Tumgik
#in all honesty it's funny but it drives me up the wall as well like oh mg god yeah funny but no actually are you stupid sorry
shopcat · 1 year
Text
one thing i will never get over is people insisting INSISTING with the ferocity of a frothing at the mouth cishet incel on a woman's tiktok that joe keery playing steve harrington is done up to the nines getting lip gloss and blush and brown mascara applied every morning during season 3 when it is proven with both common sense and basic observational skills that the previous seasons are darker less saturated filmed on the inside of a matchbox and that they boosted the saturation and vibrancy in three to achieve a summery look and used better lighting and more people focused close ups especially in the bright indoor starcourt scenes which means doing the math HE JUST LOOKS LIKE THAT NATURALLY HE'S JUST BEAUTIFUL. you people make me hysterical he just has long eyelashes that you're finally noticing because you can actually fucking see them for a change. and pink lips. he's not wearing anything everyone's lips are redder in that season. what you're noticing here is a guy who is pretty and you're collectively losing your minds insisting there has to be something he's doing when he's just showing up looking like that being naturally beautiful which is actually infinitely impossibly funnier than anything else.
12 notes · View notes
mixtape-racha · 3 months
Text
freak on a leash - p.js
words: 1.32k // warnings: cussing, unprotected piv, "sir" kink, reader is referred to as "princess" "puppy" "whore" and "bitch", mean dom!jay, brat!reader, established relationship, mentioned enhypen members, this isn't a complete smut but basically the lead up?? beginning??
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
you and jay had been dating for a while now - almost two years, actually - and you could’ve sworn blind that you’d never seen him this angry. of course, you absolutely deserved it. spending the entire day riling him up, teasing him and flirting with his friends. god, you even went as far as to flash him your bare cunt at him from beneath your tiny fucking skirt the second you were left alone in heeseung’s living room for more than 5 seconds.
so yeah, you definitely deserved the anger radiating off of his body in waves right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret what got you here in the slightest.
“you think you’re so funny, don’t you,” jay seethed from across the center console, knuckles turning white at his tight grip on the steering wheel. “so big and clever, just trying to wind me up like i won’t do anything about it.”
you shrugged, a smile teasing the corners of your lips as you watched your boyfriend try to contain his emotions behind the wheel. “yeah, i do, actually. i thought you would’ve gotten better at dealing with this by now… maybe i don’t test you enough, after all.”
he chuckled darkly, kissing his teeth with a raise of his eyebrows. 
“know your limit, y/n. i mean it.”
the drive was silent after that; you, in the passenger seat, proud of your work, and in your own world entirely. jay, on the other hand, was almost pulsing with fury. had he not trained you well enough? surely you knew better than to act like some common whore, in front of his best friends of all people. in all honesty, he’d had more than enough of you walking all over him and thinking you’d get away with no consequences.
the second he had parked the car, you bounced out of your seat, skipping towards the apartment block - seemingly, without a care in the world - but jay knew full well that you were choosing your actions to infuriate him. always a gentleman at heart, he always insisted on opening doors for you and holding your hand when walking across streets or car parks. by taking that away from him, you were just trying to piss him off more. and god knew that he’d had enough of your bullshit.
as soon as the elevator doors had pressed closed, jay had you pinned to the wall by your neck, face so close to yours that his nose was brushing your cheek and his breath was fanning over you. your heart - and, admittedly, your pussy - throbbed at the action. you’d always loved how easily jay could manhandle you, and adding anger to the mix just heightened how good it felt.
“i swear to fucking god, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll listen to me, yeah?” he hissed, other hand coming to grip your hip so tightly that you winced. “when we get in, i’m going to go and get a drink. and when i come back into the bedroom, you better be face down on that mattress, ass up and hands behind your back.”
he released you when the elevator stopped at your floor, and you took the opportunity to get one last dig in at him. 
“and if i don’t?”
he scoffed, leaving you trailing behind him as he walked towards your shared front door and pushed his way into the hallway. “if you don’t.. well, you better prepare to not be allowed anywhere near my cock for at least a week. nor will i touch you, and i know a stupid whore like you would lose their mind over that very quickly, huh?”
you were stunned. jay had joked about putting you on a sex ban a few times throughout your relationship, but only because you were insatiable - never as a punishment. surely, he wouldn’t? god… you didn’t think you wanted to find out if he was serious or not.
by the time you’d shaken yourself out of your trance and into the apartment, jay was already bustling about the kitchen, so you decided it was best to just do as he’d asked of you. you were quick to rid yourself of your sneakers, socks and jumper - leaving you in just a skimpy bralette and your tiny skirt, before crawling onto the bed.
you sat on my knees and waited patiently for jay’s arrival, the tell-tale closing of the cupboard letting you know that he was probably downing a glass of whiskey before dealing with you. your hands fidgeted in their place on your lap, and each second that jay took to come to the bedroom had you going beyond insane.
the door was wedged open so you could see jay coming, and you took a moment to appreciate how fucking good he looked with his hair ruffled and shirt half unbuttoned as he approached the room. however, all it took from him was a single glance in your direction to have you practically throwing yourself across the bed and into the position he wanted.
you knew he was staring at your core, your pussy entirely out on display and you had to fight back the urge to shake your hips, enticing him to come closer. no, that would just rile him up more, and you didn’t know if you could cope with an even bigger punishment than the one you had coming.
a shuffling noise came from behind you, and you felt the mattress dip as jay came to kneel behind you, hands coming to knead at the flesh of your ass.
“oh, so you wanna listen now, hmm?”
words failed out, only a garble of whines leaving your lips as you tried to formulate a response. jay chuckled at you, his hands moving to grip your hips as he ground his bulge against the curve of your ass.
“such a one-minded bitch, aren’t you? would do anything just to have me fucking ruin you like the common whore you are. all you think about is cock, surely i satisfy you better than that?”
you knew better than to bite back at his words, fully aware he was just trying to get you to slip up and have a reason to punish you more. you both were insatiable when it came to one another, and sharing a lot of… well, less than vanilla kinks, made times like this more interesting.
and honestly, jay’s heart swelled at the way you stayed quiet, allowing him to grip your wrists against the base of your spine, the feeling of your ass against him more heavenly than anything you could find in a church. he knew you were his good girl at heart, sometimes you just needed to be reminded of that. and he was more than willing to put you in your place when needed.
“such a pretty little thing, hmm? just needed sir’s attention to calm you down. like a little puppy, aren’t you?”
you whined at his words, your brain quickly turning to mush at the hot blaze his hands left on your skin.
before you could comprehend his actions, jay had pulled away to rid himself of his clothes, and the next thing you felt was his bare cock brushing against your folds.  his tip nudged against your clit and you couldn’t help the way you shivered, hips rolling back against him.
“god, you’re sopping, baby. needed me that bad? how mean of me to keep you waiting like this..” he tsked, causing you to shake your head with a wail.
“not mean– never mean! so good to me, sir, need you so bad.”
you knew he grinned at that, but he indulged you anyway, pushing his tip past your walls and reveling in the way you keened at the sensation.
“gonna fuck you good, princess, i promise. make you forget why you felt the need to act like a brat.”
Tumblr media
(a/n: scheduled post!)
-> don’t forget to reblog or comment if you like my works ♡ please refrain from modifying, translating, or copying my work. - © mixtape-racha
tags ✮⋆˙ : @pretty-racha @demetrisscarf @fluerz @bangtancultsposts @yevene
348 notes · View notes
weskin-time · 1 year
Note
Just read both NSFW daddy Albert headcannons
May I request a part three whenever you think of more?
👉👈
Of course take all the time you need and no rushing yourself
Platonic friendship love to you friendo ❤
HELLO FRIEND!! sorry this took so long!!
Albert Wesker x GN!Reader
not edited or proofread
hope you don’t mind that instead of HCs i did,,,
Albert Wesker NSFW Alphabet
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He tries to be good at aftercare but he’s a busy man and sometimes he’ll just leave you after fucking your brains out to go do more work.
When he’s not busy he loves to kiss you in the afterglow. maybe one last bite to your neck before slowly kissing his way up to your nose.
He does clean himself off before helping you clean if the two of you can’t shower. if you can shower you bet his ass what a picking you up and showering with you.
he would just. plop you into a warm bath and leave you sometimes
he’s good at pillow talk tho
praises you for doing so good for him all while kissing you
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He loves his arms. Loves how strong he is and absolutely adores showing off his strength with you. Picking you up and fucking you against a wall, your legs hooked over his shoulders with your arms around his neck, him holding your complete weight by your ass as he fucks you silly.
He’s got super strength of a God so you’re not falling out of his arms any time soon.
He loves your neck. Honesty he loves all of you but he loves your neck and thighs the most. it’s a power thing for him to love your neck. he could easily crush your windpipe if he squeezes just a bit harder, he could bruise the soft flesh so easily, he could kill you with a flick of his wrist and snap your neck. the thought drives him wild.
Loves choking you. pressing his pointer finger and thumb right under your jaw making your head fuzzy. adores leaving kisses, bite marks, and hickies. if you let him he will bruise your throat with his hand.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He’ll cum anywhere
cumming inside you is his favorite place to cum, so warm inside you as you spasm around him. loves to scoop up any leaking cum and push it back in with his fingers.
also loves to cum on your face. just seeing you stained with him makes him hard again.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
he’s an underwear thief.
he keeps them in his back pants pocket or jacket pocket.
yes sometimes he sniffs them.
sometimes if he’s hard he’ll go into the bathroom and cum in them, if you’re not around. tho he washes them and silently returns it to you bc ew crusty
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
well he’s got a kid so he’s sorta experienced
i feel like he’s not a sex god but he’s also not virgin levels of knowledge? you feel me?
he still knows what he’s doing tho.
also a very fast learner
you like him touching you in this one place? he takes a mental note of it and uses it against you
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
mating press.
he also loves doggy when his hand is on the back of your head pushing you down into bed as he fucks into you hard
loves you riding him. seeing your hips struggle after a while of thrusting, loosing your pace as your muscles burn, but still trying to fuck yourself on him trying to cum on his cock. if you stop your shaking legs and just beg him to fuck you, he’ll show you mercy.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
he’s serious.
you might not be. i mean do you hear how corny half the stuff that comes out of his mouth is in RE5?? i couldn’t keep a straight face during his fight i was too busy making fun of him.
i feel like the only time he wouldn’t be serious is when there’s a continuous funny sound. like let’s say he’s fucking you and some air happens to get trapped and make a funny fart sound over, and over, and over, and over, he would snort and stop, fix the two of you then continuing to make your brain mush.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
he’s well groomed
i know he’s almost hairless in RE5 idc this is my head canon and i say he’s got a happy trail
artists please give wesker a happy trail i’m bEGGING
he doesn’t care how groomed his partner is as long as it’s not a 70’s porno bush i think then he would tell you to shave
doesnt mind body hair on his partner either
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
little intimacy honestly
most of the time he’s fucking you so hard you get cock drunk
if you ask he will be slower and more sensual
but even some nights he just wants to hold you. the nights when his red eyes are clouded with conflict, those are the nights where he’ll take his time with you
on these nights he wants to focus on you instead of a mutual pleasure.
he takes it slow, but not a snails pace. he wants to make you gasp, to shudder, to let you feel loved.
he’s not very good with people and not good at emotions either but, he tries for you. he wants you to know he loves you even if he isn’t sensual every night
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
he doesn’t get himself off very often
he’s a very busy man
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
i feel like he might be into texture play
leather and latex
he’s a sadist
authority kink (treat him like a god or a superior and he’ll fuck you so hard and good till your a babbling mess)
knife play
blood kink
size kink
i can make an entire list of what kinks i think Wesker has. and no they are not all self indulgent lol >:3
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
LOVES TO FUCK YOU IN HIS OFFICE.
i feel like he wouldn’t want anyone to see you two tho, he locks the doors
slightly public places are fun and fine for him but you belong to him and only he can see and hear you whining for him
loves to fuck you in either your bed or his if you two don’t live together
if you live together then yes his favorite place is yalls bed
shower is also a favorite for him
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
you.
literally just you existing gets him hard and horny.
also noticing how small you are compared to him. makes him feral
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything you don’t want to do he will respect and stay away from
i have a feeling he would try anything at least once
not into feet things no, or things that are considered ‘extreme’ fetishes like feeding, anything ‘filthy’, or balloons. those are hard No’s.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
prefers receiving
give him head and he will loose his own head
not afraid to go down on you and will never complain
he just loves to see you on your knees i front of him. seeing your eyes stare up at him through your lashes. you’re trying so hard to make him feel good and please him and it. drives. him. wild.
he’s very skilled with his tongue and mouth. the first time he goes down on you it might be new territory for him, he’ll be a little sloppy at first but he gets learning real fast
sit on his face.
he would prefer you to sit on his face in a 69 than have you lay down on your back
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
he loves to start out at a medium speed but mostly focusing on hitting you as hard as he can. it leaves you whimpering and gasping with how hard and deep he’s going
rough rough rough rough *chanting*
gripping onto your hips to help you meet his relentless fast thrusts, his tentacles wrapping around your throat, nails digging into your flesh
fast and rough but at a perfect pace that leaves you breathless and gasping with tears running down your face from how good he pounding into you
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
he’s not a massive fan of them but sometimes they’re needed
like in his office if he’s horny and you’re there? fuck yea he’s gonna bend you over his desk and take you right there
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
he’s cool to try anything once (within reason)
he can be risky
mostly risky in choking you till you’re about to black out. your vision going fuzzy and black spots appear. if you don’t like that then give him a little tap tap and the pressure is released.
Loves to put a vibe toy in you and control it when you’re out in public. you better learn how to suppress your sounds in public because whoooooo boy.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
,,, i’m scared of his stamina
in his boss fight he just falls to the ground and then gets back up in a matter of seconds
if he can recover that fast in a fight imagine how fast he can recover during sex
the hentai trope of fucking all night and into the day? yea he can make that a reality.
if you only wanna have one round? he’s cool with that, he’s not tired but he’ll still go to sleep with you (if he’s not busy)
if you want to fuck him as many times as your body can handle? the man loves a good experiment. he’ll fuck you till your about to pass out if you want.
will keep a chart of how long y’all fucked with how many times he’s made you cum and he tries to top it
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
yes.
to make you squirm yes.
use them on him too. yes.
gags? yes. blindfolds? yes. ropes? yes. he uses them on you.
get him a vibrating cock ring and he will go. f. e r a. l.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
WORLDS BIGGEST TEASE
He knows you love his voice. he uses it against you. like a little shit.
whispers dirty things in your ears throughout the day, telling you how badly he wants to fuck you, how hard he is, how badly he needs you.
loves to pin you against surfaces and kiss your neck, leave marks, and just leave you a panting mess then right when his hands are about to go up your shirt,,, he turns around and leaves you
but if you tease him? oh my gods. he will put you in your place.
tease him more often because it results in you being so sore that you won’t be able to walk for an hour or two after.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
HES VOCAL.
he’s constantly running his mouth with vile words in your ears
but when he finally does shut up he’s moaning and he wHIMPERS
he’s loud and proud and not afraid to make sounds, grunts, growls and purrs
during sensual sex he purrs <3
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Loves to have you wear his sunglasses on your head when he’s fucking you
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he’s bigger than average, about 7 inches and he’s girthy af.
not so much that he can’t enter you, not enough where he’s going to break you, or have it hurt so bad but jjuuuusssstt enough for that good good hurt stretch
his cock makes you feel full
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
he got a normal sex drive i would say
tho sometimes there’s a spike where he’s just a massive horny asshole who needs to fuck you till you both are insane with pleasure
but he’s not constantly jumping in your pants
probably a bit higher than normal really
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
if he doesn’t have to leave to do work right after or it’s not a quicky he makes sure you fall asleep first.
he wants to make sure you’re at peace snuggled into him before he closes his eyes
he slightly snores :)
757 notes · View notes
another-day · 25 days
Text
hey gang, guess what time it is, for the last time in season 3....
EPISODE IN REVIEW - THE SEASON THREE FINALE!!!!
spoilers for episode 19 of inanimate insanity invitational!!!!!!!!!!!
oh. my. gosh.
this was such a beautiful episode, most things felt resolved and it was just SO GOOD
if you didn't see my previous posts, i was up at 2am to watch this episode due to timezones, and it was so so worth it. let's begin!!!!!
Tumblr media
oh the character development is amazing, this versus how lost he was at the beginning of season two is just so interesting and amazing to see. i'm so so proud.
Tumblr media
full honesty, i have a lot of trouble emotion-wise, and hearing this kinda caught me off guard because, as much as i'd like to ignore it, springy's never been anything more than a villain to me.
it helped me realise that, yeah, springy is another character like everyone else, and they have feelings, and they have capacity for goodness. it really got me thinking, especially since this line really had me relating to them. but ah well, onwards!!!!
Tumblr media
seeing cabby get pissed was really funny, but also she's turning the broken insult walkie talkie presented to mephone in the last episode. it was very very cool, a reclamation of power really.
Tumblr media
can you tell i like cabby
also this was such a pivotal moment for her, and as someone who apologises for literally anything people deem wrong, this was incredibly inspirational and soooo cool to see.
Tumblr media
the poor guy, he's been nothing but berated this whole episode
Tumblr media
the way i literally almost screamed at two in the morning i was shivering and shaking throughout the entire episode and this was like my sould left my body HE'S BACK and oohhhhohohohoo GUYS GUYS GUYS
this was such a beautiful scene; a robot who sacrificed himself for a happy ending for so many others encouraging another robot whom was the living result of his sacrifice to embrace the life he has. THEY DRIVE ME MAD DO YOU SEE?????????
Tumblr media
NAME DROP!!!! also i think this is the first time he's acknowledged cobs in reference to his own actions, he's coming to terms with his memories and experiences, and realising he can learn from them GOODNESS do you see what i am saying BOTH THIS AND MEPHONE 4S's SPEECH ARE ENCOURAGING HIM TO LOOK PAST HIS MISTAKES, AND NOT DWELL ON THE PAST
Tumblr media
does this mean mephone's finally gonna treat toilet like an actual person, WHO FREAKING KNOWS!!!!! but i really hope he does i really do
Tumblr media
guuuuyyyyss stop i'm going to cryyyyy LOOK AT THEIR LITTLE MESSED UP MARRIAGE PLEASEEEEE
Tumblr media
i had to squeal so quietly when i saw this BUT YAAAAY MY LOVELY LITTLE CABBY WON!!!!!!! i was so happy she absolutely deserved this and its so symbolic that test tube's vote ended up being the deciding factor and AGH i'm so happy!!!!!
Tumblr media
SHE'S SO CUTE SHE'S LITERALLY THE BEST I LOVE HER DEARLY
Tumblr media
they're so silly and so supportive of one another, and the fact that even with balloon considering himself a more self assured person and more independent, nickel's still willing to stick by his side to cheer him up!!!
Tumblr media
guys them look at them
"Or of..." HER OR OF HER FREAKING OUT GUYS this guy's so silly and i'm so glad they're getting along again <3333
Tumblr media
marriage
Tumblr media
their sweet little family i love them dearly
Tumblr media
communication is key !! this was very cute and i'm so glad they're getting along again
Tumblr media
THE TEETH DETAIL they're literally spoiling me dude
Tumblr media Tumblr media
GUYS THEY MADE YURI REAL i love them so so so so much
Tumblr media
because of course she'd put her prize towards a knowledge bank for everyone, cabby's such a gem you guys i love her so much
Tumblr media
i'm so glad they're getting along now, they're such a silly pair!!!
Tumblr media
i literally almost cried when i saw this, mephone 4's reconstructing all these things that made him feel like he was useless to push himself forward, and its so beautiful to see, i'm probably gonna print this out and put it on my wall because its so meaningful and just UGH
Tumblr media
the heroic pose, the self assured smile, ready for anything
this was a beautiful way to cap off the season because there he goes !! its so exciting!!!!
Tumblr media
he's gonna need it girl lets hope the season 2 finalists didn't go insane
Tumblr media
WAAAAAAAAAAH they used the the track "don't leave me until i find my way back to you" and the way i almost sobbed my little heart out that was such a beautiful homage and track and GOODNESS!!!!!!
overall this was a great episode. though i feel some dynamics, such as mephone 4 with 4s, and silver spoon with candle weren;t explored nearly as much as i would've liked, they crew really did an amazing job on this episode.
thank you so much for all your hard work inanimate insanity crew, and i'm so excited to see the rest of season two and how it'll play out!!!
till then, i'll see you next time ooooonnn episode in review!!!!
(bada bada duuuuum!!!)
17 notes · View notes
superprincesspea · 3 months
Text
The Arrangement
Chapter 6 - Mask
Tumblr media
Masterlist
The next time the grey trucks leave, Joel doesn't meet you on the South Walk and you don’t see him on your way back to the apartment. He's gone, and though his disappearance could mean a number of things, you hope it means your plan is working.  
That he’s out there, somewhere , jostling around in the back of a truck with the other Saviors. But you can’t know for sure, and the uncertainty is enough to drive anyone crazy.   
If you weren’t a wife, you could walk right up to somebody and ask a simple question- ‘where’s Joel?’ And you would get a simple answer, an instant answer, but nothing is ever simple. 
You don’t mingle with the general population and it's not just because most of them hate you, well, maybe that’s the biggest reason. But there are others.  
The Sanctuary has a funny way of producing smoke without fire, and you suppose that's just what happens when people are all crammed into one place without TV or the internet. Gossip is wireless and, in a world where everything has a price, it's still relatively free.  
So, when the trucks return later that evening, you're more than ready for their arrival. In fact, you’ve been waiting impatiently for the past hour. Not down on the tarmac where you’d like to be for the best view. But perched on the headboard of your bed where you can see roughly a third of the courtyard through the top pane of your window. 
You know Negan would suspect something if you met him outside but there's still a part of you that wishes you’d taken the chance anyway. At least then you’d have answers. 
Instead, you can’t really see anything from up here and it's not just the years of grime built up on the windowpane. Its late, dark. Storm clouds have smothered the sky, leaving only a solitary lightbulb to illuminate the courtyard.  
The people down below could be anyone, just shadows in the night, they could even be the dead for all you know, and you do know at least one of them must be Negan, but you can’t even recognise him.  
Giving up would be easy and in all honesty its exactly what you should be doing but you don’t. Your curiosity has descended into desperation, so you can’t force yourself to abandon your perch and you don’t, not until the front door of the apartment is hitting home. 
“Daddy's here!” Negan announces, the timber of his voice carrying easily through the wall. 
Your time is up with or without Joel Miller and, though the frustration of not seeing him could choke you, you swallow it down in one uncomfortable lump and slide from the headboard- not an easy thing to do in heels but you’re well practiced by now.  
In the living room, Negan is still hovering by the front door but that’s not what catches your eye, it’s the faces. The wives. You’ve never seen the room from this angle before, never been the one returning home, and the sight is startling.  
The other wives are all sitting in their usual places and, though you would never say any of them looked alike, it's as though they are all wearing an identical mask.  
Brows furrowed; lips pursed. Disappointment, boredom, but mostly disgust. They don’t want to be here and they’re not trying to hide it.  
This must be what Negan sees each time he comes home, you think, and your heart tightens for just a second and maybe its pity you begin to feel before you remind yourself that this is Negan's world, and he chose this . He could have anything, but he wanted wives. 
He notices you standing there after a while, and his face softens with what looks like relief and maybe it's because you’re smiling. You'd forced your lips into a curve just before you’d entered the room, and it occurs to you then that this is your mask
A smile in a sea of disappointment, no wonder Negan is always so happy to see you. 
You kiss him on the cheek, your nose nuzzling against the soft scratch of stubble.    
“You miss me?” he says, long fingers trailing down your spine to reel you in. 
“ Always, ” you reply and it's not exactly a lie. You've been waiting for him to return all day. Just not for this. You don’t want to kiss and pretend to be happy; you want to ask about Joel. 
If he’s a Savior.  
If he’s alive.   
Because that’s the thought which has been plaguing you all day.  
What if Negan knew your head injury was a fake? 
What if someone had spotted you and Joel conspiring? 
Call it paranoia but with a day spent filled with nothing but time to think, it was easy to let the intrusive thoughts intrude.  
Your only consolation was just how well you knew Negan. If he was going to kill someone for crossing him, he would do it right way and he would make it a spectacle. But that didn't stop you from wondering and maybe the worst part was you knew exactly what Joel's death would look like. You'd seen it countless times before.  
A loud thwack of the bat, a body crumbling to the ground, face pressed into the concrete. Sometimes they twitched, most times they didn’t and afterwards people would comment on it as though it was an ordinary thing to notice. Dwindling someone's existence down to one horrific detail as if that made it ok or somehow less human.  
When you think of Joel like that, twitching or not twitching on the ground, a sickening knot twists your insides into a tight ball, but you don't react. 
Your face is still set in a smile as you wrap your arms around Negan’s neck and give him the kind of welcome home he always asks for. Your lips playing desperate to taste him, your body pressing eagerly into his.  
“I want you,” you say, and he replies with a low, satisfied growl before leading you to the bedroom with deep, breath stealing kisses. 
When the door slams shut, your lungs are burning and his cheeks are pink, his hazel eyes dark and heavy. 
Usually, he’d sit in his favourite chair and the routine would play out the same. Boots off, a glass of bourbon in hand. But tonight, your flimsy dress is sliding to the floor before he’s even placed Lucille on the table. 
“Well fuck me,” he says with a grin when he realises you’re not wearing any lingerie.  
“That’s the plan,” you purr, feeling glad you’d thought of this idea earlier in the day when you’d been wondering if Negan would come home knowing all your dirty secrets. Nothing made him happier than sex and, honestly, it seemed like the only thing to get your mind off Joel.  
“You must have really been missing me,” he smirks, Lucille falling to the floor with his leather jacket and your heart lurches, but Negan doesn’t seem to notice what he’s done. 
He's pulling his shirt over his head and unbuckling his belt, his boots kicking eagerly across the room. His touches are rough and desperate, and though you want to lose yourself in this frantic excitement, you’ve never seen him drop her like that.  
Lucille might be a baseball bat, but she is always top priority, placed in her spot with reverence. So, the sight of her still cast onto the floor makes you uneasy in about a hundred different ways yet Negan isn't thinking about her at all.  
He’s pushing you onto the bed and you know you should tell him to stop, to pick her up and place her where she belongs but you don’t. You can’t speak, maybe you don’t want him to know what’s he’s done.   
He kisses your body with the same reverence he usually gives Lucille, as though he's been thinking about it all day and maybe he has. Or maybe he was just so damn happy to see your smile.  
In the morning, you wake to the sound of the other wives clattering around the apartment, but Negan barely stirs. He holds you tightly, his face nuzzled into your hair, one long leg pinned protectively across yours.  
If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he held you like he never wanted to let go but even a man like Negan can’t control what happens when he’s sleeping.  
Still, lying here is so peaceful that you hardly dare to move. You just stare at the high ceiling and the thick layer of dust which pads the metal rafters. You could clean them if you really wanted to but there’s something strangely satisfying about the dust. Like virgin snow, perfect and untouched. You bet that dust was there before the world ended, when this was an office and people were too busy to look up the rafters. 
You dare to stroke your palm down the back of his head, cradling him like a baby and the rhythm of his sleep is so comforting. Deep breaths in and out, so steady, like the waves rushing to shore. 
It must be almost eleven by now and you don’t know exactly what startles him, but he wakes suddenly, confused. Bolt upright in the bed, his hair sticking out at every angle. It could be cute, the big bad wolf waking up with a serious case of bedhead except the way he looks at you reminds you of all the reasons Negan could never really love you.  
It's like you’re a stranger and he’s lost in time, wondering why you’re in his arms instead of her . But you pretend not to notice, your smile setting into its usual mould, your voice as soft as satin.  
“Good morning, sleepy head,” you say, reaching out your hand to flatten down his hair.  
Negan’s face relaxes, his shoulders losing tension. Recognition then acceptance. You're still his best girl even if you’re not the one he really wants.  
His hand slides between your thighs and he leans in to kiss your neck, his words murmured against your pulse.  
“I'm not fucking sleepy anymore.” 
There's no foreplay, just a tender kiss and his body is claiming yours. His rhythm as steady as his heartbeat was and it could almost feel like making love except you don’t really look at each other. You’re still staring at the dust and Negan is somewhere else entirely.  
His climax is a soft shudder before he rolls back onto the bed and it feels like an afterthought when he begins to stroke his finger across your clit, but you don’t complain, you close your eyes and let him pleasure you, let him do the work. But it's not satisfying, your climax bubbles over in a soft pop which doesn’t quite scratch the itch and then it's gone.  
“I need to meet with Simon,” he says, without even removing his hand from between your thighs.  
“That's romantic,” you scoff, rolling away and, though you try to play your admission off with a small laugh, there’s no bullshitting every single one of your emotions. You’re not an actress.  
“Are you mad at me?” 
Your eyes meet his and maybe you are mad. Mad at your shitty orgasm. Mad at yourself for doing what it takes to survive. Mad at Negan for thinking you’re the kind of girl who waits around on bullshit promises.  
The old you would have never slept with a married man, now you’re married to one and though it hadn’t mattered much before, it seemed to matter a great deal right now.  
You guess you’d never thought you’d survive this long and now you were starting to think you might survive even longer. A whole lifetime. 
Maybe even more years than you’d lived before the world ended and that was a scary prospect. So sure, you were mad as hell when you thought about a life like that. 
“No,” you say, wrapping yourself up in the sheet like a burrito, “I’m just tired.” 
Negan doesn’t care enough to press for more even though he must know it’s a well-trained answer, one he’s probably heard before. An answer that says, ‘yes, I am mad at you but no, I don’t wanna start a fight.’ 
“I’ve been thinking...” he says, shuffling from the bed to pull on his jeans, and there’s something in the tone- hesitation . 
You sit up on your elbows, but you don’t speak and you’re not entirely sure you want to hear what he’s about to say. 
“How about we have dinner tonight?” he says, and you breathe a little easier. Dinner , it was hardly groundbreaking. The kitchen brought up trays of food every evening on the dot. 
"We always have dinner,” you remind him, and he glances back at you over his shoulder. His wolf like smile looking a little less toothy and a little sweeter. 
“This time I can cook.” 
“You cook?” you tease with a small laugh as you try to picture Negan in any kind of domestic scenario. 
“I’m not just a pretty face and an excellent fuck,” he winks, and you don’t tell him that sex this morning was barely adequate, you turn your head to a sudden noise beyond the door. Just a clatter of something hitting the ground but a reminder that you're not alone.  
“Just the two of us,” Negan adds, as if he’s reading your mind. As if he’s thinking about the promises he’d made. To make you love him. To say goodbye to the others. 
“I’d like that,” you reply, and you’re voice is a little flat until you think of Joel.  
Kitchen duty. If he isn’t a Saviour, he’ll still be there, and you wonder if he wears an apron and one of those little hairnets.  
“I can make dessert,” you say, a little more animated. 
“Your pussy’s the only dessert I need..." 
"Well If you’re a really good boy, I'll let you have two desserts.” 
He laughs and that’s when you notice Lucille, sitting in her spot. Negan must have placed her there while you were sleeping and you’re glad. You don’t want him to forget about her, you don’t want to replace her, and you certainly don’t want to spend the rest of your life wearing a mask.  
6 notes · View notes
ryutarotakedown · 6 days
Note
Haori for the ask!
[ask game link] MY GIRL MY GIRL MY GIRL MY GIRL MY GIRL THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME ABOUT HER!!!!!!!!
How I feel about this character: um. see above. she is my favorite dgs girl ever and i love her so much and she deserves the entire world and also to rest once in a while. she is incredibly brave to the point of recklessness and she is incredibly responsible to the point of self loathing and she feels emotions so much all the time and i think she might actually be the least deliberately-repressed character in dgs which doesn’t say that much but still! every day i think about her in awe
— seriously, sixteen years old and you’ve helped make an entirely new poison and diagnosed its symptoms on sight and acted accordingly and also went into a beach hut to yell at a confirmed murderer. didn’t even do it because she hated her, did it because she wanted her goddamn poison back. who is doing it like haori murasame
All the people I ship romantically with this character: susato!!!!! and gina but i haven’t thought about ginahao as much as i should tbh. i think haori would take a shine to her immediately but actually fall for her the moment she sees gina scream at someone for susato’s or haori’s sake
My non-romantic OTP for this character: all? of them? yuujin and wilson are both super fascinating dynamics to explore with haori! but the one that actually takes up my entire frontal cortex is her and jezaille.
— they are both women in the same field but jezaille is lauded because she’s british whereas haori surely is not — i mean, that’s not actually said in canon but auchi disparagingly refers to her as a “tomboy” and susato mentions how incredible it is that she has a job in an all male university, i refuse to believe she didn’t have a fucking Time of it. and that in itself inspires jealousy, right, and then haori finds out she killed her mentor and she still has to work with her for Months??? i’d go insane! it’s a miracle haori didn’t actually murder her! like. here is my only chance to bond with someone who understands the exact position i am in, and then it turns out she hates me for almost the same petty reasons as the men in the laboratory. and also killed a guy. haori is so fucking alone it drives me up a wall
— also i wrote a ficlet in dante’s ronin au once where jezaille calls her susato’s attack dog
— also also, we do not have any information on whether she knew asougi or not but i like to think she did. just like as that guy who’s always around susato with the sword and the cringefail aura. maybe they had conversations while waiting for susato to come out of her tutoring sessions! maybe they knew each other!! do you think susato told her that he was dead after getting back to japan, or do you think she only found out after mamemomi accused mikotoba of covering it up at the end of 2-1?
My unpopular opinion about this character: tragically i dont think theres enough haori content for me to actually have unpopular opinions on her. but she performs so incredibly well under stress. i think shes one of the rare people for whom stress actually helps to narrow down her focus.
— also one thing i always laser in on when writing her is her unfailing emotional honesty which is deeply funny considering 2-1 happens because she decided to find out about the poison on her own rather than telling anyone; the self loathing slash impostor syndrome slash fear of failure and rejection overrules that bit of her i guess :pensive: she is fully in panic mode for so much of 2-1
— oh yeah Yeah The Self Loathing thats also something ive never seen in any haori fics yet! she has a whole bit about wanting susato to throw her to the ground in the recess halfway through the trial and it’s kind of a joke but also Not yknow. “i completely betrayed your trust” like. god. theres a perfectionist streak there i think or at least signs of a not super great self esteem!
— hey haori would you say that the two things you hate the most (about yourself) are poisoning and betrayal. haha. okay thats not actual character analysis but i couldnt resist the reference
One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: i wish she came back in any form at all i wish susato mentioned her after 2-1 at all although i will say that 1) her being part of the defense in the end credits is like catnip to me and 2) it is my firm belief that susato deliberately avoids talking about her because she’s too afraid of her own feelings to even consider opening up to ryuu about her
— when will the haori murasame fancase of that trial at the end appear, by the way. i want them to get hosonaga a decently light sentence for theft and then he is immediately accused of murder right afterwards
— she also should have gotten to learn about wilson being awful. and also should have been the one to give susato jezaille’s case notes in 1-1 (i saw that hc in a susato roleswap au fic and i have completely integrated it into my belief system. as far as i am concerned she was that person. but a confirmation in 2-1 woulda been nice)
My OTP: [poking head out behind ao3 page and enough susahao fanart to drown a man] take a guess
My OT3: add gina in there baby!!! i dont have as solid ideas on the rest of the girlcule yet but gina is Necessary.
— i actually think haori would dislike both maria and nikolina upon first meeting, maria because of The Racism (she’d scream at her about believing in skull sizes) and nikolina because she does come off as pretty privileged and smug and aloof when you first meet her
— [insert five page rant about how we never see nikolina outside of her being afraid for her life and therefore have almost no idea what she was like in the troupe or among the crew but also she was probably afraid for her life while in the troupe as well so in a way we do have a pretty good idea of her behavior and also i think she uses aloofness as a shield]
— but Point Is they both remind her of jezaille too much for her to like them at first. but later! who knows?
5 notes · View notes
tearsofsaudade · 10 months
Text
st4 missing scene - mike pov of the (first) van scene
it was funny, mike thought as the van bumped along the road, jostling him into bumping elbows with will and el, how he was closer to the two of them than he had been in months, and yet he’d never felt further.
on the other side of the country, it was easy to pretend.
oh, will and i haven’t spoken for months? well that’s fine, it’s just hard to talk over the phone. it’ll go right back to normal once we’re together (he doesn’t need to know why it’s hard)
im totally happy in my relationship with el! she sends me letters all the time and i always respond as soon as i can (of course it’s almost always just a response to whatever she said, and her letters aren’t the ones that stay neatly tucked away in a drawer)
but he should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy. of course el had been lying to him, he didn’t know what had made him think that the deception was a one way street. it was almost relieving to know that he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable with honesty, and it gave him a bit of hope that maybe she’d break up with him (wait, that was bad. he was supposed to want to be with her. try again)
it was almost relieving to know he wasn’t the only one struggling to be honest, but he hoped they could fix it together. he didn’t want them to fall apart (better. safer)
and will….
considering how well mike knew will, it was almost impressive that he managed to fool himself into thinking will would just put up with his asshole behavior. even despite the walls mike had been mounting for the past few years, will still knew him better than anyone else, and he wouldn’t put up with mike acting the way he was when he would be the first to notice the cracks in mike’s facade. (it was nice to know that, despite everything, will could still read him like that)
anyway, mike was fine. he was handling it. maybe nothing had gone to plan and el nearly killed a girl and will was pissed at him and argyle and jonathan were still high off their asses—
will sighed, catching mikes attention. he was looking out the window, the way he always did on drives home when they were kids after troy was an asshole. mike was usually the one who started the fights, but it was always will he was after (maybe he was bad at figuring people out, or maybe mike was just better at hiding)
on the next bump, mike jabbed his elbow into wills arm hard enough to make him jump. his gaze flitted away from the window and turned to glare at mike before catching his downturned lips and apologetic eyes and he huffed as he turned away again.
mike nudged their knees together, once again regretting his stupid choice of an outfit. in his defense, max had told him this was the style of california, and he was too worried about the trip to worry about whether she was being honest.
when mike finally turned to jabbing his fingers into wills side, he was met with an elbow to the stomach, making him choke on his breath.
“sorry,” will said, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic.
“me too,” mike murmured, eyes on wills hands that he was wringing together nervously. hesitantly, he put his hand on his knee, palm down, and stretched out his pinkie towards will, who sighed long and hard before reciprocating the action, brushing their pinky fingers together lightly before pulling back away.
it wasn’t quite an apology accepted, but it was the start of one. mike smiled down at his hand, not risking a glance at will lest it remind him of his irritation, and didnt bother patching up the cracks in his walls.
14 notes · View notes
erodasfishtacos · 3 years
Text
Crackin’ the Code
prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding. 
note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.
word count: 9k
warnings: smut
***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)
if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!
please please considering donating to my kofi since all my work is FREE to you guys!
---
The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.
The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.
Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought. 
Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.
Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.
However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.
Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.
Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning. 
No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.
The CEO never fantasized about a wedding. 
Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations. 
No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.
Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.
He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.
Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.
He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.
Don’t get him wrong. 
He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.
One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.
---
It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour. 
The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date. 
A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’
Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area. 
She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.
“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures. 
When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.
Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment. 
She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.
Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”
She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”
He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly. 
What a goddamn waste of a night.
Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”
Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being. 
Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.
“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.
He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”
“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives. 
Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.
When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.
It doesn’t happen often. 
He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.
He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.
A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day. 
They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.
I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.
It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.
I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.
By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red. 
When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.
He was so fucked up.
-
Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.
YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting. 
She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.
She was just...everything.
YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.
She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way. 
Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.
She was confident in a way that girls rarely were. 
Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models. 
Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.
Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.
She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow. 
The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.
Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much. 
As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.
--
Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous. 
Maybe back in his teenage years? If that. 
It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***
YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.
He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.
When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.
Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***
YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.
She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***
When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”
His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”
She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”
Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”
YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”
He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”
YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).
The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London. 
There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on. 
YN had never felt more out of place.
As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”
The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”
As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”
Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”
Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”
“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.
YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.
“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner. 
It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.
“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”
Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar. 
For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant. 
However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.
It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them. 
The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.
 “I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date. 
YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?
She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”
Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him. 
He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.
“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.
He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.
It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”
With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so. 
God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.
When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”
Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.
Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.
After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”
It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***
“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.
“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight. 
Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.
He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.
Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”
She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.
It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.
As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.
She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”
Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”
“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones. 
He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.
They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.
After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.
YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”
“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”
“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.
“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.
“That’s a relief.”
His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”
“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.
Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.
--
It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **
There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.
Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.
They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition. 
Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.
He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”
YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”
His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”
“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.
“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.
“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”
“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.
They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”
“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.
-
It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.
Life didn’t even seem real at this moment. 
She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***
She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after. 
When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.
After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.
Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.
YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”
She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”
“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”
“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.
“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.
“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”
YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.
“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.
“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).
“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.
Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”
YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”
“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”
It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.
--
“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.
“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”
“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.
“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.
“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.
-
Hair and makeup went fast. 
It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.
Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.
YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.
Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.
Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?
It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.
It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.
It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.
What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***
The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.
“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.
YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving. 
It started to feel real.
The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.
It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.
Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.
Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.
YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.
She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.
“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.
“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.
“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.
YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”
Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“
Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”
The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.
Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.
YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding. 
What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.
The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.
She knew exactly where Harry would be standing. 
Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about. 
The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design. 
YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***
The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.
“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.
YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family. 
When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.
Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle. 
It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.
Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony. 
Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.
YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***
Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.
He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.
It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***. 
YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.
All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.
The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.
Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.
Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.
YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.
In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.
“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.
Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”
Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.
When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm. 
Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.
“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.
When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.
“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.
“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”
YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”
“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”
Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.
His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.
A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.
YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off. 
The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.
“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.
“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.
“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.
“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”
“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”
“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”
“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.
“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”
The guests in the chairs are quite speechless. 
They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple. 
This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.
--
“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.
YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”
“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.
Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”
The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”
It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.
He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”
--
As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.
“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.
“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.
When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.
“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.
“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.
“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.
“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.
It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.
--
The reception is more of a dinner than a party. 
Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***
It was perfect. 
Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry. 
Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle. 
There is not much more to say than that. 
--
The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.
YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***
“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.
“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.
The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***
“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”
“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough. 
She needs him close, she needs her husband.
“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.
Harry had always imagined this night. 
To have someone laid out underneath him. 
No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.
He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.
When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.
“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.
“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.
“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.
“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.
“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”
Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”
His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”
He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.
Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”
“I did.”
It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek. 
After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay. 
She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.
“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”
“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.
“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”
He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers. 
She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”
“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.
“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”
“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”
“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”
Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”
YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.
Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.
“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.
“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”
And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.
She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them. 
On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would. 
Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.
“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.
It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.
“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.
“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.
Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.
A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.
if you’ve ask to be on my taglist and you’re not here - please check your settings because i’ve tried to add you and it didn’t work.
taglist babies (thank you): @dioc4ne @hazgoldenstyles @harrysdimple05 @wonwooen @ficnarry @leeroysdancer @harrysloveheart @harryscherrysugar @pradastardust @rish-haz @wildcstdrexms @evanstylestan @wisetoadbonkbiscuit @meredithhuntt @tpwkvictoria @lovely-him @haymix @eiffelmezarry @pilgrim-harry @soullessbabee @afterglowstyles @tulsasjesus @elenagilbert01 @meh–mood @pretty-pop-princess-hs @msolbesg @localfalsegodstan @evanjh @i-just-like-fanfics @harrys-hs-gf @lightsupdoyouknowwhoyouare @afterglcwswift @harrystyles-tpwk @amyvandijk @godilovetheenglishx @harrys-cherrry @theprofessionalfanby @your–sweetest–downfall @la-cey @bdbtchdir @killerqueencapstan @elizabeth23567 @camflowervol6 @its-a-finee-line @rish-haz @solonelytobe @nav1234 @harrynamjoon @hopefullimaginer123 @westallenhes @awesomebooklover17 @will-be-a-fineline @vasilikir5 @your–sweetest–downfall @pretty-pop-princess-hs @harrynamjoon @harrypinks @ivyirenehoax @harryspink @sunsetcurve-h @goldenstylesh @mouthfulloftoothpastehs @hello-34583 @prettylovley @nicolecarsley @lamariettes @imavirginhoe @unknown7549 @mellamolayla @kiwitsayedsugar @hopefullimaginer123 @harrysmatcha @weaslettesstuff @saintsmotels @hi-yekaterina @aubreyfineline @harrysgoldenbum @ebstylesx @goldeng1rl8 @tnqueen @percysaidnever @bebecalpal
2K notes · View notes
harrys-titties · 3 years
Text
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. 
2K notes · View notes
somethingpoetichere · 3 years
Text
lovebug- caliban imagine
sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!
Tumblr media
called her for the first time yesterday
finally found the missing part of me
felt so close but you were far away
left me without anything to say
Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.
And then he found you.
You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.
No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.
It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.
You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.
Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.
The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.
“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden. 
“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”
“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”
“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”
Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.
“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”
so worth it.
now i'm speechless, over the edge
i'm just breathless
i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again
hopeless, head over heels in the moment
i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again
Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered. 
You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.
and he was smitten.
The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.
Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.
And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.
“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”
“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”
“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”
Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.
“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.
“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”
“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”
it was really just too easy.
i can't get your smile out of my mind
i think about your eyes all the time
you're beautiful but you don't even try
(you don't even, don't even try)
modesty is just so hard to find
Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.
But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...
Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.
You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-
Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.
“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.
“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.
“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”
Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”
“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.
“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.
It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh. 
“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.” 
If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.
you were perfect.
now i'm speechless, over the edge
i'm just breathless
i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again
hopeless, head over heels in the moment
i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again
Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.
“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”
Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).
The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.
What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.
You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.
“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.
Shit.
“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra. 
“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.
Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve. 
“We should get back to the scene.”
The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.
You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.
Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”
Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”
“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”
“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.
“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.
Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.
“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” 
It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.
It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.
It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”
“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips. 
“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”
kissed her for the first time yesterday
everything i wished that it would be
suddenly i forgot how to speak
hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?
Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless.  Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.
And Sabrina was pissed.
If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.
Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it. 
After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.
But even that was too much to ask.
Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.
Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.
After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.
You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.
The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.
“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.
“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”
“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes. 
“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?” 
You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull. 
“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you. 
“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.
“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.
“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?” 
“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”
“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”
The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.
Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.
now i'm, yeah, oh!
now i'm speechless, over the edge
i'm just breathless
i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again
now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment
i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)
love bug again
You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.
“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”
“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”
“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”
And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.
“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door. 
“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it. 
You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.
“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”
“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”
You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything. 
His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.
“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”
“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”
Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”
He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.” 
His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”
Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.
“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”
When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.
You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.
“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”
When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.
And you supposed you did.
“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”
Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
“I just want you, clay boy.”
697 notes · View notes
belphies-cuhm-sluht · 3 years
Text
Delivery Day (Leviathan x GN!Reader) FLUFF
It's another fluff night, with Levi! It's been a while since I wrote for him, and I wanted to make this soft and sweet because he deserves it.
Word Count : 1.9K
Warnings : Slight jealousy from Levi;
“Did it come in yet?!” He shouted as he bounded down the stairs, coming to a halt at the landing when he saw you and Beel walking in the door together. “Oh… I guess not…” His purple hair curtained around his face as he looked down at his feet, awkwardly shuffling them to hide the fact that he was so obviously jealous. “I’ll be up in my room.” He muttered, turning his back and walking back up the stairs. The whole thing happened so quickly that you didn’t even have a moment to talk to him.
Levi was your best friend. You did everything together, unless it involved leaving the house, but he always told you that there was no reason to actually step foot outside the front door, that he had everything the both of you needed up in his room. If it wasn’t there, he’d just order it on Akuzon and get same day shipping. He was adorable in the sense that he never wanted you to leave his side, and although the two of you weren’t an item and you weren’t dating, he would get immensely jealous if you ever did anything with any of his brothers. Hence why he’s acting the way he is now.
“Were you not supposed to go grocery shopping with me?” Beel was a sweetheart, and out of all the brothers, he was the least likely to actually purposely try to drive a wedge between you and Levi. He cared about you, and if Levi was upset, that also meant that you’d be upset too. Not only did he care about you, but he cared deeply about all of his brothers. He’d never do anything to hurt Levi, and seeing his brother so happy brought him joy as well. “Maybe I should talk to him…”
You shook your head, knowing very well that Levi wouldn’t want to hear it from Beel. He’d want to talk to you about it. Levi didn’t want to seem weak in front of his brothers, even if all of them knew that he was the avatar of envy, showing his jealousy to his brothers over you was just… embarrassing to him. “I’ll talk to him. You know how he gets.” Beel hummed in agreement, grabbing the grocery bags out of your hands so you could go up to Levi’s room and ease his mind.
It was clear that he was agitated, something that he’d never actually voice to you. You didn’t even have to see him to know that he was, the sound of his keyboard clicking gave it away. He’d always press the keys a little harder, slam the mouse down when he got too close to the edge of the mousepad. His huffing and puffing was just an added factor to let you know just how agitated he really was. With a deep breath, you knocked on the door, hoping that he could hear you over the headphones that you already knew he was wearing. “Go away. I’m busy.” You sighed loudly as you leaned your head against the door, knocking again. “I said go away!” He shouted, and you heard the mouse slam back down on the desk. He wasn’t going to let you in, and you weren’t just going to let him angrily sulk in his room for the rest of the night, so you decided to just let yourself in.
“Too busy to talk to me?” You asked as you walked into the room, leaning against the wall next to his desk. He looked up at you once, huffing quietly before turning back to his screens. At least he had kept his headphones off, so maybe he’d listen to you, even if he didn’t say anything back. “You don’t have to talk… I can talk.” You mumbled, but it would be better if he at least replied once, or maybe even nodded. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I went to the store to get groceries for dinner.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself to him, but maybe it’ll ease his mind a little, even if the grocery bags were very noticeable. He needed that reassurance, which wasn’t really a problem, but also, you weren’t actually together so this shouldn’t even be a big deal to him.
He pulled the headphones off completely and turned his chair to face you in one swift movement. You could see the hurt, the anger in his eyes. He was upset about this, and even though it didn’t make sense to you, the feelings made sense to him. “You went with Beel!” His shouting kind of threw you off, it actually made you jump a little. It was different from him shouting at you from behind the door, now that you could see his face, you could actually see how serious he was. You being with Beel not only upset him, it pissed him off. “You’re always going somewhere with one of them when you could be in here with me! Why?!” His question almost made you laugh, and you would have if you weren’t worried about how he’d react. He was still a demon after all, and the last thing you wanted to do was piss him off more.
“I like getting out of the house sometimes, Levi.” You sighed quietly, slowly taking a couple steps closer to him, reaching out to place your hand on his shoulder. “Just because I go shopping with them or leave the house with one of them, it doesn’t mean I don’t like spending time with you.” That should have been clear to him considering you came up to his room to make sure he was alright immediately. “You don’t like leaving the house… You don’t even like leaving your room. I’m not going to ask you because you’re just going to tell me to order whatever it is that I want or need off of Akuzon.” He didn’t like hearing that, mainly because you were right, but things were also a lot easier when everything could just be delivered. He rolled his eyes, and you could see the small pout forming on his lips. “You can go out shopping with me next time if you’d like?”
“It’s not just that…” He mumbled, and you could see the blush forming on his cheeks, his hands folded on his lap as his thumbs twirled over one another. “I don’t like seeing you with any of them.” He was quiet, and it almost seemed like he didn’t want you to hear him say that. His avatar was shining through more than ever right now. “I mean… What if one of them likes you? What if one of them makes a move on you or asks you out? What about me?” He was so bothered by this, his legs were bouncing, it seemed like he couldn’t keep still. This was something that was eating away at him, and if he had just talked about it sooner with you, you could have put the whole thing to rest. Instead, he waited for all of his feelings to pile up until they all boiled over, and there was no need for it.
“Levi, in case you didn’t realize… I don’t like any of them. I like you.” His body kind of froze up when you said it, and you could hear a small noise which sounded a little like a squeal rise up out of him. “I want to go shopping with you… I want to leave the house with you. I like being with you, Levi.” The squeal got a little louder as he finally turned his head to look up at you, his cheeks now burning a bright red, and the look of anger and sadness in his eyes had changed to something between confusion and adoration.
“M-Me? Are you sure?” You let out a small snort before nodding your head. The Levi that you came to know and love was back in all of his nervous, slightly awkward glory. It was funny that he had been so hell bent against you being with any of his brothers in any type of way, but once you told him that you wanted to be with him, as if he was giving you any other option, now he’s confused and questioning you. “I guess… I was waiting for something to come in… but… because I wanted to make it special…” You raised one of your eyebrows at him, not really knowing what he was getting at, but you were pretty sure that he’d explain, or at least get to what he was leading up to. He finally got up from his chair, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly. You could feel that he was shaking, and sweating a little. His palms were clammy, and you wanted to tell him to calm down, but you worried that doing so would make him back out from whatever he was doing altogether. “The delivery can wait… I just… I really like you, Y/N… A lot… and I want you to be… w-with me… I want you to be my human.” He took a deep breath after saying it, like it had taken everything out of him to even say that, and for him it probably did. At this point his face was redder than a tomato, and it seemed like he was holding his breath waiting for you to respond.
You didn’t want to keep him waiting because in all honesty, you had been waiting for him to ask for such a long time, you didn’t want to keep yourself waiting either. You were beyond happy, ecstatic even, and you couldn’t even find the words to say in the moment, so you did the only thing you could think of doing to show him that you wanted to be his. You pulled your hands away from his and quickly moved them up to cup his face, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. He wasn’t expecting it, and his lips parted slightly as he let out a small gasp, but he moved his own hands to your hips, pulling you a little closer to him as he deepened the kiss. You weren’t expecting it from him, but he had probably been waiting for this to happen, and it was probably much better for him than having to make the move himself.
By the time you pulled back, you both were breathless, and he seemed a little dazed. It was adorable, he was adorable, and as much as you would have liked to, you had to keep yourself from kissing him again just for being so damn cute. “So what was it that y-”
The knock on the front door came, loud and rhythmic. You saw his eyes light up, his head whipping towards his closed bedroom door. “It came in!” He ran to the door, turning to face you quickly as he stepped out. “Pick something to wear… We’re going out!” You shook your head as you watched him move out of view, running down the hall to get whatever it was that he had been waiting for. Things had started off rough, but maybe it was just the way it was supposed to play out. Maybe if you had never gone to the store with Beel, Levi would have never felt the need to actually ask you… or maybe he had been planning this all day. You’d never really know, but in the end, you both had each other.
209 notes · View notes
virghogh · 3 years
Text
NCT Dream Birth Charts x Hexaco Results Analysis pt. 1
recently NCT Dream were on a new reality show called Mental Training Camp where they are doing a variety of activities and all of their behavior and interactions are being analyzed by professional psychologists.
ofc my virgo sun mercury ass was thrilled and I had their birth charts pulled up the whole time to cross reference.
I wanted to share some of my personal thoughts on how the 2 might connect!
part 1 // part 2 // part 3
Tumblr media
**key: in the hexaco charts the blue represents the Dreamies, the orange is an average result of 300 college students who took the same test**
Mark - “Workaholic Leader”
✨leo sun // aries moon // cancer mercury // virgo venus // scorpio mars✨
Tumblr media
they described him as a workaholic leader but quickly added that if he’s not now, he has potential to be in the future, although it seemed they all agreed he has workaholic spirit now 
this immediately made sense to me when you look at his chart i mean he’s being driven by a fire sun and moon and a scorpio mars (used to be ruled by mars) and virgo venus both of which are signs that have strong work ethics
the reason I like that they mentioned he could grow into it is because he’s still young and I agree that his placements could become more serious about work and life as he gets older, I think his leo sun/aries moon combo gives him very youthful energy but they’re still very driven signs
mark agreed that even throughout his trainee years when he was still very young, he was always practicing and was always called a workaholic. I see this in the intense drive, work ethic and perfectionism of virgo and scorpio but shining through with the warmth of his sun and moon
lets talk about this hexaco chart, what sticks out the most is Mark’s level of conscientiousness! (its so high like what even-) Conscientious people are careful, precise, detail oriented and in general care about doing their tasks well. I think this is directly connected to his scorpio mars! I always say that no matter what is in a chart, having a scorpio in big 6 will always have a strong influence and with a virgo venus, even though venus is considered a love planet it is also our value system, how we discern what is worthy and unworthy for us, and having virgo there makes him very practical. (as I mentioned though I think all of his placements together reflect a very driven person) (I also think mark is lucky to have a fire moon because if he had a water or earth I think his obsession and perfectionism of scorpio and virgo would make him d*pressed or too hard on himself) 
his virgo venus could even be why when they did the bag check they saw he’s quite “frugal” or practical and minimalist in the things he carries around. When you think about Venus, I mentioned it’s our values it’s also our aesthetics and it rules Taurus a materialistic sign, having virgo there gives me the impression of someone who is practical with their belongings, as we saw. 
We’ll see later in the post that there are a few Hexaco charts that I felt were a little unexpected but Marks imo was sooo spot on with his placements. With a fire sun and moon he’s very warm and open and has firey emotions. he’s not afraid to show them or be reactive and responsive (emotionality)! I think his honesty-humility reflects this too, he’s not too overly or underly honest, he’s just straightforward what you see is what you get and he answers in such a way too. His emotionality reflects the cancer mercury, the rashness of aries moon, and sensitivity of scorpio mars. 
tdlr; the human embodiment of driven, focused and hard working when it comes to his craft, but he loves to have fun in his outside life, and is practical in his inside life <3 his hexaco and birth chart align nicely
Jeno - “A scholar who gets hurt easily”
✨taurus sun // sagittarius moon // aries mercury // aries venus // taurus mars✨
Tumblr media
so right off the bat I’m very curious where the scholar part comes in ?? They didn’t really reference it again in that way but I’m assuming they mean he’s very diplomatic? Defcon rephrased it as “you get miffed but well-mannered” 
a recurring comment was that he gets annoyed easily but doesn’t show it, I thought that was really funny because I feel like it reflects his aries influence well; being a little hot-headed but he has the patience of his taurus sun and mars to filter it :’) 
they talked a lot about how he gets hurt easily and mark even shared a cute lil story that practically had me on the floor because i just think it shows his taurus sooooo much I’d really love to have his house placements one day I’m really curious where his taurus is
if you didn’t see the episode basically mark said one time Jeno was passing some seniors in a building and said hi but they didn’t say hi back ): and just ignored him. Mark said Jeno was really hurt by that and went on about it for a long time saying stuff like “I’m sure they saw me” )): but he never expressed/acted on that hurt. taurus is represented by the bull so they do have a fierce side to them but imo i think taurus can be a really gentle/relaxed sign too; taurus mars is a slow to be angry slow to react placement, and one of the things taurus is well-known for is being fixed, stubborn, holding grudges which explains why that moment hurt and he held on to it. Jeno even agreed he tends to hold in a lot of his feelings and remembers little things that hurt him for a long time!
speaking of his taurus... they had a whole baseball analogy for the group saying that Jeno is a strong catcher, you can have a good pitcher but without a strong catcher the team would fall apart. They also mentioned a lot about Jeno not being in the spotlight, he doesn’t stand out, but he silently strengthens the team. And if that isn’t the most taurus description you’ve ever heard.,,,
I’ve been talking about his taurus a lot but at one point they said Jeno has a strong perfectionist side but he’s also very flexible and it’s difficult to have both. I personally see this a lot in his Sag moon (mutable) in contrast to his taurus placements (fixed). Sag moon to me always seem happy go lucky, if emotions come they go quickly too, mutable gives him that flexibility because they just like when things can change freely. It’s ruled by jupiter and I feel a common theme with sag in big 6 is it’s easy for people to be drawn to their jupiter qualities. They give the same freedom they crave, they can be very easy going and positive. Similar to mark, I also think it helps Jeno to have this moon sign over another! 
as for the hexaco, I’ll be honest the level of introvertness/shyness was a little surprising from an astrology stand point. When we see Jeno in all the NCT content I feel like it’s obvious he is on the shy side but if I was looking at only his chart, I don’t think I was expect it to be to the extent of the hexaco chart! (plss i need his birth time) in the same thread, his emotionality is really low and I can’t say I’m surprised from an astrology view😅 it’s not that he’s not compassionate or anything because he does care a lot about not upsetting people, but as we saw he is not very reactive and receptive emotionally ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  his openness is low too which fits what we’ve talked about above about his lack of reaction/expression of emotions, I feel like sag moons also don’t dwell especially with no water placements. 
The honesty and humility makes a lot of sense to me because i feel like taurus, aries and sag(!) are very righteous signs too! They care about integrity, they certainly might have their own idea of what is truth,.. but whatever it is, they believe in it! 
last note I want to make is on the whole “jeno isn’t funny” bit since they mentioned it. He said it hurt his ego when they first started the joke but it’s been going on for so long that I think he adapted to being able to take it as just that, a joke! It’s also funny to me that it started in the first place because earth signs are often called boring (it’s okay I’m an earth sign too lol) and I also have sag influence and I know people find me quite funny but I never try to be funny and it usually comes after my earth walls are down with close friends. 
tdlr; doesn’t ask or need spot light, gets annoyed easily but it doesn’t last, when something does hurt he remembers, slow or unlikely to be reactive and responsive, positive, comfort creature, loyal🥺
Chenle - “Friendly Guardian”
✨Sagittarius sun // Aquarius moon // scorpio mercury // scorpio venus // aquarius mars✨
Tumblr media
there is something about chenle’s personality that I’ve always loved, he comes off as very warm, care-free, curious, friendly, caring. I like the personality title they gave him because I think it sums him up well. The members had all laughed when they saw it and enthusiastically agreed.  I also love his hexaco chart and think it reflects him really well, with most of it being just outside of the average :’) as far as how it reflects his birth chart, let’s get into it
I do want to disclaim that Chenle was born on the sag/scorpio cusp and to be a sag he would have had to be born after 3pm (!) but I think we would all agree he’s definitely a sagittarius sun anyways
Before this show when I watch nct dream content it always fascinated me how easy going chenle was in chaotic situations, he never seems too demanding or controlling, and sometimes i wondered if he was holding back for the cameras and was actually really frustrated but based off the hexaco it seems like he is actually just that agreeable, from looking at just his chart I don’t know if I would have guessed his agreeableness was that far. I know sag suns can be very easy going and aquarius is a more chilled sign but he has 2 aquarius and 2 scorpio placements they’re both fixed signs and quite like to be in control😅 (can we get a birth time pls) 
One argument could be the combination of sag sun with aquarius moon, since we have to look at all of it together. it does give me the impression of someone more easy-going possibly because there is the comfort of confidence! I feel like sag sun/aqua moon + mars would give someone a high opinion of themself (go chenle). this combination could create someone who is easy going because they don’t dwell and aren’t emotionally fueled nor do they fret over people that are. I’d say easy-going or maybe even just cool headed? He’s always laughing things off too, showing he doesn’t take himself too seriously! 
Speaking of taking things seriously, I think we can see this in the conscientious part of the hexaco, it was the lowest and I think it can be explained by what I mentioned above. It’s not that he isn’t driven or doesn’t work hard, he’s a full time idol they all work hard but I think it represents that work isn’t the focus of his life but rather people, connection, community, and just being happy is? 
they talked about how Chenle is the type of person that you meet and already feel like you’re friends. He could be the youngest in the room and talk down to you and you wouldn’t even think twice. This is huuuuge aquarius energy! I remember one of the first things I learned about aquarius was that they make friends everywhere. They talk to a stranger on the street for directions and next thing you know they’re “friends”
I also want to add that they mention he’s friendly but he gives off “big brother vibes” i feel like we’ve all seen that in other nct content too and would agree. This is interesting to me because sag and aquarius is not the same kind of friendliness as we see with marks leo sun aries moon. Leo and aries are “younger” signs, whereas aquas and sagittarius are towards the end of the signs, they’re considered “mature” signs which I feel contributes to chenle’s “big brother” energy. He has that aqua/sag energy where he seems really sure of himself, and wise and people look up to that.
I want to talk about his scorpio placements real quick because even though I just made a case for how open and easy-going he is, I’m still confused about how the scorpio fits into all of this. scorpio isn’t known to be one to be super open, agreeable or extroverted. I personally see his scorpio come out a lot in his realtionships. you can tell he cares deeply for his members and yes his aqua makes him get along with everyone but I feel like with the dream members we see that scorpio possessiveness and jealousy come out more. Lastly, I do want to add a little mystery to this, although his openness is high and it’s clear he is a very authentic person,,.. I definitely would not call him an open book👀
Chenle wasn’t able to be in the recording of this show unfortunately so all we got was a brief description of his hexaco chart and we won’t get any further analyses ): 
although I do agree that his hexaco chart reflects how he comes off in shows, I don’t think it completely reflects his chart so I’m going to say the house placements would help create a better picture! 
tdlr; fun and realtionships are a priority, he’s comfortable and confident in himself and people are drawn to that, v friendly😌but he has secrets👀
feedback, thoughts and clarifying questions are always welcome!
205 notes · View notes
dr3amofagame · 3 years
Text
DAY 50 LET’S GO !!
It’s been 50 days since Quackity’s first Lore Stream, and I thought I’d write a little something for the occasion. Our buddy c!dream is not doing well in the prison rn lmao
tw: torture, abuse, injuries, blood, broken bones, manipulation, gaslighting, mental deterioration, trauma, dark content, pandora’s vault/prison arc, c!quackity critical (again, not really, but a Very Dark portrayal of him) 
Quackity’s in the middle of packing up his supplies for the day when he turns over; Dream flinches, automatic, but the winged man doesn’t come closer, hands still busied with rubbing off the blood on Warden’s Will. His good eye narrows, and Dream watches, half-lucid where he’s sprawled out over the obsidian in a puddle of his own blood, breath rattling in his chest and filling the silence with shuddering wheezes.
“It’s day fifty, you know,” he says, turning back towards his sword. Dream mulls the words over as his vision blurs, refocuses, letting them settle as his too-slow head catches up with the meaning. “Of my visits.”
He tries to respond, knows better than to ignore Quackity when he’s speaking, but the words escape his head halfway up his throat and the whole thing comes out as a garbled hum through his lips. Quackity hardly spares him a second glance, sheathing the sword and moving his hand to the axe, pulling it up from the floor and watching as blood drips down the blade onto the handle.
“You know, I said I would come for as long as I fuckin’ needed, and I don’t exactly plan on making myself a liar any time soon,” Quackity’s eye slants towards him, lips pressed together in an irritated frown that Dream recognizes as the one he wears when he’s more bothered than he lets on, “So you gonna talk? Or are we gonna have to go through another fifty?”
Dream keeps his eyes on the other stubbornly, refusing to look away even with the full force of Quackity’s glare directed at him. Hey- what can he say, it’s the end of the day and he’s more than a little delirious from the pain and adrenaline. He’s sure that he’ll regret it come tomorrow, but that’s a problem for future-Dream, not now-Dream. Now-Dream has enough to worry about with trying to stay conscious as it is.
Surprisingly enough, or maybe not surprisingly at all (say what you will about the daily visits and the torture and pain they’ve brought him, but seeing the same person for hours a day every single day does mean that you end up knowing them better than most. He can say a lot about Quackity, most of which involving bloodstained fantasies of revenge and memories of agony and every excruciating moment in between, but in the end he also knows the other man, for better or for worse), Quackity shakes his head, turning back to his work, and laughs. It’s a dry, bitter thing, whatever amusement left within having long cooled and sharpened into something viscous and wanting, but it’s still laughter, the sound so unfamiliar that it makes him physically recoil for a moment before his head catches up.
“You really are a stubborn bastard, aren’t you?” Quackity’s voice dips low in wry humor even as he looks away again, and Dream closes his eyes, lets the world go dark for a blissful second. “Fifty days- I have to say. I’m impressed! It’s really…quite impressive.”
Fifty days- Dream looks up again, head lolling over limply as he tries to look closer. Quackity never brought up the time before, had enjoyed in the psychological side of making him guess how long it’d been, in giving fake times and messing with his head without a clock to keep his head straight. In all honesty, there’s a side of him that’s convinced that he’s lying, but - well - it’s not like it matters, how long it’s been. It’s hardly like there’s a time limit or anything.
“Anyway,” he stands up suddenly, reaching up to stretch his arms, wings spreading to his sides, catching the light of the lava, seeping through the feathers, “We’ll have to cut today short, alright Dream? I have, well you know, arrangements. We’re celebrating.”
“Yeah?” Dream rolls his eyes, words thick in his mouth, and he spits out a mess of blood and other gunk onto the floor beside him, recoiling at the feeling. “Celebrating what?”
“Well, it’s been fifty days, hasn’t it?”
Quackity’s voice has shifted to a slight drawl, almost fond save for the edges, sharpened to a razor point and ready to cut through skin, muscle, bone. It’s a tone that Dream’s become all-too-familiar with, the sort of way Quackity speaks when he’s about to say something that he thinks will make him hurt, when he feels like using his words alone to drive a knife between his ribs and then twist the handle. It’s unassuming, slow, and cruel in every sense of the word, and Dream blinks slowly as he waits for the meaning to register in his pain-addled mind.
Quackity must take his silence for something else, because he laughs again - this one is one that Dream’s familiar with, a hissing, mocking thing that curdles the very air. “Oh- you didn’t think they didn’t know, did you? He turns back towards Dream, moves closer, hair having fallen over his scar and lips twisted in a smile that shows off his glinting golden tooth, “You really- you really fuckin’ thought they didn’t know, prime, this is pathetic Dream, this is a new low even for you.”
Know what- oh.
“Of course they know, Dream,” Quackity kneels in front of him, hand reaching forward to grab him by the jaw, running his thumb back and forth over a fresh cut slashed over his cheekbone and putting enough pressure on it to make it sting, “I told them ages ago - I told you, too, did you seriously fuckin’ forget? Prime- the whole point of you being in this shithole is for the revive book. Once I get it we can finally just kill you and be done with it - of course they know, man! They’re fuckin’ cheering me on.”
Dream watches, waits for the betrayal to come, hot and fast as it always has before. Waits for the rage to come bubbling up, dark and angry, waits for his hands to shake feebly with desperate fantasies of revenge that will probably never make it out of the walls of this obsidian hell. He waits, and waits, and waits, even as Quackity grins and walks to the back of the cell, a triumphant spring to his steps, and disappears in a shattered potion of harming that sends another wave of agony through his broken body.
Nothing comes.
And- it’s almost funny, nearly has him laughing hysterically in the middle of his cell, still spread in a mangled pile of broken bones and limbs twisted unnaturally, drenched in sweat and blood, because - of course, of course now he finally manages to do what he’s been trying for all along, of course now his traitorous, bleeding heart that never failed to bruise and fracture no matter how any layers of netherite he wrapped around himself finally, finally hardens, of course now after fifty fucking days of torture does he finally learn the lessons that he’s been trying to teach all along.
Lesson 27, he remembers himself saying, hands clasped around each other as he paced back and forth on a mountain’s peak, grass crumbling beneath his boots, do not reminisce on what you have lost for it will weigh you down.
It’s been fifty days, and Dream laughs, because after so, so long, he finally has no attachments - and it’s the best feeling in the world.
157 notes · View notes
Prompt — wearing their lover’s clothes! (also, “can I get my shirt back? ’'no.”)
Philioise 🥰
okay so i tried to fill the bill this time! things get a bit hot at the end but nothing worth an r rating!
let's see philoise + wearing their lovers clothes.
It had taken some convincing on Eloise’s part.
Phillip was a man with a very defined style and that style didn’t involve hoddies - an absolute pity according to Eloise. He liked his cardigans, his pleated pants, and his wingtips. He liked to look good and yet be comfortable and wasn’t here to be ashamed for taking care of his appearance. And really, it was fine. Eloise loved it. The only problem was that Penelope had been bombarding her with snaps of her wearing Colin’s oversized hoodies and although she would never admit it out loud, she was starting to feel the green-eyed monster burning in her chest. Goddammit, she wanted to take cute pics clapped in one of Phillip’s extra-large hoodies and post them on every social media account she owned.
But Phillip was not having it. Not even when she went out of her way to make obvious hints as to how she wanted to steal his clothes. Or rather, how she wanted to be given his clothes.
And really? What was the problem? Eloise had full access to his closet. She could just walk into it and grab whatever she wanted and he would not protest. But he was a smart man and smart men did not engage in couple wars with their girlfriend’s siblings. Especially not with Polin. Because out of every two words Colin said, one was Penelope. And Phillip loved Eloise but he preferred to keep his displays of affection a bit more subtle and he preferred his love confessions to be for Eloise's ears only. Nothing wrong with proclaiming your love and devotion for the woman you were sharing your life with every two sentences, really. But being around Colin was, in all honesty, a bit sickening.
But even if his love language were light, casual touches or his quiet but calming presence or listening to her ramble about her day, that didn’t mean he loved her any less. Where Colin’s love was loud, grandiose, overwhelming, Phillip’s love was quiet, nurturing, gentle. It was waking up to fresh flowers resting on a vase every morning, it was coming home after a long day at work to the table set and dinner ready, it was finding little notes scattered around the house, reminding her to take her keys with her, to drink some water, to drive safely. It was a soft kiss on her cheek every morning before leaving for work, a cup of her coffee exactly like she liked it placed on her hand. It was pressed flowers under her pillow. It was a back rub while they read together in the afternoons. It was books with his favorite parts and quotes underlined showing up on her bedside table randomly - full pages circled with this reminds me of you all over it. It was gentle praise and sincere encouragement. It was words of affirmation. It was a sense of finally belonging, being taken care of, and being put first, of mattering.
Phillip loved Eloise in all the ways she had ever wanted to be loved but didn’t dare to allow herself to yearn for and even in ways she never knew a person could love another person. He understood her silences as well as her words and always seemed to know how to make her feel better. There was something in his presence that never failed to make her feel safe.
There was nothing she could complain about.
But she wanted to take a bloody picture wrapped in one of his shirts and post it, dammit.
And then a brilliant idea crossed her mind.
She would see Penelope’s hoodie and raise it. Go big or go home.
And go big she did, indeed.
Phillip had one of those botanic conferences he loved so much that weekend, which meant she would (practically) have the house for herself. Or at least she would have the house for herself once the twins went to bed. The smart woman she was, Eloise had already crafted a detailed plan to tire them out so much all through the day, that the moment they came back home they would pass out, giving her the time to put her second master plan into action. It was genius if she herself said it.
-------
The twins had drifted into a peaceful sleep as soon as their heads touched the pillows. The day had been filled with excitement, laughs, and a couple sugar highs that Eloise had made sure to schedule to last until they were on their way home. The plan had almost taken a turn for the worse on the ride home when their eyelids started to flutter. Nothing a good old banger couldn’t avoid. They ended up singing to the top of their lungs to songs Eloise had never heard before walking into those amazing kids’ lives but now she often found herself humming absent-mindedly.
She placed a sweet kiss on the top of their heads and made sure to tuck them in before closing the door quietly and making her way to the bedroom she had come to share with their father.
As much as she would have loved to take her time
Everything was ready; the lights settled to the perfect intensity, the phone resting on the tripod, and the throw pillows placed in a way that only added to the scene. All that she had to do was get in front of the lens. Surprisingly, the hardest part had been to pick the perfect garment to wear. Phillip had such a collection of nice shirts that it had taken Eloise a good twenty minutes to narrow it down to just two and then five more to come up with a winner. The soft baby blue cotton fabric looked very nice against her skin and it even made her eyes stand out so it became an easy pick. Even though the light yellow one was very nice too. Eloise took a mental note to keep it for a late date. Maybe she would have to ask Daphne to keep the twins for a night one of these days.
Eloise tried a couple poses on the mirror before settling for a suggestive yet not very explicit one. Her legs slightly parted, the hem of the shirt covering just about enough skin to allow the word tasteful to be used but to still spark the curiosity about what was (or wasn’t) behind, the first few buttons of the improvised attire open, allowing the valley of her breasts to peak over the lace brasserie, offering a glimpse of what was to come. The wicked smile adorning her features and messy hair the perfect last touches to her ravishing look. The camera snapped once, twice, thrice. Eloise studied the pictures, nodded with satisfaction, and with one last look at them hit sent.
My sunflower: A little something so you don’t forget to think about me tonight;)
Jesus, El, I almost crashed against the wall.
Just so you know, I always think about you.
My sunflower: I hope so.
Is that my shirt?
My sunflower: Maybe?
You little thief.
My sunflower: Do you want it back?
I think you ought to show me if you had stolen more of my clothes.
Like my boxers, for starters….
Eloise didn’t get much sleep that night.
The next morning she made sure to send Penelope a nerdy snap, Phillip’s shirt looking huge on her smaller frame, making her look like she was wearing an oversized dress. Judging by the dry response she got from her best friend, Colin was about to make a trip to the mall to get a couple dressing shirts. The bar had been raised. Hoodies were no longer good enough. It was pressed shirts or nothing now. Good.
Eloise surprised herself by how reluctant she was to take off his shirt. It had been only a day and she already missed him. His laugh, his hugs, his arms lazily thrown over her shoulders as they laid on the couch, the way he wrinkled up his nose with the first sip of tea… she missed having him around and the peace knowing he was close brought her. And it was funny because until that moment the realization of how used she had gotten to having Phillip by her side had not hit her. Their broken souls were two sides of the same coin, joined and twisted and embroiled until they became one.
So she threw a pair of jeans on, tucked the shirt in the pants, and went on and about with her day. The twins didn’t even bat an eye when she descended down the stairs muffled in their dad’s favorite gear. It was almost as if they had been expecting it for a while. In retrospect, they probably had not given it any thought because they were kids, smart kids, but kids and children didn’t tend to have the same worries as adults. For them, sharing clothes didn’t have a special meaning.
And Eloise realized that she should have gone digging into Phillip’s side of the closet a long time ago. Thinking about it, she couldn’t come up with the exact reason why it had gotten her so long to finally do something that had been on her mind for a while.
But Eloise didn’t have much time to dwell on the reasons behind her actions - or lack of them. Because the door sprung open, startling everyone inside, to reveal a smiling Phillip, bag hanging lazing from his shoulder.
“Daddy!” The kids rushed to his encounter, screaming happily, and attached themselves to his legs. He scooped them up, each in one arm, and when he looked up his eyes locked with Eloise’s. A knowing smile immediately overtook his features. Eloise knew that smile knew what it meant. It was the promise of something to come and it never failed to send a wave of heat down her stomach.
“Hi,” he had to lean in slightly to give her a soft kiss on the lips. The kids made disgusted noises and Phillip took it as his cue to let them run free. He watched them disappear up the stairs and only then did he turn his attention back to the brunette, his eyes burning into hers. “Is that my shirt?”
Eloise licked her lips. “Maybe.”
He grinned, closing the distance between them in two long steps, his lips brushing against her neck, tentatively running down her collarbone until they reached the valley of her breasts. The air caught in her lungs. Her eyes closed. And then he stopped. When she opened them again, he was smirking down at her. “Can I get it back?”
Somehow she managed to find the strength to talk. “N-no.”
Phillip grinned evilly. “Not even if I do this?” His fingers teased the hem of the shirt, sending a wave of electricity down her spine whenever they grazed her skin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he started unbuttoning the shirt, leaving a kiss on every inch of exposed skin.
“If you want your shirt. You are going to have to rip it off of me.” Eloise breathed out. And Phillip's eyes burned with desire and something that looked a lot like a promise.
Let’s just say, the shirt ended on the floor.
------------------------
When she came into their bedroom later that night, there was a bag resting on her side of the bed. She looked around for him but he was nowhere to be found. Never one able to resist the temptation of satisfying her curiosity, she looked inside. Tears filled her eyes because there, resting in the bottom of the bag was a brown hoodie. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, the warm breath against her neck making her hair stand up. "I would give you the world, my sunflower. All you have to do is ask."
It had taken some convincing on Eloise's part. But she never needed to try so hard.
58 notes · View notes
kinktae · 4 years
Text
bitchin’ || pt. 9 (M)
Tumblr media
↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES
The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.
pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader
word count: 4.7k
genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l
warnings: fanservice. that's it. that’s the tweet.
A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness!
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
PART NINE
"Okay, just sign your name here, and she'll come to get you when she's ready." The cheery girl at the front desk told you.
You offered her a polite smile, walking over to the sit in the waiting room.
You always disliked these chairs. We were willing to bet money that these chairs have sat in this very room since your university first opened, worn out, uncomfortable, and outdated. Sure, maybe you had been in a bit of a sour mood lately – what with your fake ex-boyfriend dirty dicking you and all – but as you sat there, metal rod poking your spin, you couldn't help but frown.
As you sat there contemplating your school's renovation budget, you hardly noticed the sound of another student walking in and over to the front desk, your stomach churning as you put a face to those loose curls.
"Hey, stranger! What are you doing here?" Kiri's white teeth blinded you, walking over to you once her business with the receptionist was done.
You could feel one of your eyebrows twitch in irritation, swallowing down your scoff as she sat next to you.
"Trying to schedule my class next semester." You responded uninterestedly, contemplating whether or not the suspension from decking Kiri in the face would be worth it.
"Oh, just picking up a termination form. One of our newbies wants to pull out of Kappa Alpha Tau."
Shocker...
"Hey, so sorry to hear things with Jungkook and you didn't work out, by the way." Kiri flashed you a sympathetic look.
An audible breath left your lips, disbelief no doubt visible on your every feature. Did Kiri seriously think you didn't know it was her who home wrecked? Or was she just that much of a raging bitch?
"If you ever need someone to, like, talk to, just know that I'm here. I totally know what you're going through."
Your hands found themselves curling into tight balls in an attempt to keep your hands from shaking. Kiri looked as cool as a cucumber in front of you, perfectly composed, not a single hair out of place.
Then it hit you.
Of course. It all made perfect sense now.
From the moment she came up to you at your event offering her condolences, she had been trying to drive you off from Jungkook. She was planting seeds of doubt about their break up and his character. Manipulation and intimidation were her cards, and she played them well.
Fine. If the rules were being bent, you might as well disregard them altogether. You relaxed your hands.
"Oh, no worries. It's all good, I mean, it's not like we were actually dating." You shrugged.
Rule #2: No one can know the truth.
"What?" Kiri blinked, her smile faltering for just a moment.
You edged closer to her, cocking your head in mock surprise.
"Oh... did you not know that? That our entire relationship was contractual?"
"What are you talking about?" Her full brows furrowing.
You let out a sigh, "Yeah, so, basically, Jungkook would get his frat to fund my event if I helped make you jealous so that you'd come crawling back to him."
The polite mask that Kiri had plastered on finally cracked, her next words clipped and curt.
"What the hell is your damage, Y/N? Do you think I'm some sort of idiot how'd fall for that?"
"Good grief, did Jungkook not tell you? Weird, I feel like that's something he'd need to tell his girlfriend." You puffed out your bottom lip in mock sympathy.
Whatever resolve Kiri had built up crumbled at the way you held her stare, a note of honesty in your voice that she couldn't shake.
"I'm..." She cleared her throat, turning her nose up. "We're not actually back together yet."
"No? Really? Hmm..."
The call of your name crossed the room, and the two of you turned to look at the receptionist, ushering you over with the news that your counselor was ready for you.
You turned to Kiri with a smile, "Guess he didn't want you back as so much as he just wanted back in your pants."
Kiri looked utterly stunned, eyes wide as you stood from your seat, for once, without a clue as to what to say.
"See ya around, Kiri. Let's do lunch sometime. Oh and, happy holidays!" You fluttered your fingers at her, slipping away from her with a smugness you couldn't be assed to hide.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
"Wait... he called you?!" Taehyung laughed, eyes wide.
Yara nodded, scouring through the shelves, a specific book in mind. Belinda Carlisle was playing softly overhead and Yara found herself humming along.
As the holidays rolled around and everyone found themselves back in their hometowns, Yara was surprised to find Jungkook's frat brother browsing through the jam aisle in her local supermarket. As luck would have it, Jungkook's genetically blessed frat brother was from her hometown, the two somehow never crossing paths until now.
What started as a polite catchup over coffee, quickly turned into an everyday thing, the two of them realizing they had more in common than friend drama.
"He did!" Yara enthused. "He left a voicemail apologizing and rambled about how he wanted Y/N's address so he could go apologize, blah, blah, blah."
"That idiot." Taehyung rolled his eyes. He watched as she let out a noise of excitement, looking over her shoulder to announce that she had found the book she was in search of. He grinned in response.
"Anyway, I didn't call back. Because that's exactly how she wants to spend Christmas morning, with that jockstrap knocking at her door, right?"
Taehyung snorted, bringing the straw of his drink to his mouth.
"Miriam is gonna have your head on a stick Lord of the Flies style if she catches you with that drink in her library." Yara warned, to which Taehyung dismissed with a wave of a hand.
Yara was a funny girl; he was pleasantly surprised to bump into her during winter break. He could tell something was off when they first ran into each other, so he invited her out to grab some coffee. It was over a warm cup of coffee – with the most absurd amount of sugar he had ever seen – that she finally shared with him all that had been weighing on her mind lately.
Sure there was the Jungkook and Y/N stuff. Yara was beyond homicidal. Taehyung was grateful for winter break as he was positive she would have rung out Jungkook's neck had she seen him after what had happened. Taehyung himself was astounded to find out what exactly was true nature of the two's relationship, curtesy of Yara, of course. Even if it was fake, however, he knew Jungkook enough to know that the happiness he gave off once Y/N entered his life wasn't.
But more than that, the petite girl was worried about a boy, an irritating one who Taehyung happened to be frat brothers with. Eunwoo had approached her immediately after Kiri left him, spewing some excuse about only dating Kiri because he couldn't get Yara out of his mind.
It was bullshit if you asked Taehyung. But he hadn't the heart to tell Yara that, especially with the way she looked so torn up about it – unsure of how to respond to Eunwoo. He wasn't entirely sure what their relationship was like, but he figured it must have meant enough to her to have her feeling this conflicted.
So he did his best to cheer her up, inviting her for lunch and driving her to their local library, which he had come to find out was her favorite place growing up. They spent many afternoons sprawled out on the couches in the now abandoned children's section of the library... or at least until the crabby librarian yelled at them to leave.
If Taehyung was honest, he didn't care much for literature – he was a math guy – but the way Yara would shove a book into his chest with wide eyes and an 'if you don't read this and tell me your thoughts on it, I'll literally die,' seemed reason enough to keep showing up day after day.
"Have you talked to her about Eunwoo, yet?"
Yara flinched at the blond man's words.
"Why don't we ever talk about normal people stuff? Like the weather, or what sports team played last night."
"Yara..."
"Oooh!" She exclaimed suddenly, "I know, let's talk about President Reagan. Did you hear his speech about tearing down the wall in Germany? Crazy stuff–"
"Dude, why are you so scared to tell her about Eunwoo? You told me." Taehyung interrupted, quirking up a brow. Yara held his eyes for a moment before sighing.
"I just don't want to bring it up to Y/N, you know? She has enough going on..."
"So? She's your best friend. She'll want to help."
"Exactly! She's going to want to comfort me and make me feel better – which will just make me feel worse." Yara groaned, leaning back against the bookshelf.
"I'm... not following." The frat boy admitted.
Surely girls aren't usually this hard to understand.
"Look, I know you'd only known me for a little while, but let me pencil you in. I have a reputation, okay? Yara doesn't get hung up on some dumb boy." Yara wagged her finger at him.
"Does Yara usually talk about herself in the third person?" Taehyung chuckled.
"Yara," she continued, paying the boy no mind, "is an independent woman who likes one night stands and sex without strings. She doesn't like clingy boys getting into her head and confusing her."
Taehyung nodded, "So basically, Yara is scared of catching feelings."
"Shh! Don't tell Yara about what Yara doesn't want to hear." She turned her nose up at him, pushing herself back off the stand to march away from him. Taehyung reached for her arm without hesitation, stopping her departure with a sigh.
"Look, I don't mean to be on your ass about this, but clearly, you feel something for this kid. Otherwise, you wouldn't be spending all your time pining over him."
Taehyung immediately wished he could take back those words as an offended look fell across the petite girl's face, her hands falling onto her hips, clearly displeased.
"Pining? You think I'm pining over Eunwoo?"
Taehyung shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to navigate this situation. As much as he liked Yara, she did spark a healthy dose of fear into him.
"Well... I mean... you're spending your whole break with me just because I can give you a ride to the library so you can read sad romance novels and cry."
"First of all," Yara began, "I happen to enjoy your company. You're a good listener and, frankly, very nice to look at."
Surprise fell over Taehyung, "Nice to look at?"
"Oh, don't act like you don't know." She waved him off, "Secondly, I've never cried. I've let out a sniffle at most."
"Fine, so you're not pining over him. Just get back together with him." He responded.
"I can't."
Taehyung frowned, "Then turn him down."
"I can't do that either." She frowned right back.
"Dude."
"I'm scared, okay!" She whined, thumping a foot against the library's carpeted floor.
"Of what? What's holding you back from going back to Eunwoo?"
"...He told me he loves me."
"And?"
"And I don't even know what that means!" Yara threw her hands up in exasperation, the sleeve of her swear falling down her forearms. "I don't know how to love him back or be a good girlfriend – which I know is what he wants from me."
"Yara, I hope you don't feel like you don't owe Eunwoo anything. Because you don't." Taehyung grew serious, which only caused the torn girl to pout.
"I know, I just... I mean, I don't hate him. But it's scary. Whenever I'm dating someone, I get all up in my head like... Am I supposed to be this someone's person? Possibly forever? What the fuck!"
"No, I get it. It's a lot of pressure." He shrugged powerlessly.
"Exactly! I don't want to have to try and love someone. I want to do it. Like... not to sound like a sappy idiot but sometimes I think about all those stories I read," she gestured towards the books beside her, "about feeling a spark when you kiss your person and just... I dunno. Would be fucking nice, instead of this complicated bullshit."
Yara was far from a hopeless romantic. As much as she loved to read about romance, she had an innate urge to flee the moment the word love came around. Still, she could appreciate the idea of it.
"So then forget about that stuff. Forget about labels and expectations. Just be with whoever you want to be with. Have fun, worry about the heavy shit later."
Taehyung had a very soothing effect whenever he spoke. His tone was low and lovely, and despite the way Yara's head was still running a mile a minute, she appreciated the boy's docile nature. Certainly made her feel a whole lot less anxious.
"I want to. That's how this whole thing with Eunwoo started, ya know?" She admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "But all men are the same. They say they're fine with keeping it casual, but they always end up falling for me, which, duh, understandable..."
The blond boy let out an airy snicker, a direct challenge to Yara's words.
"Something funny, Tae?" She pressed.
"C'mon, that's not true." He rolled his eyes breezily.
"Oh, yeah? Tell that to my four ex-partners who are all still in love with me."
"Maybe you just haven't met the one. You know... your knight-in-no-strings-attached-armor."
"I'm telling you, no such guy exists." Yara emphasized with a poke into Taehyung chest.
He grabbed the jabby finger reflexively, his long fingers wrapping around the small digit, setting his drink on the nearest shelf.
"Yara."
"Seriously, I've done my research! You're looking at a hot commodity, buddy. I may be a raging homebody, but I am very efficient—"
Suddenly, the petite was trapped against the bookshelf with Taehyung hovering over her, a large hand on either side of her head.
"Please stop talking."
Yara's cheeks flushed in surprise as she met the handsome boy's warm eyes, growing even hotter as he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers.
He smelled distinctly of vanilla, and it sent her stomach fluttering, reeling in the way he gripped her waist, pulling him into her. She would've lost herself in the feeling of his soft lips moving against hers if it weren't for a cough ringing out from somewhere in the library.
Yara broke the kiss short, ears red as she brought her hands to wrap around her torso defensively, trying her hardest to ignore the way her heart was pounding against her chest as if trying to escape.
"You kissed me!" She scoffed, trying her hardest to seem unaffected. Taehyung shrugged.
"You kissed me back."
Oh god, this was bad. She felt all light and giddy tucked away in this corner of the library, the gorgeous tall man still close in proximity, looking at her through a smirk.
"Yes, well... I'm a very go with the flow kind of gal." She defended, brows furrowed adorably.
"Relax, Yara."
"Well, what the hell was that precisely?! Do you just make out with all your library buddies? Is there some sort of library buddy étiquette I'm not aware of?"
"I kissed you because I wanted to. Kissing is fun." He shrugged. "Some guys just want that, you know."
Son of a bitch.
"You got balls, Goldilocks. Understood. Message received, loud and clear." Yara acknowledged through narrowed eyes.
"Happy I could help, bookworm."
A corner of her mouth turned upwards, admittedly amused.
"Just so we're on the same page... you're not in love with me? You just smooched me for fun?" She looked at him skeptically.
"Sorry you had to find out this way." Taehyung joked, earning him an eye roll.
"And you don't have some ex-lover you need to make jealous?"
At those words, the frat boy laughed heartily, head shaking a firm no.
"Wicked."
Yara hopped onto the balls of her feet, hoping to catch the blond's kiss once more when her mouth met the hardcover of a book instead. She sank back down with an annoyed huff; Taehyung had pulled a book from the nearest self in reach, holding it up between them to pause the eager girl's ministrations.
Poking his head out from behind the book cheekily, he flashed her a lopsided grin.
"Easy there, tiger. What about Eunwoo?"
Yara held his eyes for a moment, wondering how she hadn't noticed what a pretty brown they were until now. She let out an appreciative hum.
"What about him?" She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk on her lips that had Taehyung leaning back over to meet it with one of his own.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me." You greeted him with a cautious smile as he slipped into the chair across from you.
You were nervous, to say the least, watching the tall man shift in his seat, trying to grow comfortable despite the uncomfortable circumstances.
"This place is disorienting." Erik scanned the mall cafeteria before flashing you a charming smile. "Thought you'd get tired of waiting and head back home. I apologize for my tardiness."
"No worries. I still don't know my way around at the mall, and I've been home for weeks." You grinned back.
A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two ex-lovers, each taking a moment to consider the other. Erik looked a lot older than he did in high school; he had on a brand new pair of glasses that suited him far better than the ones you remembered did. His hair was combed and styled smartly so that they would stay out of his eyes. A stark contrast from the long-haired boy you had come to know these past few months.
Dammit. Your eyes fell onto the red table between you two, cheeks growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jungkook, even with your ex-fiance sitting across from you.
Erik's voice rang out, "I'll be honest. I wasn't expecting you to call me."
"I wasn't expecting me to either." You confessed, your hands intertwining on the tabletop.
Really, you didn't have much reason to be nervous. I mean, it was Erik. Despite the end of your relationship, there was no bad blood between you two. It wasn't the first time seeing him since the breakup either... maybe it was why you had called him that had you so on edge.
You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from Erik. Company? A distraction? Maybe what you were asking of him was unfair, but as he placed a hand over yours reassuringly, you found the wall you had set up crumbling down.
"I can help you, but you need to talk to me, Y/N. If I could read minds, I would be a much richer man." His brown eyes rolled dramatically.
You chuckled. Same dry wit you remembered.
"I met someone."
"Is that what you wanted to tell me? Y/N, you're allowed to date other people. I understand your hesitation, but really, it is time you moved on–"
You let out a scoff, yanking your hand away from the now laughing man. You flashed him a feigned look of irritation, silently grateful for the change of pace in conversation, finding it much easier to talk when things weren't so tense.
"God, you are still just as full of yourself as I remembered." You teased.
Erik shrugged, "Not to sound like a cocky asshole, but is it not warranted?"
You let that question run through your mind. You suppose if anyone had reason to have a big head, it would be Erik. Intelligent, handsome, hard-working– everything a mother would want their daughter to have.
"It is. You've always been perfect..." You mused, a hint of sadness in your tone that Erik picked up quickly.
And all at once, his entire demeanor changed, a serious expression settling behind those frames of his.
"Tell me about him." He instructed calmly.
And so you did— the beginning, the end, and all the beautiful bits in between. You told him about a boy that challenged you in ways you never imagined– a boy who made you feel like the sun. You spoke of every stupid conversation you once thought of as meaningless but now weighed heavily on your heart and mind.
You were mad at him, of course. There was a reason you had been ignoring his calls and ordered Yara to keep him in the dark of your whereabouts, after all. But the more you talked about him, the more you lit up. Erik noticed it too. How could he not? It was that very way you spoke with an uncontainable passion that made him fall in love with you in the first place.
He watched with utmost concentration for the vocal inflections of your words, the slight movement of your brows that always seemed to speak your mind before you did.
It was clear to him that this boy wasn't just a boy. He could hear in the choice of words you used, words that were static and void of variables. But there were certain words you seemed to dance around he realized as you came to the end of the story... words that were evident to all but you.
"So... Analysis?" You breathed out, chest deflating as you took in Erik's frown.
"Above all... did you find out if he used protection? I don't want to presume anything about... was her name Kiri?" Erik paused, continuing once you nodded back at him, "but your health should be your number one concern."
"I had a friend of his ask him on my behalf. He says he used protection... I went ahead and got tested anyway, though, and I'm all good thankfully." You told him.
Whether or not Jungkook had passed along some sort of STI was heavy on your mind the next morning after you kicked him out. Thankfully, Taehyung was more than happy to get the answer you need but were still too damn pissed off to seek out yourself.
"Good." Erik sunk back into his seat, a hand coming up to run through his hair as he considered his next words. You suppose you were grateful to be able to talk to Erik like this still. Sure, he was blunt and sometimes stared at you like you were some case-study, but he didn't bat an eye of judgment at the news of the contract, for which you were grateful. He had known you for too long to find it peculiar that you'd pretend to be someone's girlfriend in exchange for furthering and fulfilling your passion project.
If anything, that was precisely in line with your character. He liked to think he instilled some of those traits into you.
"Well, frankly, I am sorry to hear this happened to you. You're a great girl; you deserve better than that."
Your neck warmed at Erik's words, slightly taken aback.
"Oh, um... thanks, that means a lot coming from you." You expressed your gratitude shyly.
Erik nodded back at you, "Seriously. It was very shitty of him to string you along for so long and for sleeping with Kiri despite knowing how you felt."
"Oh."
"Oh?" He frowned, not expecting your response.
You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, pausing to watch a woman with a stroller walk past your table.
"Well..." you cleared your throat, "I'm not actually sure that he knows that I, um, like him... like that."
God, this was mortifying. The first time you had admitted you liked Jungkook and it was to your ex-fiancé? Sometimes you swear you were the protagonist in a mediocre rom-com film and no one was telling you.
Erik paused, "I see. And does he know now?"
"...No."
"I see." He sat up, fingers tapping against the table in interest. He quirked up a brow at you. "Perhaps it wasn't just him who was dishonest."
You scrunched your nose at him, not liking what you were hearing. It wasn't anything that hadn't already kept you up, tossing and turning in bed at 2 AM, of course. You had a feeling this was where this conversation would lead to. Erik, as genius as he was, was fairly predictable in this sense. Rational, dependable... nothing like the spontaneous boy you had fallen for.
"So? Even if he knew, what would that change? He slept with her..." You grumbled stubbornly.
"And maybe he wouldn't have if he had known."
You crossed your arms, "You don't know that."
"You're right. I don't. I don't even know the guy. But you do." He continued, offering you a suggestive look.
Huh. Did you think that would have stopped Jungkook? And even so, would that fact alone be enough to get you to forgive him?
"I... I don't know." Was your conclusion, pulling a hum from Erik.
"Guess the only way to know would be to discuss it with the meathead himself."
"I just... I don't want to get my heart broken again. I, quite literally, didn't sign up for this." You placed your face into your hands, hating how rational Erik had to be.
"My guess? He didn't either. It seems as if you both got more than you bargained for." He shrugged.
"He's definitely not at all what I was expecting..." You trailed off glumly.
When you first met Jungkook, he was obnoxious, cocksure, and grotesquely unbothered. You swore you had never hated anyone more on the first meet. But as you came to know him, you found in him a lot of what you wished you found in yourself. Approachable, flexible, spontaneous...
You just wished it all didn't have to hurt so bad.
"You and I are a lot alike, you know." Erik spoke up once he noticed you fall silent. " And I only realized this recently, but I think that was our downfall. When I asked you to marry me, what I was asking of you... Well, it was unfair. Because I know I would never accept that if I were in your shoes."
Your head shot up at his words, hands quick to wave at him dismissively. Asking him to meet you here was not to discuss what had gone wrong in your relationship, and you didn't want him to think that it was.
"Erik, that's okay you don't have to—"
"No, no, what I mean is... we made perfect sense together and it didn't work out in the end. This meathead of yours is nothing like you and maybe it's for the better. You said it yourself that he makes you feel important and formidable." He pressed on.
"Are you trying to imply the notion of opposites attract? Because I personally believe that's a myth and that we're drawn to those similar to us—"
"Puzzle pieces."
"Wha— Huh?" You blinked, blind-sighted by the calm man's sudden words.
Suddenly, Erik readjusted in his seat, leaning in close as he nodded his head.
"Think of life as one big puzzle, and everyone you meet is shaped differently, right? Yet somehow... they fit. We find those that complete us. And they're not necessarily opposites but—"
"But different pieces in the puzzle." You sighed, understanding the metaphor.
You raised a brow at the intellectual man, "That was uncharacteristically poetic of you. I thought you were a man of science... since when do you rely on literary devices to get your point across?"
Erik let out a dramatic sigh, fingertips pressed to the rip of his glasses, leaning back into his seat as if showing his greatness.
"I'm a growing man, Y/N. Science helps you understand the mind and the body, but as far as the heart goes... there's only so much it can tell us." He tutted wisely with a wag of his pointer finger.
"Wow. I dig this character development. I quite like this new you."
"Wanna get married now?" He deadpanned suddenly, a laugh ripping out of you at his unexpected words.
Erik grinned at the familiar sound, also finding the humor within his joke. He was pleased to see that if anything, he could at least momentarily take your mind off of your heart's turmoil.
"Ask me again in another three years." You rolled your eyes, grinning wide, to which Erik threatened that if Jungkook didn't by then, then he just might.
4K notes · View notes
Text
invisible string
pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader
warnings: violence, harassing
a/n: sequel to willow. wanda is a tarot reader and you cannot tell me otherwise. it is canon. 
WILLOW - TOLERATE IT
Tumblr media
Time, curious time gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. Were there clues I didn't see? And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?
James was taken aback by her move, watching his black king cornered by both her white queen and king. How had he not seen it? It was right there ever since she moved her queen to lay in F7 right at the beginning of the game. How? It didn’t matter but her naughty smile, pushing at the corner of her chapstick painted lips left no doubt to who had won this game. He bit his lip leaning against the couch, full view of the glass chess board. She had less pieces left than him but she had still managed to won and as such he extended his hand towards her. She looked at his hand hesitantly, her winning grin fading and her usual insecurity returned as a shake hand came to shake his. 
     - No one has won a game against me in years. - he grabbed the glass black king from the board, handing it to her. - How’d you do it?
     - You wanted my king. You wanted it so badly you forgot about your own, so I distracted you with minor pieces. Gave you the false sense of security you had it and then struck down.
   - That’s such a dirty trick, petal. - he leaned against the velvet fabric of the armchair, eyeing her up and down. She felt naked under his gaze, almost as if he could see through her walls and clothing. She guessed a man like him needed to have such a sharp eye but it wasn’t any less intimidating, even if she had just won a chess match against him.
He rose slowly from the armchair, his feet moving slowly towards a silver cart leaning against a wall, just under an abstract painting with several glass bottles of several coloured liquids. He took the glass stone from one of them, pouring some of the dark amber liquid onto two glasses before offering one to Y/N.
  - Glenlivet. - he spoke out, noticing the confusion on her face. - You’re old enough to drink, aren’t you?
  - How old do you think I am Mr. Barnes? I thought you knew everything about your employees.
  - And I do, petal. I know where you went to school, kindergarten even, know the name of your friends and that’s all from one of my men following you for a day. - Bucky rose his glass in a small toast before starting to drink. Y/N’s colour drained from her face as she started to wonder if she’d gone to see his father in the precinct. She hadn’t. At least she thought yet her body started shaking and it became harder to breathe. - Y/N? Hey, are you okay?
  - Yeah ... I just need some fresh air. - she tried to get up from the couch but she couldn’t, her nerves getting over her. What if he’d heard her speak about the undercover job, she was dead, she was definitely flirting with death the moment she stepped into his home. 
   - Someone was following you from the bar, petal. I’m not going to kill you, if I were to kill you it wouldn’t be in the comfort of my own home. Blood is a bitch to take out of white carpets. - Bucky once again seemed to read through her. He once again got up from his couch, placing his gun on the marbled island of his kitchen before returning to her. - You’re paranoid, petal.
   - It’s not ... I don’t really like being followed. Why were you following me? 
   - That guy from the bar followed you home and since he got his head smashed against the counter and a drink thrown in his face, I thought better to send Steve after you for that night. You are awfully clumsy and if you had any real enemies, you’d be dead by now. You leave your key under the entry matt and so does your housemate and her lousy brother too. Twins?
   - Yes.
   - You’re so afraid of me but in all honesty petal, you’re the biggest danger to yourself. 
   - Has Steve followed me recently?
   - No. I’ve been driving you home ever since, park a bit outside campus to ensure you get in. It’s an ugly world out there, petal.
   - I know. Trust me, I do ...
After her mother died, the home she had once learned to love lost its homey feeling. Suddenly, the home that always smelled like fresh lemon tarts and gardenias was now dark. His father left his case files all over the kitchen and would sit at the table smoking his cigars with a glass of port as he read through the cases. Her father loved her, he did, just in his own way. 
She still remembered peaking by the door, holding onto a blanket her mother had quilted for her with her name embroidered in aqua blue, and seeing the photos scattered around the table of murders, abusers, robberies. She knew there was darkness, she just preferred to ignore it.
   - You live inside your head very often don’t you? - he eyed her as she took a sip of the drink he had offered her. Scotch was never her drink of choice, she preferred not to drink at all seeing how it had soured her father. Yet, she guessed a centenary drink was no joke.
   - That’s called being an only child, Mr. Barnes. Besides, my ideas are rarely worth listening.
   - Hm, I see ... Perhaps you’d like to see your room? - he changed the conversation, offering a hand to her so she could get up. 
Her soft fingers wrapped around his cold hand, a stark contrast to her warm hand. Bucky finger lingered over the top of her palm, feeling the softness and plumpness of her skin compared to his scarred, rough one. She didn’t mind, she followed him happily through the halls of his way too big house. 
Steve had told him when he bought it that it was too big for himself alone but for Bucky buying a big flat meant he made it, he could now tell everyone else who doubted him to fuck off yet it was hard to come back to it at the end of the day. Always clean and always empty. The staff didn’t stay behind for much longer, having heard all sorts of rumours and he believed if Y/N wasn’t so afraid of him, she would’ve probably left. Yet, he couldn’t find himself to sell the flat so he just slept in hotel rooms. Smaller roomers where it didn’t feel like the emptiness surrounded him constantly. 
He led her to one of the guest rooms he had decorated in soft pinks, whites and greys. Bucky guessed it’d make her comfortable, it matched her cardigans and little embroidered dresses she would bring around to the bar despite most of his waitresses constantly berating her on it, saying it would get her no tips. 
Y/N peaked through the door crack as he opened it. The room was rather soft with a large king sized bed with white and blush pink bedding along with a grey rug nearby. With so many bedrooms, he probably had enough time to decorate each one with a different colour palette. 
    - There should be some pyjamas in the wardrobe. Might be a bit big but it’s better than sleeping with your clothes on. 
   - You seem prepared. Is this where you bring your mistresses?
   - My mistresses don’t sleep in my house. - why would you say that, Y/N? Are you trying to get yourself killed? - I’ll drive you home tomorrow at 8AM so you should go to sleep. Goodnight, petal.
  - Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Barnes. - he closed the door behind her and she was left with herself in the bedroom.
She padded around the linoleum floors, phone in hand as she photographed the horizon so maybe her father could locate the house and search for evidence. Y/N couldn’t. She couldn’t find herself to go investigating his house as he was kind enough to offer her a place to stay. Instead she just investigated the room which was so much better. It was a suite with its own bathroom decorated with monogramed fluffy white towels and white marbled surfaces. She wondered why he wouldn’t bring someone here, it was clearly a work of architectural art but yet again, maybe don’t show strangers where you sleep. Maybe he shouldn’t have shown it to her. 
At least she was doing something right. At least he didn’t hate her enough not to allow her to listen to his conversations, to the talks of deals that would surely provide her father’s precinct with the clues that they were not insane to think that there were tradings happening under their noses. She was doing good but she felt dirty nonetheless. She didn’t like lying but she also wanted to graduate, to be something other than the Capitan’s daughter.
She ignored her mind and got dressed in the steamed and washed pyjamas that were hanging on the silk hanger of the closet and got inside the bed. She was okay, she was going to be okay. 
The daylight ruptured through the night and she was the first one up to get dressed and make the bed as well as put the pyjamas back on their place. Bucky didn’t take long to knock on her door and as she opened it there he was again, polished suit and hair as if looking casual destroyed the whole appearance. It didn’t, he was a handsome man and she was absolutely certain he would look handsome in anything. 
    - Did you sleep well? - he questioned as she stepped out the room, holding onto her worn out faux leather brown satchel. 
   - Yes, it’s a very comfortable bed. What about you? 
   - I don’t have time to sleep, petal. I was thinking about having some breakfast before I dropped you off, if that’s okay with you.
   - I just want to get back home. My flatmate might worry. 
Bucky didn’t force her. She was like any other staff and he guessed having breakfast with the mob boss wasn’t her idea of a good spent morning, besides, she probably still needed to go to class. He drove her back to her small, unsafe which she saw as safe flat, keeping an eye on her every once in a while. Her posture was rigid or even one that a manner teacher wouldn’t correct, it was slouched over his window, hand under her chin as she observed the early morning light illuminate the city. 
Getting to campus during early mornings were always funny to her as she never knew what she would find; some students would be still returning from nights out while some would exit the library with piles and piles of books and notes. Either way, it was always a fun game. He stopped in front of her flat, putting the car on stop, engine slowly lowering its sounds. 
   - Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Barnes. - she held her satchel against her chest. 
   - You got an evening dress? Cocktail party maybe? 
   - So not a black dress? - she teased, biting the skin of inner lip. 
   - Definitely not. 
   - I think I might have something.
   - You’re not working tonight, you’re coming with me to an auction. I’ll pay you double the salary of a nightshift if you say yes.
   - Plus night wages?
   - Everything you’d get paid a night, I’ll double it. 
   - I’ll get to work finding that dress then. - she opened the door of his car, exiting before waving him goodbye.
Getting inside her flat, she could definitely sense the difference between worlds she was living in. Spend time with James Barnes, her father told her. Besides, how bad could an action be? There were several people there and if she knew what he was buying maybe it would prove useful in the future.
She climbed the stairs up to her door which was slightly open. She would’ve questioned why had it not been for Pietro’s voice echoing through the whole hall. Of course. None of them really close the door whenever the other one is around. 
    - Wanda, I’m telling you, that’s bullshit. - he told his sister who merely rolled her eyes at him. - Shuffle it again.
    - It says you’re a fuckboy deal with it. - she crossed her arms, before noticing Y/N had come in. - Hey you, you’re here early. I thought you were gonna appreciate your motel stay for a little while. 
   - Well, I ... I was just homesick. - she lied. Wanda clearly wouldn’t like to know where she had spent the night. - What are you guys doing?
   - Pietro asked me to do a reading on him and he’s upset at the result. As per usual.
   - I’m telling you the deck is broken. Do Y/N. - he pointed at the captain’s daughter who sat down by the coffee table where the two were. Wanda shrugged and asked Y/N to touch the deck before she started to shuffle it, three cards falling onto the table as soon as she did.
The Lovers, the Devil and Death. Y/N knew those cards all too well, she loved roaming through Wanda’s deck and marvel at the beautiful pictures and Wanda normally told her that the Death card was not as bad as everyone made it look like as well as the Devil. However, this time, all the colour drained from the brunette’s face as the stared at the cards fallen on the table. She shuffled the deck again, hoping for more cards, this time getting the Six and Nine of Swords. 
   - Everything okay, Wan? - she asked her friend who was intensely staring at the cards in front of her. 
   - Yeah ... I guess Pietro is right, the deck is broken.
   - See? I told you so. You never listen to me. 
   - I think I should be getting to class now. - she interrupted the two sibling’s bickering. - I’ll see you later. 
She spent most of her classes thinking about the auction. It was harmless enough and her father was over the moon, telling her she should be proud that she was now part of the “inner circle”, whatever that meant. Nevertheless, she was getting paid double which would always help with rent and utilities. The last module took hours of a lecturer going through yet another generic powerpoint followed by a class of over a hundred students rushing out the door the moment it was over. 
She took to her bedroom before Wanda arrived to search for the only evening dress she had which barely saw the light of day, mostly living inside the black box over her wardrobe. It was her mother’s, something she had left behind that Y/N had taken a particular liking to once she grew up. It was a baby pink slip dress with the hem in matching lace and she guessed it would be appropriate for an auction. 
   - Where are you going? - Wanda asked as Y/N stepped out of the room. Shit. Of all the days for her to be home early, it just had to be today. - What are you doing wearing your mum’s dress?
   - It’s fancy dress day at the bar. 
   - Fancy dress day at a mob bar?
   - Clearly. 
   - What are you hid ... - Wanda was interrupted by Y/N’s phone. Mr. Barnes had texted her he was outside just at the right time. 
   - I’ll see you later, Wan. Have fun but not too much fun.
Before the brunette could question her, Y/N was already out the door, bag in hand. She went down the stairs and outside where Mr. Barnes was leaning against his car, dressed in a navy blue suit which made him look like a model gracing the cover’s of fashion magazines. 
    - You’re supposed to make me wait, petal. 
    - I like being on time. - she walked up to him, standing less than an arm’s distance from the posh dressed mob boss. 
    - I should start by warning you not to go by your real name today. Safety purposes. 
   - What should I call myself then? Your date? - she asked as he helped her inside the car. 
   - You can call yourself whatever you’d like, petal. As long as it’s not your real name and I know what name you’re going by. 
   - Uhm ... I wanna go by Betty. 
   - Betty?
   - Like Betty Draper from Mad Men. She sounds like the type of woman who would go to an auction.
  - So you wanna be Betty Drapper? - Bucky hide a small smile as he drove through the dark night. 
  - No, I wanna be called Betty for tonight. - she leaned against the comfortable seatings of his car. 
“You’re part of the inner circle now, darling. Do something about it”, her father’s words echoed in her mind through the faint sound of the radio playing Doris Day. Yet again she had no idea how going to an auction would be a break in the case unless Mr. Barnes was buying weapons or drugs. The fact she was going by a different name didn’t calm her nerves but he wouldn’t kill her in a public setting. She watched the trees pass by from the window of his car  until they reached a big white house which could be certainly considered a mansion.
Mr. Barnes got off his car while the engine was still roaring, handing the key to the valet before opening her door. She looked up at him, blinded by the fairy lights all around the mansion and suddenly she got nervous, very nervous. Nevertheless, she took his help in getting off the car, walking to his left as the valet drove away with his car. 
    - We’re sticking with Betty? - he asked as they climbed up the stairs to the entry of the mansion. 
    - We are. - she nodded as he knocked on the door. A poshly dressed man opened the door allowing for her to peak inside. The room was full of people chatting to each other, champagne flutes in hand of roaring laughter. This was definitely different from the environment she was used to back at the club. 
Without noticing, she clung to his side as he moved through the seas of people drinking and admiring art work which she guessed was what was being auctioned until they got stopped by a slightly shorter than him man dressed in a black tuxedo. 
    - Barnes, you made it. I saved some of your favourite pieces for you. - he was happily talking until he noticed Y/N by the mob boss’ side. - Who is this lovely lady?
    - This is Betty. - he was an excellent liar, even she would’ve believed her name was Betty.
    - Pleasure to meet you, miss. - he curtsied which greatly confused her. - Do you want to come see them? I told my Miriam that the Proserpina paintings would be for Mr. Barnes when we started picking pieces. 
The mob boss was sweet on art? She curiously followed them into a badly light room in shades of burgundy and dark browns where several paintings. She observed them with an innocent look as Bucky heard about the prices and its overall worth. Of course they were not going into auction, they had been saved for him and him alone. He was important, stupidly important when compared to these other people. She could hear whispering from other people as he passed by, away from the room through other people.
The man, whose name Y/N still hadn’t really heard, left them in the entrance with everyone else, two champagne flutes immediately making their way to them. Yet, she still didn’t know exactly what to do. What would this be of use to her father? Someone liking art was common, something very common. Once again useless. 
   - Why did you bring me here if you don’t even need to attend the auction?
   - It’s a bad look to appear unaccompanied. Besides, I’d like to see the auction tonight.
   - I didn’t know you liked art. 
   - You thought I’d only like to see people dying, petal? - he spoke in a soft, calm manner but she could see his smirk through his strong facade. 
   - Look who it is. - Bucky’s face switched into an heavy expression, something Y/N barely saw and didn’t like to see. His arm pulled her behind him as someone dressed in what looked like a taffeta black suit walked up to him accompanied by a black haired woman in a skin tight burgundy dress much more sensual than Y/N’s blush pink flared dress. - James Buchanan Barnes, I thought you didn’t visit this part of town.
   - Rumlow, I visit whatever part I want. 
   - You remember my wife Rachel. - he pointed at the woman nearby him. - I don’t think I remember your friend. Care to introduce us?
   - This is Betty. She’s Sharon’s niece. 
   - Pleasure. There sure are lovely jewellery pieces tonight at auction, aren’t there?
   - And I believe I should care about those since I’m a woman. - Y/N gave him a forced smile, earning a scoff from Bucky who was trying not to laugh at her quick wit. 
    - I’m here to bid on the Elizabeth earrings. They’re a brilliant piece, don’t you think?
    - Yes, well ... we should be getting to our seats. - Bucky ignored the request for continuing the conversation, instead holding Y/N’s hand and leading her towards the auction room.
That was an odd conversation, one with underlying feelings of animosity. Maybe coming here was worth it, maybe that name “Rumlow” would be of use to her father. However, it didn’t matter as she was rather exciting to be in her very first auction. Sitting down in gold painted chairs she could see the paddles with several numbers and even the odd gentleman with a monocle. 
Bucky looked at her with a faint smile, observing how his world seemed to still entice her as for him it had long its spark a long, long time ago. People kept sitting down and soon enough the auctioneer was on the stage presenting pieces and shouting values of high amounts of money. High enough to pay for the rest of her degree, a masters and a few PhDs but she guessed this was how high society lived.
    - Finally, one of tonight’s most special pieces. - the man pointed at a pair of earrings on a glass box. - The Elizabeth earrings are made of white gold with two diamonds taken from The Cullinan diamond, one of the most precious in the world whose siblings belong to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. Let’s start at 5 thousand.
Brock raised his paddle.
   - 5 thousand, does anyone says 6 thousand?
James rose his own paddle, surprising Y/N. She thought he was only here for the painting. 
   - 6 thousand, 7 thousand? - Brock once again rose his paddle. - 7 thousand, 8 thousand? 
Bucky once again rose his paddle, smirk on his face. He always enjoyed the chase and an auction chase was no exception. Besides, he would love to win those earrings just to piss off Brock Rumlow. 
   - 8 thousand, 9 thousand? - Brock rose his paddle again. - 9 thousand, 10 thousand?
   - 5 hundred thousand. - Bucky spoke out loud and clear for everyone to hear.
   - 5 hundred thousand, any higher? - Y/N’s gaze moved over to Brock who kept his paddle neatly in the middle of his lap, an upset expression gracing his face. His face moved to look at Barnes but he didn’t care, holding a winning smile on his lips. - Going once, going twice, going thrice ... Sold to Mr. Barnes. Congratulations.
Bucky didn’t low himself down to look at Rumlow instead getting up once the auction was over. Y/N followed him, curiosity once again getting hold of her and every fibre of hers. She had never seen diamonds in person, much less as precious as these ones were so once she went into the back and saw the woman place them into a red velvet box, she was done for. They placed the box on a nice black matte bag and handed it over to Mr. Barnes along with the certification of authenticity. 
The auction after party become boring afterwards, with Rumlow giving Barnes a look no one would like to receive and him having little to no care about it. At around 11PM, the time she would end her shift today, he started to walk away, tipping the valet some money to fetch his car while both of them waited outside. It was a cold night, the wind moaning in slow blows and suddenly she regretted not bringing a jacket. 
   - You should’ve brought a jacket. - before she could roll her eyes at this comment, she felt something fall onto her shoulders. Looking to the right shoulder, she recognised the navy blue fabric of his suit’s jacket. - Did you enjoy being someone else for the evening?
   - I didn’t envision my alter ego being Steve’s girlfriend’s family but I’ll accept it. It was nice, thank you for bringing me. 
   - My pleasure, Betty. - he joked. - I do prefer your name over Betty.
The valet brought back his beloved car and handed back the keys. It had been a rather fun night, one that surely went above and beyond her expectations. At least she had a name to give to her father, one of a contact that would be willing to speak about Barnes. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel absolutely dirty about it. He hadn’t done anything bad to her, anything that would consider her betrayal. He’d hurt people, or at least that’s what her father said. He’d hurt people, but she’d only seen him doing it to those who actually deserved it. It was wrong, it was wrong but she had too. 
These thoughts kept her quiet, with eyes on the road. This was bad, this was bad, how was she going to betray him but that was the job. Feel nothing, her father had told her before, feel nothing and don’t get hurt. She didn’t want him to get locked up yet again maybe she was too innocent to see what was really happening. 
    - We’re here, Y/N. - he killed the engine, stopping in front of the building. - You don’t look alright. Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?
   - Oh, no, no. I’m just tired. - she lied. Once again lying. 
   - I’m sorry for keeping you up this late. I’ll double your night pay too.
   - It’s not necessary, Mr. Barnes.
   - Bucky.
   - Pardon?
   - Call me Bucky. - he corrected her. - From now on, you can call me Bucky.
   - Bucky. - she repeated, a silly smile forming on her face. - Well, goodnight Bucky.
   - Goodnight, petal. Don’t forget your bag. - he handed her bag to the young girl before waving his last goodbye.
She stood in the sidewalk, watching his car leave with a silly smile on her face. Why was she even smiling? She should be feeling guilty, not smiley. Yet she was stuck in the middle of those two emotions. She needed to go back to bed, that’s what she needed. She needed to go back to her bed and sleep it through so like every single night, she climbed the stairs up to her flat. Once in front of her old student flat door, she opened her wallet to search for her keys.
Damned keys, always seemed to disappear in the darkness of her bag and as she rummaged through the contents she had been throwing inside her bag over the years. As she kept searching for her keys, something fell from her bag onto the bag. 
   - Shit. - she mumbled to herself, squatting down to grab what had fallen. Her mouth opened agape as she saw the same velvet blue box from the auction. Looking around and seeing no one around, she opened the box and there they were, the same earrings she had seen on the auction glass along with a note. Maybe Betty will like them. JBB. - I can’t believe it.
Once again, smiling like a fool. She couldn’t believe it, it couldn’t be, it had to be some sort of mistake. These were 5 hundred thousand dollar pair of earrings for a woman who was wearing a hand me down dress from her mother. Before someone else could see them she shoved them back inside her purse, opening the door to her flat.
   - We need to talk. 
taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner​ 
219 notes · View notes