#and funny enough the annoyance and stress of me saying the same thing over and over again of 'no i dont wanna honor preorders'

[judithan-fr]

me on my accent thread: I don't run preorders or keep an individual pinglist for accents its too much to maintain, this is for fun, not a job

>posts new accent and pings gasp to try and make sure ppl are able to have time to get gems without worrying (as is stated in my faq and nearly every single pinging post I make)

some rando, every single time without fail: hey can i preorder a slot

>house smoking a cig dot png

[softesteshouten]

What if Kanaya killed Rose?

God, I don't know WHAT I'd do about that... but it'd certainly be fitting, considering everything.

Right now, we've got a Lalonde that's... not deserving of murder, but is certainly dipping into the Dirk mindset, thanks to her robotic counterpart in the Meat timeline.

For one thing that I've noticed, thanks to a nifty little site cataloguing the retcons in Squared, Rose's expression on 198 changed.

Preretcon vs

Postretcon

The vibe I remember getting from seeing these two women for the first time in a long time was one of dishevelment. One that spoke "oh my gods we're so fucking stressed", right?

Kanya still keeps that look.

Rose doesn't.

There's no concern written on that face anymore. There isn't a bit of worry or stress--well, okay.

No, there's stress written on there. Stress and annoyance.

One face speaks of "I want to calm down my wife. I'm in this with her, I want to figure this out just as much as she does."

The other speaks of "I want to figure out whats happening here, because this shouldn't be happening here, this is frustrating."

Which, of course, changes the tone of her words on that page too.

You think Kanaya realized that, once she heard Rose reveal a bit of her true colors?

Adding onto this post here, but do you think she thought back to that moment and realized her own wife's tone was off, upon recollection? Do you think she's not only asking this question to try and understand Rose, but to also understand and to pinpoint when exactly this woman stopped being her wife? And started being something else?

The character's faces in a picture say everything about how they speak in the textbox following. We don't have the necessary indicators anymore that we got from Candy and Meat. All we can rely on are the pictures (and the narrator if she pokes her damn head in again.)

I think it'd be bad, if Kanaya murdered Rose. I think it'd be an exciting direction for this story to go, but I think it'd be bad in a "we gotta help out our previous main characters and make them not be fucking shitty!" sense. Because if Candy!Rose continues to exist, then that's one less part that can become apart of Rosebot. That would be freeing her from this fake place, the same way Dirk freed himself way earlier.

Maybe she's gunning for that in the long run, since Rose was never truly depressed enough to actually kill herself. She needs someone else to do it. Provoke another person into killing her so she can leave this forsaken world and spend more time with her brother in a timeline that actually matters to her. She's never done it herself, not truly, not like Dirk has. She needs that extra hand, whether it be a bomb that sent her into the Godtier, or the bastard that killed her Mother. It certainly would be an interesting way to leave out of this timeline, could be a story she tells Dirk later. "I left that world by making my "wife" so mad that she ended up murdering me in cold blood. Funny, really."

Kanaya might already have plans to. Probably doesn't want to--that's her wife for christ's sake. But if it came down to it, if that woman pushed a couple more buttons, maybe. She's certainly never been opposed to solving things in a trollian way. Might even be one more thing Rose can lord over her later, if they ever met again.

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter two

summary; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough — now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle this. it would be fine. everything was great.

word count; 7,965

chapter notes; pack recruitment doesn’t go quite as smoothly as derek had hoped. the whole gang tries to help when isaac finds himself in a tight spot on the night of his first full moon.

masterlist

c h a p t e r   t w o

shape shifted

"Are you sure you guys have to lock me up? I mean, I feel like things are gonna be a lot easier tonight." Scott repeated optimistically for the third time.

Stiles rolled his eyes as the two of them headed down the hallway toward the locker room to get ready for their morning practice, tugging the strap of his backpack more firmly over his shoulder.

"Yeah.. I, uh- I'd love to believe you, Scott. But-"

"I'm serious." Scott insisted, "It's not like the last full moon. I don't feel the same."

"Oh? No wolfy urges?" Stiles started, "You're not feeling any urges to kiss your unbelievably attractive and now, might I remind you, ridiculously unavailable best friends?" He asked pointedly, wincing at the mere thought of the way Scott had made a move on Amber the month before. Flashes of pink lipgloss smeared over Scott’s lips, Amber’s wide hazel eyes and bruised knuckles, the angry words that had been shouted back and forth between Scott and himself, all still fresh in his mind.

"Are you describing Amber or yourself?" Scott asked with a grin, amused with his own joke.

"I'm not going to respond to that. Because it wasn't funny." Stiles stated before continuing, "How about the urge to maim and kill people? Like us? Your best friends?"

"I swear I don't have the urge to kiss and/or kill either of you." Scott promised as they walked through the door into the locker room.

"Y'know, you say that now-" Stiles disagreed quietly, "But then the full moon goes up and out come the fangs and the claws and there's a lot of howling and screaming and running everywhere, okay?" He rambled off quickly, gesturing emphatically with his hands as they approached his locker, "And it's very stressful on me. So, yes. We're still going to be locking you up."

"Okay, fine," Scott conceded, leaning against the end of the lockers, "But I do think I'm more in control now. Especially since things are so good with Allison-"

Stiles' face pinched up in annoyance, "Yeah, I'm aware of how good things are with Allison."

"They're really good." Scott repeated suggestively.

"I- Thank you. I know." Stiles muttered.

Scott grinned and raised his eyebrows in insinuation, "I mean like.. Really good.."

"Alright! I get it!" Stiles snapped, "Just, please. Shut the hell up before I get the urge to maim and kill myself."

Scott looked at his best friend in amusement, "Why're you so bitter, anyway? I texted Amber last night. So I know you were planning on sleeping at her place. Alone.." He hinted, "I mean, didn't you guys-"

"No, we didn't." Stiles told him, readjusting his backpack over his shoulder again agitatedly, "I- Which is fine. I've been in love with this girl for nine years. Waiting a little bit longer isn't gonna kill me, I just. It doesn't mean I don't want to. Really bad."

He sighed as his mind unhelpfully supplied him with the same image he'd thought back to a million times in the last 12 hours — Amber, in nothing but the thin lace of her underwear, shivering, smooth skin pebbled with goosebumps, the muscles in her stomach clenched from the cold-

"-Like, all I think about doing every second of every day, bad." He rambled on, huffing angrily when his eyes caught on Scott's smug face again, "And it would just be a whole lot easier if I weren't listening to you brag about your incredible sex life, alright?"

"Okay, okay." Scott raised his hands in surrender and changed the topic, "Do you guys at least have a better plan than handcuffing me in my bedroom this time?"

Stiles nodded and moved to pull his locker open, "Yeah, much better-"

As the door to his lacrosse locker swung open, the sturdy metal chains that he'd stuffed in there haphazardly in preparation for the full moon slipped from the top shelf. They slowly and forcefully slid out to the tile floor of the locker room, clinking loudly as the long link of chains began to coil in a pile at their feet. Stiles made a few aborted motions to catch the mess but they were made in vain, the chains slipping through his hands as they fell until he simply dropped his arms to his sides with a wince.

Coach Finstock stepped up beside him and smacked his gum loudly in Stiles' ear, peering over his shoulder as the chains slowly fell and gathered in a heap. Stiles risked a glance back at the man and then around the locker room, shrinking back awkwardly under the judgemental gazes of the guys around them as the chains continued to fall, seconds stretching painfully slowly to prolong the embarrassment.

When the long chain finally finished piling up on the floor, the changing room was thrust into a stunned silence.

"Part of me wants to ask," Coach Finstock told him, eyes glued to the large pile of chains on the floor at his feet, "But the other part says that knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine." He confessed, taking a few steps and backing up slowly, "So, I'm gonna walk away."

"That's good," Stiles choked out, a pink flush on his cheeks, "That's a wise choice, Coach."

He quickly knelt down onto the ground to attempt to collect the mess so that he could stuff it back into his locker and Scott squatted down beside him.

Stiles' hands fumbled with the chains for a moment, his gaze drifting up toward his friend and pausing when he noticed Scott looking around the room distractedly. His friend's eyes raked over their teammates in a slow trail as he searched for something.

"You okay?" Stiles questioned after a few moments, watching his friend continue his survey of the room, "Scott?"

Scott's attention finally snapped over to Stiles with a frown, "There's another," He said vaguely, "In here. Right now."

Stiles blinked in confusion, "Another what?"

"Another werewolf."

Even though they'd skipped both first and second period to get coffee in an attempt to settle some of Lydia's nerves, the redhead still hesitated nervously outside the school building, both Amber and Allison watching her apprehensively out of the corners of their eyes.

"You okay, Lyds?" Amber asked softly, "If you don't wanna do this today, I'll take you home right now. I can just borrow Stiles' Chemistry notes and I'll go to classes after lunch-"

"I'm fine. I can do this." Lydia assured her, "I am not some emotionally scarred little girl who got lost on a hike, okay? I’m better than that. And I don't even remember it, so."

"You seriously don't remember anything?" Allison asked from the redhead's other side.

Lydia looked between her two friends with a sigh before delving back into the explanation she'd already given Amber that morning when she'd first picked her up and asked about her visit to the hospital the night before.

"They called it a 'Fugue State'. Which is basically their way of saying 'we have no idea why you can't remember running around the woods naked for two days.'" Lydia shrugged, "But personally, I don't care. I lost nine pounds."

Amber's hand went to Lydia's shoulder protectively, "Oh, cut it out, will you? You're gorgeous. Always."

Lydia rolled her eyes but didn't deem the compliment worthy of a response, hesitation seemingly gone as she reached out to wrap a hand around the door handle.

"Are you ready for this?" Allison checked again.

"Please," Lydia scoffed, "It's not like my aunt's a serial killer."

Without waiting for a response, Lydia pulled the door open and stepped into the building. Amber shot Allison a small grimace of sympathy and the other girl smiled weakly in response as they followed Lydia inside.

The hallways were crowded at the tail end of the fifteen minute morning break and it seemed as if every one of the students froze in their movements, all of the eyes in the busy hallway suddenly drawn to the reappearance of the girl they'd all been gossiping about since Winter Formal.

The heavy weight of the stares of their classmates had Lydia faltering in her steps once again and Amber stepped up beside her, hand settling on her friend’s back reassuringly.

"Maybe it's the nine pounds." Allison suggested slyly from Lydia's other side.

The comment seemed to jolt Lydia back into action and she tilted her head thoughtfully before stepping away from Amber's outstretched hand and strutting confidently down the hallway toward her locker. Amber scrambled to follow behind her, tugging her backpack straps tighter over her shoulders as she regained her footing and matched her friend's steps.

"Hey, I'm gonna head to Chem, but I'll talk to you later, okay?" Amber checked in quickly, watching as Lydia waved her hand dismissively and hummed, "Text me if you need anything, Lyds. I mean it."

"Honestly. You're worse than my mother, Amber." Lydia commented, flipping her hair over her shoulder as the three split apart at the intersection of the hallways, "If I suddenly have some life threatening emergency, you'll be my first call!" The redhead promised over her shoulder, waving her arm above her head without turning around and disappearing down the hall.

When she could no longer see her head of strawberry blonde hair amidst the throng of students, Amber finally turned only to flinch embarrassingly in surprise when she spun directly into Allison.

"Sorry!" Allison apologized quickly, "I thought you knew I was right behind you."

Amber's heart rate slowed after the sudden spike and she shook her head with an uneasy laugh, "It's fine, no worries."

They looked at one another in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before Amber took a small step to go, Allison's hand snapping out quickly to wrap around her wrist in a gentle grip.

"Wait!" Allison pleaded, "I just- I wanted to talk to you for a minute. Y'know, without Lydia."

"Oh. Yeah, sure," Amber agreed easily, assuming the other girl wanted to talk to her about their red headed friend, "What's up?"

Allison released her wrist to rub her hand along her own arm uncomfortably, "I just- I know there's no real way to apologize for everything that happened.." She started slowly, "But, I still wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. Like, so unbelievably, ridiculously, and absurdly sorry. For everything."

Amber sighed, pulling at her backpack straps awkwardly, "Thanks, Allison." She said honestly, "I- That- It means a lot."

Allison's stiff posture slumped in what looked like relief, "Does that mean I'm kinda, sorta, a little bit forgiven?" She questioned hopefully with a dazzling smile.

"Kinda, sorta." Amber laughed quietly despite herself, holding up her hand to pinch her thumb and forefinger together and showing her the small gap of space between them, "A little."

Allison's smile widened, "I'll take it!" She laughed excitedly, bouncing on her toes and throwing her arms around the other girl in a hug. Amber laughed and hugged her back for a moment before Allison stepped back with a wide smile. "I'll let you get to class, now." Allison told her, smiling and giving her a wave before darting down the hallway toward her locker.

With an amused shake of her head, Amber turned back to head to the west stairwell and made her way toward Mr. Harris' room on the second floor.

The Chemistry classroom was nearly empty, so she settled in at one of the slightly larger tables near the back of the room and took the center stool out of the three that were squeezed in at the table, dropping her backpack to the ground at her feet. She hummed a tune under her breath and began to bounce her leg absentmindedly, her foot propped up on the lower rung of her seat as she waited for her best friends to join her.

When Scott and Stiles walked through the doorway together, they both seemed to stumble over their own feet at the mere sight of her and they picked up their pace as they rushed toward the table she'd claimed at the back of the room.

"Dude! Where have you been?" Scott asked immediately, settling into the stool on her left.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the tinge of anxiety in her friend's voice and she turned her head toward Stiles when he came around the table on her other side. He hugged her head to his chest in greeting and she reached a hand up to pat his back, nuzzling her nose into his shirt for only a second before she turned her head to speak.

"Allison and I took Lydia out for coffee before we came in-" She explained slowly, cheek still pressed against the soft material of Stiles' shirt. As he released her and sat down, she looked between the two boys on either side of her curiously, "Why, what's going on? Did something-"

"There's another werewolf." Scott told her in a harsh whisper.

"Isaac Lahey." Stiles cut in quickly.

Amber's foot slipped from the rung on her stool and she managed to catch herself with her hands, slapping them down on the tabletop loudly as he continued.

"And it gets better. He was pulled out of practice this morning and is gonna be taken in for questioning because, drumroll please-" Stiles tapped his fingertips on the surface of the table dramatically, "His dad's dead. They're thinking it might be murder and if Isaac's a suspect, we're all seriously screwed because somehow, I doubt the cells at the station are up to code for holding the supernatural."

Her eyes were wide. Derek had assured her everything would be fine. This was decidedly not fine.

"His dad's dead?" She squeaked.

"That's the part that got you?" Stiles asked in disbelief, "Not the sudden appearance of another teenage werewolf?"

"Wh- I.." She stuttered with a wince, pulling her pencil from the spiral of her notebook, desperate to have something between her fingers to fidget with, "I mean, it's just-"

"You knew didn't you?" Stiles interrupted, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

"You knew Derek turned someone?" Scott whispered frantically.

She made a face, tapping her pencil eraser in a fast rhythm against the tabletop, "Technically, I knew he was planning to turn someone-"

"What!" Scott said a touch too loudly, looking around them sheepishly before training a harsh glare on Amber.

Stiles reached out to wrap his fingers around hers, pinning her fidgeting hand down against the table, "Amber. What the hell?" He said seriously.

"I'm sorry!" She apologized in distress, looking over at Stiles with wide eyes, "Derek promised everything would be fine because he was sure that Isaac-"

"If you three are finished, I'm going to start class now." Mr. Harris' voice cut out sharply.

Their attention snapped to the front of the classroom where their teacher was standing at the blackboard, a loathing look of annoyance on his face as he scowled at the three teens through his glasses.

Amber blinked in surprise and looked around the now full classroom. She hadn't even noticed the final bell ring.

"Sorry, sir." She apologized quietly as she felt Stiles' fingers retreat from where they'd been wrapped around her hand.

Mr. Harris glared for another few seconds in silence before he turned to the blackboard, grabbing a piece of chalk and beginning to write, the loud clacking filling the room every time the chalk tapped back down against the board.

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" Scott asked in a hushed whisper, turning back to look down the table at his friends.

Amber bit down on her lower lip, eyebrows drawing together, hesitant to tell her best friends about herself being Derek's first choice, but equally reluctant to broadcast Isaac's abusive home situation.

Stiles watched her hesitation and he sighed quietly, leaning forward on the table to peer around her toward Scott as he spoke softly, "Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you, it could kill you," He said quietly, "Maybe teenagers have a better chance of surviving."

Amber reached out under the table to squeeze his knee in silent thanks for covering for her and he gave her a small, tight smile in response.

"Well, he is a teenager. So, your dad can't hold him, right?" She asked Stiles quietly, smoothing her thumb along the outside of his knee.

He frowned in thought for only a fraction of a second, "Well, not unless they have solid evidence," He whispered in response, "Or a witness.. Wait-" His eyes narrowed and he whipped around, scanning the classroom for a moment before turning to the table beside them, "Danny." He hissed at the boy sitting a few feet away, "Where's Jackson."

Amber's eyes locked on the empty stool beside Danny that was usually occupied by the boy in question, her eyebrows furrowing.

"In the principal's office," Danny told Stiles, the look of confusion on his face revealing that he was surprised the three of them didn't already know, "Talking to your dad."

"What?" Amber whispered frantically at Danny.

"Why?" Stiles asked immediately after.

Danny shrugged, "Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac."

Stiles turned slowly on his stool, looking at Amber and Scott, jaw agape.

"Witness." Scott supplied quietly.

"Shit, fuck." Amber hissed under her breath, her hand abandoning Stiles' knee so that she could tangle her fingers agitatedly in her hair, elbows on the table in front of her.

"We gotta get to the principal's office." Stiles said quietly.

Amber looked up again with a frown, "How?" She and Scott questioned at the same time.

"Everyone please turn to page seventy-three." Mr. Harris announced as he finished up writing his notes on the board.

Stiles was quick to reach out for Amber's notebook and rip out a blank page, tongue pinched between his lips in concentration as he rolled it into a tight ball. She frowned at the messily torn paper in the notebook in front of her and was about to question him when her eyes were drawn to the small white bundle soaring through the air toward the front of the room. She watched with wide fearful eyes as the ball of paper bounced against the back of their teacher's head with a quiet smack before dropping softly to the ground.

Mr. Harris turned around sharply, furious eyes raking over the students behind him, "Who in the hell did that?" He asked angrily.

A few student's laughed and Amber balked, heart pounding with nerves in her chest. Her accusing finger came up to sell out Stiles in a flash, hyper-aware of the haphazardly torn notebook page sitting in front of her. Stiles pointed his own index finger over her head toward Scott, and the third boy gestured vaguely to his right in the direction of both of his friends.

Mr. Harris took an enraged breath, his jaw clenching as he gestured toward the classroom door, "Principal's office. All three of you. Now."

Amber swallowed nervously and nodded, attempting to quickly collect her books into a pile in her arms with fumbling hands and tripping over her stool as she stood to leave. Stiles reached out to steady her with a hand on her waist as she stumbled and the three of them rushed out of the classroom hurriedly.

When they stepped into the hallway, Amber reached up with her free hand to smack Stiles in the chest.

"Are you out of your mind?" She hissed as they fast walked toward the office.

"Sorry." He apologized weakly, tightening his hand around her waist and squeezing her hip in a way that brought infuriating tingles to her stomach, "Desperate times and all that."

Her face scrunched up and she huffed a sigh, knowing that he was right and they'd needed some way to know what Jackson was telling his dad. But it didn't mean she had to like it.

When they got to the hallway just outside of the principal's office, the boys quickly settled into the two chairs outside of the open door, all three of the teens dropping their books to the ground beneath them.

The secretary narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at the trio as they settled in, clearly having already gotten a call from Mr. Harris while they'd made their way to the office. Amber gave the woman a sheepish smile as she sat back against the armrests between the two seats, tilting her head as the three of them listened in on the voices coming from the office behind them.

"Listen to me," Sheriff Stilinski's voice said from the other side of the wall, "You're telling me you knew Isaac's father was hitting him?"

"Hitting him?" Jackson scoffed, "He was kicking the crap out of him."

Amber frowned at his words, finding herself angry on Isaac Lahey's behalf despite barely knowing him. As if he could sense the moral need for justice flaring up inside of her, Stiles reached up to rest a hand on her thigh where she was propped on the arm of the chair.

"Did- did you ever say anything to anyone?" The Sheriff asked, "A uh, a teacher? Parents? Anyone?"

"Nope." Jackson said easily, "It's not my problem."

"No, no. Of course not." The Sheriff agreed quietly, "Y'know. It's funny. That the kids getting beaten up are never the ones that deserve it."

"Yeah." Jackson agreed immediately, "Wait, what?"

Amber snorted a laugh.

"I think we're done here." Sheriff Stilinski announced.

The sound of footsteps approaching against the tile floor alerted them as the Sheriff and a deputy moved to exit the office and Amber was yanked roughly from her perch between the two chairs. She yelped quietly in surprise as Stiles hauled her down onto his lap and wrenched a magazine open in front of her face. Her hands reflexively came up to hold the edges of the glossy booklet and she raised it up to cover their faces just as his father stepped out into the hallway.

"Hi, Scott." Mr. Stilinski greeted slowly, his eyes flicking over to the seat beside the boy with an unimpressed look, "Amber." He added pointedly.

She peered around the side of the magazine, resolutely keeping it held up in front of Stiles over her shoulder, "Good morning, Mr. Stilinski." She greeted with a nervous smile, keeping her body determinedly still as she acted as a wall between Stiles and his father.

The man continued to look at her in disbelief for a few seconds before shaking his head and disappearing down the hallway without another word.

"Dude. You know he definitely saw you, right?" Scott asked Stiles quietly after a moment.

"Boys. Young lady." A voice addressed them from the door of the office, causing Amber to flinch from her perch on Stiles' lap as they all looked up at the old man who was decidedly not thirty year old Principal Thomas whom they'd been expecting, "Come on in." The old man summoned.

Amber scrambled to her feet and the boys followed suit, the three of them looking between one another in confusion as they followed behind the man and stepped into the principal's office.

There were three chairs waiting for them in the small room and Amber settled into the center seat with a nervous breath, looking around the office and frowning at the absence of their usual principal's things.

The older man settled into the seat behind the desk and picked up a small folder, peering inside for a moment before his gaze rose to examine Scott.

"Scott McCall," He drawled in a slow rasp, "Academically not the most accomplished.. But I see you have become quite the star athlete." He said, soundly mildly impressed.

Amber peeked over at her friend and watched Scott nod just before the old man picked up a new folder and spoke again, addressing her this time.

"Amber Callisto," He read off the top of the page, eyes lifting up to look at her with an indiscernible expression, "A 4.0 GPA and first line on the girl's soccer team." He commended in approval.

She nodded nervously at his assessment, picking anxiously at her thumbnail in her lap. She slumped in relief when he dropped her folder atop Scott's and moved on to another. She watched the old man squint at the page silently for a few seconds, undoubtedly trying to figure out how to pronounce the name at the top of the page.

"Mieczysław." She supplied quietly after a moment, unaware of the way Stiles' eyes snapped over to her in awe at the easy way the pronunciation slipped past her lips.

The old man behind the principal's desk looked between the girl and the folder in his hands for only a second before he turned his attention toward Stiles.

"Mr. Stilinski," The man addressed him finally, eyes dropping to look down the page, "Oh. Perfect grades," He assessed with an impressed eyebrow raise, "But little to no extracurriculars.. Maybe you should try lacrosse."

Stiles leaned forward in his chair, "Oh, um. Actually, I'm alr-"

"Hold on-" The older man interrupted, turning his attention back toward Scott, "McCall.. You're the Scott that was dating my granddaughter."

"Granddaughter?" Amber repeated quietly, sitting up straighter in her seat as she looked between her two best friends in surprise.

"We were dating," Scott told Allison's grandfather quickly, "But not anymore. Not dating. Not seeing any of each other, or doing anything with each other.. At all." He rambled nervously.

"Relax, Scott. You look like you're about to crack a cyanide pill with your teeth." The older Argent observed amusedly.

Scott took a nervous breath, "Just, a hard breakup."

"Oh, that's too bad. You seem like a pretty nice kid to me." The old man commented, pausing for a moment before turning his head to look between the three teens, "Now, listen guys. Yes, I am the principal. But I don't really want you to think of me as the enemy."

"Heh," Stiles huffed sarcastically, "Is that so?"

Amber reached across the small gap between them to smack his arm anxiously, glaring at his lack of verbal self-control.

The old man raised his eyebrows before continuing on as if nothing had happened, "However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers, so.. Unfortunately, someone will have to take the fall and stay behind today for detention." Principal Argent looked between them slowly, pursing his lips as he waited for someone to speak up.

Amber turned her head between her two friends slowly. Scott was giving her a look in silent objection to doing it himself, which she supposed made sense since he was the werewolf of the three of them and thus slightly better equipped to deal with the Isaac situation. Her gaze drifted to her other side and she watched Stiles distractedly picking at a hangnail on his thumb and making no move to speak up himself.

His attention snapped up, however, when she finally sighed and turned to face the principal in slow reluctance.

"I-" She started.

"It was me." Stiles announced quickly, "Yeah, I'll stay for detention."

At the end of the school day, Amber ran down the hall when she saw Scott take off down the stairs.

"No, no," She muttered to herself, pushing past a few students with mumbled apologies as she ran after her best friend, "Scott, wait up!" She yelled with the hope he'd be paying enough attention to hear her.

She stumbled down the staircase near the school's side entrance, nearly losing her footing a couple of times. When she got to the end of the hallway, she pushed through the metal doors and toppled outside, running straight into Scott's back and catching herself with her hands on his shoulders.

She spotted the Sheriff's cruiser finally pulling away from the school, Isaac Lahey looking out the back window at them worriedly.

"Oh, shit." She muttered, "I guess they think he might've done it?" She questioned, not really expecting an answer.

Scott looked down at her with wide eyes and she grimaced, unsure what to do next.

There was a sudden squeal of tires against the pavement as a familiar black Camaro skidded to a stop in front of the building.

Derek leaned toward the open passenger window and called out to them, "Get in. Both of you."

"Funny. I could've sworn you didn't need my help." Amber reminded him snarkily.

"This is your fault!" Scott snapped at Derek from beside her, pointing at the police cruiser that was pulling out onto the main road, "You did that."

"I know." Derek said generically to the both of them, "Now get in the car and help me."

"No, I've got a better idea," Scott said as the two of them walked closer to the idling car, "I'm gonna call a lawyer, because a lawyer might actually have a chance of getting him out before the full moon."

Amber raised her eyebrows at the decent suggestion from her best friend, lifting a thumb to point at Scott while sending Derek a nod of agreement.

Derek shook his head, "Not once they do real search of the house."

"What d'you mean?" Amber questioned.

He sighed, "Whatever Jackson said to the cops, what's in the house is worse. A lot worse."

Her stomach turned uncomfortably, mind racing as Derek threw the passenger door open and looked at them expectantly. She met Scott's gaze and he sighed with a frown, dropping a hand between her shoulder blades to guide her into the backseat of the car.

It didn't take long for nightfall to set in beneath the early winter sunset once they pulled up to the Lahey house. Under the cover of the darkness, they crept into the house, their path dimly lit by the flashlight Derek had handed off to Scott.

"I thought Isaac was supposed to be a safe bet?" Amber asked Derek quietly as they moved through the dark front hallway, "What happened to that, huh? He's a werewolf for less than a day and he kills his dad?"

"Isaac didn't kill him. He told me he didn't." Derek said assuredly.

"Well if he didn't, then who did?" Scott asked, turning back toward them in the dark as he walked.

Derek frowned, eyebrows furrowing in frustration, "I don't know yet."

"Well then how d'you know he's telling the truth?" Scott questioned disbelievingly.

"Because I trust my senses," Derek said easily, "It's a combination of them, not just your.. Sense of smell." He emphasized with a knowing look.

"Huh?" Amber asked in confusion, looking between Derek's raised eyebrows and Scott's ashamed grimace, "What did you do? What'd I miss?"

"You.. Saw the lacrosse thing today." Scott realized quietly, focused on Derek.

"What lacrosse thing?"

"Yeah." Derek told Scott, unimpressed.

"Did it look that bad?" Scott questioned.

"Yeah." Derek repeated.

"Wh- What lacrosse thing?" Amber asked again desperately.

Scott winced, "Stiles got me in goal, so I could sniff some of the guys on the team, so that I could-" He caught her incredulous look and continued dejectedly, "So I could figure out who the new werewolf was. By scent."

"Dear God, Scott." She breathed, patting his shoulder.

"I was surprised you didn't tell them about Isaac." Derek commented to the girl as they approached a closed door off of the kitchen and slowed to a stop.

"Yeah, well. I trusted that you knew what you were doing," She scowled at him in the dark, "Evidently that was a mistake." She said pointedly.

Derek shook his head, resting on hand on her shoulder as he pulled open the door in front of them, revealing a dark stairwell that led down into the basement. He turned his attention toward Scott, grabbing the flashlight and nodding toward the open doorway.

"You wanna learn?" Derek prompted, "Let's start now."

"What's down there?" Amber asked nervously, following behind Scott as he began to descend the stairs.

"Motive." Derek said simply.

"And what am I looking for?" Scott asked as he got to the bottom of the stairs and looked around.

"Follow your senses." Derek told him.

Amber examined the dark cellar with slow steps, squinting at the mess of old furniture and stored junk. She fought the urge to run her finger through the dust on the worktop along the wall, turning in a slow spin as she looked around. Her eyes caught on a large chest freezer that was unplugged from the wall and she frowned at it in confusion.

"What happened down here?" Scott asked.

"The kind of thing that leaves an impression." Derek answered ominously.

Amber felt the warmth of Scott's body when he came to stand beside her in the cool basement. He too frowned as he looked down at the freezer in front of them. Her hand trailed over the top of it, fingers toying gently at the open padlock secured to the front. Scott pulled the lock into his own hand and he let out a shaky breath as his fingers came into contact with the metal.

Just as she was about to question his reaction, Derek shined the flashlight in their direction and spoke up from behind them.

"Open it."

Scott unhooked the padlock from the staple and flipped the hatch before slowly lifting the lid to the freezer. Derek helpfully shined the flashlight around the inside of the chest and Amber gasped, her stomach twisting sickeningly as her eyes took in the sight in front of them.

The inside of the freezer was covered in small, shallow, very human, claw marks. Someone had raked their fingernails along the walls and the top of the freezer in deep scratches. There was red caked into some of the gouges where fingertips had bled as they'd scratched painfully against the hard plastic.

"God." Amber whispered, reaching out to touch one of the marks gently, her fingertip running over the indents on the inside of the lid. She turned to Derek with a horrified look, "Isaac's dad locked him in here?"

Derek nodded, "Among other things."

"This is why he said yes to you." Scott stated, turning to look at Derek.

"Everyone wants power." Derek told him.

"If- If we help you, then you have to stop," Scott demanded, "You can't just go around turning people into werewolves."

Derek looked at him incredulously, "I can if they're willing."

"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?" Scott questioned.

"Yes," Derek replied, "And he still asked."

"Then he's an idiot!" Scott snapped.

"And you're the idiot dating Argent's daughter." Derek raised his eyebrows when Scott looked at him in surprise, "Yeah. I know your little secret. And if I know, how long do you think it's gonna take for them to find out?" He asked, "You saw what happens to an Omega."

"Wait, what Omega?" Amber interjected, "There was an Omega? What happened to them?"

"The Argents cut him in half." Derek explained quickly. He moved to speak again and Amber gaped, looking between the two werewolves.

"What!" She squeaked, "Th- They.. When- Who-"

"The Omega was the one stealing and eating the organs. At the graveyard, the ambulance-"

"We- We desperately need to work on your information redistribution skills." Amber told Scott in disbelief.

"Enough." Derek interrupted before focusing on Scott, "With me, you learn how to use all your senses. With me, you learn control." He stepped closer to them and grabbed Scott's hand, lifting it as the boy's claws emerged with his budding anger, "Even on a full moon."

Scott pulled his hand from Derek's grip, "If I'm with you, I lose Allison."

"You're gonna lose her anyway." Derek told him, "You know that."

A moment of silence passed before Scott spoke, "I'm not part of your pack. But I want Isaac out. He's my responsibility too."

"Why?" Derek questioned, "Because he's one of us?"

Scott shook his head, "No. Because he's innocent."

"So, what do we do?" Amber asked after another few moments of silence between the two boys.

"We need to break Isaac out." Derek said simply.

"But Stiles and I were gonna lock Scott up at the school." She stated, looking over at her best friend worriedly, "How are we gonna get Isaac out of a cell and get you taken care of?"

"I'll have Alison lock me up." Scott told her easily. She frowned and he continued, "It'll be fine, I promise. I can have her lock me up down here."

Her eyes drifted back down to the freezer and her stomach churned nauseatingly at the thought of her best friend locked inside, "I don't know, Scott-"

"Look, there's no time to come up with anything else. We have to do this." Scott reached out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, "You and Stiles help Derek get Isaac out. I'll be here. And when the moon goes back down, Allison will let me out."

She frowned but nodded at him, even as her eyes drifted back down to the freezer, "Okay."

She reached into her pocket to pull out her phone, sending a few texts to Stiles to explain the plan and telling him to meet them at the Sheriff's Station. When she was finished, Derek gestured for her to follow him back upstairs and she looked between the two boys hesitantly before throwing her arms around her best friend in a quick hug.

"I love you." She told Scott softly, hand ruffling the fluffy hair on the back of his head, "I'm sorry we can't be here with you."

She pulled back and Scott released her with a small reassuring smile, "Dude, I'll be fine." He promised, "It's just one full moon."

She frowned as she recalled the last two full moons they'd experienced and Scott grimaced.

"This time will be different. I'm sure of it." He said.

Derek reached out to grab her shoulder and she let out a long-suffering sigh, "Alright, yes. I'm coming." She said, taking a step back toward the stairs with the older werewolf.

"Good luck." Scott called out in a hopeful tone.

"You too." She replied, shooting him one last look before she climbed the stairs back up to the main floor.

Stiles threw the Jeep into park outside the Sheriff's Station and Amber climbed into the vehicle quickly, Derek following close behind. As soon as she was settled into the center seat, Stiles reached out to take her hand in his, already angled toward them in his own seat with an elbow propped up on the steering wheel.

"What's the plan?" She asked him automatically.

"Okay, well. The keys to every cell are in a password protected lock box in my father's office," He explained, looking between Derek and the girl sitting between them, "The problem is getting past the front desk."

They all turned to peer out the passenger window at the young female deputy behind the desk who was typing away at a computer.

Amber chewed on her lip in thought, "Well, I could-"

"I'll distract her." Derek said easily, already reaching for the door handle.

"Woah, woah, woah! You?" Stiles asked incredulously, reaching across the cab of the vehicle to pull Derek back, "You're not going in there-"

Derek scowled at the hand Stiles still had stretched across Amber's chest to hold the werewolf's shoulder.

"I'm taking my hand off-" Stiles conceded quickly, dropping it to land in Amber's lap.

She let Stiles rest his hand palm down over her denim-clad thigh and rubbed her own hand over the backs of his fingers soothingly as Derek continued to glare at the boy. The werewolf's narrowed eyes dropped to where Stiles' hand was now draped over the girl's leg before he looked back up to address them.

"I was exonerated." He reminded them.

"You're still technically a person of interest." Amber shrugged with a wince.

"An innocent person." Derek reiterated.

"An inno- You?" Stiles scoffed, laughing sarcastically, "Yeah, right!"

Derek's jaw clenched as he looked between them, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Okay, fine," Stiles sighed, "What's your plan?"

Derek looked genuinely stunned at the question, "To distract her." He said slowly.

Amber snorted, "Okay, but how?"

Stiles looked at Derek in disbelief, "Uh huh. How?" He questioned, "By.. Punching her in the face?"

"Ha." Derek said sarcastically, "By talking to her."

"Oh! Gimme a sample." Amber suggested excitedly, turning toward Derek, "Pretend I'm her. What're you gonna say?"

Derek tightened his jaw silently and looked between them with his eyebrows raised and a long moment passed before Stiles spoke.

"Dead silence.. That should work beautifully." He observed sarcastically, "Any other ideas?"

Derek looked up at the roof of the Jeep and tilted his head in thought with a small shrug, "I'm thinking about punching you in the face." He admitted.

"Okay, alright. No one is punching anyone in the face." Amber interrupted, turning and pushing her hands up against Stiles' chest to urge him out the driver's side door, "Let's just.. Get inside. I'm sure Derek will figure something out."

"Yeah, we better hope so." Stiles muttered under his breath as he opened the door of the Jeep.

The three of them snuck in quietly through the front entrance and while Derek went through the main doors and up to the front desk, Amber and Stiles peered around the doorway to wait for an opportunity to pass through the without being seen.

"Hi, how can I help-" The deputy looked up from the folder in her hands and caught sight of where Derek was leaning up against the desk with a charming smile, "-You?" She finished weakly.

"Hi." Derek smiled, teeth on display and pulling his handsome features into an open, friendly expression.

"Hi." The woman breathed, stunned.

Stiles rolled his eyes in annoyance at how easily Derek's plan seemed to be working due to his good looks alone, and Amber reached up to pat him on the back consolingly.

"Um. I had a question," Derek said in feigned distraction, "Uh, sorry. I'm a little- A little thrown."

Amber urged Stiles forward with her hand on his back and they took slow, careful steps through the main entrance toward the back hall as Derek continued.

"I wasn't really expecting someone-"

"Like me?" The deputy asked softly.

"Well, I was gonna say, 'someone so incredibly beautiful' but I guess that'd mean the same thing." Derek flirted just as Amber and Stiles disappeared down the hall.

Stiles took her hand and led her down the hall toward his father's office, leaving the lights off as they crept into the room. When they got to a small lockbox hanging on the wall behind his dad's desk, Stiles dropped her hand to flip the cover up and reveal the keypad, his thumb quickly moving to type in the code, a quiet clicking filling the room with the press of each button.

2 - 6 - 1 - 9 - 9 - 1

The tiny door on the box opened with the release of the lock, but the space inside was decidedly empty.

"Isn't there supposed to be a set of keys in there?" Amber questioned obviously.

"Yeah." Stiles murmured, looking at the empty box in disbelief, "Oh, no. Allison was supposed to- Oh, no."

Amber dashed back toward the door and Stiles followed only half a second behind her. They stumbled out into the hallway and moved in the direction of the holding cells at the back of the building.

When they rounded one of the final turns, Amber tripped over her own feet in surprise and froze as they came face to face with another uniformed deputy. Stiles nearly rammed into her back when he stopped abruptly behind her and she took another cautious step forward, laughing awkwardly and feigning innocence.

"Uh, we were just looking for, uh-" Stiles trailed off.

Amber followed his eyeline down to the small syringe in the man's hand and their eyes widened in realization.

Not a deputy. A hunter.

Upon further inspection, the man was also bleeding badly from a small arrow wound in his upper thigh.

"Oh, shit." Amber and Stiles both muttered, the latter pulling on her shoulder as he started to step away.

As they spun the hunter managed to grab Stiles around his chest, knocking the boy from his feet so that he dragged along the ground backwards. In the same quick moment, the man caught a handful of Amber's hair and yanked her back with them.

Still on her feet, she yelped and stumbled backwards as she followed the painful tugging of the hunter's fist in her hair and she could hear Stiles struggling against the man's tight, one armed grip around his chest as he tried in vain to get his own feet back underneath him.

Amber whined quietly as they were dragged around a corner and her eyes caught on the fire alarm on the wall. They moved further down the hall and she flailed her arms, her fingers managing to catch on the small red lever and pulling on it roughly just as she was yanked away.

A shrill alarm sounded out through the building as the hunter threw them into the back room of holding cells and he released them carelessly. Amber gasped as her hair was finally freed and she instinctively reached up toward the sore spot on her scalp as Stiles fell to the ground.

The hunter fiddled with the syringe of wolfsbane in his hand and Amber caught the moment that the man's eyes drifted up to where the holding cell's door was already broken and swung open.

"Shit-" She exclaimed just as Isaac growled loudly and tackled the hunter beside her down against the desk at the front of the room.

She stumbled back a step where she tripped over Stiles' feet and tumbled to the ground beside him, landing painfully on her backside. He grabbed onto her arm and pulled her back along the floor as Isaac threw the hunter against a wall.

The hunter went to thrust the syringe into Isaac's shoulder but his arm was caught by the werewolf with another angry growl.

As soon as she was close enough, Stiles wrapped an arm around her stomach from behind, pulling her between his legs as he continued to scramble backwards. She fell back against his chest and they finally came to a stop when they thumped against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

They watched with wide eyes as Isaac gripped the hunter's head in his hand, slamming it back with a loud crack and dropping the hunter in a heap onto the ground.

Derek finally ran into the back room and stopped in the center of the space, stomping down on the forgotten vial of poison on the ground and causing it to shatter loudly beneath his foot. At the sound, the younger werewolf turned suddenly and Isaac's attention was drawn to the two teens on the floor as he growled again.

Amber pressed herself back against Stiles more firmly and her heart raced violently in her chest in fear. Isaac's clawed hands twitched at his sides and he stepped toward them with a low rumbling sound in his throat, eyes still glowing bright gold.

Derek side-stepped in a quick movement to block the path to them and he growled loudly in Isaac's direction, the sound rumbling and furious. The younger werewolf whined, falling to the ground on the other side of the room as his arms came up above his head to protect himself from an anticipated blow. After a second, Isaac looked back up from behind his shaking arms to he peek out at them, his face distinctly human once again.

Stiles was breathing heavily against the back of Amber's neck, arm still wrapped tightly around her stomach as he held her against his chest.

"H- How did you do that?" He asked Derek.

The older werewolf turned slowly to look down at them, "I'm the Alpha." He supplied as explanation.

Isaac flinched when Derek went over and held out a hand in offering to help him to his feet. Without a word of goodbye, Derek led Isaac out of the back room and the two were gone.

Amber scrambled to get to her feet in their absence, pulling Stiles up with her before spinning around to face him.

"Are you okay?" They asked each other at the same time with worried expressions.

She laughed quietly and Stiles brought a hand up to the back of her head, gently smoothing down the mess where the hunter's hand had been fisted in her hair.

She placed a hand on his cheek and stroked her thumb over his mouth softly, "How exactly are we gonna explain this?" She asked suddenly.

He dropped his hand from the back of her head and tangled their fingers together with a frown, "Shit. I actually hadn't thought that far ahead yet."

"That's okay. We'll uh, we'll just say that we came to see your dad.. And we'll explain that, y'know.." Her eyes drifted over to the hunter, "That guy must've broken in disguised as a deputy, attacked us, and let Isaac out." She said quickly, "I mean.. That- That's somewhat believable, right?"

She looked up at Stiles with wide eyes and he made a face as he very clearly tried to think of something better. His fingers tightened around hers and suddenly the fire alarm cut off, plunging the building into a silence that left their ears ringing.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something but didn't get a chance to speak before his father stepped into the back room. The Sheriff looked between them, the uniformed man sprawled beside the wall, and the empty holding cell at the back of the room. His eyes narrowed in an angry glare of disbelief as he took in the scene in front of him.

"Uh," Stiles swallowed heavily, pointing toward the unconscious hunter in a deputies uniform, "He did it."

[duino]

Hello! I really, really love your A Series of I Love You's: Tsukishima's part aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh. I actually want more of it If you don't mind, may I request for another ASOILY but with either Sakusa or Oikawa? Thank you so muuucccccchhh <33

I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I was BURIED in essays. Thank you so so so much for this request and this lovely lovely message <3 Here is Oikawa! (Do I also have an idea for Sakusa? Most definitely. He is never forgotten.) I hope you like it! MUCH LOVE! xo "ALL THESE LITTLE DOUBTS" for A Series of “I Love You’s” Pairing: Oikawa x Fem!Reader

Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, I am on a wholesome train

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Defenses seem to be pointless against Oikawa. But maybe you don't need them after all.

Note: Gentle Angst. Fluff. I love him. That's all.

You place your cellphone down on Oikawa’s kitchen counter with a gentle thud, amused and irritated in equal measure. Another text from your friend back home; a salacious gossip magazine detailing all the past romantic “exploits” (to quote the article) of your present boyfriend. You roll your eyes at first and then, feeling the slightest prickle of jealousy, you snort a laugh and shake your head.

“What’s so funny?” Oikawa asks over his shoulder. He has a lazy smile, eyes still full of early morning indolence. It’s a scarce day off and he had insisted on making breakfast.

Your legs swing idly from your bar stool perch, leaning your elbows onto the wooden counter and your head into your hand. “You know,” you start, ignoring his question, “you really should put a shirt on.”

“What?” He’s immediately affronted, which makes you laugh. “I’ll have you know you’re the first woman to ever say those words to me.” He waves a spatula at you.

You ignore another tinge of jealousy at his mention of other women. It’s a ridiculous thing to be jealous of, you think to yourself. His past has never bothered you before and a comment like that is next to nothing, but –damn that article—you can’t help the flicker of annoyance at it now. You temper yourself. It’s too early to let something so small put you in a bad mood. “The oil’s going to splash you, dummy,” you say, affectionate. Sure enough, there’s a snap of oil from the pan and Oikawa takes a quick step back, wincing at the spark of it. “See?” You’re smug. “Told you.”

He narrows his eyes at you but when you grin, a smile pulls out of him helplessly in return. “Fine, sweetheart. Watch the bacon, I’ll cover myself.” His voice is lamenting, and you breathe in amusement.

Hopping off the stool, you bounce over to him, bumping him with your hip. “Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do, pretty boy.”

He hums, leaning down to give you a kiss. “You think I’m pretty?”

You peck him once, twice, and then pull away giggling when he insists on a third. His lips land sloppily on your cheek. “Don’t fish,” you say, all smiles as he smothers your face in wet kisses. You try to take a step back but he loops an easy arm around you, keeping you close, placing smacking kisses all over your face. “Okay, okay,” you relent, laughing. “Yes, I think you’re very, very pretty. Now go,” you say, patting his butt playfully.

Oikawa steals one last kiss before slipping off into his bedroom down the hall. You grab your phone and start idly poking at the bacon while you scroll through your messages. A new notification from the same friend.

Damn girl!!! good job, holding down a player like Oikawa ;)

You purse your lips together at the text. You know she means it to be playful, or even a point of pride, but you can’t help the simmer of annoyance returning. It’s impeding on this perfect Sunday morning, this rare morning where Oikawa isn’t rushing off at the break of day for practise and you aren’t scrambling to prepare yourself for your new job (with all the stresses these both bring).

Beyond this is the rarity that you’re here with him at all. In Argentina, in the early months of a new relationship. Though your new job offers some free travel and flexibility, and though you’re here with him for another week still, you can’t help but feel the leaving on the horizon. You can’t help but be reminded that you’re currently in a long-distance relationship with someone who has “exploits.”

Perhaps leaving is always on the horizon.

It’s a dangerous thought, one you’ve been fighting. You don’t even know when it first planted its seed in you. Sometimes you think it doesn’t even come from you, but from the slew of low-grade magazine articles and the unfortunate times you’ve let yourself slip and read comments online. You had known so little of the athletic world when you had first met Oikawa, though you suppose now, you shouldn’t have been surprised at the dedicated (occasionally vicious) following he has.

You curse when you notice the bacon starting to burn and you slide them off the pan onto a plate quickly. As much as you’ve refused to let hungry tabloids dig their eager claws into you, you do doubt. How can you not doubt? You’re not a little girl anymore, and your heart only gets more cautious with age. You’re protective of yourself.

Except you hadn’t been cautious with Oikawa –not as much as you should’ve been, you think now, your thoughts betraying you. He had seen you, and he had pursued you hard for a year, and eventually you let him have you and you wonder now if you are just another page six waiting to happen.

You realize you’re flipping through the article your friend sent you again when two hands steady themselves on your hips from behind. “Why’re you reading that trash?” The firmness in Oikawa’s voice is a new side to him. You hesitate and then give him a noncommittal shrug and glance over your shoulder, which makes him reach around you to cut off the gas element. You steel yourself as he turns you gently to face him, like you’ve been caught.

“Nice shirt,” you comment, eyeing the vintage, overlarge E.T. movie tee you had bought for him.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, “my girlfriend got it for me.” He taps the bottom of your chin so that you’ll meet his eyes. “Why’re you reading that?” he asks again. His gaze is serious in a way you rarely see.

“My friend sent it to me,” you say. His eyes are intense on you, imploring, and you force yourself to meet them and not look away. You aren’t entirely sure why you’re embarrassed but you are. “She was teasing me.”

Oikawa blinks. “Teasing you?”

“Yeah,” you keep your voice light, “that I’ve nabbed such a little playboy.” You can’t quite curb your teasing tone.

Oikawa’s brows come together at the word playboy. “May I?” he asks, holding out a hand.

You place your phone into his palm. “Of course. It’s just a dumb article—”

You break off when he takes a step back from you to scroll through the page, lips tilting in a frown. You watch for a tense moment as he sighs and mutters something low that you can’t make out. You place a hand on his forearm. He makes a distasteful sound and clicks your phone shut, handing it back to you gingerly. “Do these people have nothing better to do?” he sneers quietly to himself. Oikawa turns away from you briefly, as if to compose himself, but when he turns back around to face you, he’s openly exasperated. “I’m sorry. This is so—” he breaks off, shaking his head. “So fucking—"

“Hey,” you interrupt gently, squeezing his arm. “Honestly, it’s just a dumb article, Tōru,” you say again. “It’s nothing—”

“It’s an invasion of our—”

“It’s nothing, really—"

“They have no right to my past, I—”

“It’s nothing—”

“But it’s not though, is it?” he says, clipped. Your brows furrow at this.

“What do you mean?”

You watch three different emotions dart over his face: frustration, a strange resignation, and a third, one you can’t place though it makes the corners of his lips tremble. You don’t know what you had expected but you certainly weren’t expecting this from him. He’s upset, though you can see him fighting it. “It gets to you, right?” he asks, quietly.

“Tōru, no,” you start, but you see his eyes assessing you, catching every subtlety of you, and you stop. “It’s really not a big deal.”

He gives you a small, regretful smile. “Your face is easier to read than you think.”

There’s a retort ready on your lips but the way he’s looking at you makes you pause. You fumble for different words but you know he can sense when you aren’t being wholly honest. He’s never been one for partials or half-truths.

“Okay, you’re right,” you let out in a gust. “It does get to me. Not often, and not a lot, but sometimes.” Your admission makes his shoulders drop. You say quickly, “But it doesn’t have to be a big thing, we can just have breakfast and have a nice morning.”

This only seems to make his frown deepen. “Your feelings are a big thing to me.”

You shake your head. “I’m being silly.”

He looks at your sharply, hurt. “Why would you say that?”

The question flusters you unexpectedly. “Well, uh, I don’t know,” you fumble. “Aren’t I?” You look away towards the space behind him and when you look back, he’s softened.

“You’re not being silly,” he says, gentle. His long fingers reach for you, pulling you toward him. He takes a deep breath. “I think we should talk about this for a second.”

Your initial reaction is to downplay it again. You hate that this has grown into something serious –you didn’t feel like it needed to be serious—but maybe it is. You think it’s too early in a relationship to have this kind of conversation, but maybe it isn’t. There has been so much about love that you thought you understood and now, with him, you feel like you are rediscovering it all again, with equal parts thrill and fear.

You’re a little fearful, letting him guide you to his couch. You sit down, legs pulling up to your chest. Oikawa leans an arm against the backrest, resting his head in his hands. He looks at you as though he’s waiting for something, maybe waiting to see something in your eyes.

“I’m not sure how to start this, honestly,” you say, hesitant. “I was expecting bacon, not a breakdown of all your past relationships.”

He gives you a small smile. “Do you want me to start?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so serious with me,” you say. He raises his brows lightly. You bite your lip. “Okay.”

“Do you think I’m some sort of player?”

You wince at his straightforwardness. “No, of course not.” He looks doubtful, which makes your heart ache. “Really, Tōru, I don’t. My friend sent it to me, and I just got caught up for a moment.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose, looking away for a moment. “I don’t mean to make this more than what it is, but…” Again, that unreadable emotion passes over his face. He goes silent, distant.

For a second, panic pierces you, like a needle. Is he going to break up with me? you think, trying to read him, his faraway eyes. You actually feel your throat tighten painfully at the thought. The profile of him is so tender and mournful that you feel the sudden sadness of him, the beauty of it, like a real wound. Maybe the magazine was right. Maybe you should have protected your heart more. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so eager to hop on the flight here, to be with him. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

“You’re having doubts,” he says softly, gaze returning to you. “Right?”

“What?” The question startles you. You can’t answer for a moment. “About what?”

He’s going nervous. You can see it in his hands, in the way he awkwardly swallows. “About—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “About us.” He can’t seem to look at you. Your eyes are wide and uncomprehending.

“I’m having doubts?”

He tries to look up at you but only makes it to the collar of your shirt. When he smiles it comes out shaky. “Because of who I am, right? Because of the magazines. Because I can’t be with you all the time.”

Your mind is spinning. You genuinely can’t piece together words to save your life. “What?” you blurt out again, shaking your head slightly. “I’m…What?”

He’s struggling to speak for different reasons. “I thought…in the past, I was always…” The line between his brows is killing you. You desperately want to reach out and smooth it. “I thought maybe you started realizing that you didn’t, uh,” he stumbles with a laugh, self-deprecating and solemn. “That you don’t want to be with—”

“I thought you were having doubts,” you say quickly, words spilling out.

Oikawa finally looks up at you, alarmed. “Me? Why would I have doubts?”

“Because,” you start, quiet and careful, “maybe you’d get tired of me?” The words are bitter in your mouth. “Or miss being single? Or be sick of the distance?” You hadn’t ever admitted these things to yourself, let alone out loud to Oikawa, but as you say them you realize the fear that had been living in you, slipping out in small ways, weighing on you. You’re as relieved as you are terrified that they’re all hanging between the both of you now, open and vulnerable as a beating heart.

At first, it seems like Oikawa has no reaction to your words at all. Like he didn’t even hear them. He’s still staring at you, gaze unchanging, mouth slightly parted. You’re shaking, you realize, and clasp your hands protectively against you. He’s silent for long enough that you curse your words, your complete inability to be closed-off against him.

But then he lets out a sharp breath like he’s in pain, and says, “I love you.”

The words jolt through you like a spear of light. You actually gasp at the force of them, the shock of them. He seems as startled by the force of his own words as you are.

“I’m in love with you,” he says again. He smiles, open and afraid. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you.” And then, shifting closer, unwinding you from yourself, he takes both your hands in his, fervent. “I love you,” he grins, despite himself. “And you don’t have to say it back,” he adds, moving towards you. “I just don’t want to stop.”

You’re in wonderment. You look at your clasped hands. He’s shaking with you. You look back up at him. You breathe his name. “Really?” you ask. You barely recognize your voice. It’s small, the voice of a younger you, all your younger hurts and fears that you’ve collected.

His eyes flash –it’s a younger him. All his younger determination, all his failures despite his efforts. All his heartbreaks. You realize he’s as afraid as you are. You realize he still wants to try. “Really,” he says. A shudder runs through you. You think, with peripheral amusement, that you never stood a chance against him. A smile breaks across your face, which stills him. You reach a hand up to his face.

“I love you, too.” The words are pulled from the bottom of your heart. “I love you, Tōru.”

You barely catch his heartsick grin before he bends his head towards you. There are blocks of sun diffusing through the window, mottling the room with golden light. As he moves to kiss you the sun dapples him –where it touches, he turns near divine.

[harrys-titties]

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

29K+

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

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

-masterlist-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yes, Y/N is understandably confused. 

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But of course, Harry should have known better. 

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeh, there was nothing for him to worry about. 

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

 "Who's Elle?"  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hugs him. 

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

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

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

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

But Harry especially missed Elle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you say, Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers. 

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

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

"Who, Harry?" 

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

"Elle." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night H." 

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Having trouble H?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have fun?” She whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh for fucks sake H.” 

“You’re so crude.” 

“We do not do that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No funny business dove, I promise.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are the worst.” 

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

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

“That would be nice, thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

She was fucking beautiful. 

“Stop looking at me like that you…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tha’s it baby, get what you need.” 

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

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

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

“What do you need, hm? Tell me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with that, Y/N stops laughing. 

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

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

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

“Holy fuck Harry! Feels so good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy fuck. You feel so fucking good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A lecher,” they finish together. 

[multistan-kpopwritings]

Nightly Cuddles

➟ pairing(s): ChangBin x Reader

➟ genre(s): Fluff

➟ word count: 2032

➟ warnings: None

"How long are you going to be here," MinHo asked you again, setting your bags inside the dorm?

"I have no idea," you admitted. The pipes in your apartment ruptured causing the floors to be flooded with water. "I hope not long. I hate putting you guys out like this."

"Don't be silly," a voice chimed in, "You know we love having you around." Chan entered the room and quickly welcomed you.

"I really appreciate you letting me stay while my landlord fixes this stuff," you gratefully thanked him. "Where is everyone?" You didn't see any trace of the other 6 guys.

"They're trying to rearrange sleeping space for you," MinHo said. Your eyes grew.

"Oh, no. I'm fine on the sofa," you urged.

"Like we could let 'babe' sleep on the sofa," MinHo scoffed. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"She can stay with me," a voice said sternly. Smiling you saw your best friend, ChangBin, enter with everyone. "Is that ok with you," he asked? Taking your bags, he took them to the shared bedroom.

"Guess that settles that," you giggled.

ChangBin had been one of the first people you met when you moved to Korea. He knew you better than you knew you, so it wasn't a surprise he was still your best friend after 3 years. The surprise was that he was only your best friend. No matter how funny, attractive, or perfect one thought the other was, it never went past friends.

The first few nights at the dorm were the same. Dinner, showers, bed, and secret snacks. You were sure that Chan was ready to kick you out by the third night.

"Binnie," you whispered, tucking your head into his chest. Humming, he brushed your hair off your face with one hand and cradled your head with the other. "I can get used to this," you giggled. By now your legs were entangled with his, and your arm tracing circles on his back. Humming again he used his free hand to tilt your head to his, kissing the tip of your nose.

"Go to sleep," he whispered back. You wiggled a little in his arms and grunted softly. "Stop moving," he huffed. Whining a bit you shuffled your legs around his. "Seriously, stop," he said a little more stern.

"Binnie," you whined, "I can't sleep." If he could see you, he would have scoffed at your big doe eyes. "Binnie," you said softer and sweeter.

"You can't sleep because you haven't stopped moving or talking," he scolded you. "Now, go to sleep." He kissed your forehead and cradled your head against him again. A few minutes passed in complete silence, ChangBin thought he won the night.

"Binnie," you whined again. He didn't say a word to you, but there was no mistaking his annoyance. A quick slap sounded in the room.

"What was that," Felix cackled?

"Did you spank her," Chan teased?

"Yes," both you and ChangBin exclaimed!

"Keep it up and I'll bend you over my knee and do it again," he said from gritted teeth. Felix and Chan were in tears over the whole thing, you on the other hand pouted. "Sleep, now."

The following day you pouted anytime you had to share space with ChangBin. He tried his best to make you smile but to no avail. That night when you dressed for bed, you stared at ChangBin, hating that grin on his face.

"Come on, babe," ChangBin called to you, "Just get in bed. I'm tired." You chewed your lip and caught sight of Chan walking out of the bathroom, hair, and skin wet. Climbing the steps to the top bunk you sat on Chan's bed.

"Channie, hey," you said to him. He was putting on a shirt and drying his hair when he noticed you.

"Yes, honey," he said? "What do you want?"

"Binnie is being mean still," you pouted, "Can I stay with you tonight?" Chan looked between your pout and ChangBin's scowl. Scooting closer you leaned on his shoulder and fake sniffled. "Please? I promise I'll be good tonight." The scoff from under you caused Chan to laugh.

"Best behavior tonight, Honey," Chan called to you, "Or you will get bent over the knee." Rolling your eyes you threw yourself on his pillows. It only took 5 minutes before Chan regretted letting you stay. He took his job as big spoon seriously; however, you were the worst little spoon.

"Channie," you whispered, "Can you scratch my back?" He absentmindedly did as you asked. "Can you move your arm?" ChangBin smirked at the annoyed grunt from above. "Hey, Channie. I need to pee."

"Just go," he groaned. When you were out of earshot, he leaned over the edge of the bed. "How do you deal with her moving so much? She's exhausting!"

"Are you surprised she got spanked now," ChangBin asked? "Just play with her hair and she'll stop." He smiled to himself and turned in bed, away from Chan.

Before returning to the room, you stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a small bag of gummy fruit snacks. Almost down the hall, you quickly returned for a second bag. Just a habit you figured. You stood in the doorway and looked at the bunk bed, your best friend sleeping below and your Channie above. You smiled and knelt next to the bottom bunk, brushing ChangBin's hair from his forehead.

"Binnie," you whispered. "Binnie," you said again, a little louder, shaking his shoulder. He turned to you sleepily. "Move over," you pushed him, "Come on." He smiled and opened his arms. Like two pieces to a puzzle, you laid in his arms and wrapped your legs together.

"What happened to Chan," he chuckled? You nuzzled into his chest and smiled.

"His arms are too big," you admitted. "Too heavy. I like your's better." Humming his approval, he tilted your head and kissed your nose. "G'night Binnie."

"Hey babe," he said quietly. "I'm hungry." You giggled and told him to check your pockets, where you had a treat hidden.

A few nights later you sat brushing Felix's hair. Laughing he wrapped his arms around you. "So when are you spending the night with me?" He wiggled his eyebrows at you. "I like to cuddle too."

"Alright, Lee, me and you, tonight," you laughed. ChangBin walked in and eyed you.

"Leaving me again," he joked? "You'll be back. You can't resist this." He flexed his arms and you rolled your eyes. "Come on Felix, I get to be the big spoon."

The chatter between you and Felix was nonstop. Chan finally had enough and physically removed you from the bed.

"Hey," you protested, "you can't just do this." Without warning from Chan, you were tossed on the bed next to ChangBin, startling him awake.

"What the hell," he asked sleepily, focusing on your face.

"Deal with her," Chan growled before climbing back into his bed.

"Felix wouldn't stop talking," you lied. ChangBin rolled his eyes and mocked.

"Coming from you? Yeah, ok," he chuckled in disbelief. Just like the nights before, he opened his arms and you found your favorite spot against his chest. "Were the cuddles at least good," he asked softly, trying to not bother Chan?

"Nope," you popped the word on your lips. "Too skinny. I like this," you mumbled into his chest, "Feels good." Feeling the way his body shook, you knew he thought you were amusing. But in all honesty, you did like to cuddle with him the most.

Word got around the dorm quick that you were playing musical beds to annoy ChangBin, and everyone wanted a turn. Night after night you teased your friend about needing a new sleeping partner, but night after night you still ended up in his arms, legs wrapped together and a kiss on the nose.

It was little things like Hyunjin yelling nonsense while you tried to sleep, ChangBin normally talked in his sleep but it never woke you. Han was a classic stage 5 clinger, as you like to call him, so he wrapped around your body and it was just too hot to deal with him. MinHo on the other hand was the complete opposite, you couldn't seem to get close to him without him moving. It was too cold for that nonsense anyway. SeungMin tried to snuggle you the way ChangBin did, but it didn't feel right to you. Almost forced, it didn't feel natural.

It wasn't until you laid next to I.N that someone asked the right question. "Noona," he whispered to you, turning to face you. He could tell that you hadn't fallen asleep yet and that soon you would sneak out to lay in his Hyung's bed. "Why do you keep going back to ChangBin Hyung?

"I don't know," you confessed a little embarrassed. "Maybe I like the way it feels. It's familiar and, um, well," you trailed off.

"Safe," he finished for you? "I get it. That's how I feel when you're around." You cooed and brushed his hair back. "I think he likes it too. I like you two."

"We like you too," you assured him. In the faint light, you could see him shake his head.

"No. No. I like you two," he stressed, "together. It's what I think happiness should be." You thought about what he said and realized he was right. Nothing felt right without ChangBin and no one made you feel like he did. "Goodnight, Noona," he said, turning away from you. You laid still for a little longer before I.N nudged you closer to the edge of the bed.

Throwing yourself on the sofa you turned on the television. The sound was almost muted, but the light glowed around the room. You couldn't stop thinking about what I.N said. Did ChangBin really feel that way, or was it just habit and comfortable actions that kept his doing it? Drifting in and out of sleep you let memories crowd your mind. Small things that you may have overlooked. Friendly gestures or unrequited love? A hoarse, sleepy voice called your name.

"What are you doing up at this time," ChangBin demanded, rubbing his eyes. "Do you know how late it is?" You hummed but didn't really answer. He rounded the sofa and lifted your legs to lay across his lap. "Why aren't you sleeping?" His voice was soft and soothing now.

"Thinking," you replied. He nodded his head, waiting for more of an answer. Staring at the television, you chewed on your fingers. He reached and pulled your fingers from your mouth and held them in his hands.

"Thinking about what," he inquired? He knew by the way you avoided his gaze that it was something really bothering you. "Come on, talk to me." He moved closer to you and pulled you onto his lap. "Something has you up this late. You can talk to me." Something about his voice and the way he held you made you let go.

"I talked to I.N tonight," you stated simply. "Why do you think I keep coming back to you?" He tilted his head and grinned.

"Cause I'm cute," he quipped. You let out a small laugh and slapped his chest.

"I'm serious. This isn't what normal friends do, Binnie," you continued. Taking a deep breath you leaned into his body, finding pleasure in his warmth and gentle thud of his heart.

"You're not normal, babe," he joked again. You grumbled, still not entertained.

"Friends don't call each other in the middle of the night, just to say hi. They don't crawl into each other's bed for cuddling," you let the words spill from your mouth. "I keep telling myself it might be nothing." You looked into his eyes, searching for something, anything.

"No," he held your gaze, "It's not nothing." You felt his heart begin to race. He tilted your head the same sweet way he did every night and kissed your nose, only this time tilting your head a little more toward his lips. "I know you feel it too." His breath fanned across your face as he held near to your lips. "Say it."

"I love you, too."

[eremiie]

i’ll take care of u

❥ 1.6k words | nsfw | dom!eren x sub!armin

❥ content: deep throating/face fucking, praising

❥ i was sad and h word so i wrote eremin smut🙄🙄, i think it cured my writers block too— this is self indulgent bye ++ thanks to my bestie coercing me to write this oops

"fuck,"

it was sinful, how lips bruised red formed an 'o' around eren's cock.

those same lips made eren throw his head back, hips lifting from the bed to push more into armin's mouth. "min, fuck, take me more."

he was trying his knuckles going red from how he gripped painfully at the sides of eren's sweats, hair tousled from the grip eren had on his blonde locks. he could only whimper around eren when he tried to push him down his length further, armin gagging and lurching forward from eren's rush of his hips.

armin's mouth was stuffed, he didn't think he could go any further. he felt like he could feel eren in every part of it; his tongue sliding on the underside of eren's cock, vein protruding as it slid against the slick-sopped surface of his tongue. and when eren would push more into the heat of his mouth his tip would brush the ridge of armin’s throat— eren's body jolting at that feeling he craved for. longed for.

and he'd push armin past his limit if he could get it.

armin shoves himself off of eren, heavy pants of breath making his chest heave while he struggles to catch his breath. he's lucky the fingers that tangled between his blonde strands held on so loosely. but even though the annoyance wasn't prevalent in his grip it was in his stare.

it made armin feel small. how eren gave him a grim look. low-lidded, dispirited. if it wasn't for the way eren's jaw was still hung open, pleased at the sight of his precum decorating armin's lips and spit gathering in the crevices, armin would've felt apologetic. would've tried harder to get eren as deep as he wanted to be.

eren would've done that himself anyway, he'd be where he wanted to be.

"armin,"

"'ren, i'm trying." it's the dispirited look that wafts into armin's eyes. he thinks he's doing enough, he wants to be doing enough for eren. but eren was relentless; always wanted more.

"i know you can get deeper than that," eren's grip on armin’s hair tightens, the tension on his scalp heightening and his doe eyes scrunching up from the twinge. "c'mon, push up."

he'll listen, he always listens to eren. always wanting to please him. it was satisfactory for him as well, knowing that it was him that could make eren shudder, knowing that eren would always come to him when he needed to unwind.

so he shuffles forward on blushed knees, his hands placing themselves on eren's thighs, lifting himself a bit until he hovers over eren again.

armin's warm breath fans over eren's tip and he catches it twitch, eren's hips rising so slightly until his head is grazing armin's bottom lip. he'd chuckle if he could— but he doesn't think eren would find it funny. instead, he opens up for his boy, looking up at eren and giving him those sky eyes he can't resist.

eren relaxes under armin, and he groans above him when his hot mouth engulfs his cock again. "yeah," eren sighs, and armin's surprised that he's not shoving him downward, instead, using the slight hold he has on his head to bob armin slowly. "feel so good, my baby boy."

armin relishes in the praise, humming around eren and fluttering his eyes shut as he begins to move on his own. his hair sways in his face with every motion while some pieces clung to the sweat that accumulated on his forehead.

he pulls one of his hands off of eren's thigh, bringing it to the base of his cock to pump what he can't reach while he works at his tip. he comes up before letting his tongue slide against the underside, a small whimper leaving his throat when he catches sight of eren's lip caught between his teeth, laying back with his elbows supporting himself as he watched armin suck him off. not to mention the strain in armin's pants, knees knocking together to try and relieve the stress between his legs.

"here," the bed creaks lightly as eren lifts himself from his elbows. the hand holding him finally let's go, but the breath his hair gets is short-lived. both of eren's palms come to the side of his head while eren shifts his body, legs spreading as far as his sweats would let him. "'gonna fuck that pretty throat good, okay?"

it felt too good to be true. eren was being too gentle, giving armin the brief benefit of the doubt.

it wasn't much of eren asking and more of eren telling. telling armin that he was gonna use him, that he'd be inside his throat until his seed was spilling into it, until he was spluttering for air, grabbing at his neck while his cheeks and nose splotched red.

one of eren's hands travels to the blades of armin's shoulder, pulling him more forward with ease. armin wasn't sure if it was because of how light he was or how strong eren was. that same hand quickly returns to where it was snug in armin's hair. "just breathe." he says it like it's so easy. like it'd prevent armin from choking around him completely if he "just breathed". and although armin wanted to, he refrains from rolling his eyes and lets eren guide him over his leaking cock.

it's fine up until eren's tip hits the back of his throat. armin's nose scrunches up and he instinctively begins to try to come up, but eren's hold doesn't let him. "nuh-uh," armin barely catches the strain of eren's voice as he scolds him. "you got it, baby."

it's the way the nickname rolls off of eren's tongue that makes armin whine and tries to relax his throat. that makes armin attempt to breathe through his nose until he gags again, fingers clawing at the black fleece of eren's sweatpants. he knows his saliva has probably soaked the material— with how impatient eren was to get armin’s lips around him he didn't pull his bottoms out the way enough, spit gathering at the base of his cock and some on the fabric of his sweats.

when armin whines again, eren lets him come up, the blonde gasping as his lungs grasps for the air. he coughs, and even through his troubled state eren still manages to gaze at him in awe.

"shit," eren likes it. he's always liked it messy; tears, spit, cum— whatever he could get on armin would end up on armin, and he'd try his luck at that now too. he'd already had two things checked off, tears rolling down armin's cheeks that armin himself didn't even realize, and spit glossing his chin.

eren reaches to pump himself as he waits, and his thumb caresses the side of armin's head. "doing good, 'min." he tilts his cock towards armin and nudges him forward. "again."

he closes his eyes only for a moment before he opens them back up when armin's lips wrap around him, eyebrows knit and his own lips failing to hold back a moan. "god," he wants— needs to feel armin's throat again. "look at me."

armin doesn't miss a beat, looking up at eren with big blue eyes, his blonde lashes reaching for the ceiling, and eren’s hips stutter. "fuck, fuck," eren can only ignore the way armin gags when he sheathes himself in his throat, ignore the tears spilling over his cheeks and the way he whimpers. "so fuckin' good for me."

it only all adds to the burning pleasure inside eren, it only helps him want to use him more.

and he does until he's spent, both hands holding armin against his pelvis as he draws out a moan and spills hot white in his lover's mouth. he's twitching, his eyes roll back, and his hips continue to slowly roll forward as he finishes releasing in armin.

the hand tangled in armin's hair trembles from pleasure as he comes down, and only draws circles on his scalp until it falters completely.

armin finally pulls away, delicate fingers moving up his chest to his neck as he catches his breath, broken sounds tumbling from him from where he sat on his knees. he lolls his tongue out as if he's ridding himself of the icky sensation on it— or maybe showing eren that he was good for him, pink surface clean from any traces of cum.

he swallowed all that eren gave him, and eren gives a weak smile. "get up baby." eren's palm is open to armin, and armin takes it. standing up on weak knees, he crawls on top of his boyfriend happy to have been enough for him, happy to be able to feel him intimately— hearing his heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest. "you did so well."

armin doesn't need to respond to the praise for eren to know that he received it. he's too busy getting comfortable on top of eren, taking pride in what he just managed, and enjoying eren's hand stroking his clothed back.

but even though armin's calm and jubilant, eren doesn't fail to feel how hard he was from where he rests on top of him. armin would never try to make it about himself— but no matter how much he'd make it about eren, eren would never neglect him in the end. at the end of the day, there was too much love, too much satisfaction in gratifying one another, and now it was eren's turn.

eren's hand drops to the hem of armin's shirt, warm as it pushes the fabric up with the glide of his hand. a kiss is pressed to the top of armin's head, and armin smiles.

"let me take care of you next."

[robininthelabyrinth]

A continuation of NHS invites WWX to JYL's wedding, and what happened there? Perhaps about how the estemed Hanguang Jun ended up running off and eloping with the Nie sect heir's intended?

continuation of that short fic, now it’s own fic on ao3

Plus One - Chapter 2

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, sidling up to his brother and his two sworn brothers now that they’d finally gotten to the party part of the wedding and they could all huddle up in a corner to be anti-social together.

Or, well, for Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to be anti-social and for Jin Guangyao to be forcefully restrained from attempting to perform hosting duties, which he incessantly tried to do - it was like he had no idea what servants were for. Which Nie Huaisang supposed was understandable, given everything, but the way Jin Guangshan encouraged him to do it certainly wasn’t.

“So,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice only mildly ominous in a way that suggested, to Nie Huaisang at least, that he was still finding this whole thing incredibly funny.

Accordingly, Nie Huaisang ignored him. “How much do you think I can milk being horribly dumped?” he asked. “Because I think I’m about to be horribly dumped.”

“By your new ‘intended’?” Lan Xichen said, looking amused. “Really, Huaisang, I don’t know what you were thinking by bringing him.”

“Uh, that he deserves to attend his shijie’s wedding? Obviously?”

“But to bring him to Lanling…”

“He’s my guest,” Nie Huaisang said haughtily, bringing out his fan and doing his best ‘rich young master who is better than this and is most certainly above your petty questions’ Jin sect impression. “You aren’t suggesting that the Jin sect would take back an invitation they freely issued, would they? Or breach the rules of hospitality?”

“Huaisang, Xichen didn’t mean it that way and you know it,” his brother said, sounding annoyed, but in his relaxed run-of-the-mill ‘I hate parties’ type of annoyance, rather than specifically about his behavior. “Obviously the Jin sect won’t do anything about it. Regardless of any other considerations, anything they did would be refusing to show our Nie sect face, and then I’d have to make an issue of it.”

He sounded wistful. Probably thinking about how he could use it as an excuse to storm out and go home early.

“We’re only worried about you, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao murmured, looking remarkably calm for someone who was definitely (if unobtrusively) being blocked from leaving by two very tall men with excessive mother hen tendencies. “You’re all grown up now, not a child – you need to think about the political implications your actions might have. Aren’t you concerned about your brother’s reaction?”

Huaisang was about to explain that he’d gotten his brother’s permission, but then he remembered that they were in Lanling, full of spies, so he decided to tell Jin Guangyao about that later.

“It’s not my problem that Sect Leader Nie has to think about politics at what should be a happy family event,” he said instead, nose in the air, and Lan Xichen frowned even as Nie Mingjue sighed, probably at Nie Huaisang’s total lack of caring about even the basic obligations of etiquette. Or possibly his reference to their little inside joke, but these were his sworn brothers, so they’d have to figure out sooner or later that Sect Leader Nie and Nie Mingjue weren’t always the same. “Besides, that isn’t what I asked. I asked about how long I can milk my terrible heartbreaking break up.”

“I thought you were getting dumped?” his brother asked, passing him a jar of wine. A good brother, even if he was mocking him.

“Getting dumped leads to a break-up,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Wei-xiong is a thankless white-eyed wolf who was just using me with absolutely no consideration of my tender feelings.”

“You have tender feelings?” his brother said. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

Nie Huaisang kicked him in the shin.

As usual, it had no impact whatsoever on his brother and only hurt his own toes, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, his voice oddly gentle, even softer than normal. “Did you – really – for Wei Wuxian –”

Nie Huaisang, who’d been taking a drink of wine, nearly choked. “Er-ge,” he said, mildly horrified. “Please. Wei-xiong is a very handsome gentleman, fearless and dashing, with all the skills one might ask for in a son-in-law –”

“Brother-in-law,” his brother muttered, as if he hadn’t been Nie Huaisang’s de facto father figure for years.

“– and, yes, I suppose we have similar tastes in drinking, carousing, and pornography –”

“Of course you do,” Jin Guangyao said, looking up at the ceiling as if it would hide how his lips were twitching.

“– but let us not forget: he lives in a trash heap. With Wen sect. I have standards!”

“I thought he was marrying in?” Lan Xichen asked, smiling again now that he had confirmed that there was no actual heart-breaking occurring in the vicinity. “He’d live in the Unclean Realm that way, wouldn’t he?”

“He would not,” Nie Mingjue put in. “I don’t care if they’re all enlightened saints that do nothing but charity all day, no one surnamed Wen is living in my home.”

“You see what I’m up against?” Nie Huaisang said, holding out his hands in appeal to his brother’s sworn brothers. “My da-ge doesn’t understand, he’s only good for swinging a saber! How cruel and heartless must a man be to stand in the way of true love?”

Lan Xichen covered his smile with his sleeve. Jin Guangyao pressed his lips together in such a way that made his cheeks especially round and quivering with suppressed laughter, like a mouse stuffing its face to bulging with rice.

“Er-ge, you wouldn’t be nearly this cruel if it were you, would you?” Nie Huaisang asked, reaching out and tugging said sleeve. “You’d be kind and generous about it – I bet you’d find them a nice little place to live, maybe next to those foothills you’re always saying you want someone to use but that you’re not willing to sell…”

“Were you planning on moving in with er-ge after your marriage, then?” Jin Guangyao asked. He looked much more amused and relaxed now – maybe he’d been stressing over this being some sort of scheme and was feeling much better now that he realized it was actually just Nie Huaisang’s nonsense. His paranoia had always been deeply endearing. “I don’t think your brother will like that.”

“Not me,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes at him. “But if it was Lan Zhan sweeping him away, er-ge would definitely support him. Right, er-ge?”

“I always support my brother,” Lan Xichen said with a smile.

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said, taking another swallow of wine. “Because he and Wei Wuxian just had a very intense conversation in a secluded corner that ended with them kissing and running off together, so it’s about to become your problem.”

Nie Mingjue choked, Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped, and Lan Xichen’s eyes got really big.

“Not joking,” Nie Huaisang clarified cheerfully. “Totally serious.”

“Excuse me,” Lan Xichen said, getting up very quickly. “I need to – go see –”

He didn’t even bother finishing the sentence before rushing off.

“Go with him,” Nie Mingjue said to Jin Guangyao, who blinked owlishly at him. “It’s going to be a shitshow, isn’t it? Politically, I mean.”

“Uh,” Jin Guangyao said.

“Really, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “The notorious ostracized-by-the-cultivation-world demonic cultivator Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, is abruptly reintroduced to society as my intended bride, only to be stolen away by the Lan sect’s Second Jade, the second most desirable bachelor in the cultivation world, in the middle of a wedding party thrown by Lanling Jin? I have no idea why you think this would so much as raise an eyebrow.”

“That’s a lot of words to say ‘shitshow’, which is why I didn’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – oh, fuck it, A-Yao, someone is going to need to keep their head about them and think about the political implications long enough to keep Xichen from getting himself into serious trouble, and you’re better at it than I am. Go help him. I’ll cover for you two here.”

Jin Guangyao still looked torn.

“Don’t listen to da-ge, he’s worrying too much,” Nie Huaisang volunteered his own opinion. “How much trouble can the Lan sect really get into over a matter of love?”

“I’m going at once,” Jin Guangyao said, and ran after Lan Xichen.

A moment later, Nie Huaisang handed the jar of wine back to his brother.

“Well done,” he said, voice much more neutral than it had been a moment before. “Assuming your goal was to deprive Sect Leader Jin of san-ge’s assistance while we define the situation to make it come out the way we want.”

“Couldn’t have done it without your timely assist,” Nie Mingjue said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did so hate politics, and he hated being good at it even more. Truly there was nothing better, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion, than forcing his brother to relent and give in to the sneaky bastard half of his heritage. “Anyway, Sect Leader Jin is drunk and his heir is the groom, and thus occupied. It’s only reasonable that I, as the person with the next highest status, take charge of dispersing the news.”

“And by ‘dispersing the news’ you mean rehabilitate Wei-xiong’s reputation, get him reinstated in the Jiang sect, and arrange an appropriate marriage between him and Lan Zhan before anyone can complain about an inappropriate elopement, of course.”

“It’s called being efficient, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said.

“It’s called creating a countervailing alliance to the Jiang-Jin sect connection, getting both the Jiang sect and the Yiling Patriarch to owe our sect a favor – not to mention the Lan sect, too! – and conveniently also undercutting Sect Leader Jin’s authority just at the moment he’s trying to install himself as the new ruler of the cultivation world.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, finishing off the jar and putting it down. “I’m far too stupid to be considering any of that. Only good for swinging a saber, remember?”

Nie Huaisang sniggered.

“Yes, I remember,” he said. “You won a whole war against a much stronger, more numerous, and more unified force on Baxia’s strength alone, no brains required. How can I help? You want me crying or excited?”

“Whatever you think is best, Huaisang.” His brother solidified his scowling angry face, just the sort of thing a dumb brute might wear when dealing with politics that he was far too ignorant to understand. “Let’s go right some injustices, shall we?”

[breathings-of-the-heart]

Stuck on You (Levi x Childhood Friend! Reader) Part 2

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been kinda a while but here is part 2~ I have this habit of writing and rewriting my pieces since I’m never fully satisfied by them, but overdoing that is just as bad so I’m going to leave this as is ajflkajada  The amount of love my first part recieved was so genuinely heart warming and I cannot express my gratitude enough. I’m nervous to post this because of it, to be honest, because I hope it lives up to the expectations. Thank you to everyone who has shown me support, it means so much! If you guys want a part three, or maybe just a short epilogue, I will consider it so let me know! Also if you would like to be tagged in my future works, comment below or send me a message <3 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, Season 1 and No Regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 4k

If you haven’t already, read part one here

As a former member of the Scouts yourself, you knew the ins and outs of the military’s regulations. Because of this, you also knew your request was a strange one, seeing as soldiers weren’t typically allowed visitors, but you hoped your letter appealed to the more personal side of Commander Erwin. Apparently it somehow moved the man, seeing as you had been brought by carriage to the legion's base the following night.  

The clopping of horse hooves eventually stopped, and you were currently being escorted into the building by another familiar face, her hand already outstretched to help you out of the vehicle as soon as the door swung open.  

“I understand your reservations about this, but you’re brave for coming here. I think he’ll be relieved to see you, (Y/N),” Hange spoke, her fingers hovering over the small of your back as she guided you down one of the many hallways, lantern swinging in her free hand. “I think he could benefit from seeing a familiar face.”

Your eyes were downcast, staring at the floor as rooms upon rooms passed by along your path. You couldn’t speak if you tried, words seemingly stuck in your throat and unable to keep up with your racing thoughts.

Deep breaths, (Y/N).

For better or for worse, there was no need to reply, as Hange came to a halt not a second later. She squeezed your shoulder gently before bringing her knuckles to the wooden door, knocking once, twice.

Your hands were clammy, heart thundering in your ears as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Levi, someone is here to see you,” Hange’s voice rang out firmly.

There was a distinct sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps growing nearer. Time slowed down, and you began to second guess every decision up to now. Would Levi even want you to be here? Will he be angry? You felt like bolting away and forgetting about the whole idea, suddenly afraid of his reaction. Afraid that your presence would only make everything worse.

Your eyes were widening as you realized the possibility of leaving was too late to explore, Levi already turning the handle from the other side. So instead, you swallowed your pride, stood up straighter, and pushed away the growing sensation of nausea in your gut.

“Who could possibly be important enough to interrupt my--”


The second his eyes met yours, Levi halted in all movements. Your gaze was fixed on him as well, every bit of longing settling back in your bones the second it did.

He looked nearly the same as the last time you saw him, clean and kempt as ever, hair styled the way it always was-- the same way he’d keep it when he used to chastise you for running your fingers through it.

And those stoic, gray irises that drew you in your were fierce, yet somehow emptier. At the sight of you, his flooding emotions became too much to properly register, unlocking every moment you’d ever spent with him as they replayed all at once.

“(Y/N)?” He couldn’t hide his disbelief, eyes widening ever so slightly. 


“Hello, Levi.” 


~~~~~~~~~

Never did Levi think he would grow to care for another group of people the same way he had for you, Farlan, and Isabel. But sitting around Petra, Gunther, Eld, and Oruo, he found their excited chatter over the dinner table endearing more than anything. The ever stoic look on his face didn’t change, and he would never openly admit it, but it felt reminiscent to be surrounded by trusted company like this. All of Squad Levi had full faith in one another; it was necessary for the battle field. This created an unspoken bond between all of them that the unreachable Ackerman did not picture building with others again.

Fate worked in funny ways, he supposed.

Sounds of clinking silverware and chatter filled the mess hall, sun setting outside of its many windows and painting the expanse in an orange light. The males eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room expectantly, where a clock rested above the doorway. He took a sip of his tea whilst squinting at it, attempting to get a better read before feeling a slight jab in his side.

“Looking for someone, sir?” Petra inquired, with a hint of deeper emotion in her tone that went right over the male’s head.

He glared at her in annoyance, having almost spilled his drink as the thought of you returned to the forefront of his mind.

It was strange, seeing how capable you had become after spending those months by yourself in the Underground. They made you a bit more calloused than when Levi last saw you, carrying over to your skills as a Scout. You never used to be skilled at riding ODM gear, not even when Levi tried to teach you in your youth. Seeing you slash Titans without blinking an eye was like watching someone completely different.

But you had to learn, since you had no one to protect you.

Your open displays affection had grown fewer and farther between as your time in the Survey Corps dragged on. At first, Levi thought nothing of it. Truthfully, the Captain had hardly noticed, with how busy the both of you were. He wrote it off as stress, or the workload catching up to you. Or, maybe, it was that nagging thought in the back of his conscience he dared not dwell on: he had turned you into this, after being away for so long and then failing to protect your friends.

But as your words replayed in his mind like a broken record, too late he realized this wasn’t the case.

“I see the way you look at her. I see it because you used to look at me that way.”

“Captain?” Petra repeated, leaning forward to study his distant countenance and successfully pulling the man out of his thoughts. “She’s probably just training.”

He rested his hand on top of her head, turning it away from him and sighing.

“Eat, Petra. I don’t need you to be whining about hunger during our patrol tomorrow morning,” he chastised, forcing his eyes away from the doorway.

After that talk, Levi had watched you go, telling himself that you’d return soon enough. Yet could not shake the feeling in his gut that there was something amiss. He pushed away the pit in his stomach. You were safe, you were healthy, and that was all that mattered. Humanity’s Strongest had other things to focus on, after all, and tuned back into his comrades’ conversation. The man blended back in easily, occasionally offering a few of his own comments as the meal dragged on.

Every so often his thoughts would shift back to your conversation earlier that day, and he realized that you were wrong. As close to Petra as he had gotten, there was a stark difference between you and her:

No matter how strong you’d get, and no matter what you thought of him, Levi would always shield you from as much of this world as he could.

But it was better this way. Better if you moved on from him and easier to do if you thought it was because he wanted Petra.

If only he knew your last words to him “I’ll be back for dinner,” had been a lie.

It had been strange for him when you didn’t return. Levi tried not to think about how Kenny had done the same, instead grasping for a reason. For once, he could not read your thought process. The male had no idea why you’d voluntarily leave, after everything. He knew better than to hold onto certainty, but you’d thrown him for a loop. You were always the one to communicate, the problem solver, the one who understood him without much direction. Didn’t you know that you were irreplaceable? He should have come clean: told you that he didn’t see Petra that way, and just didn’t have the heart to admit he didn’t feel good enough for you anymore.

Did he ever even get the chance to say “I love you?”

His regret multiplied tenfold as he began to understand that maybe if he had, you would’ve stayed.

~~~~~~~~

A strange sense of comfort washed over the man as you smiled softly, small hands clasped together in front of you. He blinked, wondering if you were simply a mirage caused by his sleep deprivation. But you remained where you were, after all this time, standing at his door. For once in the man’s life, his mind was drawing a blank.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, then,” Hange stated, excusing herself and soon disappearing out of sight. 


Her statement pulled the both of you back into the present, and you were suddenly self conscious of Levi’s stare. You tucked your hair behind your ears and gestured towards his office, unable to gage his reaction to your presence.

“Would it be alright if I came in?” you asked shyly, astonished he hadn’t slammed the door in your face the second Hange left. 


To your shock, Levi simply nodded, stepping aside to let you through. Your movements were unsure and hesitant, stark in comparison to his: calm and collected as ever.

Just like any space Levi occupied, the area was clean and tidy, a lantern sitting upon his desk the only source of light against the cloudy night sky. It smelled like tea leaves, sandalwood, and disinfectant, a signature scent that made you fill with nostalgia. As the click of the door echoed behind you, the reality of your situation set in, and you turned around to face the man you were here to see.

His gaze had never left you.

“You’re hurt,” was the first thing that left your mouth, concern evident as you studied the bandaging that peaked above his knee length shoes. 


“Long story,” Levi offered curtly, eyeing you up and down from a few feet away. “One I don’t particularly care to tell you.” 


“Of course, that’s fine,” you agreed softly, a weak smile pulling at your lips.

You did your best to mask the hurt, knowing you deserved to feel it. It hurt to be here, the fear that Levi hated you previously keeping you away. Now that you were facing the music, that fear seemed more realistic than ever. Your brain wracked to change the topic before your mind could continue overthinking; desiring instead to cut the unbearable, building tension that never used to exist between you two.

“How are you, Levi?” it was a stupid question, but you no longer knew how to talk to him.

“(Y/N).”


The way he said your name was sharp and challenging. You quickly cleared your throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Of course you’re--”


“--Why did you leave?” Levi effectively cut you off, orbs narrowing as you dared to come closer.

The question caught you off guard. You thought you’d made it obvious with your last conversation with him those years ago. Surely, he had some idea, although his pained expression said otherwise. His fingers twitched at his sides, a movement you didn’t miss as your eyes flickered back to his in surprise. He had been so composed just a moment ago, that the sudden shift gave you whiplash.

Now his fists were clenching, as he waited in the painful silence, knuckles turning white.

“Why did you leave?” The phrase echoed tauntingly in your ears, over and over again.  

You don’t know what came over you. All you knew was that you needed to rid him of the rare, defeated look etched into his countenance. To purge him of this feeling you caused. Whether reaching out would help or hurt, you didn’t know.

But you needed to be near him.  

Levi’s eyelids screwed shut as you brushed your thumb across his cheek. The action was so simple, so delicate, so unsure and so familiar all at once, and at the feeling, the Captain’s composure finally came undone.


He reached up and gripped your wrist, as if you’d fade away if he let go. In previous years, it was always you who craved skinship, yet it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off Levi’s shoulders to have you this close. Your touch still felt like the comforting warmth of a campfire; the type that would make anyone want to stay forever.

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be better off without me,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to cause you any pain.”

He let out a breath.

“Then why are you here now?” his question was more defeated than hostile, which you hadn’t expected.

If someone asked a few hours ago, your answer would have been much clearer. But now, the logic that brought you here seemed overshadowed by doubt. After all this time, and after everything that had happened between you and Levi, any semblance of a relationship with him seemed unsalvageable. You told yourself this mantra over and over until it stuck. So why were you here?

Levi must’ve thought it audacious, for you to run away like a coward and still think you were relevant to him.

“I owe you so much. Whether I ended up being wrong or right, I’ve always acted with your best interest,” you sighed, thumb brushing over Levi’s dark circles. “Truthfully, I don’t know if I’m any use to you now. I might be the last person you want to seek comfort from, but on the off chance that I still matter to you, I’ll always come back,” you whispered earnestly.

Levi’s grip on your wrist tightened imperceptibly, and you longed to bury your face in the crook of his neck; to feel him wrap his arms around you in his embrace once more. It seemed as if Levi was staring into your soul, his shallow breaths mingling with yours at this close proximity as he opened his eyes to fully drink you in.

“I’m here to tell you that if you need me, I’ll stay.”


He looked to the side as if brushing aside your touch, hand falling away from the raven-haired man’s face as he did so. It felt like rejection, as if he was brushing all of you away with a simple turn of his head.

Silence.

“You’re a real idiot, (Y/N),” he spoke finally, voice nearly out of place against the stillness.

Moonlight suddenly peaked through the window, showering you in a bath of silver light. Levi recognized this look. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve, offering everything you had to give; eyes wide and honest, shining with a vulnerability that even after a lifetime of knowing you, he had never seen before. The man felt conflicted at the sight, annoyance prickling under his skin as you somehow managed to hold him together and tear him apart all at once with your presence.

Losing his squad twist that knife in his heart, convincing him that he was cursed to be left by everyone and his superhuman talents only doomed him to live a life alone.

But now, here you were, standing within arms length: despite the pain you caused, still the only person he had left. Only you could draw this much emotion out of the typically monotonous man. He couldn’t tell if you were a blessing or a curse, but in the moment, all he knew was that he didn’t want you to leave again. He needed you to stay here, with him, the way it should be. Because you were family.

And true to your word, you did.

“You should really get some sleep, you know,” you stated after a while, closing the door with your foot as you entered with two fresh cups of tea. 


You watched Levi fill out paperwork on the other side of the desk, bringing the cup to his lips in the strange fashion you always teased him for. His gaze flickered up boredly.

“You know I don’t sleep. You go on ahead, though. The bed’s behind that door,” he paused, gesturing somewhere behind him. “I hardly ever use it.”  

You shook your head, reaching forward and plucking Levi’s pen from his hand.  


“What you’re drinking is caffeine free. I switched it, so you have no excuse now.” You ignored the indignant scowl growing on the Captain’s face, urging him to listen. “Please, you really should rest. You know you need to.”

It took an entire hour of imploring and convincing for the man to finally give in, him grumbling as you helped take off the boot on his injured foot and ushered him onto the bed. You knew you were the last person with any right to tell the short Captain what to do, but knowing Levi, he was running on an hour or two of sleep while his body was begging for rest. And yes, you were very much hypocritical, draped across the couch in Levi’s office, staring at the ceiling. But none of that mattered to you, as long as he was okay.

You had been lost in introspection, being a room away from your childhood best friend and first love after so long a surreal experience. It felt strange to be back here, but you were too tired to dwell on how strangely out of place you seemed in a place you once called home.

The weight of your abundant emotions from the day finally crashed down, fatigue settling in. You rubbed your eyes, and snuggled closer to the cushions, letting the darkness claim you.

And in the other room, as Levi slipped out of his uniform, shaking his head in exasperation. His last thoughts while he inspected the door as if he could see you through it, was that of course only (Y/N) (L/N) could be more stubborn than he was.

As he slipped under the covers per your command, the ghost of a smile spread across his lips at the thought.

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

Perhaps it was the constant danger of where you grew up, and the need to always stay on your toes, but for as long as you could remember, you’d been a light sleeper. If someone so much as stared at you for too long, your body would jolt awake, ready to take action within a moment’s notice. There had been many instances where this came in handy in your past; even after years of seldom disruption in your now boring life within the walls, this was a trait you never seemed to grow out of. So it wasn’t hard to notice the heavy breathing and panicked movement from behind Levi’s closed door.

Just like for you, some things never changed-- when it came to old habits, you knew the man like the back of your hand. The reason he rarely ever slept was one you were quite familiar with. One both of you struggled with, and probably always would. Nightmares never seem to stop. You’d gotten through so many of your own rough nights with your friends by your side.

Levi, however, always refused to admit how they affected him. Insisted on going through it by himself.  

The subconscious urge to look after one other was most likely one you'd never grow out of, even if Levi had. You didn’t think twice before making your way across the office, swinging your legs across the sofa, awake within seconds. Without missing a beat, you stood up and made your way to Levi’s personal sleeping quarters, knuckles rapping against the frame twice. Levi’s shallow gasps quieted, and when you realized he didn’t plan on opening the door, you steeled your nerves to do it yourself. This was what you were here for, wasn’t it? To offer some comfort?

He did want me to stay.

“Levi?” You called into the darkness gently, feet padding foreword as your eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

His silhouette was upright in the bed, no doubt staring at you menacingly.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). Go back to sleep,” he snapped.

That didn't deter you, for he would never openly admit vulnerability. This was by no means new behavior. Besides, the strong emotion behind the Captain’s voice was an easy tell that betrayed his words. You pressed on, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Do you remember the time we were teenageers and you got sick, but couldn’t afford medicine so I took that sketchy job you specifically told me not to?” Your back was to him, yet you could feel Levi peering at you.

“Obviously,” he humoured you with a reply, knowing you weren’t going to leave. “You came home half alive and I felt like the most useless piece of shit in the world.”

You chuckled, fingers fiddling with the white sheets beneath them.

“Yes, which was unfair to yourself but also something I did not realize since you called me pretty much every name in the book,” you smiled, the memory oddly fond despite its events. “You were so angry, but I was also scared out of my mind... which was more important than your anger, I suppose. So you let me lay next to you that night. That was all it took to make me feel safe again.”

There was a long pause, you trying to get your words together in a way that could allow Levi to understand how you felt right now.

“I know what you’re thinking; what you’ve been thinking your whole life. You haven’t failed anyone and that stupid idea should be the furthest thing on your mind. Take it from someone who knows, alright? So many lives have had meaning because of y--”

His hand closed around your wrist, the grip much like it was the day you left him.

This time, he would not let go.

“--Stop, (Y/N). Don’t.”

You hadn’t realized there were tears falling down your cheeks until Levi turned your face to look at him. Trying to look away in your embarrassment, you laughed bitterly. His grip did not budge as he examined you sternly.  

“Just be quiet and go to sleep, alright?”

You wiped at your face, determination etched into every fibre of your being.

“Mark my words, Levi, I will make you believe me.”

Levi rolled his eyes but tugged at you once more, opening the duvet in an invitation. When he sensed your uncertainty he simply nodded, arms winding around your waist as you finally crawled in beside him. Both of you knew that there was so much that still needed to be said; so many buried feelings and pain that would only take time to unravel. It felt like a miracle to find yourselves in this situation, pushing aside the thousands of emotions and questions and misunderstandings the two of you had, if only to stay together in this moment.

You didn’t need Levi to know that you still loved him; not while he was coping with another loss. It would be selfish to spring that on, and that was not what you were here for. But you had to tell him:

“I missed you.”

Levi hummed, nose brushing against yours in the close proximity.  

“You better not be gone when I wake up,” he chided in response, orbs fluttering shut.

Your fingers threaded through his onyx black locks, brushing through the knots soothingly. Knowing you’d help this man heal no matter how long it took, you took comfort in the realization that he’d finally let you do just that.  

“I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, Levi. I promise you never will be.”

He pulled you closer, thankful that there was at least one source of warmth left in his life that he could hold onto-- especially after coming to terms with and almost having been certain he’d never experience this feeling of contentment, again. But here you were to prove him wrong, a living slice of home in his arms.

It may have been wishful thinking, but you could have sworn you felt Levi’s breath fan across your hairline, a soft voice whispering “Thank you, (Y/N).” before you felt yourself slip away into slumber once more.

taglist: @asterroidd @chucky-26o1 @silversxble @belovedwindermere @christina-mj-stan @leviackerrman @cravrat @thekohakuriver1 @batakprincess @sunisenpai

[likeastarstar]

The House Call

Summary: As a full time grad student and part time drug dealer, you have a lot on your plate and Namjoon being a shitty school project partner is NOT helping, ok?!

masterlist.

Okay, so you were a drug dealer.

Nothing major! It was just weed, which would be legalized quickly, given the way the rest of the world was going. It was just to get you through grad school, you only sold to friends. You kept your circle tight, not many people even knew you dealt. You were very selective, which is why when Seokjin asked to share your number with his friend, you were unsure. But he was your most reliable customer, so his friends must be too.

What made it even worse was that he apparently was too busy to meet up at your usual drop spot- insisting to pay extra if you did a house call instead. You agreed, obviously, but still. It was annoying.

You had things to do, there was a huge project due the next morning and your partner hadn't done his part of it. He looked smart enough when you were paired up- he had glasses and everything. How were you supposed to know he was lazy as shit.

A buzzing in your pocket interrupted your internal rant- who the hell was calling you this late at night?

"Hello?" You snapped, letting your bad mood seep through your tone.

"Uh, hi- I had a question about the project."

Namjoon- your project partner. Of course. You groaned, walking up the steps to the apartment complex to where you were meant to drop off the weed. All of your conversations with this new customer had been through Jin, a fact that you regretted deeply.

"Get it over with, you know you really should've done this sooner," You sighed, checking the apartment numbers twice before knocking on the door.

"I normally would've but I've been really stressed, ok?" He apologized, a shuffling sound coming through the line.

You rolled your eyes as the door in front of you opened, revealing-

"Namjoon," You gasped, taken aback. He was Jin's friend? What are the odds. You hung up quickly, raising your eyebrows dramatically, "What are you doing buying weed instead of working on our project?"

He looked shocked himself, towering over you with his phone still pressed to his ear. He was dressed more casually than you were used to seeing, his hair disheveled in a way that oddly looked better than when he tried to tame it.

"I told you I was stressed," He mumbled, "Come in. I didn't know you were a dealer."

"I didn't know you smoked," You bit back, rolling your eyes.

You pursed your lips but stepped into his place, looking around curiously. It was nice, decorated in a way you wouldn't have expected from a 20 something year old boy. His place was relatively clean, other than the multiple empty cup noodles placed in random areas and the insane amount of paper laying around, "is this all schoolwork?"

"I'm taking a lot of classes," He shrugged, "How much is it?"

"Uh- thirty," You answered, picking up the nearest piece of paper. It was for micronutrients in the human body. the human, a class you had taken two semesters ago on a whim. "No wonder you're stressed out."

He handed you the money wordlessly, trading you for the paper in your hand. You looked at him for the first time since you walked in, only now noticing the dark circles under his eye and the way he had seemingly bitten his lower lip raw. You groaned, feeling all of the annoyance you had minutes ago turn into sympathy.

You shoved the money in your pocket and handed him his weed, pulling your backpack off your back, "Get high, take a break."

"I can't take a break right now, I'm so fucking behind on all of my classes-"

"Chill, I'll help you. Light up, we'll work on the project together and then I'll help you on micro. I got an A in it, I'll tutor you."

So that's what you did, working through the mountain of shit he had piled up in his living room side by side. You never really noticed how funny he was before, both unintentionally and intentionally. He offered your own weed to you and you accepted, feeling nice and relaxed by the time you had gotten around to tutoring Namjoon on other subjects.

"Do you understand it a little more now?" You asked, looking up at him. He was sat beside you on the couch, thighs touching yours with an arm stretched behind your head on the couch. He nodded and frowned, correcting his work and leaning towards you to show you. "Y-yeah, that's right."

He smelt really good- like sandalwood and honey. You couldn't help but stare at the way he was sucking his cheeks in in concentration. Why the hell was this guy a environmental science major? He could be a model.

"You're a really fast learner," You noted, your voice soft and hazy, the way it always was when you were high.

"You're a good teacher," He mumbled, smiling sleepily at you.

He looked so cute you couldn't help it, leaning forwards to kiss him. Namjoon was caught off guard, freezing for a moment but his lips were soft and his skin was warm, drawing you in before you snapped back to reality, pulling away sharply.

"I shouldn't have done that," You gasped, leaning away from him awkwardly. You had to get out of here- eyes already searching for your belongings. Embarrassment crept up on your skin, heating your cheeks. Maybe you could blame it on being reallt fucking blazed, which you were.

"No," He said suddenly, catching your arm with a hand around your wrist, "I should've done it."

What?

"Why do you think I wanted to be your partner for this project?" He smiled, eyes lighting up in a cute way you hadn't noticed before.

"Um, because I'm the smartest person in class?" You guessed, playing with his large hand idly. His fingers felt good between yours, tingling shocks sparking in the places where his skin touched yours.

He laughed softly, nodding sheepishly, "That too- but more than a good grade, what I wanted was you. Part of the reason I'm so behind in class is because all I do during lecture is stare at you- you're not very good at controlling your facial expressions, did you know that?"

You pulled your mouth into a tight line, smiling awkwardly. It was true, you had been known to show every thought passing through your mind on your face. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"You're really scary," He shrugged plainly, as if it were just an obvious fact. "You yell at me a lot which makes me nervous and horny at the same time and I've been trying to figure out whether that means I'm a freak or not."

"It's a good thing I enjoy yelling at you," You noted, more to yourself than him.

"You can yell at me whenever you want, baby," He said jokingly, grinning down at you. Holy shit, he had really nice teeth.

You barely had time to process his words before his lips were on yours, leading the kiss this time. His hand cradled the side of your face, thumb stroking your still flushed cheeks delicately as his other arm wrapped around your waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders, squeezing the muscle under your palms and pulling him closer to you. Namjoon guided you onto his lap, holding you closer him. God- he was warm and strong and so, so soft.

His hands stayed in their polite place at your waist, kneading into the flesh of your sides with a purpose. Namjoon was a good kisser- an easy balance of dominant and soft. He knew where to push and pull, reading your body like it was second nature to him. First kisses could be awkward, but this one was perfect.

His tongue licked a tentative swipe along the edges of your mouth and you reached up to sink your hands in his hair, pushing his head to the side slightly as you parted your lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. His tongue was soft against yours and he tasted like smoke and something sweet, your favorite strain of weed invading your senses.

"We should do this more often- maybe not the tutoring thing, but this- the kissing thing," He said, parting from you for a moment.

You nodded eagerly, pulling him back towards you, "Yeah, definitely- the kissing thing. Maybe if I give you enough time to stare at me outside of class, you'll do better too. I really can't date anyone below a 3.5 GPA you know."

"Okay, calm down," He pouted, narrowing his eyebrows at you, "I have a 3.8."

"I have a 3.84," You bragged, "Don't worry, I'll tutor you."

He stifled a laugh and began kissing you again. You smiled and reminded yourself to thank Kim Seokjin for asking you to make a house call.

(A/N: giiirrrl what the hell? I don't have a 3.84 in my program...maybe I should've gone into a creative writing grad program instead....LMAO)

[angelyuji]

I also love Yan!Spiderman, there will never be enough content for him ! Can I request a headcannon ? Or a blurb, whatever you prefer ? I love the amnesia trope, like the reader having long-term amnesia after an accident or whatever and yan!Spiderman swooping in, saying they have been dating for months... You may get suspicious of how flustered he gets but he knows so much about you, he can't be lying, right ? 😚

17+

cw// stalking, non-consensual picture taking, kind of kidnapping, familial neglect, car accident caused by superheroes, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, forced hugs, lying, manipulation, “gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss” energy, implied murder, peter being a crybaby to guilt trip you, idk peter being gross and pervy and being a liar, toxic relationship (kind of because you’re kinda not aware of the fact that he sucks and he’s lying)

· OMGBESTIE sorry i just absolutely ADORE the amnesia trope in yandere fics GHJKJHGF

· it’s just so perfect *chef’s kiss*

· anyway

· you got into accident that totally not caused by peter…yeah, it was totally definitely the criminal’s fault …

· but i mean, why were you driving in the middle of a villain attack anyway? oh, you had to go to work?...so??? peter didn’t give you the ok?????

· right, so he’s tossing cars and trying to bring justice (or something like that) and he saw you coming, but alas, he's too late

· you see something hurtling towards your car as you stop at a red light. you squint your eyes, “oh. ha, that’s a car…wait”

· peter was only a couple feet away when he sees the truck he threw slam against the hood of your car, crumpling the hood like it’s made of aluminum foil. time moves in slow motion as peter tries to reach you. out of reflex, peter shoots his webs to move you from impact. he can feel himself move, but his mind shuts down. when he regains consciousness, you’re in his arms, passed out, but seemingly unscathed. he feels relief, then fury. peter barely noticed when the paramedics came to move you out of his arms. he turns to the villain, his whole body shaking, and launches himself at the man.

· you end up in the hospital for a brain injury that left you in a coma and peter literally never left your side. he came every day and stayed by your side until visiting hours were over, and came into your room at night as spiderman after patrol.

· the hospital staff saw him so much that they assumed you were both in a relationship, so when you woke up at night during his patrol hours, they called him first.

· they called your parents after…weird, i know

· “how do you feel?”

· “fine, i guess. tired, surprisingly” you chuckle dryly and the doctor smiles.

· “fine is good. what’s the last thing you remember?”

· “…um….i can’t… I don’t-”

· “hey, it’s okay. take your time.” the doctor tries to be reassuring, but you feel panic bubble. what’s going on, why can’t you remember what happened? what’s happening to you? your breathing turns rough and the air feels thicker as you seem to remember less and less of what you should know. all of a sudden, two arms wrap around you and pull you into them.

· “it’s gonna be okay” they mumble into your hair as you cry into their shirt.

· peter and the doctor eventually figured out that you were missing 4 years of your life. the 4 years that you’ve lived in queens, to be exact.

· peter realizes exactly what he has to do when the doctor pulls him and your family aside to explain the situation

· (they had asked him who tf he was and he, in a panic to not be kicked out, said y’all were dating)

· he offers your family a way out, a way to not take the stress of taking care of you, by letting him take care of you

· “i love them. i can’t lose them and i won’t lose them, so please, let me take care of them”

· honestly, your family was lowkey relieved that peter offered to take care of you, not even remembering that you have never mentioned this man in any conversation (who has amnesia now??)

· peter would go into your room and tell you that you’re going home with him

· “what? what about my family?”

· “they’re okay with it. they have a lot going on and, as your boyfriend-”

· “boyfriend? i’ve never seen you before in my life?”

· “no! no, we started dating when you moved to queens!" at your blank stare, he lowers his head slightly and you see tears fall, "i wish you would remember”

· peter will pull out his pictures of you saying stuff like “then how do i have these pictures?? hmm????” and fake crying to make it seem like he was your grieving boyfriend

· he’ll be constantly mentioning the fact that he’s your boyfriend to you and to others (at some point, ur confused on whether he’s trying to convince you or trying to convince himself) “as your boyfriend’ “your boyfriend” “i love being with you and going on dates haha yk since im your bf”

· he’ll make up different stories from places he’s seen you. if he stalked you while you were walking at the park, he’ll say you both went on walks often. if you went on picnics by yourself often, he’ll say you constantly had picnic dates. had a fun day at the arcade? more like, you had fun day at the arcade with peter!

· peter’s smart, he uses these events as a way of tricking your brain into thinking that each memory you recover of these moments are just moments that are missing him, and eventually, he’ll start appearing in memories

· peter would take you to his apartment and absolutely REFUSE to let you leave, he’ll have an excuse ready to make sure you can’t leave your new home

· “the doctor said you shouldn’t move too much”

· he’ll make you sleep in the same bed as him, go on dates with him, hug and kiss him like “you used to do” with the excuse of “the doctor said you should do things that you used to do before the accident to start remembering everything”

· …riiight

· “are you coming to bed?” you lay in his bed, waiting for peter.

· “i-i sorry, yes, I-” peter stumbles on his words as he stands by the bed.

· you sit up in annoyance, “peter, you said we slept together. what’s wrong?”

· peter turns bright red, “no! nothing’s wrong! it’s nothing, i-i’m coming to bed in a sec.” you lay back down and soon you feel him crawl into bed. you turn your back to him, but peter pulls you closer to him and start leaving kisses down your back.

· “what are you doing.” you whisper into the darkness. his small touches feel foreign on your skin and your body itches to move in disgust.

· “i’m helping you sleep. uh-before, i helped you fall sleep like this, maybe this’ll help you remember” peter pushes his head into the crook of your neck and holds you closer, his fingers grazing under your shirt and feeling your stomach.

· you try to move away without panicking, “maybe, we’re moving too fast? i kinda need some spa-” you feel peter freeze.

· “do-do you not love me anymore?” you feel peter’s tears before you hear his sniffles, “i didn’t want to push you, but i just missed you so much and i thought that you were starting to remember how much you love me.” his sniffles turn to sobs and you start feeling guilty. you push your discomfort away and let yourself get pulled into his warmth.

· “no, it's fine. just don’t, you know, cry please.” you press your lips into a thin line and sigh as peter stops sniffling and hums in content.

· he’ll guilt you into doing what he wants with tears and sobs about how he misses “the old you”

· funny, considering the fact that this mf basically made up his entire relationship with you because he’s literally psychotic

· your relationship would be seemingly normal too, except that all of the friends that talked about how they’ve never met peter before your accident went missing…huh, definitely no connection there…

· but by the time they inform you of their concern, it is already months after your accident and peter would have already made you believe that you were dating

· in peter’s mind, you’re everything and more than he imagined, even though you barely know him, he knows you so well that it’s easy for him to make you believe that you’re together.

· peter would tell he’s spiderman once you’ve stopped resisting him to make sure that you won’t search up your accident and see that spiderman was involved

· the only way for you to break from peter’s grip on your mind is for him to accidently confess that he’s lied to you

· and that’ll happen, peter may be good at lying, but during a fight, he might let it slip

· “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO THEM.”

· “they’re my friends, peter. you can’t stop me from seeing them.” you roll your eyes when peter’s face crumples. “ugh, peter, stop with the guilt-tripping. your fake tears don’t work on me anymore.”

· peter’s face turns cold, “your friends are liars and they’ve been trying to break us up since the accident. all they say when they see me are lies.”

· you keep a straight face, “well, i know it’s a lie, so you don’t have to act like this.”

· “but-but what if you start believing them? what if you realize that you can do better than me? what if you remember everything? what if they make you break up with me? wh-” peter turns to you and sees you frozen in place. he moves towards you and pulls you into a hug, but you stay stiff.

· “what do you mean “remember”?” you whisper and peter’s eyes go wide. silence fills the room as peter says still.

· “well, shit”

-

[nugnthopkns]

if everything could ever feel this real forever

word count: 4.3k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, allusion to sexual content (nothing explicit but minors please be aware!)

recommended listening: everlong | foo fighters

a/n: broke down and wrote for ratty matty. alternalty titled four times matthew thinks you’re the one and one time he knows (4+1′s are fun to write, pls don’t fight me). also pls ignore the fact i don’t know how airports work, i’ve only ever flown domestically lmao

Matthew feels different when you’re around. 

You don’t turn him into a completely different person. He’s still himself – an absolute pest at times – but more genuine. With you he can feel everything deeply, say whatever’s on his mind without the fear of being judged. It’s the best kind of different, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. His teammates constantly ask him when he’s going to lock you down; put a ring on your finger and change your last name, but he needs to be sure before he makes such a big commitment. 

one

It’s the beginning of July, and you’re sweating buckets in the back of an Uber. The driver has the air cranked, but nothing seems to alleviate the heat. You know it will be worse in St. Louis so you do your best not to complain, but it’s hard. Taking two weeks off to visit your boyfriend in his hometown sounded like a great idea, but reading the weather forecast has you re-evaluating the trip. 

Your phone lights up in your lap, and you eagerly unlock it. It’s a text from Matthew. Have a safe flight. Text me when you land. Tayrn will be there to pick you up – Brady and I’s on-ice got extended. I’ll see you when I get home. Love you. 

Though you wish he could be the first person you see when you touch down, you understand that his job comes first. Besides, your re-unification will be more private this way. I get to see the best Tkachuk first, fuck yeah you reply, before following it up with Love you too Matty. See you soon. 

Soon after sending the text you arrive at the entrance of Calgary International Airport. With a polite thank you to your driver, you grab your suitcase and head inside. The working air conditioning answers your silent prayers and you feel your body slowly return to a normal temperature. Check in is fast, and before you know it you’re breezing through security. A slightly nervous traveller, you’re at the gate earlier than you need to be. The plane doesn’t take off for another two hours. You don’t mind the wait, listening to a couple of podcast episodes and grabbing a snack at the lounge before boarding. 

The five hour flight passes in the blink of an eye. St. Louis is busier than Calgary, and it takes you longer than you thought it would to get through customs. Once passed immigration and at the baggage carousel you let Matthew know you’re safely inside the city limits. You grab your obnoxious suitcase – a bright red thing with a giant Flames logo that Matthew thought would be funny to give you – and set out to find Tayrn. She’s easy to spot, waving a giant poster with your name on it. Abandoning nearly all airport etiquette, you rush through the crowd to see her. Over the years she’s become a little sister and close friend, and you really wish you could see her more frequently. 

“Y/N!” Taryn squeals as you wrap your arms around her. The pair of you embrace for another moment or two before making your way to her car. Neither of you can stop talking, so excited to be in each other’s presence.

“It’s so nice to be back,” you sigh. “I really do like St. Louis.” 

Tayrn giggles. “You’re just excited to see Matthew.” 

Though she isn’t wrong, you swat her bicep in faux annoyance. “What? Can a girl not enjoy a nice Midwestern city?” You push your sunglasses up onto the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Besides, I only came here to see you. I see enough of Matt at home.”

She rolls her eyes but extends her arm so you can fist bump her. With a quick look to make sure the way is clear, Taryn exits the parking spot and heads in the direction of your temporary home. The open sunroof allows the wind to whip through your hair and you struggle to tame it enough to put it in a ponytail. One Direction blasts from the stereo, and you join Taryn in screaming the lyrics until your lungs hurt. Being on vacation, even if it’s only to St. Louis, is so freeing. You don’t have to deal with work deadlines or friendship drama. All that matters is spending time with Matthew. 

When you pull into the Tkachuk’s driveway it’s empty. It’s Thursday afternoon; Chantal’s at work, Keith is golfing with friends, and the boys are at the rink. You take a few minutes to unpack, filling Matthew’s drawers with your clothes, before joining Taryn by the pool. St. Louis is just as hot as the city you left, and the travel has left you feeling below average. A quick swim is sure to be the perfect remedy. 

The water is the right kind of cool, and alleviates any stress you were possibly feeling. You’re properly in vacation mode now, lounging on pool floaties and gossiping with Taryn. An hour later when Matthew returns home you’re in basically the same position. Stepping out into the yard he sees you urging Taryn to turn around so you can place sunscreen onto the one spot she missed, laughing all the while at some ridiculous celebrity rumor she’s telling you. Seeing you get along so easy with his sister, and the rest of his family, makes his heart swell.

In the couple of months you’ve been separated, Matthew’s thought a lot about his future. Specifically about his future with you. When he closes his eyes he can see it clearly: the two of you married with children and a dog, living in a house in the mountains and loving life. It’s idyllic, and even though he knows you’d say yes if he asked you, Matthew still can’t bring himself to do it. There’s something in the back of his brain telling him to wait until he knows with absolute certainty that you’re it for him.

Not wanting to be separated from you for a minute more, he snaps out of his daze and scurries over. Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing a kiss to the base of neck, he relishes in how you mould to him immediately, not even questioning who it was. 

“Welcome back baby,” Matthew mumbles into your skin. 

With a chuckle you wriggle slightly in his grasp, allowing yourself to face him. You press a kiss to his lips and it feels like heaven. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, you suppose, because you could stand here kissing Matthew your the rest of your life and be happy. 

“Hi Matty,” you giggle against his lips, parting from him only to rest your forehead on his and twist a curl around your finger.

From somewhere inside the house you hear Brady yell,  “Jesus Christ, you two, get a room.”

Without taking his eyes off you, Matthew replies, “Fuck off Brady!”

two

The energy inside the Saddledome is electric. It’s the Flames’ first home game in nearly a week, doing an east coast road trip and sweeping every team they faced. Six games later the team is on a nine game winning streaking and are hoping to keep it going. You know how much it matters in this moment – the playoffs are fast approaching and all points they can tally up are needed. 

You had decided months ago to buy rinkside tickets for this game, planning to surprise Matthew. He loves when you sit in the regular crowd, cheering and spilling your beer like any old fan. It’s humbling for the both of you, and honestly you enjoy it. Though you love those in the Better Halves box, you were a hockey fan before dating Matthew and sometimes like to enjoy games by yourself. Plus, your friend was supposed to be in town and join you at the game, and you figured she’d like to experience how insane the area is firsthand.

So you do your best to quickly shimmy around those blocking your seat, beverage in hand. It was all you could do to get to the rink on time, sitting in the dense downtown traffic for nearly three quarters of an hour after rushing out of work. You wanted to make it before warmups started to make sure Matt knows you’re there supporting him. No one really bats an eye at you, which you’re thankful for. In no way are you notorious, but it wouldn’t take a die-hard fan long to recognize you. Sitting down and letting a soft sigh escape your lips, you carefully place your jacket over the seat beside you. At the last minute your friend had to cancel her trip to Calgary, leaving you solo. With a quick look at the clock you see that warm up will start in just under a minute. The players begin to step onto the ice as you sip your beer. Matthew is yet to notice you but you don’t take offence. He’s in the zone and most likely won’t realize you’re sitting right in front of him until halfway through the third period.

“Look daddy, it’s Matthew Tkachuk!” you hear a young boy shriek in excitement. “He’s so fast, I want to play just like him.”

You turn to look and see two rows above you there’s a father and son, who looks around eight. He’s wearing a jersey identical to yours, and from the sounds of his excited chattering it’s his first game. Seeing the young boy so happy to be here, to see your boyfriend, has your heart swelling. You want to make this a game he’ll never forget.

“Hi,” you smile at the father. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I know Matthew quite well. Would you like me to get his attention so your son could meet him?”

A shocked expression makes its way onto the dad’s face, but he doesn’t react negatively. “You’d do that?” he asks. “Riley loves Matthew. Wants to be just like him.” When you nod, he lets you approach the boy. 

“Hey there Riley, I’m Y/N,” you say, smiling and extending a hand to him. “I’m a special friend of Matthew’s. Would you like to meet him?”

The boy looks at his father tentatively, and only once he nods encouragingly does Riley respond to your question. “Yes please.”

“Why don’t you come down here with me and we’ll get his attention?”

With a little help from you, Riley climbs over the seats and plops unceremoniously beside you. You help him straighten out his jersey before beginning a conversation. He tells you he plays in a local youth league and wants to make it to the NHL one day. When prompted, you explain to him that you work a boring office job that you love even though it makes you angry sometimes. It’s all very formal, but after cracking a few jokes you get him to loosen up.

Matthew, still not having noticed you, begins to skate along the boards in your direction. “Watch this,” you whisper-yell to your newfound friend, “I bet he’ll jump super high.”

As soon as Matthew passes your spot you bang on the glass and scream his name. Sure enough, his skates lift a good three inches of the ice and he shrieks. Teammates around him laugh and the look on his face is priceless when he discovers you’re the culprit. 

“Babe!” 

You smile. “Matty, this is my new friend Riley. He wears number nineteen just like you!” A glance at the boy lets you know he’s starstruck, and your eyes lock with Matthew’s. 

He leans down and rests his hands on his knees, at eye level with the child. “Hi Riley,” he begins. “I’m Matt. I like your jersey.” 

After that, Riley’s a tap that won’t turn off. He details every bit of his day to Matt, and even though their voices are muffled a bit from the glass they get on like two peas in a pod. Matthew is great with children and doesn’t shy away from having legitimate conversations with them. He talks to them like they’re people, which is something you admire about him. The warmup time runs out, but before he heads back to the dressing room Matthew hoists his stick over the glass, giving it to Riley. The younger boy beams and waves goodbye. You blow Matthew a kiss, which he gladly returns, and turn your attention away from him as his figure retreats. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”The question makes you laugh.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask, to which Riley just shrugs. 

“He called you ‘babe’, and my mommy calls my dad that. That means you’re in love,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. 

Matthew cannot pay attention in the locker room for the life of him. He’s trying really hard to listen to everyone’s hype speeches, but his mind keeps wandering back to the interaction you shared during warm up. You looked so happy watching him interact with the boy you found god knows where within the arena. It’s then he realizes he wants to watch you act like that for the rest of his life. He wants to see you bring excited children to meet him because you have the power to make their nights. His suspicion is confirmed when he steps onto the ice and looks in your direction, finding you and Riley pressed up against the glass cheering loudly.

three

The Giordano’s are hosting an end-of-season barbeque before everyone scatters into the wind, and you’re going to be late. No matter how much you reminded Matthew of what time you had to leave he still started getting ready as you were finishing up. This typically wouldn’t be a big deal, but he has recently started taking care of his curls, and the routine eats up a lot more time than he anticipates. 

“Matty, are you almost ready? There’s going to be no parking!”

His footsteps echo off the hardwood floor as he comes towards you. “That’s what you’re worrying about, baby? Parking?” Matthew laughs, pulling you into his side and kissing the crown of your head. 

“Yeah Matt, I am. You know I have parking anxiety.”

“I’ll drive then,” he says sweetly. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve driven us. Have some fun tonight.”

The short drive across town is full of laughter. Neither of you are great singers, but it doesn’t stop you from belting out lyrics at the top of your lungs. At some point Matthew breaks out a rather terrible impression of Axl Rose and you just have to post it to your instagram story. Captioning with a simple microphone emoji, you slip your phone back into your sweater pocket. Though most certainly warm enough to spend the entire evening outside, Calgary currently has a bit of a proclivity for wind, and you’d rather be prepared. Outside of Mark and Lauren’s house Matthew finds a spot and parallel parks with ease.

“Shut up,” you mumble, poking your tongue out at him. 

Matthew ruffles your hair in retaliation before jumping out of the vehicle, booking it around to the other side so he can open your door. He isn’t slick about hiding his intentions, grabbing a handful off your ass before leaning down to kiss you. Though you’d much rather stand in the cul-de-sac and make out with your boyfriend, you both have appearances to keep up. You get him to stop being a pest kong enough that you can enter the party and pass him off to his teammates. 

You congregate with some of the other girls in the corner of the yard, and enjoy a drink while the sun sets. It’s fun to gossip with them, to catch up one final time before most of them leave. You’ll be staying in Calgary, job tying you down for the foreseeable future. The only thing that’s better than spending time with your friends is glancing at Matthew from across the space. 

He’s enjoying himself, glass of water in hand. When he offered to be the designated driver he was serious, and he took the shit the boys were giving him in stride. Though you’ve only had one gin and tonic and can’t feel the effects of the alcohol, you’re glad he’s staying true to his word. The heightened water intake makes his skin glow, and you’re having a hard time staying focussed on the story Lauren is telling. He catches you staring and shoots you a dazzling smile. Tired of keeping your distance, you excuse yourself from the conversation and saunter over to your boyfriend. 

“Hey Y/N,” Noah says breezily, raising his glass to you in mock salute. You wrap your arms tightly around Matthew’s waist.

“Hanifin,” you smile. “I’m really sorry to do this, but I need to pull Matt away for a quick second.”

No one in the group is the least bit surprised. The two of you have a reputation for being young and in love, sneaking off often and doing everything that entails. Once the two of you are alone you rest a hand on his chest, dangerously close to the button of his shirt. You then move kissing along the underside of his jaw, pressing your body closer to his to ensure he gets the point. 

“Needy baby?” Matthew tries to smirk, but his voice wavers when you reach the junction of his jawbone and earlobe. 

Declining to speak, you continue your actions until he’s just as desperate to get home as you. Though you try to be sneaky as you exit through the back gate, you won’t be surprised if you wake up to a few crude text messages. You’re too far gone to care, solely focussed on showing your boyfriend how much you love him. 

The entire ride home Matthew can barely focus on the road. Not because you’re doing anything particularly risqué, a few too many close calls have put you both off of initiating things in the car, but because he doesn’t ever want to stop sneaking away from events with you. It’s exhilarating in more ways than one, and he hopes the feeling never goes away. Being with you, his best friend, is something he wouldn’t trade for the entire world. So what if he gets chirped by the boys for having precariously placed marks on his back.

four

September brings a chill to Calgary, but you couldn’t feel warmer. Matthew is due home this afternoon after nearly four months of being away. Of course you visited him in St. Louis, and he even flew back to the city once, but the two of you were mostly separated. Your shared apartment felt cold and lonely without him to annoy you, so you had spent as much time away from it as possible. No longer do you have to fall asleep with Matt’s side of the bed stone cold. 

Though you know he likely won’t care, you’re nervous about the new decor. In an effort to make yourself feel better in Matthew’s absence, you completed some home renovations. Most are superficial, like a new sectional and an ungraded home speaker system, but you had redone the entire kitchen after scrolling through pinterest. The cabinets are a bright yellow, and the walls are a warm cream. Subway tile has also replaced the previous backsplash. You’re quite proud of the way it looks – doing pretty much all of it yourself and only calling your dad when you really needed help. 

You spend much of the morning not doing anything productive, pacing the hallway back and forth. It’s nerve wracking and exciting to have Matthew home. Things will go much smoother with his presence even if he can sometimes be the most annoying person on the planet. You force yourself to eat a small meal before continuing to wear holes into your floor. He’ll arrive in a matter of minutes, and you’re practically vibrating with how much your legs are shaking. 

A key twists in the lock, as though it’s a Pavlovian response, you bound towards the front door. Not even letting him step over the threshold you wrap yourself around him as tightly as possible. Matthew giggles sweetly, and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. Tears flow freely down your cheeks and soak through his shirt. In a very ungraceful waddle Matthew carries the both of you inside your home and shuts the door lightly. 

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Matt asks, obviously concerned because this is more emotional than any homecoming you’ve ever had. 

Through hiccupping sobs, you stutter out, “I painted the kitchen cabinets yellow and you’re going to hate them. And then you’ll want to break up with me but I won’t be able to take them with me.”

“Woah woah woah, slow down baby,” he soothes, rubbing circles on your back. “Why am I going to hate it?”

When you can’t come up with a justifiable answer, he knows your anxiety just got the better of you. Repositioning you slightly so you’re tucked into his side, Matthew walks through the apartment to see the kitchen for himself. He’s blown away by its beauty, and he can see just how much work you put into it. The room is so much brighter and inviting – he can’t imagine having any other kitchen now. 

Once you ramble off an apology for being so dramatic that he won’t accept, the two of you settle into the couch and start a reality television marathon. It’s a tradition that both of you take very seriously, and though he’d never admit it to anyone but you, Matthew looks forward to watching the outlandish dramas. The night is quiet, with you getting through quite a few seasons of Desperate Housewives, and at some point you fall asleep on Matthew’s chest. He knows he should gently move you off of him, start to unpack his bags, but he can’t tear himself away.

He can’t help but stare as you snore softly. There’s nothing Matthew would like more than to spend the rest of his life relaxing after coming home to you. If he’s being completely honest, St. Louis doesn’t feel like home as much anymore, and he finds himself counting down the days until he can return to Calgary. Matt supposes you’re the defining factor, and even Antarctica would feel like home to him if you were there. He never wants to lose that feeling. 

+ one 

There’s ten seconds left on the clock. Ten seconds until the Calgary Flames will become Stanley Cup champions. You’re holding your breath – you know a lot could happen in such a short amount of time. The lead isn’t as wide as you’d like it to be, only one, and you squeeze Taryn’s hand tightly. Everyone in the friends and family box is just as amped up as you. If the choice had been yours, you’d be sitting in the stands of the Saddledome, but in event the Flames win you need to be with everyone else if you want to join the team on the ice. 

Matthew carries the puck up the ice, and you audibly gasp. At the last second, a Bruins defenseman is blocking his view of the net. Not letting the scoring opportunity go for his team, he snaps a pass backwards to Elias Lindholm. A nano-second later the puck is in the back of the net. You possibly scream the loudest of anyone in the box, jumping into Brady’s arms excitedly. 

“Holy shit, they’re going to do it,” you whisper, and Brady nods enthusiastically. The clock now only has two seconds, and there is virtually no way the Bruins can make a comeback. 

You untangle yourself from your boyfriend’s brother and approach his parents. “How exciting is this!” Chantal gushes. 

“So fucking exciting,” you say honestly. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.”

The Bruins’ head coach is halfway through his timeout, so you have to talk fast. You explain that you want to hang back while the family celebrates with their son and brother. Keith and Chantal try to argue, but you insist. You want them to be the first people to greet him as a Stanley Cup champion. 

A horn signals the return to play, and you return your attention to the ice pad below you. Everything seems to move in slow motion; all you remember is the final whistle being blown and getting crushed in a group hug by everyone else in the room. Your voice goes hoarse from screaming, and tears stream freely down your face. 

The party continues for a short time in the box, but then you’re being led through the arena and out onto the ice. Nodding in the direction of Matthew, you urge the Tkachuks to greet him. You congratulate other members of the team, snapping candid pictures of everyone to share in the group chat later. So many families will treasure the photos that you can’t bring yourself to stop, trying your hardest to grab everyone. 

Once enough time has passed for Matthew to properly be congratulated by his family, you make your way towards him. Wasting no time, he skates over and lifts you off your feet. Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, and if you weren’t so proud you’d have reservations about sticking your tongue down Matthew’s throat in a packed arena. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper against his lips. “My champion.”

Matthew blushes profusely at your words, and you can tell he likes them. “Couldn’t have done it without you supporting me,” he responds, leaning into your touch as you rake your fingers through his hair. 

While you celebrate with the rest of the team, holding babies and snapping pictures, Matthew realizes he can’t live without you. No one else will fit into his life as perfectly as you. There’s no one he wants besides you. Matthew makes a mental note to go through your jewelry box in the morning to get your ring size. His mom always said he’d know when someone was ‘the one’, and now he understands what she meant.  

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[amoristt]

Just a Dare | Nathan Prescott x Reader

@trueloveknifefight asked, Also can I request Nathan asking you out?

here u are! i love writing convos w nathan UGH i adore his character.

as always, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated1 i check all tags and comments <3

wanna support me for just $3? here's my ko-fi!

The lights were bright, vivid. Almost blinding. They dance LED accents into the reflection of your drink- a dull plastic cup filled to the brim with one part whiskey, zero parts mixer. The taste could bring a tear to your eye but you would be damned to water down such fine alcohol, provided by none other than Nathan Prescott himself.

Music reverberated along the pool rooms walls, laughter and hollers distantly rising with the tempos. Your foot absently tapped to the beat- you were never one for dancing. Never one for parties, either, actually, favoring drinking in the solitude of a small friend group.

If not for Nathan you wouldn't be here at all. Some would say it's a privilege to slip past those heavy doors, entering the dully lit world of the Vortex Club. You mostly just felt like it was all for show. Somehow securing a place among Nathan's friend group, and a good friend at that, it was almost duty to show up. He insisted on it.

So, here you were. Leaning against a wall in a suffocatingly warm, cramped pool room surrounded by a sea of faces you hardly recognized.

That was, until you saw Nathan's face peer through the small break in shifting bodies. You knew him all too well.

Strikingly handsome, equally strikingly pompous. Funny, crude, an absent minded party goer just as much as he was a fireball with racing, incoherent thoughts. A drinker, a druggie. Takes the edge off, he says, but you think he does it to take away his thoughts completely. You felt like his entire life was all edges, never sacred ground.

The poor bastard.

He lures your attention in as he saunters over with squared shoulders, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink when a random student cuts it a little too close. Normally Nathan would make a bigger deal, give him what for, but this time he just shoots the poor kid a menacing glare and grumbles, 'fucking watch it'. He's walking with purpose and intent, you can see it on his face. You must have a target on your forehead as he darts straight over.

When he comes to your side, his own alcohol dripping down the sides of his cup onto his wiry fingers, you raise a brow.

"Something wrong?" You ask, as he takes a spot leaning against the hard wall right next to you.

"Just wondering why you're being so fucking lame over here," He shouts over the music, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. "We're all having a good time over at the lounge and you're over here acting like all the other wallflower nobodies."

You roll your eyes with upturning lips. "Maybe I like being a wallflower. I like people watching. I see things no one else does."

"Yeah, okay, fucking weirdo."

"I mean it," You push off the wall and grin. "Look-" You point to a student obviously wasted, drink held high over head while he lets the music take him away. "That guy is clearly trashed- he's having the time of his life. He's gotta be seeing double."

Nathan whistles at his state, taking in the guys goofy smile, half lidded eyes. "I'll bet it's the triplets. I could breathe on him too hard and he'd fall over."

"You should go try it." You tease. He shakes his head and takes another drink.

"Nah, he'll get it himself. Guarantee we'll be dragging him out by his feet by the end of the night." He shrugs. "Or, at least someone will. I sure as fuck ain't staying that long."

You snicker. "What, got a hot date?" Nathan glares at you. "Oh don't tell me," you cup your hands to whisper, a secretive gesture, "homework?"

"Fuck no," He scoffs, and you can just barely see that he's a little more than tipsy now. His pale cheeks dusted with red, the tip of his nose ruby under the harsh lighting. It's also then that you realize he's a little more tense than usual, even despite the drinking. He's standing straight upright, his right hand gripping his cup like a crutch and his left now shoved hastily into his pocket.

He hasn't looked at you dead in the eyes yet.

"So what is it then?" You ask curiously. He shrugs and stares into his cup. You frown. "Bro, are you like, good right now? Do you wanna leave?"

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Nathan looks up at you. His eyes are unreadable, but his composure seems stressed. He shrugs again. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him about his state, he sighs and downs an entire mouthful of burning whiskey. It makes you cringe just watching him.

"Fuck it," He huffs. "Look I got some stupid ass dare to come over here and put the moves on you, okay." He sounds almost annoyed, like it's a hassle for him, or maybe embarrassing. You cross your arms. "I was dared to come over here and try to get you like, to fucking, you know, leave with me, but now that I'm over here I'm starting to think maybe that was a dumbass idea."

"Leave with you?" You say incredulously, a brow already lifting. "You were dared to come over here and try to sleep with me? By our friends?"

"No, no, fuck," Nathan seems agitated now, rushing. "Like a date sorta bullshit. Ask you out." He manages to get it out in almost the worst delivery possible, meanwhile you're just trying to pick out who would put him up to this. Hayden? Victoria?

A laugh forces its way out of you. "Aren't we a little too old for that game?"

Nathan shrugs. "That's what I said but they insisted. Fucking babies. At least make the dare a little more fun than just asking some bitch out. That's like elementary level shit."

Your eyes widen, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

Nathan sputters. "You're not some bitch, I didn't mean to-... Fucks sake, I'm clearly a little drunk right now okay, if you could cut me some fucking slack that'd be awesome."

"Hey man I didn't ask to be a victim of bullying," You tease, and he can't help but laugh. You soften. "Never expected it from you, though of all people. As ironic as that sounds."

"I'm not even bullying you, come on. Don't be a bitch. I even admitted it and everything."

You grin. "Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm a little disappointed."

"Oh what, you wanted to see my moves?" Nathan hums. "You wanted some Prescott action?"

"Shut the hell up." You shove his shoulder, an action that would be a mistake to so many others, but for you, it was welcomed. "I'm disappointed that it was just a dare. I'd probably have said yes if it wasn't. But, oh well."

Nathan doesn't answer for a long moment. First, he stares into his drink, processing. Almost like he hadn't heard that right, or like you were messing with him. It's rare to see Nathan Prescott stunned into a momentary silence. He's thinking, wondering what he should say next. Suspicious that you're just playing with him, hopeful that maybe you aren't.

And, you hadn't been. Truth be told if given the chance you would allow him to take you out for the evening. Show you fancy things, try out something a little more intimate than just laughter and poking fun at classmates together. You enjoyed his presence, looked forward to it at times.

A small part of you had hoped that he felt the same, maybe. Somehow. While grateful that he respected you enough to cut the crap before it even began, you couldn't help but feel a little... Disheartened at the prank. You'd saved your pride by denying him beforehand, but, if it had been genuine...

"So if it wasn't a dare," He began, quietly, barely audible over the booming music overhead. Eyes barely visible in the sea of vibrant lights crashing like waves. "You'd have said yes."

You shrug, trying to play it casual to save your own feelings, just in case. "Probably. I mean, we're already friends. We have fun so it couldn't have been that bad." He nods along to almost every word.

"Well what if we did it anyways." He blurts.

"Did what?"

"Go out tonight. Like, you know ditch this lame ass party and have some real fun."

"You love this lame ass party, and plus," You shake your head in feigned annoyance. "I'm not sleeping with you, Nathan."

He glares at you. "Fucking duh. I'm just saying we can go and hang out somewhere else. This party happens all the fucking time so it's not like we're missing anything."

"But, wouldn't that make me the butt of our friends joke?"

He shrugs. "Fuck em. It was a dumb dare anyways."

"Now it seems like you're trying extra hard to convince me to say yes." You state, and he's frazzled, running lines through his brain to try and save the absolute failure of asking you out. You decide to spare him, take a little leap of faith for yourself. "But, alright. I'm in."

Nathan gapes at you. "You're in?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm not busy right now and if you're not either than," You smile. "Why not. You better wow me though, Prescott. I'm talking a night to remember. Fireworks, dinner by candle light, a serenade. The whole package."

Nathan's eyes light up, but he tries to hide it, rolls those beautiful blues. "Well considering I've had like no fucking time to prepare how about we instead go to the roof and chill out."

You toss the idea around in your head for show. You already knew the answer the moment he asked if you were being serious.

"I mean I guess that would work," You say. "I was looking for fireworks but I suppose that will suffice. Feel free to go tell our buddies their joke may have backfired on them."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah, don't even bother. They're all drunk and probably don't even remember daring me in the first place."

"Alright then," You push yourself off the wall, feeling your cheeks warm. A flutter takes wing in the base of your chest, your heart picking up just a little faster. You can't stop the smile that graces you as you say, "Lead the way, Prescott."

Nathan does lead the way. He takes your hand into his own, your fingers tracing over his boney knuckles as he drags you through the sea of bodies, out to the school hall and up winding stairs.

You giggle like a child when he struggles to find the correct key on the janitors ring he'd snatched weeks ago just in case, tease him when he almost spills his drink all over himself. Nathan's hands are almost shaking, but you chalk it up to the alcohol. You chalk everything up to the alcohol- his trembling fingers, his red face, a shy, albeit goofy smile resting upon his lovely, angular face.

The night was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the smoldering heat of the Vortex Party.

He looks amazing out under the stars, and underneath the scope of the vast, black sky dotted with trillions of perfect, twinkling lights, you feel at peace.

Looking at him, you feel like this may be the start of something you'd denied yourself the chance of ever even imagining.

Out there, alone but together, hearing the echoes of music mixed with the livelihood of crickets in the darkness...

it truly was a night to remember.

-----------

Days later, you sit atop your desk, feet tapping rhythmically on your chair, typing away at your phone.

"Love the top," A familiar voice pipes, and you glace up to find Victoria standing before you, books pressed to her chest. She takes in your shirt, a nicely fitted long sleeve with a rather low cut v-neck. "Why haven't I see that one before?"

You shrug and set your phone down. "Never got around to wearing it I guess. Not a big fan of V-necks."

"It fits you," She sets her books down at the table beside you and brushes a hand through her hair, making sure every strand is in line. "I'll have to get one myself."

"You know what, you can have it after today," You say, and she perks up in disbelief. "As a thank you for what happened at the party."

That disbelief soon turned to confusion. "...Meaning?"

"Y'know, making Nathan ask me out. He made a whole huge deal about it- said you guys were drinking and playing Truth or Dare of all things. Gotta say, I was a little surprised."

Victoria's brows knit. "We hardly drank at that party, and I wouldn't be caught dead playing Truth or Dare. That game is for kids."

It almost knocks the wind out of you.

They hadn't even been playing in the first place.

As the teacher walks into the room, the first period bell blaring annoyingly over the speakers, you climb off your desk and prepare for the day, hardly able to contain yourself. It hadn't been a dare, after all.

And, you and Nathan's official second date was merely a day away.

[keepingupwithpotters]

goddess on a mountain top

Week 5 on @efkgirldetective 's Summer of Jily (technically not set in summer but in may?? surely that's forgivable)💫💫💫

stargazing + I've got plenty of affection / I'd be glad to show you some time

on ao3

It turned out there weren’t that many people who took Divination in her Astronomy class.

She was, somewhere deep in her mind, aware of this fact but the implications of it didn’t hit her until she was paired with her partner for this joint project. All that was left for Lily now was to scowl deep as she craned her neck, eyes crinkling with the effort.

There were many reasons Lily Evans wished she was anywhere but the Astronomy Tower tonight, number one being the late hour. Last she checked, it was very close to curfew, and sure they got permission from both of their professors for this, but that didn’t stop a gnawing worry growing inside her belly. And as a prefect –she still loved reminding herself that– wasn’t she supposed to be a little alert now anyway? Surely, these nerves were normal.

The warm May night was doing nothing to quell these concerns either, just serving as a mocking reminder of how close they were to the OWLs. She tried to console herself by seeing this as an exam prep too, empty star charts laying at the ground, but she would really prefer it if this certain homework was done solo at least.

And that brought her to the heart of the issue: the boy next to him. She had to admit, more than half of her anxieties right now were caused by him, a confession he would never hear from her lips though. An indignant huff escaped her with the thought.

“Stop hogging the telescope, Evans. Do you see Venus or not?”

She let go of James’ telescope with a sigh. They had decided bringing only one would be enough earlier, a decision she highly regretted now.

“No Venus. I think we’re looking in the wrong direction. We shouldn’t even need a telescope to see Venus, it’s supposed to be the brightest in the sky.”

“Umm, you’re wrong, Evans. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky.”

The last part was said with a practiced boredom, a phrase probably drilled into his head – and everybody else who was in the same Astronomy class with Sirius Black too, honestly. She would’ve found it amusing if it wasn’t for her cranky mood.

A saccharin smile. “Good thing Venus is not a star then, right, Potter?”

She decided to continue her search for Venus on the other side, hoping to find Jupiter as well before they lost their chance to see both. Their mission was supposed to be one of the easy ones, with the two brightest planets and all. She had a suspicion that wasn’t why Professor Dowson had given it to them though, remembering her wink as she remarked that maybe this Venus-Jupiter conjunction would do them some good too. Hah. Not bloody likely.

Her decision to leave his side certainly had nothing to do with her clammy hands holding the telescope, slipping further with his proximity. She tried to bring Sev’s face forth in her mind, guilt churning inside her stomach instantly. Better guilt than these weird flutters in her heart.

Venus winked at her from afar, seemingly mocking her thoughts. She didn’t have time to take offense before she turned her head to alert James too, relieved to finally do something besides bickering back and forth about planets and stars.

“Oi, Potter, come over here. I found it.”

He shuffled over reluctantly, probably due to not wanting to admit defeat. He barely even glanced at the sky before opening his mouth.

“Are you sure? I can’t see anything.”

“Well, some of us can see without needing a bloody gold telescope.”

She repositioned him correctly, turning his head to the right direction while grumbling under her breath. Her annoyance prevented her from realizing how close they’d gotten in the process, a fact that instantly took her breath away with the awareness. She waited a while before speaking again.

“Do you see it now?”

He choked out a “Yes.”, managing to stumble over one syllable. She didn’t let herself think why that was the case, too busy stressing over whispering the question at the first place.

Needing some distance in between, she took a shaky step back, trying to regain her composure. “And the dimmer one next to it should be Jupiter. We located the conjunction now, let’s fill the charts before we waste more time.”

“Relax, Evans.” He rolled his eyes. “We’re doing homework, and we have permission. This must be the most boring curfew breaking I have ever been involved in.”

“Sorry it’s not up to your standards, Potter. Next time I’ll bring Peeves with me.”

“I was hoping we would be alone next time we were in the Astronomy Tower together actually, Evans.”

A flush rose to her face with his cheeky smile, hopefully not too visible in the dark. She wanted to storm away under the guise of bringing their empty charts from the other side, but saw he already brought them with him in disappointment. She settled for a really loud exhale instead.

They were sitting on the ground, filling their charts in silence when they were interrupted for the first time that night. A couple barged into the tower in a flurry, limbs tangled, and eyes not seeing anything but each other. They didn’t seem to anticipate anyone else being there at this hour, not bothering to check their surroundings. An amused cough came from James as a warning while she was too shocked to say anything.

The couple finally broke apart, looking at them like they were the ones not supposed to be here.

“Oh, it’s already occupied,” the girl breathed out at last, looking sheepish and apologetic. “Sorry, didn’t see you. We’ll find another place.”

The guy gave them a funny look before leaving as he eyed their position and the charts laying before them, questioning their purpose in the Astronomy Tower most likely. The frantic couple left as quickly as they came in, leaving James and Lily gaping behind them.

The silence was broken by her laugh at last.

“Oh, no. Did she say they will find another place?” It seemed once the dam was broken, there was no stopping it. “I should’ve stopped that as a prefect, shouldn’t I?”

He joined in her laugh after a while too, shock wearing off from both of them gradually. “Nah, Evans. Reckon you deserve a day off. Leave it to the ones patrolling today, it’s their problem.”

The tense mood from earlier was dissipated, just a faint memory behind now that they wouldn’t touch upon. She felt like she owed the couple for that, at least.

“I am done with the star chart. We only have the astrological interpretation left now, right?”

“Yeah.” He went through the notes in front of him rapidly, looking for the correct glyphs. “Okay, so we got Jupiter touching Venus. And Jupiter amplifies everything it comes into contact with. Let’s just list everything Venus does with ‘more’ before it and call it a day.”

She couldn’t argue with that logic. She started to rattle on as she wrote in the margins of her chart. “Alright, then more love, more beauty, more creativity… More art maybe, for the creativity and aesthetic side? And more affection for love and pleasure.”

“Yeah, good, but we’re supposed to write them as the effects of the transit so something like ‘I will show more affection’ is—”

She couldn’t stop the snort that left her mouth.

“What?”, he gave an offended cry. “I’ve got plenty of affection. I am oozing with affection.”

Images of Severus and all the other poor First Years filled her mind. “Yeah, for like three other people.”

“It doesn’t have to be only three people,” he mumbled. She couldn’t hear him without straining her ears.

“Ah, I won’t believe you finally broadened your horizons till I witness it with my own eyes, Potter.”

“Yeah?” There was a challenging glint in his eyes. “Well, I’d be glad to show you sometime,” he bit out.

She tried to stop her mind from wandering. “Can’t wait.”

Lily Evans was no fool, she knew exactly what these innuendos were, and what her body’s extreme reactions to them meant. But Lily Evans was also a good friend. So, she would wait, maybe even talk with Severus in the meanwhile about it. The exam period was plenty stressful anyway, it only made sense for her to be cautious about this.

She would bid her time, stay put until the OWLs were over. Her rising hopes were hushed immediately with the thought, not allowing her mind to dream that far. But for right now, Lily Evans would enjoy some time with James Potter under the stars. After all, she was no saint, and Venus herself shined her approval from above.

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Short! Reader - Part 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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

Y/N was in the kitchen, preparing to make a chocolate shake because, uh, chocky shakes are quite scrumptious if I do say so myself, and I do say so. She grabbed the stool next to the small island in the kitchen and used it to get on top of the counter. She clicked her tongue, keeping her mind on her surroundings in case her roommate, Michael, were to teleport through sheer force of will and pull her down. But she didn't hear him coming.

Y/N grabbed the blender and looked around the room to make sure her stool wasn't moved when she wasn't looking. When Michael would do that, she'd fall down since it's like walking down the stairs but missing a step, making you fall down and lose your will to breath. Of course, Y/N should be smart enough to just look down or get down slowly to see if the stool is there, but that solution would be too simple and intelligent for the likes of this story.

Y/N got off the counter and kicked the stool off the side, looking around more. "Huh,"she clicked her tongue, shrugging off her paranoia. She plugged in the blender and grabbed the ice cream tub she got earlier, scooping some out and putting it in the cup of the blender. She hummed to herself as she poured in milk and whatever toppings she wanted, like oreos or something.

It was about 8am, meaning it was almost time for her to go to work. Usually Michael would be watching tv, doing something out back, or whatever else he does, but she strangely couldn't find him. It was weird for him to just be missing. But to be fair, he's an adult who can leave whenever we he wants.

I sighed, as I turned on the blender, my eyes turning dull from boredom. It felt like a weight was put on her shoulders from the disappointment, but at least getting to work on time would be easier. Michael wasn't used to a modern day home so I would usually have to go on a rundown of things to and not to do before I left. A smile lifted my face as I think back, simultaneously pouring the shake into a cup and putting it in my fridge for now.

I take a large breath again before heading to my room, pushing the door open with a silent squeak coming from it. It smelled like slight dust which kinda makes since because who the hell has time to clean anything, am I right? No one, because this story takes place in America and anyone who's lives in a different country before being here can tell you that a lot for us are depressed because America is designed to be repeatative. Like, can we please do anything other than wake up, work, go watch TV at home, then sleep? Can we have a week long festival instead of getting drunk and shooting fireworks one day in July?

I shake the thoughts that suddenly appeared in my head off, sighing as I walked to my closet. "I need to take schizophrenia pills, I swear," I mumble as I pull open the sliding door— "Yo, what the hell!-"

There the skyscraper was, right in the middle of the same closet where I keep my hoodies. He stared at me for a good four seconds, a dull expression but anyone can tell from the look in his eye that he was shookyth. Probably because he didn't his mask on but who knows.

It was a great battle honestly; as soon as I realized he was maskless, I pulled my phone out quickly for a picture, but he ran at me and took the phone away. Obviously, I wasn't gonna let that slide so I did what anyone would in the situation; kick them in the shjn because that's what everyone was thinking,  right? He reactively brought his hands down fast a protection reflex, giving me enough time to grab his hand.

His grip was stronger than the strength of flex tape however, so I couldn't pull it off him before I was shoved back. I landed on my back, but tried to get back up. But hah, that would mean adding more to the "battle" so of Michael held me down after throwing the phone on the bed. "Michael, get off!" I yelled as his hands squeezed my wrists. It was embarrassing to be straddled when I had so much pride, but this isn't in a situation where I can enjoy it and act like a flustered schoolgirl!

I tried to kick my legs, but that didn't work either. I was never gonna get out of his grip but still, struggling to get out was er than admitting defeat so it's worth it. "Come on! You're heavy enough to kill me, so get up and fight like a man!" Michael had held his head down so getting a good view from my perspective wasn't easy. Basically, his head was above my chest (it's the easiest easy to describe my visionnnn) so him looking down only gives the view of his hair and forehead.

"Michael! Where you looking for that hoodie from a week ago? What were you even doing!" I shouted, cause you gotta make sure you keep that pride. I gave a couple seconds of waiting before sighing loudly, limping. Because screw that line in the same paragraph about pride, am I right? Then, he mumbled. It wasn't a word I don't think, considering it sounded more like a groan as conformation. I shivered a bit, still not used to the sound of his voice.

"Is...that a yeah?" He then nodded, but kept his head low. "Um, alright... Well, let me up and I'll get it for you, okay?" Michael then let go, standing up and helping me up in the process. "Thank you," I stated as I walked over to the closet, pulling out two hoodies. One for me, and that blue one for him. When I turned to hand his to him, he sadly put his mask on already, making me sigh again. I handed the hoodie and smiled at him.

"There you go! Let me know if you need anything else before I go, kay?" I spoke as I put on my hoodie then fixing my slightly messed up hair. He put on his hoodie, not responding in any way so I assumed nothing else was needed. I pat his arm and said bye as I walked out of the bedroom. I grabbed the oreo shake and walked out of the house, locking the door.

I shivered in bed, trying to sleep. It doesn't snow much here therefore what's basically a blizzard to happen is definitely surprising. It's worse that I have an old house; the temperature of the house really depends on the outside. There's few vents, so freezing air easily makes it into the house. And get this; the heater conveniently broke! Hah! Who's gonna come fix with weather? It's so funny it makes me want to curl up and cry, haha.

I guess it seems like I'm overreacting, but the house's temperature really is freezing because of the snow. Plus it's night out, so it's even colder. "It felt like summer yesterday though," I mumbled to myself, holding the covers tightly around me. I pressed me face closer to the pillow, closing my eyes tigher with stress. We all know a cold pillow is great but a cold cover is miserable. Michael had it worse however.

He slept on the couch with a few covers rather than a thick mattress and comforter. He got up a few times to microwave food so at least it'll make him a little warmer, but it didn't help much of course. Michael's been shot, ran over, beaten, and so many other things so the cold is nothing to him. But given the conditions he lives in, it wouldn't be wrong to use what he can to be more comfortable. Such as sleeping in a bed for once.

Just the thought of a bed sounded nice to him. The couch was small for someone tall enough to slap the top of the ceiling in schools that probably had some encouraging message on it. Michael pulled the covers off him, sitting up and stretching. His mask was off at the moment but it was too dark for anyone to notice luckily for him. He made his way towards the bedroom, opening the door silently and closing it.

Y/N frowned, nearly falling asleep at this point. Michael made his way over, softly leaning on the bed before laying on it. He wrapped his arm around Y/N for a little of warmth, since snuggles is nice I think. I wouldn't know, I've never dated. He nuzzle into the crook of her neck, closing his eyes. It was silent aside from the strangely obnoxious sound of wind from outside. I wouldn't know if that happens irl, it finally snowed for the first time where I lived and it was so little that the snow didn't pile up.

It was peaceful and Michael almost fell asleep until he heard a small snore from Y/N. Not the loli snore kind, no, I'm not a big fan of "adorable sneezes, yawns, or snores." This is the kind that you never want a significant oth set to wake you up to tell you about. Okay, maybe that not extreme but it was loud enough to be heard.

Michael felt a small smile go on his lips, intertwining his fingers with Y/N's hair. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep now. But his sleep was cut short when a loud squeak shook the house. He shook awake, sitting up immediately and looked around. All there was was a smol reader with a large smile on her face. The lamp besides the bed was turned on, showing a soft reddish feel to the room that made her blush excusable.

His look of concern fell to annoyance when he realized where the yell came from. He sighed, going deep into the covers with his back facing her. Y/N scoffed, "hey! Don't judge me! This is a three in a lifetime experience!" She huffed and pulled her phone out from under her pillow. She already got a picture of his face and hiding the picture would be easy. Uh, maybe. Y/N smirked as she plugged her phone it and turned off the lamp. She sjufgled into the covers, wrapping her smol arm around him this time.

"Goodnight~"

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part eighty nine/

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Hi! Enjoy the update!

Warnings:major angst

Taglist:   , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, ,  @a-simple-salmon,  @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, ,  @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill-blog @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls-blog,  @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, , @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream,  @broke-n-bitchy​,  @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @herbertweeest, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001,  @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @nassauartist  @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe,  @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong  @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991,  @m0rnlngstar,  @findingmyths,  @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @patheticgay69 , @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, , @makaelahdelvalle

*Nikki’s POV*

I sighed heavily through my nostrils, resting my head against the couch as I sucked on a hard piece of watermelon flavored candy. Dr. Peterson left a few very persistent voicemails on my phone as well as pages on my pager, attempting to get me to come to the therapy office. Reluctantly I agreed, but I wish I didn’t as I assumed Vanity would be here too, however she’s not.

“Hey Doc…” I speak lightly when she walks in, sitting directly across from me in the leather chair as she crosses one knee over the other.

“Thank you for coming in Nikki, I’m sure you are a very busy man.” She eyes the handful of empty candy wrappers on the oak coffee table, “It’s new candy, I just put it there today…and looks like I have to add more.” She smiles as she jokes.

“I like the strawberry ones better…and it’s okay, I wasn’t super busy today. Sorry for taking long to get back to you.” I sit up more in the chair as she opens up her folder and takes out the good ‘ol notepad.

“So how’ve you been? Anything new?”

I shake my head, “I’m okay, just been busy. We finally wrapped up the album, then we do some promoting and then we hit the road for tour.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that it’s hectic and time consuming. Have you taken anytime for yourself to relax recently?”

My lips pull into a small grin, “Is this where you poke my brain and tell me I’m putting myself into work too much?”

Crystal chuckles a bit, “Do you think you’re putting too much of yourself into work?”

“It’s my job? I kinda don’t have a choice. Not like anyone else is writing songs, well good ones for that matter.”

She nods, “So you’re the one in charge? excuse my ignorance, I don’t really follow your music. I’m sure that’s stressful having everyone depend on you. Do you deal with stress well?”

I shrugged, “I don’t have to write all the songs, it just happens that way.” I chuckle a bit under my breath, “Too loud for you? I mean, yeah it’s stressful. I used to go out and get high, but then that overtook everything. Now I just work out or take my camera out or write more songs to relax.”

“Just not my cup of tea, Nikki. Have you done any of that recently? Vanity mentioned shopping helps her relax.”

I roll my eyes and laugh, “Anything that revolves around spending money sounds good to her. And no, I haven’t had the time. Stuck at rehearsal with the band and when I’m not at rehearsal I’m hanging out with the band at a bar.” I stare when she writes something down, “Taking notes already?”

She glances at me, “I do it with everyone, you know that. So you only hang out with the guys? The same guys you’re around all day? You never really escape work, do you?”

“Well…I mean no…but I have fun when I’m with them. Tommy and I are like practically married and Mick is fun and John is cool too. I see Tommy constantly cause Van and Clementine are best friends. Sometimes it’s a little much. At times I just want to take a break but I know I can’t because it’s my music and it keeps the nice things flowing and Arianna’s school.” I explain to her, “I mean…I would have enough to take a break for a long time but still…I don’t want too.”

“Tommy, right…Vanitys mentioned him a few times, same with Clementine. But why are you so worried about money? Vanity has money does she not?”

“Yeah…god mother of the year.” I roll my eyes, “Yeah, yeah…Van has plenty of money for her, she’s a great mom. I missed out on a lot the first few years of Arianna’s life so I just want to make up for that.”

“Well…as you know, everything you missed could have been prevented. Kids don’t remember a lot from their childhood anyways, with the exception of a severe traumatic even happening. They usually won’t start remembering moments until the ages of 7 and 8.”

I glare a bit, “I don’t need to be told the same thing I already know. If I had kept my dick in my pants I wouldn’t have missed anything, I know.” I lean forward reaching for another piece of candy and shoving it in my mouth.

“Theres no reason to jump to the defense Nikki. We’re just talking.” I would think she was being condescending if she wasn’t a damn therapist.

“Right-“ I roll my eyes, “Talking? You’re blaming me for it.”

“Well who is to blame them? Vanity? You’d be surprised to know she never wants to talk about this.”

“Wait-no, no. You’re twisting my words. No, it’s not her fault, it’s mine. But still, she could have called or retuned my letter letting me know.” I defend myself as she looks at me.

“Nikki, we can spend all day talking about the things Vanity, should’ve or could’ve done differently. We can talk for hours about how things were suppose to go differently.”

“Then why the hell did you bother me? What could you possibly want to talk about if it’s not that?”

“How are the dates going? Let’s start there.”

I stare at her a moment, rubbing my knees as I take a breath, “I don’t know…Donna, she’s great but she’s just…she’s just not Vanity.” I look away feeling disappointed, not because it wasn’t working, but in myself. That it took me seeing someone else to figure out what I wanted, “Donna’s hot and funny, well tries to be funny. But she hangs on to every word I say, thinks I’m right about everything, doesn’t ever disagree with me…it’s…it’s boring. I don’t know if it’s just because I’ve been with Vanity for so long, that nobody else can compare or what. But I just…it’s not working. Donna’s too clingy anyways.”

“Really?” Crystal sounds surprised, “You were so vocal about seeing other people.”

“Well…I wasn’t excited about it. I did it because I thought thats what Van wanted. I just wanted to help fix us. I would do anything for us, for her.” I sigh as I lean back against the cushion.

“You thought.” She pointed out, “You assumed and didn’t really ask what would have helped, did you?”

“Well…I-“ I stumble over my words before sighing, “No, I didn’t. I just took the first suggestion that was brought up. I wanted to get out of the office before I was ganged up on.”

Crystal chuckles, “Nobody thought about ganging up on you Nikki. You just don’t like when you aren’t in control, that is both of your issues.”

“I don’t have control issues.” I glance at Crystal as she stares at me, “What? I don’t.”

“Yes you do, wether you like to admit it or not. You mentioned earlier it’s always you writing songs because nobody else will do it.” She says, using air quotes might I add as I glare in return, “I’m sure they would if you backed off and gave them a chance.”

“I just like to make sure things are perfect, there’s nothing wrong with that. Mick isn’t interested and Tommy wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Nikki, maybe if you gave them a chance they would shine and pressure would be taken off your shoulders. Nothing has to be perfect, there’s no such thing as that.”

I roll my eyes, “Okay, so maybe I have a slight control problem but this, the band, has been the only thing in my life I actually have control over.”

“And the other parts you don’t? Can you tell me about it?”

I groan in annoyance, “Oh come on. I’m sure Vanity has mentioned a thing or two about me. I’m sure she’s told you all about the reason why I’m fucked up is because of my childhood.” I reach for a candy disk, unwrapping it before popping it into my mouth.

“The subject has came up once or twice but Vanity never dived deep, she said it wasn’t her place to talk about it. Do you want to talk about it?” She asks softly, like how every other therapist in the past has done.

“No, not really. But I just moved around a lot as a kid…”

“Oh, well I’m sure that had an affect on you. Always being the new kid and what not. Are you parents still together? They must be so proud of you.”

I laughed, probably a little too loud “God no. My dad split when I was a kid and my mom and I don’t talk, at all. Every time we do it explodes into something bigger.”

“I’m sorry for that, I’m sure it was hard without a dad in the picture. So your mom raised you?”

Again, I laugh, “Here and there when she wanted me. Half the time I’d be with my grandparents.”

She glances at me, “Is this why you’re so scared of failing as a father?”

I stare at her a moment, “I’m not like my dad. I didn’t just abandon the girls. I begged her to move here so we could be a family.”

“So…they had to uproot the life Vanity had built for them in New York to make you comfortable? Which is essentially what you had to do every time you moved as a child?”

I shake my head “You’re twisting my words. I just wanted them close. Vanity hated New York, she basically stayed for Clementine.”

Crystal shakes her head, “Are you assuming she hated it because she told me she loved it there.”

I chuckle l, “Loved it? Of course she loved it! She was nose deep in fucking coke when I got there.”

“And that’s a problem she’s been working on has she not?”

I sigh, “Yeah, yeah. And I’m proud of her. I know it’s not easy. But I’m not like my parents alright? I’m not just leaving Arianna high and dry nor am I leaving her alone in a run down fucking house okay?”

Crystal looks at me, her head slightly turning to the side, “If you know that, then why are you so worried about messing up? You sound like such a great dad Nikki, from what Vanity tells me. That little girl is lucky to have you.”

I exhale deeply as I nod a bit and lean back against the chair, “Because something always happens…”

“If you spend all your time waiting for bad things to happen you’ll miss out on everything life has for you. Can you give me an example of something happening?”

“I don’t know…I could relapse, Vanity could relapse. We could break up, she could fall in love with someone else and leave me…” I mumble the last part “..and I don’t want her to leave me.”

“You both work hard on your sobriety right? Then what is the worry?” Crystal looks at me, taking off her glasses as she leans forward a bit, “I think you need to spend less time worrying about her being with someone else and only worry about her being with you. Like I said earlier Nikki, we can spend all day talking about the what if’s but it doesn’t help anything or anybody in the long run.”

I frown a bit, “I guess you’re right…it doesn’t do me any good, just drives my anxiety up the wall.”

She smiles a bit, “See…I knew I could get through to you. Is there anything else you want to discuss? You said the dates you’re going on aren’t fulfilling?”

I nod, “Yeah they aren’t. I’d rather be at home with the girls.”

“So…now I’m gonna assume you and Vanity are going to sit down and talk? If this is how you’re feeling, plus with how she feels..”

“I want this to work with her. I need it to work. I can’t picture myself with anyone but her. I hated my ex wife because she wasn’t Van. I just forced myself to pretend that I tolerated her, let alone love her.”

“Then I think you two need to sit down and discuss what you both want from each other and what it will take to make it work. You can’t always blame your issues on your childhood, just like she can’t blame everything on her temper and how she reacts to stressful situations.”

I laugh under my breath and grin “Yeah, she does get mad at the slightest thing.”

She cracks a smile and nods, “That she does. But just like you, Vanity also needs the control. I think you two need to find a solid ground and share it evenly, 50/50. Not 25/75 or 60/40. But right down the middle.”

“And what if we can’t?”

“Nikki.” I sigh and let my shoulders fall back, “As long as you two actually talk about your problems instead of holding onto the anger and grudges. I think both of you also need to learn how to let certain things go.”

“Like the cheating?” I look at her, “She throws that in my face any chance she gets. I just don’t know how many times I can say sorry for it.”

Crystal nods, “I understand Nikki, I do. But put yourself in Vanity’s shoes okay? It’s a traumatic situation for anyone. Just think if the tables were turned. How would you feel? How would you’ve reacted? I believe what bothers her is the principal of it, if you being with someone else. She didn’t want to see it, just like mentioned earlier, you don’t want to see her with another man.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll work on being understanding and sharing control. I need to be home more, hopefully after this album I can take a break for a while and we can get to know each other again.”

“It’s not a bad thing to get to know one another again, you aren’t kids anymore.”

*Vanity’s POV*

“It’s okay Ari! Just brush it off and keep going!” I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth as I sit back down on the folding chair. I wince when I see Arianna trip over the soccer ball again and get a mouth full of dirt, “You’re doing great, sweetie!” I give her a smile when she looks over, glaring as she brushes the dirt off her knees.

“Come on Van, she can barely kick the ball without eating shit. Maybe soccer isn’t for her.” Nikki states, flicking a peanut shell at me. I glance down, seeing him laying on his side on the blanket, “We could try gymnastics. Or cheerleading.” He points in the direction of coaches surrounding a little league team.

I sigh as I slump back in the chair, groaning when Arianna falls again, “It’s only the first day of practice, Nikki. She’ll get the hang of it.”

“Or she’ll get kicked off the team.” Nikki laughs before sitting up and leaning against my leg, “However, it is pretty entertaining to watch.”

I roll my eyes and tap the back of his head, “She has to start somewhere, she can’t just be great over night. I know it took you some time to get good at bass playing.” I smirk a bit as he tilts his head back to look at me.

“Don’t go there. She clearly has no coordination at all and she’s kicking way to hard at the ball and that’s why she keeps falling.” He shakes his head when Arianna kicks the ball and hits another kid in the gut, “See? And she’s being a ball hog.”

“A ball hog? Maybe you need to coach this team instead, Sixx.”

“Well I do look good in stripes.” He laughs but it quickly stops when his phone starts ringing. I watch him dig it out of his pocket as he shakes his head and shoves it back in his jeans.

“If it’s a work call then take it.”

“No, no it’s fine. It’s just Donna, she can wait till later.” He tells me, glancing in my direction as we look at each other for a moment. I watch as he scratches the back of his neck before he looks back at the field, mumbling something under his breath.

I chuckle to myself when his phone starts ringing once more, he digs out of his pocket again before shoving it away, “I’m sure you wouldn’t want her upset with you since you’re ignoring her calls. It’s okay Nikki, you aren’t missing much, it’s just practice.” I explain to him as I see his back raise with a deep inhalation of a breath before he exhales.

“No. This is important, unlike making plans for another expensive restaurant or some stupid high end club.” Nikki spews out, I can hear the annoyed tone.

I clear my throat a bit, “Is everything okay with you..and her?” He side eyes me from the corner of his black shades as I see the corner of his mouth pull up a bit.

“Just...she’s...she’s just making it complicated. She’s asking for too much. Always wants to talk on the phone or hang out or meet up for coffee. She doesn’t grasp the idea of space. Donna wants to be a girlfriend and she’s not girlfriend material, at least not for me.” Nikki leans back on his hands, his legs stretched out on the blue and black flannel.

“Girlfriend material?” I question him as he turns his head to look at me.

“Yeah? You know...girlfriend material? She’s a great women but she couldn’t handle being with a rockstar. Grew up catholic and has all these beliefs that just make me want to gag. She’s hot but she can barely talk about anything other than the modeling and acting. I like someone that can at least tell me what they’re thinking at any given moment.” I feel him nudge my leg as he rests a dandelion on my knee, “I don’t know...it’s just fizzling out.”

I fumble with the yellow flower between my fingers as Nikki cheers for Arianna. My eyebrows pull together in confusion. He was just spending this whole past week with her so I wonder what could have changed. I was still thinking about everything Dr. Peterson had told me last week, I was nitpicking the pros and cons of the situation. Nikki had apologized the next day after our fight like always and then that turned into me being under him...like always. And then it was back to ignoring the problem.

“Hey Nik? Can we talk-“

“Mom! Mom! Did you see how good I’m doing?!”Arianna runs to me, exuberant as always before she’s taking the juice box Nikki hands to her.

“Of course baby! Daddy and I are so happy you’re enjoying it.” I smile at her, smoothing her hair back and wiping some dirt off the side of her cheek, “Just try to be careful okay? And let some of the other kids get the ball.”

She nods feverishly, “But coach Taylor said I’m doing a really good job!”

“And you are princess, but it’s a team sport. So you gotta let the others play with the ball too.” Nikki tells her as he ties the laces on her cleats and tucks them into her shoe, “Sixx’s always play as a team babe.”

“But Blackwoods know how to get the job done themselves.” I wink at her as she giggles and hands me her juice box, “Go finish and then we’ll grab some dinner and maybe ice cream.” Arianna nods before she gives me and Nikki a hug and runs off to the field again.

“So...how are you and Jon?” Nikki questions, almost uncomfortably as he glances at me for a split second.

I shrug, “He’s been busy with studio stuff so

I haven’t really talked to him that much. He calls every few days or so just to see how I’m doing.”

Nikki nods as he leans back on his elbows, “Oh…well that’s good at least…”

“Yeah, I guess?” I chuckle a bit and shake my head, “It’s not like you really care.” 

“Yes I do..” I glance when Nikki mumbles, picking blades of grass and flicking them away. I chuckle at his words and shake my head, my eyes going back to soccer practice.

“Yeah, okay Nikki.”

“I’m gonna go get a drink at the concession stand.” He mutters quietly, getting up as his bangs fall over his eyes. I glance at him as he shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair as he walks across the field. I look down, noticing the unopened bottle of Coca Cola from earlier.

*A few days later*

I took a deep breath in and exhaled as I paced nervously outside of Nikki’s office door. Why was talking about how we felt so scary for us? My heart was racing as I hear the light hum of bass strings being pulled. Nikki had came home from having lunch with Donna an hour ago and slammed every single door he went through, so I wasn’t sure what had happened. I said hi to him but he brushed me off and went straight up the stairs.

I crack my knuckles as I try to find the courage inside of me to knock on the door. I just wanted to talk and I figured with Arianna being at school still, it would be the best time to do so. Ya know, in case of it getting ugly.

My lips puff up as I exhale deeply, glancing at anarchy as she’s sprawled out on the floor watching me, “Wish me luck.” I knock on the mahogany door, not hearing any response to come in. I wait a second before reaching for the doorknob and slowly cracking it open, seeing him hunched over in the usual position when he plays his bass with headphones on. I watch him for a moment as he reaches for his journal and writes something down. He notices me through the reflection on the blank computer screen.

Nikki turns around in his chair as he takes off the headphones and smiles “Hey sorry. I just had an idea and I wanted to play it while I had it.”

“No, no it’s okay. I get it. I uh just wanted to talk but you’re busy so we can just talk later.” I stay by the door, gripping the handle as I swallow the lump in my throat.

Nikki stares at me for a moment “No, come sit.” He motions to the futon, “What’s going on?” He sounds concerned as he rolls his chair closer.

“Okay..” I mumble as I sit criss cross on the cushion as I hold the pillow in my lap, “I went and talked to our therapist the other day to get some things off my chest and now I want to talk to you about them.” I take a breath as I look at him, he looks as worried as I feel, “I-I just feel like we aren’t getting anywhere. That this-“ I motion between us “..isn’t going anywhere.”

“You think that?” I notice the slight frown playing on his lips “I took the advice the therapist gave, Van. I didn’t want too….is this about me locking you out? If it is I’m sorry, I was just messing around.”

“Yes, I think and feel that. Like we’re just not letting go and we’re trying to stay together for the sake of Arianna. No, no it’s not because you locked me out. I’ve been feeling like this for a while now..”

“Is that what you want? For this to be over?” Nikki stares at me as he gnaws on his bottom lip, “Are you breaking up with me?” It’s faint but I hear it and it makes my heart heavy.

“I-I I don’t know..”

“My dates with Donna haven’t been that fun, not like how they are with you.”

I smile a bit before it fades, “I just feel like it’s me that’s trying to save our relationship, or what little is left to save. I’m just confused Nikki.”

“What’s there to be confused about Van? You either want to be with me or you don’t.” I stare at him, I wish it was as simple as that but it’s not. 

“Do you wanna be with me?” I ask him as he chuckles a bit and rolls closer to me.

“Vanity, of course I want to be with you. You should already know the answer to that. It’s always going to be you every time.” I look away at the painting on the wall as he touches my knees, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth.

“I just feel like our relationship is one sided now. I told you from the start I didn’t want to do this, seeing other people. I vocalized how much I was against it and you still wanted to do it anyways.”

Nikki nods as he lets out a deep breath “I know, I know. I should have listened to what you were saying. It put an even bigger strain on our relationship. I broke things off with Donna today. She was just getting on my nerves. I was only going out with her because I saw how much fun you were having with Jon and how happy you looked. It made me jealous because the whole time I was miserable.”

“You didn’t seem like it..I don’t want to break up. I just wish it wasn’t so hard all the time. We aren’t kids anymore, it feels like how it did 10 years ago and I feel like it shouldn’t be. It should be easy for us by now. Do you think other couples have it this hard?”

Nikki chuckles as he gets off the chair and sits down next to me, “No baby, I don’t. Because not everyone is as complicated as you and me. What do you want from me Van? You want me to actually work on us instead of finding excuses not to?” I glance at him as he smiles at me.

“But that makes me feel like a bitch when you say it like that. I feel selfish. Do you want this?”

“Vanity, you may be a temperamental brat and a pain in my ass sometimes, but you aren’t selfish. You’re far from it.” He reaches for my hand as he brings it up to his lips “I want this. I want you and only you. We shouldn’t be doing this because of Arianna, we should be doing this because we love one another and cause we want this to work. I do love you Vanity.”

“I know you do and I love you too.” I feel him kiss my knuckles again as he’s gently pulling me closer and into his lap. I feel him wrap his arms around me as he lays his head against my shoulder. I sigh as I lay my cheek atop of his head and let my nails run over his neck and back.

“I’m sorry for making you feel this way. Like we weren’t gonna have a chance. I never wanted to do that.” He tells me as I nod and kiss his temple.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose, it’s okay. I just worry and overthink sometimes because you’re you. You’re Nikki Sixx. You could literally have anyone you want and I could be so easily replaced at any moment. It just scares me.”

Nikki looks up at me and laughs, “You? Oh come on you’re joking. Doll I love you just the way you are. Sure, models and playboys are hot but they couldn’t even touch you. They’re not the ones running out of the house applying make up and dragging a kid behind them because they’re running late. Or throwing water on dinner because they forgot they were even cooking. They don’t have eyes that remind me of the ocean when the sun shines. They don’t have soft lips for me to kiss, even when my breath is so fucking rancid in the morning.”

“Hey I haven’t set dinner on fire in a few months alright?” I laugh a bit as I lean forward to give him a kiss, “Thank you for saying that.”

Nikki licks his lips as he leans back against the couch to look at me, “Plus who else on this planet is able to make me cry? Besides Arianna, she’s just harsh.”

“Yeah she has been pretty mean to you lately hasn’t she?” I chuckle as I move pieces of hair back and out of his face.

“Yeah all because I wouldn’t let her crawl into the that claw machine at the arcade a few weeks ago. You know she put her blue goo in my boots? That’s not something I ever want to feel again.” He shudders as he looks at me and smiles “I’ve also been trying to meditate and write my feelings out instead of keeping them inside.”

“Oh! So that’s why you’ve been sitting at the pool every morning? I thought you were just having a mid life crisis or something.” I grin and laugh when he pinched my hip.

“Hey just because I’m getting closer to 40 doesn’t mean shit.”

“Kinda does a little bit, Nikki.” I lean forward and squint “is that….is that a grey hair?” I tease him as I pretend to pluck it out of his hair.

“Oh shut the hell up. You have them too probably.” He rolls his eyes as he pretends to pout.

“Oh no no baby. Not on this head of hair, you won’t find a single thing.”

Nikki leans forward as he gives me a quick and simple kiss, “Well whenever it happens, I’ll still love you when you’re old and grey.”