#me who is constantly putting my left hand on my right shoulder: uhhhhhh…. no. I don’t know why I do that

[doctorweebmd]

someone pointed out something I did the other day that I didn’t really notice I do and then I was like….. yeah why do I do that and turns out it’s stimming. And apparently I do it. A lot.

[drarrymybeloved]

Supersonic

“Good afternoon, good afternoon,” Harry greets his waiting students as he quickly makes his way to the front of the Room of Requirement where the Duelling Club meets once a week. Draco’s already there. He smiles in greeting when Harry catches his eye, sending a pleasant ripple through Harry.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting,” Harry apologises, an automatic smile curving his lips. 

“It’s alright, we haven’t been waiting long. I haven’t spoiled the surprise, don’t worry.” Draco winks at him, sending Harry’s imagination to inappropriate places. 

Shaking himself, Harry nods in gratitude and turns towards the students, waiting for them to fall silent.

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late. But I hope what we're working on today will make up for my tardiness,” he begins. “You’ve all been practicing your defensive spells for long enough now – I think you’re ready to start practicing actual duelling.” 

A shiver of excitement passes through the room as students turn to their friends and start whispering to one another. 

“Now, before I pair you off, I want you all to witness proper duelling etiquette and technique. Spellwork is just one part of what makes a good dueller. Professor Malfoy,” Harry indicates to his right as Draco takes a step forward, “will be helping me out with that.”

Harry glances towards Draco at the same time that Draco looks at him. Their eyes meet, sparking something heated in Harry’s gut. Tearing his eyes away, he busies himself with erecting a small magical barrier between the duelling mat and the students. It’s not really necessary, but as far as his students’ safety is concerned, Harry would like to err on the side of caution.

Once finished, Harry takes his stance in front of Draco. 

“Scared, Potter?” Draco murmurs, grey eyes shining with amusement. The effect is instantaneous – adrenaline surges through Harry. He grins. “You wish, Malfoy.”

And then they’re stalking off to their respective ends of the mat, whirling back around to face each other. Draco smirks at him as they bow. Refusing to get distracted, Harry wastes no time in sending a Jelly-Legs jinx Draco’s way, which he dodges neatly while shooting off a Tarantallegra that catches Harry’s left leg.

Wobbling slightly as his leg valiantly attempts to dance the salsa, Harry aims a Tickling charm at Draco that hits him square in the chest, making him double over with laughter. 

“Expelliarmus,” Harry shouts triumphantly, knocking Draco’s wand out of his hand. Applause bursts out from where the students are standing.

Draco straightens, hands on his hips and gasping slightly. As Harry walks up to him to return his wand, he smiles crookedly. “Not bad, Professor Potter.”

Smiling back at him, Harry hands Draco’s wand back. “Not bad yourself, Professor Malfoy,” he murmurs. He holds Draco’s gaze for a touch longer than necessary before he remembers he’s supposed to be teaching children how to duel.

Snapping out of it, he turns to address the awed faces around him. “Right, so, that is what a duel looks like. I hope you noted our movements – the way Professor Malfoy dodged my first spell for instance,” he instructs. “Please make your way to the duelling mats with your partners, and let's get started.”

For the next hour, Harry circles the room, correcting stances and incantations. He’s constantly aware of Draco’s presence, but he’s determined to stay on task, so he keeps his eyes and attention firmly on his students. Tries to, at least.

It’s the most distracted Harry has been while teaching, but no major mishaps happen and by the end of the hour, the students are tumbling out of the Room of Requirement, tired but still full of exuberance at having gotten a taste of hands-on defensive magic.

Satisfied, Harry starts rolling up the mats and putting away the training dummies. Draco joins him, and they work together in companionable silence – even if it is stretched taut with a tension Harry has gotten used to over months of working together.

As they put away the last of the mats, Draco turns to face Harry. “I was wondering,” he starts, maintaining eye contact but distractedly fiddling with his sleeves (which have been rolled up to his elbows at some point, revealing pale, corded forearms that Harry definitely has not been sneaking glances at), “if you would like to go on a date with me?”

Shocked surprise leaves Harry gaping at Draco in silence. He tries to find words, any words, but all his mind has to offer is an astoundingly articulate “uhhhhhh.”

“It’s just, I have asked you before, or at least I thought I had, what with the invitations to drinks and dinner, but I don’t think I was clear enough,” Draco barrels on in an attempt to fill the silence. “So, I’m uh, being clear now. I hope.” He coughs, cheeks steadily pinking.

“You’re gay?” Harry blurts out without thinking, and of course, that has to be what comes out first. 

Draco’s eyebrows rise to meet his hairline. “Yes, Harry, I am indeed gay. Something that literally every student and professor at Hogwarts knows,” he says slowly, before looking around in bemusement. “What on Earth–” 

And that’s when Harry realises the Room of Requirement is echoing with It's Raining Men.

Oh, no. Cheeks burning, Harry quickly reins in his rogue magic. “The Room can be weird at times,” he fibs, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding all eye contact.

“Right...” Draco drags out skeptically. Visibly moving past it, he asks, “So, dinner?”

Excitement frizzes through Harry’s veins, crackling in his stomach. “Dinner sounds good,” he agrees, trying to temper his grin. 

Draco smiles, his shoulders relaxing, eyes warm and pleased. Harry thinks he could get lost in those mercurial depths. 

But then confusion, followed by realisation, and finally, amusement steals into Draco’s gaze. His shoulders start to shake with mirth. Baffled, Harry pulls himself out of his thoughts to ask what’s so funny, when his ears are assaulted with Celine Dion singing her lungs out.

“The Room acting out again?” Draco asks, all faux innocence, barely able to contain his laughter.

Horrified, Harry buries his face – now beetroot red – into his hands and fervently wishes for the sweet release of death.

He hears Draco chuckle and then feels gentle fingers prying his hands away from his face. Cringing, he meets Draco’s bright gaze. “So, my magic reacts oddly sometimes,” he offers weakly. 

“I noticed,” Draco informs him, and closes the inches between them to press his lips to Harry’s. 

Harry freezes in surprise for a second before he’s moving, tilting his head and interlacing their fingers. He can feel Draco smiling into the kiss and he’s alight with it.

In the background, Freddy Mercury croons, I’m trav’ling at the speed of light.

for @vukovich who, among other things, said they like magical hijinks and oblivious harry. also for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: parallel. i tried to inject some of Vuk’s energy into this re: weirdness, but i’m not sure how successful i was 😂 i hope you like it Vuk!

thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for the beta!

read on ao3

[solangelover]

Leave Me or Hold Me Close

Solangelo Week 2k19: Day 7 – “Enemies / Lovers” @solangeloweek

A/N: AU where Will has been a year-rounder since age 8 and Nico since age 11, they’re both now 15 and have an intense rivalry-type thing.

Read on AO3 or FF.net or Wattpad 

“Ugh, just leave me alone! Why do you feel the need to rant at me, Solace?”

Nico stormed out of the infirmary, leaving a steaming Will Solace standing in the doorway.

“Well, maybe if you stopped being an idiot and getting sent to the infirmary, I wouldn’t have to see you so often!” He nearly stomped his feet in frustration as he glared at the retreating back of Nico di Angelo. But Will wasn’t a child, so he threw his hands up and made incoherent noises of rage.

“That stupid, idiot son of Hades! I just—gah!!” Will shadow-boxed the air as he whipped around and stalked back to his desk. His sister, Kayla, simply watched this all go down with a raised eyebrow. Their three-going-on-four-year long hatred of each other was nothing new, but she felt like it was reaching its peak. Something was going to break soon, but with all the fights, she couldn’t tell exactly what.

As soon as Will sat in his chair, Kayla jumped up on his desk and looked over her shoulder at him. “So, how’s life, big guy?”

Will gave her a withering glare, to which she immediately jumped off the desk and put her hands up in surrender. Still, she stood there, arms crossed and waiting for a reply. Will took a deep breath and let out an even deeper sigh. “di Angelo. I just can’t with him! I don’t know what he wants! I try to help him since, hello, I’m head medic and he can’t seem to go one week without ending up here. He’s so dumb I swear. I can’t really avoid him if he keeps needing medical help, so if he doesn’t want to see me then that’s his problem!” He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, effectively disheveling it so he looked a little crazy. Nico was slowly but surely driving him insane.

“Soooo…” Kayla drew out. “What I’m hearing is, you want Nico to be safer because you care about his well-being?”

Will closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. “It’s not like I want him dead, Kayla. Of course I want him to be safer.”

“But you don’t want to see him? Like, at all?”

Will thought about that. He pictured Nico’s annoying face, his harsh glare that was constantly thrown Will’s way, his scowl that always twisted his features. Sometimes, when Nico wasn’t paying attention to Will, he would see Nico look excited, hear him laugh at some dumb joke Percy made, and just be a totally different person than who Will knew. They’d been at camp together for the past few years, and Will couldn’t even remember exactly how their “rivalry” started, but he knew that he was tired of it. It was probably fun in the beginning, but at some point, their insults became real and their fights venomous. Will never knew how strongly he could dislike a person without knowing why.

“Will?” Kayla’s voice brought Will out of his thoughts and back to reality.

He sighed once more and picked his head up to look at his sister. “I’m just tired, sis. I only want some peace in this crazy camp.”

--

“AGHHHH!” Nico threw another pillow against the wall of his cabin. Annabeth suggested it after she walked in one time to the shattering of a lamp, the ceramic pieces joining various other broken things on the ground.

Nico’s latest trip to the infirmary ended in a yelling match between him and the one and only Doctor Solace. Nico knew he was being stubborn, but the guy was insisting that Nico either come in for check-ups more or just not get injured so often. Honestly, did he think Nico liked getting attacked by monsters? Or losing in a sparring match?

Did Will really hate his face that much?

But then Will also asked for him to come in more often, which he wouldn’t do if he didn’t want to see Nico, right?

No, idiota, Nico chided himself. He’s just doing his job. He doesn’t want to see you.

A knock sounded at Nico’s door, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Percy stood in the open doorway (that Nico forgot to close in his rage) with a concerned yet amused look on his face. “Rough day?”

Nico glared as Percy invited himself in, plopping down on the bed across from Nico’s. Meanwhile, Nico took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, opting to sit right there on the floor in the middle of the cabin. He clutched the pillow he was about to throw to his chest, his fists threatening to rip the material.

Percy popped his head over the foot of the bed to better see Nico. He cocked his head expectantly.

Nico sighed. “It’s just Solace, nothing new.”

“Are you… angry at him?”

“No duh, Jackson.” Nico rolled his eyes at the son of Poseidon. What did he think was going on?

“Just checking,” Percy chuckled. “So, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing!” Nico flew the pillow up in the air and it landed a few feet away from him. He glared at it as if he could scare it into coming back to him. “I did nothing at all, just got hurt in training and went to the infirmary. Then he lectured me on safety and limits like I’m a child. So I got mad and we fought and I left.” He was scowling so hard, Percy was sure his face would get stuck like that.

Percy hummed. “Sounds like he just wants you to be safe?”

“No schist, that’s his job,” Nico deadpanned.

“True,” Percy agreed. “But I don’t see him lecturing many other campers.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Why does he hate me so much that he won’t leave me alone?”

“Well, is that what you want? For him to leave you alone?”

“Would be nice,” Nico grumbled.

“I’m serious, Nico.” Percy waited until Nico met his eyes. “Do you want to never see or speak to Will Solace?”

Nico frowned at that and looked down. Did he? He couldn’t really imagine his life without Will in it. Not that he was the center of his life or anything, but Will had been there since he first got to camp. Will had been one of the first kids to talk to him and try to be his friend. But Nico had been having a tough time and it didn’t manifest well with his temper. He didn’t remember exactly what happened, Nico just knew that one day, they were fighting, and simply never stopped.

What would it be like if he just let that all go?

Percy didn’t interrupt Nico’s thinking, knowing that his friend was a big time internal processor, and this was kind of an important question.

Finally, Nico sighed and looked back at Percy. “I don’t know.”

--

That night saw them at the campfire. It was going on as usual, with the loud singing of the Apollo kids and non-stop chattering from the Hermes kids. Everyone sat with their friends, laughing up a storm or making crazy gestures as they told stories.

Will sat with his cabin, as well as Lou Ellen and Cecil. Nico was surrounded by Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, along with other random friends. Both boys kept casting glances at the other, new thoughts running through their minds concerning their relationship.

“Geez, what’s up, Will? Feeling thirstier for some di Angelo than usual?”

“What?” Will squeaked as he whipped around to see Lou Ellen with a smirk on her lips.

“Dude, you keep looking over at him. Just talk to him already.” Cecil dropped down in front of Lou Ellen with a freshly toasted marshmallow.

“Yeah seriously, there’s so much sexual tension between you two, you could cut it with a knife.” To prove her point, Lou Ellen held up a shiny dagger in her hand.

“Lou! Put that away, that’s dangerous!” Will scolded. She grinned widely, and a second later her dagger disappeared in a puff of smoke and mist. Annoying Hecate kids.

“But seriously,” she leaned in. “What’s going on?”

Will sighed, turning fully to his friend so his back was to Nico. “I’m just… thinking. I don’t know what, but I want to talk to Nico. Civilly. I want to be, I don’t know, his actual friend, not his enemy or rival.”

Lou Ellen and Cecil shared a look, then met Will’s eyes with a smile. “That’s a great idea, Will. The gods know your guys’ game of hard-to-get has been going on long enough,” Cecil stated.

Will sputtered, “Will you two stop?? I said I want to be his friend, stop implying!” Will was blushing at this point, and he hoped he could blame it on the firelight. By the looks on his best friends’ faces, it was probably obvious.

“Whatever,” Will shook his hair out as he turned back toward the fire. Maybe he could talk to Nico after the campfire.

--

“Nico, if you keep glancing over there, I will literally lose it.”

Nico turned to see Annabeth mid-eye roll. “What are you talking about?”

“Bro, she’s talking about you constantly looking over at Solace, like this whole night.” Percy slung a comforting arm around his girlfriend, as if Nico was actually causing her stress. “If you wanna talk to him, just get up and go.”

Nico scowled at the couple. “I don’t want to talk to him. I think he’s seen me enough for one day.”

“Oh my gods, Nico. Will doesn’t actually hate you,” Annabeth stated.

“Really? So we just fight constantly for fun?” Nico said sarcastically.

“Ugh! Just shut up already!” Drew called down from a couple rows up the bleachers. The daughter of Aphrodite was always listening in for gossip. “I swear, di Angelo, stop throwing yourself a pity party and go. It’s about time you and Mr. Sunshine end your flirtationship and make some progress. We’ve been sitting on this for years!” She immediately went back to filing her nails.

Nico gaped at her. “What the Hades??” He turned to look at his friends, who all avoided eye contact. “What is she talking about?” When they still didn’t look at him, Nico narrowed his eyes, turning to the one he thought might crack. “Grover, tell me you don’t all think that.”

“Uhhhhhh,” Grover nervously chewed on some soda can, glancing to the side before answering with a high-pitched, “yes?”

“What the…” Nico stood up and fully faced his friends. “I don’t—it’s not—that’s not what’s happening here!” He could feel his cheeks heating up, but he chalked that up to anger.

Unsure of where to go from there, Nico just walked off, glancing back over his shoulder towards Will, who happened to look up at the same time. Their eyes met, noticing something different in Will’s eyes. Before the moment stretched on for too long, Nico turned away and left the campfire.

--

“Nico, wait!”

Nico turned to see Will jogging up to meet him. He stopped before climbing the steps to his cabin as Will reached him, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Why’d you leave early?”

“I was being tortured by my friends. What do you want?” He winced when it came out a lot harsher than Nico intended. Way to start a friendship, di Angelo. “Sorry, I just…”

“No worries, I get it.” Will didn’t think he’d ever heard Nico apologize to him before. Maybe this just might work out. “Um…” He didn’t know exactly how to articulate everything he’d been thinking over. Luckily for him, Nico was impulsive and nervous.

“Did you know everyone thinks we like each other?” Will didn’t miss Nico cringing at his own outburst. It made him smile a little. “I mean, like, like like each other,” he said quietly as he nervously twisted his skull ring.

Will couldn’t really say he knew, but he wasn’t exactly surprised after Lou Ellen’s comments. “I—it’s—nevermind that. We’ll deal with that later.” Will shook his head and took a deep breath. “Can we just, start over? Be friends? I don’t mind us fighting still, but I’d like to, I don’t know, not be so… mean? Gods, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Will covered his eyes with his hand, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment. What exactly was he trying to accomplish here?

Nico’s lips parted in a small ‘o’ of understanding. Seemed like he and Will were on the same page for once. “Yes,” he blurted. “I mean, yeah, I agree. I still strongly dislike you right now,” Will rolled his eyes and Nico chuckled, which was pretty friendly for them. “But less hatred would be nice.”

Will brightened, and it definitely did not make Nico’s night, that’s ridiculous. “Truce?” He held out a hand.

“Truce.” Nico gripped Will’s hand firmly, giving it a small shake.

As they looked into each other’s eyes, they both had the same thought.

Let’s see where this takes us.

 A/N: I was gonna try go all the way to lovers but my slow-build brain wouldn’t let me, sorry.

[ivyveil]

Axes and Ohs

the one where Harry’s masculinity is validated, Y/N is a needy hoe and adores herself for it, and once again Nick is left to make everything magically work out.

(Harry throwing an axe 100% is the inspiration xoxo)

A/N: This was my most popular series and I’ve decided to re-upload it! :) Check here for the masterlist.

The group chat wasn’t the same after the BBC show aired. 

Y/N was horrendously offended they hadn’t invited her (because that was her fucking day off and they had known it, couldn’t the producers cut out the footage with her anyway?) and was relentlessly switching between passive-aggressively bringing it up and directly informing her boys she was going to ignore them “for the rest of 4ever”. That wouldn’t last long, though, but Y/N felt they weren’t grasping her overall point.

Harry usually replied with “:-(“s and Nick would send memes from 2008. They weren’t very respectful, she felt. Although she was mostly teasing, there was a bit of offense that they hadn’t thought to invite her. Work had been cluttering up her mind for the majority of the week, and she often called Nick at night so they could rant to each other about everything. Cheaper than a therapist, they had both figured. So, Nick knew how stressed she had been, how it bogged down her mind and kept her up at night. How deadlines swarmed against her skull and kept her fingers itching for more work, to get more done. And Nick had promised to organize something, so they could all do something together, and Y/N’s left to find out that him and Harry hung out without her? It’s like Snapchat but worse, because the whole world saw it and was constantly tagging her in the photos.

Her boys eventually decided it would be a nice surprise to bring her to an ax-throwing range, to get her to shut up, and to show what lovely people they were. A quality compromise.

She was pleased with their invitation, even apologizing quietly for her texts, which they readily forgave (because she’s never seriously angry, and Nick more so laughed than got offended by her threats). 

(Harry had taken her seriously after the first text and had called her up immediately, asking quietly in a confused tone if she was OK. Once he found out that yeah, she was fine, she was just thriving off of being difficult as a temporary coping mechanism, he started waving her off.)

And things seemed to be going well, Harry had even made a quick Road Trip playlist for the hour ride out to the range. Nick was the driver, his elbow against the window and his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Harry was in the passenger seat, rattling off most of the conversation (fairly talkative guy sometimes, once he had enough coffee).

Y/N was in the back, her legs laying out on the seat next to her, her back slouched against the door, ignoring Nick’s reminders to “don’t be an idiot, Y/N, buckle the fuck up” and tossing trail mix every so often at Harry’s hair. Popcorn was the easiest to get caught in his locks, and his grumbling “Hey, stop tha’” as he brushed his fingers through his curls didn’t do much to quell her desire for entertainment.

It was when they were at the range that things start to feel different. The instructions made her nervous. She was never one to have graceful coordination to begin with, and the instructor was extraordinarily patient with her questions. Harry and Nick were goofing around by the edges of the facility, pretending to trip and land on their axes, feeling fairly adequate in their abilities since they had done it before.

Y/N thinks she’s pretty sane. She’s seen those pictures of the clown from IT all over the Internet – the one people are kinky-into? And yeah, no, she’s proper not into that. At all. Zero percent. Murderers are not gonna get it, even in cool sneakers.

But, there’s something disturbingly obscene about Harry with an ax. It was attractive in a completely indecent sense. How serious he became, when it was in his hands, how the light danced against his cheek, against the tip of the ax. How he lined it up so carefully, his eyebrows coming together and his tongue poking through his lips in concentration, his Adam’s apple shifting as he focused. 

It was quite different from Nick, who was tossing the blunted objects like he didn’t have a care in the world. Y/N was stupefied they hadn’t been removed from the facility yet. To his credit, Nick was trying to make Y/N less nervous, because she hadn’t even tried to throw one yet and they’d been there for half an hour. It wasn’t working, obviously.

He felt bad, he truly did, that she had felt so alone lately. Things at her work were stressful, especially since she was fighting against some sexist pricks near the top of the cooperation ladder. He had offered to bring an ax with him, next time he dropped off flowers at the front desk (because he knew that it made Y/N’s whole week), but she had flat-out said no.

Y/N didn’t want to use her rom-com knowledge to advance a particular agenda, but she rationalized that this was an activity she genuinely wanted to get better at. Build up some strength and improve her aim - quality goals. Asking a friend for help was normal, she reckoned. And Harry was taking it more seriously than Nick, so it would be logical to ask him, over her friend who was on his phone, ax held between his thighs.

“H? Could you help me a bit? Can’t get the angle to feel right,” Y/N pointed the ax somewhat at the target, loosening her wrists to keep the ax dangly. Harry quirked his eyebrows at her, his serious expression breaking a bit when he saw how poorly she was doing.

Pete, the instructor who had been hovering around Y/N’s station since the second they arrived, began to raise his hand. Presumably to offer assistance, if his wide eyes and blushing cheeks were a sign, but it just so happened that at that exact moment, Nick dropped an ax on his foot. It was the handle, mind you, but it still led to Nick’s profane slur of choice words to slit the air.

“Fuck, my foot! It’s gone! Agh, ah, shit, damn, motherfucker, ugh, uhhhhhh, wow, wowzers, help, ouchie,” Nick yelped, each onomatopoeia becoming increasingly louder. He grasped onto his ankle firmly and jumped on one foot, hobbling a bit towards the edge of the premise.

Pete had no option but to follow Nick, to talk him down to quit moving so much in order for the employee to get a proper look at the ankle. Nick kept a watchful eye on his friends a few feet over, though, and only dropped his foot when Harry had made his way next to Y/N.

(Funnily enough, Harry and Y/N hadn’t even noticed Nick, they were so wrapped up in their pretense and drama.)

So, Harry cleared his throat and nodded at Y/N, putting down his own ax. He stepped directly behind her, and perhaps it was her wistful imagination but she thought she felt the warmth radiate from his chest to her back. His arms went around hers, hugging against her shoulders and his fingertips grazing against her knuckles. Y/N was painfully aware of how close his lips were to her left ear. 

It was one of those fantasies in her mind she couldn’t turn off, it just began in her mind. It was a continuous loop of one question, of how it would feel like if he leaned in a bit more. If he gently tugged at her ear with his teeth, his arms grazing back up her arms, closer to her body, before down her sides. How would it feel for him to move down her neck, his breath hitching quietly, nipping softly at the skin. And what bothered her the most, was that all these fantasies began when she saw him holding an ax. How fucking rude.

Truthfully, his lips were far enough for it to not seem weird, but in her state of mind Y/N was bound to exaggerate things to herself. Harry had riled her up, and it only grew increasingly more hot under her jumper when she was surrounded by his cologne again.

“Alright, love, let’s see what yeh got,” he was murmuring, and Y/N almost choked on air, before managing to make it a half-cough. She was unsure of what to say, really, so she sort of cleared her throat, a bigger cough, and moved her feet slightly, her ankles bumping against Harry’s toes. His fingers drifted down to align her elbows more, straightening them out to properly inspect the angle.

“Do I just…” she gestured towards the target with her chin, feeling completely uncoordinated and at a loss of how to move. Even less so than before, because at least she had oxygen when Harry was 10 feet away.

“Shhh, give me a mo’.” and he moved her hand to line up the ax better. “Here, yeh see how the target’s lining up with the point, right there?” Y/N nodded, giving a little ‘mhm’, frankly not seeing a difference at all, before turning her head towards him.

A bit of a mistake, though, because her lips grazed his cheek before he had registered what had happened; he was more focused on helping Y/N out than where her face was. 

Harry had been feeling a bit smug, in the way that simultaneously annoyed him, because Y/N was asking for his help, yeah? She wanted him to show her how it was done, because she knew he could do it. It was intoxicating in a boyish manner, that Y/N was asking him for help.

She leaned her head back a bit, moving her lips farther away. The air didn’t feel intimate or sexy to her right then, just awkward and a rush of blood in her ears.

Harry took a step away, biting back a smile as he gestured to the target.

“Go fo’ it.”

“Well, I just…could you…could you do it, once more? Just so I could see,” she held out the ax to Harry, eyebrows coming together in frustration. She had originally asked Harry for help because the selfish part of her heart wanted her to hurt, hurt deep. But she also didn’t want to make a fool of herself. The concerns that had led her to that moment had a foundation of genuity – Y/N had no clue what was going on.

Harry smirked, which made Y/N huff a bit because yes, she accepted he was good, but that was no reason to be a lil dick-shit about it.

He obliged, moving forward and taking the ax from her hands. In the split-second between the transfer over, she almost dropped it (Harry shouldn’t have been so slow, in her defense) and Harry had to stumble forward to catch it properly. Y/N laughed a bit, mumbling apologies, when Harry shot her a faux-upset look.

Without a word, he stepped in front of her to line it up carefully, like how he was doing when Y/N was subtly checking him out. Taking a step forward, and pursing his lips a ridiculous amount, Harry threw the ax. Y/N gulped when she could practically see his back muscles against his shirt. How the fuck did he gain those, being so tiny and cute? Y/N felt, not for the first time, offended by Harry Styles’ existence.

The ax hit the bulls-eye.

Even Nick cheered, from the sidelines, from where he was forcing Pete to bring out the special gauze wrap for his foot. Might even see if he could finagle some crutches outta the establishment, hobble out and get loads of sympathy from his two besties. Y/N clapped loudly, letting out a whoop; several of the other people at the establishment yelled Harry on, as well.

“Nicely done, Styles,” she told him as he sauntered back over to her, his ego pleasantly padded with success.

“I’m a natural,” he sang, and his smile seemed to take up most of his eyes, his eyes crinkling a bit. It was Y/N’s favorite smile of his (not that she had one, no way - but she 100% did). She grinned softly back, turning her face.

“Have you done it before, yeah? Been an expert for a while, I’m guessing,” Y/N mused, half-attempting to get away from having to try it herself, half-enjoying seeing him flush with glee.

“Oh, loads. Ax-murderer, that’s me,” he solemnly agreed, before a giggle came over his lips. He was on an adrenaline rush, it seemed, a small one but enough to keep his fingers moving against his hair, pulling slightly at the roots.

“Dunno if I could kill someone, honest,” he continued, almost seriously considering the possibility, “Think if it came to it, I’d fuck somethin’ up. Trip or whatever. Can’t even get a juice open proper, dunno how I’d do with a knife.”

“No one was talking about knives Harry, just axes. My god, you deeply concern me.” Y/N shook her head, shifting her gaze down towards the ax she was supposed to throw. Just as her fingers wrapped back around the wooden base of it, however, Pete walked up to the couple.

“Um, I’m sorry, but we had to ask your friend to leave? He’s not using the equipment properly, safety hazard,” and he shifted his stare between Harry and Y/N, his hands wringing each other and his bangs sweaty against his forehead.

“Oh shit,” Harry mumbled, reaching in his back pocket to draw out his phone. Sure enough, Nick had blown up the group chat with false allegations against the ax-range, complaining that Harry and Y/N were so wrapped up in each other they had forgotten him, how he felt like he was a child again left behind on the playground, and that axes were for babies anyway and they should try flame throwers next.

“Fuck,” Y/N agreed, before beginning her round of apologies to Pete. Not that she had to apologize for Nick frequently, but in the past there had been enough wild times for Y/N to have some memorized rambles of “sorry”s and “so sorry”s. Pete seemed okay enough, his sad eyes lingering on Y/N more than what either Harry or Y/N were comfortable with, so they left rather quickly.

The two of them walked out towards the garage, where Nick supposedly was waiting with his one crutch (he had grabbed one before making a run for it) and gauzed-foot. Y/N had her jacket bundled up under one arm, and Harry had his underneath his own. The sun had come out and the afternoon was pleasantly warm - Y/N thought about lowering the windows for the ride back.

Not much could explain it. The feelings had been there for whole afternoon, and Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on how to vocalize what he wanted to say. So, shifting his jacket to rest underneath his other arm, his fingers simply reached over to Y/N’s. They intertwined with hers, gently enough for her to pull away if she wanted. Although, for the sake of the hour-long ride home, Harry hoped she wouldn’t. It was (hopefully) casual enough to pass off for friends, but he couldn’t just walk back and do nothing about how fucking adorable she had looked, confused and dazed, surrounded by axes and loud, brash cheers.

Y/N was a bit surprised, to say the least, about how they had gone from throwing axes to holding hands. His was warm, although not clammy thank goodness, and she couldn’t help but notice the dimples that poked through when she tightened her grip. And maybe her own showed, a tiny bit, but who was looking? (Harry. Harry was looking.)

“What are you doing, Haz?” and she laughed quietly, her lower chest tightening a bit and her heart’s speed picking up.

“Just don’t want yeh seeing me as some ax-throwing madman, gotta remind yeh how much of a softie I am,” he replied easily, and if Y/N weren’t so caught up in her own emotions it would have been embarrassingly clear that he had mentally rehearsed those words, crafted his excuse to feel her hand in his.

And so they walked, back to the car, hand-in-hand, each of them stewing in their own thoughts. Perhaps they would excuse their actions, their thoughts and fantasies, by the time Nick dropped off Y/N late that night and drove Harry home. They could say it was just something in the air, something about getting away from the stress of the city. But what ended up staying in both of their minds, when it neared midnight and they were trying to draft out a casual text to the other person - was the multitude of shy smiles they shot at each other, walking back to the car, giddy off of axes and Nick being an idiot.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!