liking her and pursuing her, but a selfish part of her wanted to hate Sarah Cameron for stealing the one person who mattered more to her than anybody else in the world. She didn’t blame him, but she wished she could see how he had changed in order to be with Sarah. Topper had never really been a rule-breaker or a dare-devil; he was more of a stay-at-home, snuggled in blankets, drinking tea while watching reruns of sit-coms kinda guy. A boy totally content to talk about literature and debate philosophical points with her at three am. But now it seemed all he did was take risks - jumping off of roofs, doing hard drugs, beating up Pogues. That was not the Topper (Y/N) knew, but she knew why he was doing it; he felt he had to be that way in order to keep Sarah interested, so she wouldn’t cheat on him like she had her last two boyfriends. (Y/N) could just feel that it was only a matter of time until the damage was irreversible, and she wouldn’t be able to recognize her Topper.
(Y/N) thought she was coping pretty well with the loss. She filled her days with planning beach clean ups with Kie and doing summer homework with Pope. Then, of course, she attended all of the Kook festivities that her parents “recommended” she go to; luckily, none of them had yet had Topper or Sarah in attendance, so they were bearable and served as a decent distraction. In the back of her mind, she knew her avoidance tactics wouldn’t last, but it still came as a surprise when her self-constructed fortress came crashing down at what should have been the biggest self-deceptive event of the summer - Midsummer’s.
There she was, light pink dress hugging all of her curves just right, hair curled and pinned to perfection, talking to some of Figure Eight’s older residents when they walked in. She didn’t realize she had been staring until Mrs. Bertram, who was eighty if she was a day, spoke up from her chair, “Now, when did your Topper start dating the Cameron girl?” (Y/N)’s head snapped to look at the woman, her eyes wide and her breathing slightly ragged,
“He was never my Topper, Mrs. Bertram,” she spoke, looking down at her fumbling fingers.
“Humph, I just can’t believe that, Miss (Y/L/N). You two have been attached at the hip since you were in diapers. And if he is too stupid to see you are perfect for him, then he doesn’t deserve you,” Mrs. Bertram exclaimed, emphasizing her statement with a firm nod of her head.
(Y/N) looked over to Topper again with a sad smile before replying to the widow, “We’re just friends, and if Sarah makes him happy, I’m happy.” She then politely excused herself to go get some food for Pope who was grilling, but as she was walking away she heard the women behind her speaking in what they thought were hushed tones,
“Well, he doesn’t look happy to me.”
“How could he when he let our (Y/N) slip through his fingers?”
“I give it a couple of weeks. A summer fling, that’s all.”
“Well, if I were (Y/N) I wouldn’t take him back.”
“You simpleton; she just said they were never together.”
“Well, I find that hard to believe…”
(Y/N) seemed to move in a haze through the crowd, trying to get to her friends when a sweaty hand grasped her arm, making her stop. It was some football player from her school who ogled girls like they were pieces of meat. She really did not have the energy to put up with the likes of him tonight. “Hey, (Y/N), can I get you a drink?” he said as he got unnecessarily close to her.
“I’m good, tha-”
“Nah, you look famished; let me help.” (Y/N) internally rolled her eyes at his incorrect word choice before deciding that the path of least resistance would be to just go along with his idea.
“Fine, I think I saw JJ with a tray of drinks somewhere,” she said, not even looking at the guy.
“You still hanging around those Pogues, (Y/N)? What would your parents think?” he arrogantly scoffed.
She fixed him with a deadly glare. “If you are going to act like this, then maybe I don’t want to get a drink with you,” she said as she started to walk in the opposite direction.
“Hey, hey, wait, I’m sorry about that. Let’s be cool, alright?” he spoke, rushing to catch up to your long strides. (Y/N) turned back to him but didn’t take any steps toward him. “I was just concerned that you were cozying up to the wrong kind of people since Topper didn’t want you anymore. I was concerned and wanted to offer you something better,” he explained, honestly thinking that what he said would be well received.
(Y/N) scoffed, laughing in a somewhat hysterical way as she took a step nearer the boy, “Do you really think I am that desperate? That just because I’m not on some man’s arm that I must be in some sort of depressive, self-loathing episode? God, you really are one of the most misogynistic people I know,” she said as she turned away for the final time, leaving the boy standing with his mouth hanging open and his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
Can’t everyone just leave me alone about Topper? As if I’m actually in love with my best friend, she thought to herself, ignoring the painful twinge in her heart that tried to contradict her mind. Let’s just get through the rest of this party.
For the rest of the night, (Y/N) stayed close to the Pogues, at the edge of the party where nobody dared bother her, and she quietly slipped away as soon as everyone was just drunk enough to not notice her departure.
When she got home, she slipped into her comfiest PJ’s (which just happened to be one of Topper’s sweatshirts - a fact she refused to acknowledge) and put on her favorite comedy, hoping that the familiar antics of the characters would lull her to sleep.
~
(Y/N) woke from a fitful slumber with a start, unsure what it was that had awoken her. Until she heard it again, a pounding on her front door. (Y/N) quickly got up, hoping that it wasn’t JJ or one of the other Pogues coming to her because they had been hurt. So caught up with her panicked thoughts, she was caught totally off guard when she opened the door to a very shaken-looking Topper.
“Top, what are you doing here? What happened?” She rapidly spoke as she ushered him in out of the torrential downpour.
“She left me, (Y/N/N). She left me for that Pogue, and I - I didn’t mean to do it. The railing was rotten, and he just fell. Oh my god, I think I killed him, (Y/N/N). Jesus Christ, I-” He broke off his speech with a gasp, his eyes wide and panicked, looking at everything and nothing at the same time.
“Top, just breathe, slow down,” she said calmly, taking his face in her hands so that he would look into her eyes. “Breathe with me, okay? In, out. In, out.” She repeated herself until he had calmed down enough to move to the kitchen with her. (Y/N) knew that he always needed a hot drink after a panic attack, so she moved towards the stove to start fixing him some chamomile and lavender tea. She didn’t allow him to speak until she had set the tea down before him and taken a seat beside him with her own mug.
“Okay, now start from the beginning, and take your time.”
Topper looked into his mug of tea, an expression she had never seen before casting a darkness onto his features. It was a solid minute before he spoke, his voice a gruff rasp when he did. “Sarah. She was acting weird all night, trying to get away from me even though Midsummer’s was supposed to be our coming out party, you know? Then after she left -without me -I-I followed her to the lookout. I didn’t want to believe she was cheating on me, but I knew it, deep down, I knew it. But to see her with that filthy Pogue, John B, was too much. I don’t know what happened, but I snapped. We started pushing each other, and I pushed him against the railing.” He looked up at her for the first time before saying, in a terrified whisper, “I swear I didn’t mean to, (Y/N). I didn’t try to hurt him for real, but the railing gave way and he fell, hard.” (Y/N) could tell by the way his breathing picked up that he was on the verge of having another panic attack, but he pushed on. “I didn’t stay to see if he was alright, but he was so still and he fell from so high up, I -”
“It’s alright, Top, I’ll make sure he gets seen, everything is gonna be alright, okay?” She finally spoke up, rubbing his back in soothing circles, the movement helping to soothe her own rattled nerves. She knew she appeared to be calm, but inside she was just as panicked as Topper. How could he do something like this? This isn’t my Topper, she thought, but she didn’t voice her opinions; they would do no good in helping fix the situation before them.
“I just don’t know what to do, (Y/N/N). What if I killed him,” he sobbed, and she wasted no time in wrapping her arms tightly around him, feeling him clamp his around her waist like she was his last tether to safety.
“It’s okay, Top; it’s okay. I’m gonna call Pope right now since I’m sure they are taking him to the hospital, but I’m sure he’s fine. The look out isn’t tall enough to kill somebody that falls off of it on impact. He will be fine, and you will be able to make amends, okay?” She spoke quietly, interspersing her words with chaste kisses to his hair and forehead, knowing how they calmed him since he never got that kind of physical affection from his mother. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed first, alright?” And he nodded against her shoulder, too tired to fight her as she dragged him up the stairs and into the bathroom in her bedroom.
She managed to strip him down into his boxers before gently tucking him under the covers of her bed. She kissed his forehead again before going back down to the kitchen to get her phone and call Pope to make sure John B would be alright in the long run. After getting a hold of him and telling him to call her if anything changed, she went back up to her room and joined Topper under the covers.
~
(Y/N) woke to the feeling of a muscular arm trapping her against a toned chest. Still in a slight state of unconsciousness, she snuggled in deeper towards the familiar warmth. It took a few seconds of listening to the soft sounds of breathing before her eyes snapped open, fully awake. What the hell? Topper and I haven’t had a sleepover all summer; what is he doing here? she thought before the events of last night came crashing down on her, prompting her to check her phone where a text message from Pope waited, informing her that John B had a broken wrist and a concussion - slight damage compared to what could have happened.
She shifted again to look at Topper, appearing to sleep peacefully if one didn’t notice the deep furrow in his brow and the way his hand clenched. (Y/N) pushed the hair back that had fallen in front of his face, deciding to let him sleep for a while longer before they had what would undoubtedly be a hard discussion.
(Y/N) rolled out of bed and started on her morning routine before heading down into the kitchen to start breakfast for the two of them, knowing her parents wouldn’t be up for hours still. As she was dishing out the scrambled eggs, Topper shuffled into a chair at the counter. Despite the circumstances, (Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as he hadn’t even attempted to tame his hair or put on real clothes, choosing to stay in his boxers until after he had eaten. I guess some things never change, she thought.
(Y/N) sat down to eat beside him, and the two teenagers ate in silence, the only sounds those of the silverware scraping on the china and the gulping of orange juice. After everything had disappeared on both of their plates, Topper twirled his fork between his fingers for a minute while (Y/N) sat in patient silence, knowing he would break soon enough.
Topper cleared his throat before speaking in his rich baritone, “I know I messed up, (Y/N). I know that, but I don’t know how to fix it.” Imploring crystal blue eyes looked into hers. It hurt (Y/N) to see her best friend looking so broken.
“I don’t have all of the answers, Top, but I think a good starting place would be doing some self-reflection, analyzing why you felt you needed to resort to violence because Sarah chose John B. Then you need to make some serious changes about how you act. I know you can be better, Topper, but you can’t let people change you.”
Topper had stared into (Y/N)’s eyes as she said all of this, and their gazes held each other’s after she had finished until suddenly Topper was leaning in, eyes closing while (Y/N)’s widened in panic. She threw her hand up to stop his approach, “Woah, Top, what are you doing?”
Topper snapped out of his daze at the feeling of her hand on his chest. “I-I’m sorry, (Y/N). I just…” he looked down, searching for the right words.
“It’s okay, Top. You aren’t in the right headspace right now, I get it.” (Y/N) gave him a sheepish half smile.
“Yeah, yeah that’s probably it,” he agreed, but somewhere - his heart he thought - whispered a quiet contradiction.
~
Things started to return to their previous state between the two friends, but there was an unspoken barrier between them as (Y/N) received no proof that Topper had changed his ways other than him not hanging out with Rafe as much. (Y/N) still hung out with the Pogues when they weren’t all busy, but with John B’s recovery still in the works, their free time dwindled drastically.
(Y/N) hated to be pessimistic, but she was worried that Topper wouldn’t change for real. He had always had somewhat of a performative nature, leading him to do things that he didn’t mean, and the fact that she hadn’t been told by Topper about how he was making amends probably meant that he hadn’t taken any steps to do so. The girl didn’t know what to do, but she knew things couldn’t stay the same.
As she contemplated the future of her and Topper’s friendship, Pope joined her for their study session in the library. She smiled at the boy, “Hey, Pope, how is everything?”
The boy shrugged, already pulling out his various books and notebooks and setting them on the table. “Oh, you know, same old-same old. My dad has me running all over the island, 24/7. It was cool of Topper to stop by the other day; I’m sure you sent him, but he apologized for how he’s been acting this summer and for letting Rafe beat me up. He said he’s trying to be better; my dad said he helped him while he waited for me to get back from a delivery. Anyway, did you figure out the mechanism for this hydrate formation? I don’t know why it’s giving me so much trouble…”
(Y/N) simply went through the motions to show Pope how she did the organic chemistry reaction, trying to process what he had just inadvertently revealed. She could cry with happiness that not only had Topper apologized, he had done it without crowing about it. The second she and Pope were done studying, she was practically racing to the Thornton residence, heedless of traffic laws and her own racing heart.
She had no plan in mind as she threw open the gate to the back yard, knowing that he would be doing laps in the pool. Topper looked up at her approach with a questioning gaze. “Hey, (Y/N/N), I thought you were studying with Po- holy shit!” he exclaimed as she jumped into the pool, fully clothed. (Y/N) swam over to him, losing no time in tackling him in a bear hug. “(Y/N), I’m not complaining, but what are you doing?” he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her as well.
(Y/N) spoke feelingly into the side of his neck, “I’m just so proud of you, Top.” This statement seemed to make the pieces fall together in his mind.
“Oh, that, that was nothing.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m gonna be a better man, (Y/N/N). I will probably never deserve you, but I’m gonna try my hardest to one day get close,” he spoke, pulling away slightly in order to look her in the eyes, his face set in determination.
Her smile lit up his world, and he was pulled into a perfect state of bliss as (Y/N) leaned up to capture his lips with her own. She broke their embrace only to murmur the words he had longed to hear for what seemed like forever, “You already are, Top.”
~
My Masterlist
#topper x reader#topper thornton x reader#topper+thornton+x+reader#topper obx#topper thorton imagine#topper thornton#obx#obx imagine#austin north#topper x you#topper x y/n
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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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Deja Vu (part 2 of 'Drivers License')
(inspired by deja vu by Olivia Rodrigo)
Word count: 2.5k
Read part 1 here
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“What the fuck is this?”
Harry flinched as his girlfriend shoved the phone at him. He’d just got out of the shower, hair still dripping wet, but it wasn’t so out of the ordinary that she would start a fight first thing in the morning.
He sighed and gently pushed her phone away from his face. “Baby, if it’s another rumour about me cheating on you...I was with you this whole week!”
“No.” She lifted the phone up to his face again. “That girl just released another song about you.”
Even though Harry didn’t let it show, whenever he heard about Y/N, his heart would always skip a beat. He couldn’t remember exactly when the last time they’d spoken was, but he knew in his last message to her, he’d congratulated her on that new song about him. She’d never replied, and he’d taken it as the answer — they could never go back to the way it was.
It had broken his heart to listen to ‘drivers license’. Y/N had never been the kind of person to be vocal about her feelings. Or maybe she’d expressed it through actions instead of words, and he had been too nonchalant to see? He hadn’t meant to break her heart and leave her in the dust. After all, she used to be his best friend.
“Y/N’s a songwriter. She writes about her own experience the same way I do. Maybe that song is not even about me, babe,” he calmly told his girlfriend, who was standing in front of him with fresh tears in her eyes. He hated to see her cry, and he hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done it because of him. He tried to reach for her but she stepped back, shaking her head.
“Listen to the song.”
“Baby.”
“Listen to the song,” his girlfriend repeated without looking at him. “Why are you so afraid?���
“I’m not.”
“Then listen to it and tell me it’s not about you, and that she’s not throwing shades at me. I’m so tired of this girl telling the world about how horrible we are as if you had even dated her in the first place—”
“Fine,” Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes pinched shut. He hated that when his girlfriend got mad, she would get so mean for no reason, and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was her insulting Y/N. He knew Y/N. She had always been respectful to his new relationship. However, he wasn’t in the position to tell his girlfriend how to feel about this situation. He knew it was all his fault, so he stayed quiet, took the phone from his girlfriend and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend stood with her back against the wall facing him, waiting for him to play the song so she could see his reaction to it.
“Go on,” she told him, her voice emotionless.
Harry looked at the song on Spotify. It was titled deja vu. He took a deep breath and one last look at his girlfriend before finding enough courage to press play.
Y/N’s previous song about him had been blasted in every shop he’d visited, all the time when he was filming, every time he was in the car, and now, the moment he heard her voice again, it really did feel like deja vu.
Car rides down Malibu
Strawberry ice cream
One spoon for two…
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“Are we there yet?”
“No, stop being so impatient! Just keep on driving!” Y/N said and looked out of the window on the passenger side. The sun was going down, and the horizon was gradually turning the colour of an egg yolk. It was their last day in Miami. They had been filming for every day that week, and this was the only day they could spend just for themselves.
Harry stole a glance at Y/N and saw that she’d finished half the strawberry ice cream while bobbing her head to the song Uptown Girl on the radio. He frowned, making her laugh when she noticed.
“Open your mouth,” she said and fed him a spoon of ice cream.
“Ahh, brain freeze!”
“But it’s good, isn’t it?”
“So good.” Harry licked his lips. The face he made got Y/N laughing harder.
Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a secluded beach. Y/N had found this place when she traveled to this city alone two summers ago and almost got lost.
Together, she and Harry carried their picnic things through a palm forest, and by the time they saw the ocean, the moon had made a fading presence on the pink Miami sky.
Y/N picked up her shoes and ran towards the waves, letting it chase her back into Harry’s arms and nearly knocking him over. Their laughter echoed in the wind as their shadows stretched out long and lanky on the empty beach. In that very moment, it felt to Harry as if they were the only people in this world, and he had a sense of peace that he might never be able to experience again.
“You don’t get to see this in the city,” Y/N said dreamily as she pulled Harry’s jacket tighter around herself. It was dark now, and the sky above them was full of stars. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a picnic blanket, listening to the whispers of the ocean and the wind. Harry used Y/N’s jacket as a blanket because it was too small for him to put on. They’d laughed for five minutes straight when she told him he looked like that monkey from Aladdin and took plenty of photos just to prove the point.
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” he said, still looking at the sky.
“Me neither,” Y/N sighed, her shoulder brushing his. There was a pause, and he could feel her eyes on him, so he turned and saw her looking. “When I get home,” she said with a small smile that made her eyes sparkle, “I’ll learn to drive, and when we come to Miami next time, I can drive you to this beach.”
“I’d love that,” Harry said, then made her pink-promise him.
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“They went to Miami last week.”
Y/N blinked. The beach and starry sky disappeared in a second, and she found herself once again standing in the fitting room with her stylist and best friend.
“What?” her best friend marched over to where she stood in front of the full-length mirror.
Her stylist was holding the phone up to show her the article. “Here. Harry took that actress to Miami last week.”
“Don’t show her these!” Y/N’s best friend grabbed the phone and put it on the vanity desk as she gestured to the stylist. “You do your work. Enough chit-chatting.”
“I took him there,” Y/N said. She didn’t even recognise her own voice at first because she was too in shock. She didn’t think Harry would do something like that. But let’s be honest -- how much did she really know about him?
It had been a few months since his last text to her, which she had ignored, and now her song had been overplayed, and nobody cared about the drama anymore. The whole world had moved on, and she had, too. Or so she’d thought. Now, seeing these pictures of him and his girlfriend on that Miami beach made Y/N feel betrayed.
“Asshole,” her best friend said and grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t worry baby. You’re prettier.”
Y/N worked up a smile and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but then she heard someone call her name and turn around. They weren’t calling for her. Just a name similar to hers that had become an inside joke between her and her friends.
The moment she locked eyes with Harry’s girlfriend, her heart seemed to stop as she held her breath, her lips thinned as if to hold back a scream. She didn’t know the girl personally and had never run into her before today. How unfortunate that they had to be in the same room after Y/N had seen those Miami pics.
“What is she doing here?” Y/N’s best friend asked the stylist the question Y/N was too afraid to ask.
“Fitting for an event, I guess,” the stylist said.
Y/N told them to just ignore the others and mind their own business. The sooner they got the measurements, the faster she could leave. Or she could leave right now and come back another day, but that would make it look like the other girl’s presence was bothering her. They were both actresses, and so they would have to run into each other at some point. She must be professional about it. This was normal. Just act normal.
“He’s so unique,” Harry’s girlfriend said while laughing with her team. Y/N didn’t mean to overhear the conversation, but apparently, the girl was making sure that Y/N heard her loud and clear. “We were watching reruns of Glee last night, and he even sang to me and told me he loved me inbetween the chorus and the verse. Don’t touch the jacket! It’s Harry’s and it’s Gucci. We exchange jackets sometimes. Isn’t that adorable?”
“Show off,” Y/N’s best friend scoffed while shaking her head.
Y/N didn’t say anything. In her mind, she agreed with her best friend for a second and immediately felt that she was being petty so she forced herself to just be nonchalant about it.
She could not. She could not ignore the fact that she’d been replaced as if she didn’t matter. Harry was doing all the things he used to do with her with his new girl. Even taken her to that Miami beach. Their place.
Y/N bit her lip and tried to hold back the half-formed tears in her eyes as the stylist went on talking about the fabric. She chose a random one just to get this over with.
“I hope that fucker gets deja vu.”
“What?” Y/N blinked at her best friend, who gave a mean shrug as she glared at the girl.
“He’s probably thinking of you while doing all that shit with her.”
Y/N pondered over it. Over and over. Even after the girlfriend’s laughter had faded down the hallway, and Y/N was also packing up to leave the studio. Her best friend’s words stayed with her as she got into the car and watched the street of London pass by her window.
That night, when she was alone in her living room with her piano. She sat down and started playing a few experimental chords. Then, she cried. Her tears blurred the handwritten lyrics on her notebook as she tried again.
“I have this idea,” she told her manager on the phone before sending the recording. It was three in the morning.
“Oh my god,” her manager exclaimed, sounding much more enthusiastic than he had when picking up her call. “This song...is so gonna win a Grammy!”
.
.
.
Y/N’s song had won a Grammy.
They had talked about it for so long. Harry had encouraged her to pursue a singing career, because she’d started out as an actress but was blessed with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.
Ironic, wasn’t it? Now he was sitting at the front row and looking up at her as she received the award from an artist she looked up to, for the song written about him. She smiled at the crowd as the light shone on her and everyone was cheering because she deserved this. She said her thanks and expressed her gratitude to her family, her teams and her fans. She didn’t say his name. He hadn’t hoped that she would, because he knew there was no way his name would come with a positive message. So he was kind of glad she hadn’t mentioned him.
His girlfriend squeezed his arm as if she knew what he was thinking of. He smiled at his girlfriend. A smile of reassurance. They had put it behind them and promised to try again after all the fights about the song they were playing right now. Nothing would change after tonight. Because there was nothing Harry could change.
He caught Y/N’s eyes for one brief moment as she ascended the stage. Although he was sure he loved his girlfriend, there was something about that look that made him sad. Would he be happier to come here with Y/N tonight instead of his girlfriend? He wouldn’t know, because that would never happen. He didn’t even know if she still resented him, or if she was still the same person he remembered. A lot could change in a day let alone many months. And it was scary to think someone you used to know so much had become a complete stranger. The opposite of love wasn’t hate. It was indifference. And Harry felt it deeply as Y/N never paid him a second glance.
At the after-party, he worked up the courage to approach her when he found her standing alone texting on her phone.
“Hi. How are you?” he said.
Y/N looked at him as if she couldn’t understand English. If she ignored him and walked away, this would be the most humiliating moment of his life.
But no. She pressed her lips into a gentle smile and said, “I’m good. How are you?”
“Good.” He nodded, wanting to shake her hand, but his fingers stayed glued together behind his back. “Congratulations on your win.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the glass of wine on the table beside them, and Harry knew he’d lost his chance of shaking her hand tonight. “Did you like the song?”
“Yeah. It was good,” he said, finding it difficult to hold eye contact with her. There was something new about her that unsettled him, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For speaking out about it.”
“Oh.” Y/N showed no emotion as she shrugged. “It’s alright. I only said the truth. The song was fictional, and I don’t want anyone to get hate for it.”
They both knew it wasn’t true, and he couldn’t tell her that his girlfriend had almost broken up with him for it. Even if he had told her that, he didn’t think Y/N would care. She didn’t look like the Y/N he knew anymore. Suddenly, he recalled that night on the beach, when she was still looking at him with feelings.
“Look, Y/N, I—”
Before he got a chance to form a proper thought for what he was going to say, his girlfriend, who was obviously drunk, shouted from somewhere behind him. “Babe, Jeff’s wearing a tiny jacket! He looks more like the monkey than you!”
Harry looked at Y/N. She held his gaze. The corners of her red lips quirked as she raised her glass. “Deja vu?”
Just like that, she left him standing there all by himself.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagines#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#harry styles x reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles one shots#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#deja vu#drivers license#olivia rodrigo
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Haikyuu Captains as Dads Binge Watching Kid’s Shows
Genre: Fluff, pure family time
Characters: Daichi, Kuroo, Bokuto, Ushijima, Kita, Oikawa
Rating: G
Daichi: PAW PATROL
Daichi is a police officer and a big community service man.
When he comes home early from a patrol one day his son drags him into the living room to watch Paw Patrol.
For some reason Daichi is completely hooked and now at 3am, you’re searching for him in your bed with your arm only to feel him sitting up with his headphones plugged into his laptop and Season 3 Episode 7 of Paw Patrol lighting up his face as he praises Chase the Police Dog for his accurate use of traffic cones
“Babe look wake up see how he’s put them in a triangulatory pattern?”
“Daichi that’s not a word... Turn your laptop off and go to sleep..”
Cue grumbling as he reluctantly turns it off and cuddles you back to sleep
When you wake up in the morning, you can hear the TV on even though you guy’s have a ‘No TV before School” rule with your son
“Oh I just called him out today and I took the day off.”
You’re basically raising two sons at this point
And you caught the two of them in your bed at 2am watching Paw Patrol and arguing over whether Marshall the Fire Dog or Chase the Police Dog were better
Daichi was heartbroken to hear that his son loves firefighter boys
Kuroo: SID THE SCIENCE KID
This nerd is trying to get your daughter to be a nerd as well
He turns on PBS Kids to keep things “educational”
He’s one of those parents who only lets their kid watch 30 minutes of TV
So when you introduced PBS Kids to him that went from 30 minutes to 2 hours
Sid The Science Kid became a staple show in your house
You’re daughter isn’t that into it because at seven she would rather be watching Winx Club
But your husband at thirty-two couldn’t be more enraptured
He’s trying to bond with your daughter over Winx Club in order to convince her to do the mini science experiments with him
She kinda gets into it
Until the Home Science Fair disaster
You came home from work exhausted and not ready to clean the kitchen that had been destroyed by pancakes earlier that morning
You almost cried when you saw the mess they had made from all of their experiments and did pass out
When you woke up you were being cuddled by two oversized sniffling kittens who were apologizing and said no more Sid the Science Kid for a while
You all cuddled up in your king sized bed and fell asleep together
Bokuto: WONDER PETS
You had just had your 3rd kid and Bokuto was on paternity leave from the Volleyball League in order to help out with your other two toddlers and this new infant
Your newborn son confused both you and Bokuto due to the sizes of your chest and sometimes Bokuto would tape a bottle to his chest and watch TV with your son while you slept
When he was on feeding duty he flipped the TV on and instead of a rerun of sports he decided to put on a baby show in order to fall asleep with his son.
The first thing he found was Wonder Pets and he was thrown back into his own childhood
He cradles his infant son to his chest as the kid starts rooting and he sings “The Phone is Ringing” softly to his son and tapping him gently on the nose.
Meanwhile in your bedroom you stirred hearing your infant son cooing on the baby monitor and your husband’s voice pretending to be the duck
Later that day after your toddlers were dropped off at daycare, your husband yanks the remote from your hand and turns on the Wonder Pets
“Kou what-”
“We didn’t finish the episode with the polar bears so I said that we’d watch it today”
“He’s 4 months old”
“And theres an animal in trouble babe. I’m going to put my duck costume on you get his turtle shirt”
Ushijima: THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE
Ushijima didn’t watch tv when he was a kid but he wants to give his twin boys and infant daughter a better childhood than he had
He wanted them to watch something practical and in his mind, was Thomas the Tank Engine
If he was being honest he prefered the Diesel engienes because they seemed to be working more efficiently but he wouldn’t tell that to his kids
He would tell it to you
“But my love, diesel engines are more advanced and technologically-”
“It’s a show for toddlers and you are a world class athlete. Why does it matter Wakatoshi?”
“All I’m saying is-”
“Sweetheart please its 3 in the morning”
“But-”
He was then kicked out of the bed
That’s fine with him, more Thomas the Tank Engine then
Ushijima bought and built the entire train table set for his twins and a Thomas the Tank Engine teething ring for his daughter to gnaw on on instead of the boys’ trains
He goes all out to decorate their playroom and your living room has every movie disc and vcr tape of the show along with a tidal wave of trains
Your house is just covered in trains
Choo choo
Kita: TELETUBBIES
Kita wants his kids to learn about the world but seeing that his daughter is 8 months old and was just learning how to say words and make noises other than crying and babbling
Teletubbies seemed appropriate
He personally likes the red one (Po) the most
His daughter likes to shake her fist that’s holding a toy and make a noise that sounds like “tum” when the yellow Teletubby (Lala) shows up
“Yes dear that does look like Atsumu”
“Da! Tub!”
“No I’m not a Teletubby Sweetpea
When you come home from the grocery store your husband has the baby on the tummy mat on the living room floor as your daughter shakes her fists towards the screen
It’s the cutest thing that you’ve ever seen so of course you video it and send it to Granny Kita
Granny Kita makes a Teletubby doll for your daughter
Your daughter throws it at Atsumu every chance she gets and shrieks the word “TUM!”
Everyone including Atsumu finds it hilarious and he dresses up as the yellow Teletubby with your daughter for her first Halloween with Kita as the green one (Dipsy) and you as the blue one (Tinky Winky) and your daughter as the red one
Oikawa: DORA THE EXPLORER
You and Oikawa didn’t have your first kid until you moved to Argentina
You were pregnant when you moved there but your son was born in San Juan
He jokes that your infant son was your “House Warming Gift.” when you got home from the hospital.
You hit him with the diaper bag for that
As your son got older he needed to learn Spanish and what better way to have him learn beginner Spanish before actual schooling then Dora?
“Anything else Tooru.” was your answer to him
Your son caught on to most of what Oikawa taught him and you helped him with your language but Oikawa sometimes let him watch Dora the Explorer when he couldn’t practice with him because of Volleyball.
Of course most of the kids TV was in Spanish so it was easy for your son to pick up the language
But Oikawa really liked imitating the little girl on TV with you and Iwaizumi over the phone
Sometimes he’d come into the kitchen and just be like “Hola! Soy Tooru! Can you say “puedes hacerme un sándwhich?” That means: can you make me a Sandwhich in Spanish!”
You dumped your salad on him for that
This was to make up for the angst I posted before this! I hope people like it This again is for my #breadsties! @itsmiyamore @sakusakiyoomishandsanitizer @mybloodydownfall @violentcloudchaser
#fluff#wholesome family#haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons#daichi headcanons#kuroo headcanons#bokuto headcanons#ushijima headcanons#kita headcanons#oikawa headcanons#daichi x f!reader#kuroo x f!reader#bokuto x f!reader#ushijima x f!reader#kita x f!reader#oikawa x f!reader#cute octopus writing#cuteness
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Hi, Eve
Rose here from yesterday, thank you very much for the Birthday message, I wasn't expecting you to read it let alone reply but I was looking for Coops kids Birthday fluff specifically. It doesn't matter if you don't have time however as I don't want to be a bother.
Hello Rose, and happy (belated) 20th birthday! Sorry for the wait--I really wanted to get this one right to celebrate such an important number. I hope your day was absolutely fantastic! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is an OC
Combined with asks for Sirius lightly making fun of Remus' accent and Remus yelling at a game show (@nazar4114)
“Medusa!” Stella shouted with all the force in her thirteen-year-old lungs. Remus leaned forward on the couch. “Medusa!”
The front door opened with a creak. “I’m h—”
“Yes!” they cheered in unison as Nicole answered correctly. Remus turned and gave Stella a double high-five, feeling his heart squeeze at the vivid joy on her round face. “Good guess.”
“I knew she was gonna get it,” Stella said with a pump of her fist as she turned back to the show and folded her legs underneath her.
“Gonna,” a familiar deep voice mimicked from the doorway. Paper bags rustled before footsteps stopped behind the couch; Remus tilted his chin up without sparing a glance, and Sirius pressed a laugh-laced kiss to his cheek before dropping one on Stella’s head as well. “You sound too much like your dad.”
“Love you, too,” Remus said wryly.
“I’ll take ‘Myths and Moths’ for 400, please.” Nicole’s voice snapped his attention back to the screen, and Stella narrowed her eyes.
“Daily Double!” the automated voice announced. Stella gasped; Remus bit his lower lip. “This mythical shield was wielded by Athena, and is sometimes said to be made of goat skin.”
“Aegis,” Stella whispered, then raised her voice. “It’s the Aegis, Nicole. You know this.”
“We know you do,” Remus said, scooting forward. “You just guessed whose head is on it.”
Nicole’s buzzer went off with two seconds to spare. “What is the Aegis?”
“Hell yeah!” Stella whooped.
Remus turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse you.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you two going to do this the whole afternoon?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, obviously amused. “We might need to get the neighbors some noise-cancelling headphones.”
Stella blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes as she flopped her head back. “It’s almost final Jeopardy, papa. We have, like, ten minutes.”
Sirius blinked at her, then shook his head. “I swear you two share genes.”
“Ope, you caught me,” Remus said over the noise of the commercial break. “When I was 20 and had literally never left Wisconsin, I went and had a secret kid in Maine who looks terribly like you just so that someone would watch Jeopardy reruns with me thirteen years later. Oops.”
“It’s the truth,” Stella said with great gravity. “I remember.”
“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t keep a smile down. He had never been able to hide around Stella, not once in the three years since they had adopted her. It was one of the things Remus loved most about him. “By the way, nobody under the age of fourteen is allowed in the kitchen for the next…hour. Ish.”
Stella squirmed around until she could rest her arms on the back of the couch. “What if I get thirsty?”
“I’m sure you can invoke birthday privileges and ask your dad to get something for you.”
“Birthday privileges?” Remus scoffed. “Nobody in this house has a birthday today. Yours was last month, and mine’s in March.”
“It’s my birthday,” Stella said.
“What? No, it’s not.”
“Yeah-huh.”
“Your birthday is in June.”
“It’s today.”
“Or maybe July?”
“It’s today, in December, when there’s snow,” she insisted, throwing herself back against the pillows. “Come on, dad, that’s not funny anymore.”
Remus raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody too old to find their poor old dad amusing now? Can you go back to being twelve so somebody will laugh at my jokes again? I know, I know, we're super lame compared to all your friends’ parents—”
“So lame,” Sirius agreed from the kitchen.
“—but I like to think we get one more year of pre-teen cuteness before the teen angst takes over.”
Stella sat up again with a groan. Looking at her, Remus saw a mix of himself and Sirius that had always baffled him, considering they had adopted her comparatively late in her life; beneath it was something uniquely Stella. Maybe it was her double-jointed elbows, or the board-straightness of her hair next to their curls, but there was no mistaking that she was her own person through and through. He loved that about her. “I’m not going to be a terrible teenager.”
Sirius poked his head around the edge of the kitchen—his nose was adorned with a smudge of flour. “Can I record that for future use?”
“Non.”
“Ooo, using the French,” Remus hissed. “That transformation is already beginning.”
“It’s not like you were bad teenagers, right?” She settled upside-down on the couch with her flamingo-patterned socks high in the air.
“I almost convinced Grandma to let me dye my hair blue, but otherwise I was pretty good.”
“I was terrible,” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t talk to anybody for a solid three years.”
Stella frowned. “How? I think I’d die if I did that.”
“He’s stubborn,” Remus stage-whispered.
“I heard that.”
Stella suppressed her laughter as best she could, but she was about as good at hiding her emotions around them as Sirius was. She didn’t really giggle—the amount her voice had deepened over the past three years always gave Remus whiplash—but her laugh had the same cadence as it did the first day they heard it. While Stella had been quiet at first, it only took love and time to bring her out of her shell. Within a year she settled into their lives like she was always meant to be there.
A thoughtful look crossed her face. “This is my last year before high school.”
“Does it feel different?”
“Not really.” She paused, then shrugged. “And a little. I don’t feel older. It just feels like there’s stuff I won’t get to do anymore.”
“And a lot more you will get to do.” Sirius left his dishtowel on the counter before joining them on Stella’s other side. “You can drive soon, you’ll get a longer curfew, you get more freedom…”
“I guess.”
“What are you going to miss?” Remus asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. It was a basic Lions FAN jersey; he was fairly sure she bought it to be ironic. That, and she only wore one of theirs if she was upset with the other, or if one needed a boost at a game.
“I dunno.” A few beats of silence passed. “My classmates. My team. It feels like everything’s going to turn upside down.”
“You can still keep in touch with your friends, and I bet your team won’t be too different,” Sirius said quietly. “Even if it does, that doesn’t mean you have to give all of them up. People change in different ways. They come and go on their own time.”
“There’s going to be a lot of upside-downs over the next couple years, kid.” Remus offered her a smile. “But you’re going to be just fine.”
“You two sound like such dads right now.”
“This might shock you, but that’s because we are.”
The corner of her mouth tugged up and she lolled her head to the side to look at Sirius. “Is the cake done?”
“Fifteen more minutes.”
“Will you watch final Jeopardy with us?”
“What’s the category?”
“US Presidents.”
Sirius exhaled through his nose, but nodded. She grinned and turned herself upright to snuggle against his arm. “You just enjoy watching me lose.”
---------------------------
“Alright, is everyone ready?” Sirius called from the kitchen.
“On three,” Remus said, raising his phone camera. “One, two, three!”
“Happy birthday to you,” over a dozen voices sang. They were off-tempo and so out of key the composer was probably spinning in his grave, but Stella’s clear joy didn’t waver for a millisecond even as her cheeks reddened. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Stella, happy birthday to you!”
Finn, of course, dragged out the last note. So did Leo, Logan, Kasey, James, Lily, and Talker in varying degrees of awful harmony attempts. It was terrible, and beautiful. “Make a wish,” Sirius said softly as he set the cake down and stepped back. His eyes were the brightest quicksilver Remus had seen in many moons.
Stella closed her eyes, took a breath, and blew as hard as she could—the entire room erupted into cheers when all the candles went out. She was laughing and blushing at the same time when Remus turned the lights back on, though the humor won out in the end and she helped pass plates of cake to her many aunts and uncles. Like every year prior, Regulus managed to smear a bit of frosting on her chin, only to immediately deny it with great offense when she noticed. It was becoming a bit of a tradition—one that Remus never grew tired of.
I know what I would wish for, Remus thought as he looked around the table at their patchwork family. Celeste, Dumo, and his own parents had no doubt spoiled their first grandchild with ‘cusp of adulthood’ gifts, and Natalie and Lily would certainly steal her away after cake for some girl time. Finn and Logan would remain the fun uncles while Leo and Regulus kept their thrones as the cool uncles; Stella would interrogate Jules on the intricacies of high school for at least an hour before they destroyed everyone in a snowball fight. The world they built together had a place for everyone.
I would wish for this. This, for us, forever. It wasn’t a bad eternity to imagine.
#remus lupin#sirius black#coops#coops kid#stella#lions#regulus black#my fic#fanfic#sweater weather#vaincre#lumosinlove#birthday party
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please scenario where him and his s/o have been besties with toby since they met as proxies when they were young and when they meet up later in life they confess 🙏🏻🙏🏻
Parking Lots, and Surrounded By Your Group and His
[Ticci Toby X GN!Reader]
[Warnings: mentions of death? Nothing major though.]
[AN: I changed the prompt,,,, ever so slightly,,,????]
When the crickets sing in the grass and the breeze is warm and gentle, Toby can’t help but be reminded of a simpler time when he would spend his afternoons catching bugs and eating ice cream on the front lawn with you. He can still hear your laughter as the sun begins to slowly sink below the horizon before the fireflies begin to make their appearance.
He used to spend hours on said front lawn catching them with you, listening to you speak and interjecting with his own jokes. The two of you always had such a grand time together, even when his father would angrily call him back into the house.
Toby didn’t know what love was when he was young, but only that he had it. Every little touch you gave him, the smiles and giggles, they were all small micro expressions of some kind of love - as much love as a child could give. Toby didn’t know how much he adored you. Growing up, the two of you had grown closer and closer. He saw you blossom into a young adult alongside him. Well, he didn’t really blossom, but more so choked his way into being a young adult. And you were by his side for it all, even the hardest, darkest days.
When he lost his mother and sister, he called you in a panic, his voice rough like sandpaper and creaking like wood. He was frantic, unable to form proper sentences. You threw out your evening plans and hopped in your car, driving like a mad man over to his house, ready to console him. The air felt still, cold and slightly clammy as you drove nearer and nearer to his house.
There, on the front porch waiting for you, head in his hands and tears drenching his form was Toby, unable to process the world and everything and everyone in it. He looked so broken and downtrodden as he clutched at his clothes tighter, rocking himself and hugging what physical part of him he could.
Your heart tore into pieces as you parked, then rushed out of the vehicle to hold him. “Toby, Toby!” You called out, tears welling in your eyes as you bounded up to the distraught boy.
He furrowed his eyebrows and blinked away more tears, letting out a strained sob as he picked himself up off the rickety wooden porch, meeting you part of the way. He felt the breath leave his lungs as you crashed into his arms, burying your face into his chest.
“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled like a mantra into his chest, letting him hold you tighter and tighter to the point you couldn’t breathe.
Toby didn’t let you go that night.
The last time he saw you was in the parking lot of your high school. Toby had been grieving the loss of his mother and sister, becoming more and more withdrawn into himself. He’d honestly been withdrawing from you as well, and that concerned you more than anything. So, to remedy this, you took matters into your own hands and forced him to meet you in the parking lot after school.
The two of you sat down on the hood of your car, talking about the world and its wonders and the things that are better left unsaid until late, late in the night.
Toby felt so at home in your presence that he was able to block out the voices for just a little longer. He reveled in the sound of your laughter and the presence of your being. He was just… Lighter than air to be with you.
But all good things must come to an end, and unfortunately, your parents desiring you home had brought the time the two of you shared together to an end.
“I love you, Tobes, you know that right?” You murmured as you hugged him for what you didn’t know was your final time.
“O-Of course I d-d-do,” he whispered back, nose burying into your hair. “I l-love you,” he said, tears threatening to spill once more.
The two of you remained in each other’s embrace before you parted from him, and he let you go for the final time.
And Toby felt alone, oh so alone.
So alone that he burnt down the village to feel its warmth.
There’s only been like, three moments in Toby’s life when he’s been surprised. The first being meeting you as a child, the second being the loss of the two most important women of his life, and the third? Being taken into the arms of the Operator.
He’s a proxy now, does his job well, and is with a group that sometimes tolerates him. He’s in a better place than when he was a child under his father’s roof.
“We’re going to work with another group tonight,” Masky says, a slight sigh lingering on his lips.
“W-Who are they?”
“You know Wallace, don’t you?” Hoodie suddenly cuts in.
Toby nods. He likes Ruth and Nyein, the other two he can live without.
“They got a new proxy,” Masky continues. “And they want us to take them for the evening. So, I guess we’re only working with their runt,” Masky finishes more to himself than anyone else. He brushes his fingers through his hair and pats his pocket for the car keys. “C’mon, might as well head over. Gonna be a bit of a drive.”
Toby glances over his shoulder at Kate, who is watching reruns of Judge Judy and slowly nodding off. “And s-s-she gets o-off scott f-free?” He teases lightly as he stands up, pushing his chair in across the checkered floor. He cracks his neck loudly before walking over to the sofa, his gloved hand rustling Kate’s hair.
She sleepily laughs. “Have fun and be safe, boys.”
“Get some sleep,” Masky chuckles, watching as Hoodie rustles her hair just as Toby did before heading out.
Toby zoned out a bit on the car ride to wherever the meeting place was. He always tended to zone out, but he couldn’t shake some weird buzzing in the back of his head. Something about the way Masky and Hoodie are talking about Wallace’s newest runt…
He doesn’t often remember things from his life before he became a proxy. The Operator made sure of that so he wouldn’t be too heartbroken to continue his job. But he’s always been able to remember you - more or less. Little glimpses, the feelings associated, you were never easy to get rid of.
Instead of mentally traumatizing him further, the Operator allowed him to keep his thoughts and feelings associated with you. Most days, Toby’s dim love for you spurred him forward.
“Time to go meet a runt,” Hoodie says, voice only slightly amused by the way the word ‘runt’ rolls off his tongue.
Masky parks the car and then shoves the keys into his pocket, nodding that it’s okay for everyone to get out of the car.
Toby stretches briefly in his seat before sliding out of the car, taking in the crisp night air. He takes a gander at his surroundings for a moment before locking eyes on a group of people. Wallace and his group - Toby narrows his eyes at the two men before catching Ruth and Nyein. His favorite proxy that’s not part of his group and his favorite independent other than Jeff and EJ. How nice.
Masky begins to walk over to meet the other group leader with Toby and Hoodie close behind. He looks tired, which is usual for him, but happy to see that Nyein is excitedly waving. “Heard you had a runt for us?”
“Sure do,” Theo says, looking over his shoulder. “C’mon out, they’re not going to bite you.”
“What, are they scared of us?” Hoodie chuckles as he puts his hands into his pockets. He glances past Theo to see a dark shape moving in the backseat of the car.
“It’s like, their first day working with people that aren’t us,” Wallace attempts to explain. “And from what we can gather, they only entered this life because of-”
“Toby.”
The name that pours from your lips sends Toby’s head and heart spinning. “E-Excuse me?” He barely manages to choke out as you step forward, pushing aside Wallace and Theo, looking at the much taller man with stars in your eyes.
“Oh my gods, Toby, is that you?” You whisper, still walking forward to meet him like a dream.
Toby’s eyes widen as he looks at you, no, stares you down. You look so much different than when he let you go as a teen - you’re all grown up now! Some things have changed about you, but other things have stayed the same.
Both your group and Toby’s give each other confused looks as if to ask the other if they knew about this before you rush forward, face planting into Toby’s chest.
He takes in a sharp breath and embraces you, laughter bubbling up from his throat. He takes in your sweet scent and picks you up, moving you from the group as he begins to twirl you and babble on about how much he missed you.
You giggle, tears falling like drops of rain from your eyes before you feel yourself planting back down into the parking lot, your attention focused on him and no one else. Your stomach is fluttering with butterflies as you look up at the teary eyed man. “How have you been?” You ask quietly, closing your eyes as Toby leans down slightly to rest his forehead against yours.
“Never better.”
#ticci toby#ticci toby x reader#ticci toby headcanon#ticci toby scenario#creepypasta#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta scenario#x reader#reader insert#fluff#loki fluff
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The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 8
Word Count: 1879
Warning: trigger - hunting, and demeaning verbal abuse.
A/N thanks again to my beautiful @sillyrabbit81 for your editing and @amberangel112 for your encouragement.
Chapter 8
Henry could not understand why Jessie was still considering going out with this jerk. He huffed at Joe’s words and was pleasantly surprised at Tom’s reaction. Pleased to have someone in his corner, he nuzzled into the young man’s arms. It felt nice, an odd feeling of loss and regret pulled at his soul. He hadn’t seen his nephew in five years, he would be fifteen years old now four years younger than Tom. Memories of their last time together flooded his mind, the feel of his hands running through his fur. Even then he had refused to change, sadly his nephew had never known him in Human form.
The packhouse was large, made of local stone it would be considered menacing to outsiders. But for those invited in, it was a house filled with love. They had found Henry and his nephew Adam just outside their forest line, half-starved, dehydrated and desperate for care. The pack doctor had tended to Henry whilst one of the pack's mothers had shared her milk with the little pup. Adam had captured the mother’s heart and at Henry’s approval had adopted him into the pack. Henry had grieved the loss of his only kin but been so grateful to them. He knew he could not look after the little one, not with his heartbroken in pieces.
Over the next ten years, he had come and gone from the house checking up on Adam, watched as he grew strong, not only physically, but emotionally he had developed into a beautiful soul. Their last time together they had sat just like he was now with Tom. He had curled up next to Adam, his head in his lap, Adams fingers running through his fur. “I wish you could change for me Uncle, I see all the other dads and sons playing together and I love the idea that when I change next year we can run together. Then I can finally talk to you and hear your voice back. But I want to know what you look like, to be able to hug you like I see that others hug their dads.” His face had added to Henry’s grief looking so heartbroken and longingly at him. He had tried at that moment, had attempted to honour his request but his human side was so lost, hidden in pain. He had left the house that day, knowing even if it broke his heart, he needed to let his nephew grow with his new pack and not be held back by him.
Now nestled against Tom he regretted that decision. He heard a chuckle soft and happy. “Well look at you two. I would never have guessed Wolfy could be so comfortable with another human. I haven’t seen him like that with anyone except with me. What’s your secret Tom?” Her bright eyes landed on Tom who had continued to scratch behind Henry’s ears.
“I don’t know Miss Jessie, but I have always loved wolves, well any kind of animal really but especially wolves.”
She seemed thoughtful as she eyed them both making Henry wonder what she had planned. “Tom, are you free tonight? I have a date and I really don’t want to leave Wolfy alone again.” Henry felt Tom stiffen. Wondering what was wrong with the request, he moved his head to look up at the boy.
A brief look of disapproval flashed in his eyes before they softened as he looked down and saw Henry watching him. “Yes, Miss Jessie. I would love to spend more time with this beautiful boy.” Internally he chuckled at Tom’s words, if only he knew he was twelve years older than him.
That afternoon Henry, Jessie and Tom spent out in the garden. Tom seemed to fit beautifully into their friendship group kneeling beside Jessie as they planted new flowers and shrubs where they had pulled up the weeds. Together, Henry dug the holes, Tom placed the plants and held them in place whilst Jessie filled the soil around them. Henry enjoyed hearing the light conversation between his Mate and his new friend until it became heavier. “So, Tom, when did you begin to love wolves? I know your father traps them, so I’m interested as to why you don’t follow his belief.”
Tom continued to work, as a gentle hum was heard working up from his throat. “I know why Dad does it, although I don’t think he is correct. He blames the wolves for his loss of cattle, but I haven’t seen that many around. The wild dogs are more to blame but he won't listen. They have a group that meet purely to discuss the wolf problem, but in my whole life, the only large group I have seen was back when I was four. It’s the first and last time Dad allowed me to come to a hunting party. Mom was horrified that he was taking me, but I wanted so much to be with Dad, and he wanted me to be just like him.”
Henry shuddered as the boy spoke as if by some force of nature, he knew that he was about to hear what had happened that day. He also sensed the grief radiating off the boy, wanting to calm him he pushed his body into Tom’s side. Nuzzling his head as if to say, “It's ok, I’m here for you.” Tom let out a heavy chuckle as if he had heard Henry’s voice.
He sat back looking down at Henry as he spoke, “Thanks Wolfy, you would think that I would not remember something that happened that long ago, but it's imprinted in my mind. They had been tracking a pack that had only just entered the area, convinced the rest of the ranchers that they were a risk to our lively hood, that we couldn’t let them nest here. So, the best of their marksman left, when we found them all, sitting around a tree, curled up sleeping, all I wanted to do was go play with the cuddly animals. Dad kept pulling me back holding me still and quiet. I didn’t understand until the loud bangs began.”
Tom’s voice wobbled at this point and Jessie who had been silent up till this time also came closer. She pulled him into her side, her arm encasing his thin body as his shoulders began to shake. “I started screaming as I saw a single wolf with a baby on its back running away, Dad aimed for it but I managed to push the barrel up making him miss. I got the thrashing of my life that night. I couldn’t sit for a week, but it was worth it. I was never allowed to come again after that, not that I wanted to. It took a while, but Dad eventually began to trust me enough to check the traps. I am glad too because it meant I could help this fella.”
Jessie held the boy as his sobs subsided. Henry was trying to hold his anger in, these were the people who had destroyed his family. And yet this one boy had not only saved him once but twice, his gratitude was the only thing stopping him from wanting to go rip the throats out of the group. Ignorance and fear were the driving forces that ended his family, if only they knew the wolves would only ever take a sick animal, and sometimes the young, never the strength of the herd. They would never kill without need. But the wild dogs he had seen were giving us a bad name.
Jessie's voice interrupted his thoughts, the softness not hiding the grief in her own. “Was that near here Tom?” How did Jessie know?
“Yes, Miss Jessie, by the tall tree in the middle of the forest.”
She silently picked up the tools, both animal and human watching her, wondering what she was thinking. Sighing she stood up, “Come, it’s getting dark and I need to get ready for this date.” She walked silently back into the house. The boy and the wolf looked at each other before both followed.
Jessie fixed dinner for Tom and Henry then left to dress, leaving the pair to their own devices. Tom seemed quiet after revealing his early childhood trauma and Henry was eager to help calm the boy. After eating, he plodded into the living room, jumped up on the couch and yipped in Tom’s direction. Chuckling, Tom responded, “You want to watch some TV boy?” Nuzzling the remote, he yipped eagerly hoping to distract the boy from his thoughts.
Tom settled next to him and picked up the remote, they settled on watching a rerun of M.A.S.H before they both heard the clicking of heels and the rapping of knuckles on the front door. Open-mouthed both Henry and Tom sat dumbstruck as Jessie walked down the stairs in a light yellow sundress her dark hair flowing softly twisted into waves. “Wow Miss Jessie, you look amazing” got in first before Henry followed with his eager Yip. Giggling Jessie smiled softly at them both, “Ok I won't be out late, but even so, don’t get up to any mischief”
This caused both Henry and Tom to laugh, one sounding more like a series of yips. The door opened and closed and Jessie was gone. Together the two sat, watched movies and shared some popcorn that Tom had found in the pantry. Just as the end of a Witcher episode finished they heard yelling coming from outside. “I don’t give a dam Boyd, you had no right to hit that poor man, It was an accident.” The front door opened as Jessie stormed inside, the front of her dress had a brown stain down the side of her skirt.
Next Boyd came crashing into the room his face red as he reached out to grab Jessie's arm, this caused Henry to jump into action his snarl reaching the ears of the big man before he saw the wolf racing towards him. Jumping back almost stumbling over the kitchen chair Boyd’s face grew hotter, “Keep that mutt controlled Jessie otherwise I’ll control him for you with my shot Gun.”
The air went still as Henry felt Jessies and Tom's hands on him, “That is enough Boyd Hatfield, you are no longer welcome in this home. Get. Out!” Surprise filled Boyd’s face as he not only recognised Tom but registered his marching orders. Menace replaced the look of surprise, “Listen here little girl, you better watch that attitude of yours. I’ll allow you to cool off but we are not finished talking, and if you value the life of that mutt you will do as your told.” Punctuating the statement with a nod of his head he turned and strolled out the door.
Heart pounding he turned looking up at Jessie who seemed to have lost her speech, her face pale and her hands shaking. Tom moved swiftly pulling her into his arms as she began to cry, frustrated that it wasn’t his arms holding her, Henry pushed his body against her to show he was there, but inside he was furious. That man had threatened not just himself but Jessie, but he had to focus on her right now, she was more important no matter how much he wanted to go after him.
Chapter 9
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hq!! dads and their kid’s first step
- characters: sakusa, suna, ushijima, bokuto, aran
- warnings: nunnn
- wc: 229, 226, 215, 290, 350
a/n: another day another hq dads post
SAKUSA
#! “ok...almost there..you can do it, c’mon. straight to dada,” he cooed sitting 5 inches away from his baby who was wobbling on her short, chubby legs
#! sakusa and the team got a day off to rest and he was currently sitting crisscrossed on the carpeted living room floor
#! she gargled something in response, her tiny fists wrapped around his long fingers
#! there was a bit of drool around her lips from all of her garbling, but sakusa didn’t pay it any attention since he’ll wipe it off later
#! his main goal for now is to get his daughter to walk to him by herself even if she ends up falling after her third step
#! he picked her up from under her armpits and placed her onto her feet away from his legs once again
#! he slowly pries her tightly coiled fingers off of his but leaves his hand out to catch her once she gets close
#! “one more time, baby. you got it, one foot at a time, one-,” he counts as she takes her first step, “two-,” the other foot, “three!” and finally her third step, reaching his lap and plopping herself down
#! sakusa had a big smile on his face, pearly whites showing, as he cradles her into his arm and takes his phone out to facetime you
SUNA
#! his phone was actually out and recording when it happened
#! you weren’t home, so suna wanted to record him and the baby playing so he can show you later once you guys are in bed
#! the phone was propped up horizontally against the coffee table leg, suna’s bottom half and outstretched legs with the bouncing baby on his thigh can be seen in frame
#! “stop squirming, you squirm too much.” he whines as he tries to keep the baby in place so she didn’t fall over
#! as if she understood him, she responded with her own whine and crawled out of his hold before leaning against his side
#! “what are you doing?” he squints his eyes at her as he watches her slowly stand up on wobbly legs while tightly gripping onto his shirt and bicep to hold her balance
#! “woah, careful, bug.” his eyes slightly widened seeing her stand herself up, his other hand immediately reaching over to hold onto her waist so she was even more stable
#! she giggles as she lets go of him, effectively scaring the life out of suna, and her tiny legs rushed towards the phone
#! he watched in shock and horror as he just witnessed his daughter walking for the first time
#! yea, suna doesn’t like this parenting thing
USHIJIMA
#! he was watching some volleyball reruns on the television while his son was playing on the floor with plushies
#! ushijima felt a light impact at his leg making him look down to see a cat plushie knocked onto its side as a result of being bounced off of his calf
#! he picks it up and looks up at his son, who was playing with his other plushies as if he didn’t notice the cat plushie was missing, ushijima cleared his throat catching his attention
#! “he walked over here. i think he’s lost. here you go.” he plays along with his son. ushijima’s not boring, he’s just blunt, but he can be fun in his own way
#! ushijima reached his arm out to give the cat plushie back, he scooted forward to get closer but froze when he saw his son hastily move to stand up
#! “don’t do-,” ushijima launched towards him, because to his knowledge his son couldn’t walk yet, but he cut off when he saw him shakily taking two steps before falling down
#! “oh. you just walked. you’re a fast learner, just like me.” ushijima had a soft smile as he picks up his son to sit him in his lap to play with his plushies
BOKUTO
#! bokuto wanted to play hide and seek, but the only problem was that there were only two people currently in the apartment, and one of them still couldn’t count nor walk
#! so he did what every responsible dad would do, leave the baby on the couch while he runs off to the other side of the room
#! “come and get me!” bokuto exclaimed, eyes wide and shining, his hands forming fists excitedly moving up and down
#! his baby made a noise while she stares blankly at her dad. even though she got his naturally energetic golden eyes, sometimes it looks like she could use a break
#! bokuto knows his baby girl can’t walk. he knows she can’t get off of the couch alone and run her way over to him. he wasn’t expecting her to do any of that, he just wanted to hear her giggle
#! so why is he currently watching his daughter roll herself off of the couch looking like she made it her mission to get to him
#! “ah!!! don’t fall!!” he yelps, taking 3 wide steps to reach her
#! bokuto did catch her before her bum could touch the floor but she squirmed her little body out of his hold to hold onto his shoulders while she stands in between his legs
#! “don’t scare daddy like that ever aga-,” she cuts him off with a devious giggle making him quirk an eyebrow up, keeping his eye on her. she lets go and takes four quick steps away from him but her leg quickly gave up
#! “oh my god!!?” bokuto’s mouth opened in shock, but that shock didn’t last very long, “you can walk!!!?!! do it again!!!”
ARAN
#! “alright, someone’s giddy to stand up.” aran’s deep voice mixes with his chuckles as he holds up his daughter who was nibbling on her tiny fist
#! “are ya gonna start walking soon, sweetheart? we don’t wanna be beat by everyone else, now do we?” he jokes to her. aran and the former inarizaki team all have their own kids now — except akagi who was last to the game but is currently expecting — no one has ever actually said it, but they’re all competing to see whose kids start walking first
#! atsumu didn’t get to join because he got a kid way before everyone else and was sad about it saying he was being left out, he still likes to boast that his daughter’s the winner though in his book
#! aran was holding her by the waist bouncing her as she stands on his thigh, her white pjs perfectly fitting to keep her warm
#! “when ya’re ready to walk, just let me know.” he pries her fist out of her mouth because saliva was starting to get all over it, eliciting a small whine from her
#! “noo, that’s bad for ya, angel. i know ya’re teething, here, chew on this,” he looks around for her teething toy, spying it on the coffee table safely in its clean container
#! he placed her down to go grab the toy, not thinking much of it since he was just going to quickly grab it from the table and return
#! coming back, he was about to bend back down to take a seat but as he was doing so, she used it to her advantage and grabbed onto the hem of his shirt to pull herself up
#! “ahhh, are ya walking?! oh my god. oh my god. wait, don’t fall. ah!” panicking, he quickly grabs onto her before she fell flat on her face
#! “it’s alright, i got ya.” he laughs at her wide-eyed expression from how fast he picked her up. “let’s go brag to everyone about what ya just accomplished, baby.”
#sunas ending is a joke!!!!#i promise he loves his baby#written with love - ar#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#sakusa imagines#suna imagines#ushijima imagine#bokuto imagine#aran imagines#sakusa headcanons#suna headcanons#ushijima headcanons#bokuto headcanons#aran headcanons#sakusa scenarios#suna scenarios#ushijima scenarios#bokuto scenarios#aran scenarios#haikyuu dads#sakusa fluff#suna fluff#ushijima fluff#bokuto fluff#aran fluff#haikyuu
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Another love by Tom Odell. Tell me that Bucky wouldn't send this to his girl when things were getting difficult for him emotionally
ANOTHER LOVE
a/n: no idea if this was meant to be a prompt but i couldn't stop thinking about it so i wrote it lmao
pairing: Bucky X Reader
word count: 1.9k
masterlist
Life hasn’t been the fairytale either of you deserved. Things just don’t turn out as perfect as they to in movies and sometimes you fall for the wrong person, too deep probably, and it makes you feel like you will never find the right one.
After everything Bucky had been through he fell for a woman for the first time in decades and though he put all his faith in her, she wasn’t the right person for him. He was ready to give her everything he had and love her with all his heart, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t deserve it. Leaving him heartbroken when she left, thinking that maybe loving someone and be loved by someone is just not meant to happen to him.
Then you came into his life.
Being a nurse working beside Dr. Cho at the Tower, you ended up stitching him up quite a lot following his missions. Bruises, cuts, even bullet holes, you’ve seen them all on his body and though Bucky hated to appear vulnerable, you somehow made him feel at ease when you were cleaning him up, humming whatever song you had stuck in your head that week.
You bonded over music from day one. As a person who likes all kinds and genres, you were his number one source when it came to modern music. You made him Spotify playlists every week, making him listen to the best songs in your opinion and he listened to them all. Not just because they really were good songs but because he was ready to do anything you asked him to. You had him wrapped around your finger in a blink of an eye, but when things were about to take a turn, he backed out. At first, you just thought you misread the signs and that he didn’t even like you like that. But then you heard Banner and Nat talk about how Bucky keeps talking about you and that everyone in the Tower thinks that he is in love with you. So instead of letting him get away with it, you confronted him.
That was when he told you about the woman that hurt him before. The way she broke his heart and made him think that he is not worthy of being loved. And you listened to his every word patiently, though you wanted to smack that woman so badly for hurting such a wonderful man.
“Just because she couldn’t appreciate your love, it doesn’t mean that you are not worthy of receiving or giving love. Because you are,” you told him as your hands reached for his metal one, taking it between your palms. You knew how insecure he felt about it and you wanted him to know that you loved every part of him, even the ones that wasn’t entirely made of him.
“I don’t know if I’m the right guy for you, Y/N,” he shook his head, doubting his worth once again.
“You are, because I want you. And I know that you’ll try your best to be the right guy for me even though you already are,” you chuckles and reaching up you cupped his face in your palm.
That day you made a silent promise to take it slow and just find your own pace with each other. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, loving is already complicated enough, but Bucky’s state of mind was an even messier issue. However you refused to give up on him.
Weeks went by and your usual routine started to change slowly. Bucky didn’t only come to see you when he had an injury to take care of, you went on dates or just hung out after your shift. You were always there when he returned from a mission and he never let you leave the Tower without him, he always walked you home, even if he had work to do.
Everything seemed to be on track. Right until one stupid fight ruined everything.
Sam always had a flirty manner in his act. He liked to chit-chat, compliment you, but it was always just friendly. However, when one day he and Bucky returned from a mission, both of them with quite a few injuries, they ended up under your hands as you worked on their wounds, cleaning and bandaging them.
“Darling, your hands are gifts from God,” Sam sighed when you applied a cooling gel to one of his burns before you covered the injured skin. “Or maybe you are an angel yourself,” he then added, making you chuckle.
“Stop it, I’m just doing my job.”
“And you are so damn good in it. I’m one lucky man,” he grinned at you, but before you could say a word, Bucky jumped off the stool beside him and marched out of the room as if he was just triggered into being the winter soldier again. The door shut close behind him, he walked out without even glancing in your way and he left you all confused. You exchanged a look with Sam before you finished up his wounds and mumbling an apology you went after the grumpy soldier that just left.
Stepping out of the room you spotted him at the end of the hallway, sitting all by himself.
“Hey, why did you leave?” you asked, sitting next to him.
“No reason,” he answered without even looking at you, keeping his gaze at the tiled floor.
“That’s so not true. I know something is wrong. Please, just talk to me!” you pleaded, placing a hand to his arm, but his eyes snapped at it right away and made you think you did something wrong.
“I was just not in the mood to listen to Sam flirting with you,” he hissed.
“Then why didn’t you just tell him to stop?” you asked, knitting your eyebrows together.
“Because… I don’t have the right to act all possessive over you.”
Technically, he was right. You weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, but everyone in the Tower knew you were something. You wanted him to be possessive, to make men stop flirting with you because he thought of you as his. You were so close to it too, but now you felt like you were going backwards again.
“Well, you can easily have the right, Bucky. You know that,” you told him, praying he would take the desperate hint you’d been trying to send him these past weeks.
“Y/N, stop,” he breathed out, closing his eyes.
“Why? Would it be so hard to be more than just friends? Am I not good enough for you?” you asked, speaking thoughts you’ve been harboring these past times even though your rationality knew they weren’t true.
“You know that’s not the case!” he snapped, standing from his seat so you did the same. “It’s me, Y/N. I’m the problem and you know that.”
“You are not a problem, Bucky! How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m not the one who broke your heart, I want to be whatever you need me to be, Bucky, but you are shutting me out! I’m getting tired of telling you the same thing over and over again, because you don’t seem to be listening!” you replied angrily, letting out all the pent up tension you’ve been carrying around. “I feel like I’m talking to a wall, you just keep ignoring what I’m saying. And I want to be patient with you, I would do anything to make you happy, but I can’t do this if you don’t cooperate with me.”
You turned around and marched back into the room before he could say a word, leaving him completely stunned and in panic that he is losing you.
That day you went home without him for the first time in months. Not because he wasn’t there to walk you home, Bucky waited for you at the hall, but then he was informed that you left early. It was a clear message to him that he needed to get his shit together if he didn’t want to lose you.
Eating all your feelings away, you sat on your couch that night with your favorite ice-cream, watching reruns on TV, hoping to take your mind off of a blue eyed soldier, but you didn’t succeed. He was all you could think about and the thought of losing him made you want to cry yourself to sleep and never wake up.
When your phone’s screen lit up with a message, you were shocked to see a text from Bucky. Only that no words were in it, just a link that led you to a song on Spotify.
Another Love by Tom Odell.
Even though you knew the song well, you still listened to it, tears rolling down your cheeks as you focused on the lyrics, because you knew it had a message from Bucky. A quite emotional one. You listened to it again and again as the singer sang about feeling like he put way too much of his energy into another love and that he fears that he won’t love his current one the way she deserves. You knew that this was exactly how Bucky felt like, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to give you everything you wanted because he had been hurt so badly before and it broke your heart to know that he was ready to live a lonely life because of his misbeliefs.
Eager to see him as soon as possible, you grabbed your bag and was about to head out, but when you tore the door open you found the man you were looking for already standing on your doormat.
“Bucky!” you breathed out with teared up eyes. “How long have you been standing here?” you asked, holding the door open for him to come in.
“Since you started listening to the song,” he answered with a soft, tired smile. “Like a hundred times,” he then added, making you chuckle even through your tears. “Y/N, I’m sorry for the way I acted today. It’s just so hard for me to put myself out there again. I know that you’re not her, that you’re different, but still, I can’t help but think that it will happen again,” he told you, his voice dying down at the end. Stepping closer you cupped his face in your hands as you stared back at him.
“Putting yourself out is never easy, but you have to do it sooner or later, Bucky. And I promise you, I won’t do the same thing that she did. She didn’t deserve your love, she didn’t deserve you. Don’t punish yourself for her faults,” you pleaded as he leant into your touch, his eyes fluttering closer, his thick eyelashes fanning on top of his skin under his eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” he whispered, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer to him.
“You are not a mess,” you shook your head. “But even if you are, we can be a mess together,” you chuckled and his eyes finally opened as a small smile stretched across his handsome face.
“That sounds good,” he nodded softly as he leant closer and rested his forehead against yours. “Will you wait for me? To fix myself so I can be the man you deserve?” he asked, so out of breath as if he just ran a marathon.
“I’ll be right here, listening to all our playlists until you’re ready,” you chuckled softly, as he smiled back at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek as a silent promise.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!
#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky oneshot#bucky one shot#sebastian stan oneshot
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